Thuvian Nights (IC)

[Bhaakon]

OOC thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?497724-Bhaakon-s-Thuvian-Nights-(OOC)&p=21110654#post21110654)

"Hrm. So indeed you are the Patron's representatives." The butler glares down his nose at the papyrus scroll proclaiming as much with its overwrought seal and fantastically legalistic Osiriani hieroglyphics (appended with, fortunately, an abridge translation in Taldane at the bottom). The Patron hadn't met with you himself, of course, but one of his Vizier had gathered you all together that very morning, promised a princely sum for successfully resolving the situation, secured your agreement to terms, and handed you the document. It would open doors as if you were the Patron himself, or so he said, with the caveat that you'd be expected to act with a certain degree of decorum as the Patron's representative in this matter. And, above all, he consoled discretion. Leaking information about the auction itself was strictly forbidden.

But no level of official sanction is sufficient to wipe the superior sneer off this whinging Taldan lapdog in his ludicrous powdered wig. Particularly galling, since he'd been the one to send for you. A runner had interrupted your meeting with the Vizier in order to explain that there had been yet another death. Exarch Gregorios, third cousin or some such to High Prince Stavian III himself, had been found dead in his chambers when his servants had come to clear away his breakfast.

Of course you'd come straight away, having an opportunity to take a look at a new body when the other crime scenes had been cleaned even before your involvement. You have reports of those deaths, perhaps even saw one of the bodies yourself before signing on, and there are certainly witnesses to question at your leisure, but this was a fresh body. You rushed across town immediately.

The butler leads you through the rented manor. Locals make a killing leasing these lavishly appointed buildings out, though they'd only be occupied a month or two every few years. Most of them required a full five-year lease, making it a rather lucrative industry even between auctions. Milking the Sun Orchid Elixir bidders for every last copper was both a source of wealth and a grand national pastime in Thuvia, and no place more so than Merab.

"Please wipe your feet. These are antique Vudran rugs, most of them dating at least to the rule of the Lapis Maharajah, and are completely irreplaceable." The servant explains with the exact tone one might use to lecture mud-splattered toddlers. "In fact, would you please walk around them entirely. Yes, like that. Keep your shoes on the stone."

Fortunately he doesn't watch to make sure you're following instructions as he leads you through the entry hall and the central courtyard, past the elaborate mosaic fountain, and up a grand staircase at the rear of the house leading into the Exarch's private apartments. You find poor Gregorios sprawled out on his back in front of a full length mirror, decked out in his finery. The man had eclectic tastes to say the least. A billowing blouse of Minkaian silk, bracelets of milky jade mined from the depths of the Wall of Heaven, an oddly angular obsidian ring that--if certain scholars were to be credited--were found in ancient, conical tombs in Arcadia, overwrought epaulets of a nobleman who thought leading a regiment involved watching them parade once a year and pinning some medals on chests. And that's just what he's actually wearing. The selection of items in the open jewelry boxes and dressers around the body are just as varied, exotic, and valuable. Clearly this was a man with more coin than taste.

Or maybe he just liked advertising his business connections. The Exarch's royally chartered trading company had offices in most every city of note from the Inner Sea to Tian Xia. So it was no surprise that the Vizier, upon hearing of the death, informed you that Exarch Gregorios not only had the current high bid, but had just the night before increased his offer to leapfrog the contestant now in second place. Normally her identity would be confidential, but Pan Jinchan was both the direct beneficiary of the Exarch's death and head of a mercantile operation in direct competition with his.

But matters of motive can wait. There's body here in front of you. A body with eyes-bugged out in terror, mouth frozen in a ghastly, gagging scream, and both hands clinched around the jagged bore-hole in its throat that is his only obvious wound. The index finger of his right hand is plunged into the hole, possibly trying to plug it...or fish something out?

"I present you with Exarch Gregorios Andronicos, Noblissimos, Bearer of the Imperial Mandate, Doge of Ridonport, Strategos of the Onyx Battalion, Thirteenth in line to the Grand Principate." The butler whispers reverently above the corpse of his long-time employer. "Milord's valet found him like this. He is understandably upset. I've given him some mulled wine to calm his nerves and left him in the sitting room just beyond the door there."

"For now, I need to see about recovering the bid for Milord's estate. If I can, it may be possible to have him raised..." Clearly the Butler isn't as well-informed on the process as he should be. All coin is forfeit once it has reached the treasury, whether the bidder has won, lost, or died waiting for the result. Though it is possible that the late Exarch's inheritors--whoever they might be--could claim the Elixir if his bid stands up and they arrived in Merab when the auction officially ends, in seven days. Otherwise the Elixir would go the next highest bidder present who hadn't already won one. The Patron would not be responsible for keeping the inordinately valuable substance secure one moment longer than was required.

[TheOneHawk]

How the hell did it come to this? Erica wonders to herself, and not for the first time, as she very deliberately tracks as much mud over the carpets as she can without going to far out of her way. Out in the middle of this godforsaken desert taking orders from some toadie in a wig, working with a bunch of barely competent miscreants and to top it all off I have to deal with Tulug. Again. Couldn't just keep my nose out of Svetochka's death, could I? She shakes her head and waits impatiently for the butler to finish jabbering. Once he's done, she steps up and, barely glancing at the corpse, replies "You present to me a stiff no different than any other. Looks like he was pretty scared before he bit it, though. Nobody heard a scream?"

[Hattish Thing]

Enshadu:

The Pathfinder Society agent was having the time of his life. Usually when he was sent off to one of these ridiculously extravagant, exotic cities, he was there to steal something, or bail out some failed agent, or masquerade as some other individual of note in order to get his clawed hands, and therefore the Society's, on whatever valuable information was currently being sought after by the Decemvirate. Not this time, however! This time, it was all about a bunch of dead people, or something like that, he wasn't entirely sure, after all, Enshadu hadn't been listening closely during his mission briefing. He usually didn't unless said mission involved an artifact of particular interest to the Thassalonian Expert. After all, usually, the Pathfinder Society would send a more... suitable agent to conduct such an important investigation, rather than someone as bloody-minded as he.

Unfortunately, it seems that lately, the Society was fresh out of investigators.

--

The leisurely stroll through the rented manors many vast, labyrinthine chambers was an extremely satisfying one for the self-proclaimed Runelord-to-be. As Enshadu's extravagant, deeply expensive looking crimson and gold runed Thassalonian robe trails across fine fur rugs and well-maintained flooring, the Pathfinder Agent fought hard to resist the urge to prestidigitate some sort of pipe from which to smoke pompously as he passed through the halls. It would just feel so right! But no, it was time to at least to pretend to be personally invested in solving the actual crime here.

Though his intentions were considerably more selfish than the one's publicly presented by the Thassalonian Expert, it would serve him well to look as professional as possible while within the home of the man who was going to drop quite the tidy sum of gold into Enshadu's deep pockets. In addition to the personal favor the Decemvirate would owe him after reporting back on the defenses Thuvia employs with regards to the fabled Sun Orchid Elixir.

"Such a miserable, insignificant little thing to waste so much gold on", Enshadu thinks to himself as he winks at a portrait of a particularly attractive looking woman before continuing forward, a goofy smile on his almost inhumanly attractive "face" that only partially hid the madness within. He wouldn't know what to do with immortality! There's only so much gold in the world, only so many empires to rule, and only so many concubines to experience before his ruined body fails him totally. No, immortality was a silly thing.

But it was worth oh so very much nowadays...

--

After some time, Enshadu follows the others into the Private Apartment. Once he arrives within the room, the wizard quickly finds himself the nicest chair he can possibly find. As soon as he does so, he sits down, eager to rest his sore feet. Though his expensive gold, mahogany, and bone cane was helpful when it came to dealing with the physical pain too much exercise inflicted upon Enshadu's body, it couldn't totally relieve the pain caused by the painful cysts and polyps disguised beneath layers of clothing and illusory magic.

As the unnaturally attractive man in the wildly expensive rune-stitched robes sits down and rests his feet, he looks around the room with hungry, manic eyes, taking in as much as possible before storing it away, occasionally pausing his obsessive search of the room as he's distracted by something completely and utterly mundane, that same goofy smile appearing on his face.

The butler takes some time to list out the Exarch's many titles, and as he does so, Enshadu's mind wanders. The Pathfinder Agent mentally conjures up a dartboard in his head, giggling quietly to himself as he goes through the physical motions of tossing an imaginary dart at the board, no doubt much to the confusion of the others within the room. Once the butler has stopped talking, his hungry eyes finally gaze down upon the dead man. He goes through the vast mental bank of knowledge he's collected throughout the years, along with some more recent information regarding the deceased Exarch.

His eyes settle upon the Exarch's throat, before he closes an eye and takes a look at his own finger. "Ahaha, it'd totally fit."

He speaks to the group now. "Heh, so, I've aaaactually managed to get my hands on some pretty important information regarding our beloved "holey" man here. Heh. Get it? He's "holey", cause he's got a hole. In his throat. And elsewhere, I'm assuming. Not because he's a priest. Don't think he was religious..."

Enshadu draps his legs over the side of the vast, comfortable chair.

"Anyway, yes. Mr. Andronicos here was a bit of a bad egg, you know. A plethora of ties to a variety of enterprises most would consider "unethical". My contacts informed me that our good friend here was quite the connoisseur of flesh. Slave operations, connections to a huge selection of smugglers, along with rumors of... darker involvements. As corrupt as can be, but it looks like he didn't have quite as many friends as he would have liked, judging by the fact that he's now dead on the floor. Damn fool, got himself killed."

"It's possible we could raise the man, but it looks like that'd have to come from our own pockets. I doubt anyone in the city could possibly care enough for the poor wretch to waste the coin required to bring him back before he's inevitably assassinated a second time."

"Whiiiich isn't to say the body can't be made useful..."

He smiles.

[stack]

Uriah, wearing the face he has preferred in this city, aristocratic and refined in form and clothing, looks over the scene briefly. Let the others see to the details, I am certain they can find more here than I. "I will speak to the valet, if you don't mind. Let me know if you find anything of interest."

He gives a half bow and retires to the waiting room to find the valet. "Hello. Terrible fright you've had, I'm sure. This won't take long, but I do have a few questions. Are you feeling up to it?"

[Desril]

Raven - Selene's Vigilante Persona

Stifling a yawn at the butler's more than a little condescending instructions, Raven makes a point to walk across the rug just out of general petty spite as they make their way to the most recent murder victim. To be honest, this sort of investigative work wasn't exactly her forte, but it made sense that she'd be called in to help. After all, her public face was performing in town for the next few weeks so she was in the area for those few in the know, and more importantly, some of the murders were taking place inside areas that should have been safe, and what better person to ask for help on figuring out who and how it was happening than a master thief? But that didn't mean she had to tolerate people being snotty, she just couldn't make a big scene with Selene investigating or else too many strange questions might be asked. No, Raven had to be the one publicly investigating, Selene would simply be doing favors and collecting curious gossip, which isn't what was needed now.

Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be too much insight she could offer at a glance. As far as she could tell, the man died from the hole in his throat, and she wasn't about to stick her fingers in there and see if anything was odd about it. The only way she'd be able to tell would be if something bit back, and no thank you. No, instead, the thief scratches her feline ears and looks around for obvious points of ingress before moving over to the door to fiddle with it, asking the butler as she does, "Did Exarch Corpse here leave his chambers unlocked? Did he have any company last night?"


....Disable Device(?) to examine the lock on the door/any other entrance to see if it's been tampered with [roll0]

[The Hellbug]

Tulug listens attentively as the butler lists the scant details currently known about the Exarch's demise. Frankly, the half-orc had been surprised when he was summoned by the Patron, himself--the recent deaths hadn't exactly been quiet affairs given the nature of their discoveries--but he had expected the citiy's own men would be taking care of the investigation. Perhaps that's the way it was before the second, third, and now fourth deaths had been reported. Tulug appreciates the the work, though. This kind of event and money being in the city would normally mean poor business for Tulug since most of the uses for his skills would be looked on fairly dis-favorably by the law, and he has really only just gotten settled down in Mereb when all is said and done. Then again, the deep pockets of the city's Patron certainly don't hurt either, and earning favor that kind of person can do wonders for a fellow's business.

Additionally, he had gotten a a good chance to look over his companion on the way to the Exarch's abode. Some faces he recognized, but there were few new ones as well. Of particular note was that damned witch. The occultist had thought he'd never seen that infernal half-breed again after the business with the mercury five years ago. He'd been in enough of a hurry to leave that he hadn't picked up on where his other companions were going, not that he would have cared in Erica's case. In fact, the half-orc had been almost entirely sure that she would've gotten herself killed by now, with that head on her shoulders. And to run into her so far south...

But there are more important things than digging up old enmity at the moment: like finding out if the Exarch actually died here. While he waits for the answer from the butler, he makes his own point. "I don't think this had to do with friends and enemies," he offers as a counterpoint to Enshadu, "the only thing we know that links all these murders is that they happened to bidders on the elixir. It could be coincidence, but I think that suggests that the motive wasn't personal, no matter how sordid the exarch's enterprises were."

[Bhaakon]

"Always locked, and the doormen admitted no visitors that I'm aw...EXCUSE ME, SIR. I...I NEVER!" The butler begins to answer Raven when he's suddenly rendered apoplectic by the lumpy wizard's churlish commentary. "If you're suggesting that the Exarch was doing anything untoward, I can assure you that slander laws in both Thuvia and Taldor are more than sufficient to force you to prove you claims. Even a deceased man has a reputation to protect, and I'm QUITE sure that My Lord's heirs would not appreciate their benefactor's name being dragged through the mud over the RANK AND BASELESS SPECULATION of some rumor-mongering graverobber." That final remark a not-so-subtle hint that Enshadu's affiliations were less than secret.

Uriah, meanwhile, makes his way through a side door engraved with intricate geometrical designs in the Kelish style. The sitting room is cozy without being confining. A few comfortable chairs, a sideboard loaded with decanters, and a small table, the kind of intimate setting where the Exarch would invite friends for an informal meal, a pleasant game of cards, or a pipe and a drink. The room reeks of stale incense and alcohol. There are two glasses on the table, but the valet is swigging straight from a bottle, and spilled a goodly amount on his indigo doublet (the uniform of the Exarch's servants, from what you've seen. They must suffer greatly in the Thuvian heat). The liquor the man is drinking is from the Exarch's private stock...which means there's a good chance he's downed several months worth of his wages in the last hour, as the bottle is half empty.

"Yeah...I can speak." The valet answers, talking slowly to try and hide the slur in his voice.

[stack]

Uriah takes a seat. "Suppose we should start from the beginning. Can you walk me through the events just before you found the body? Anything out of place?" Uriah focuses on the man, reaching out with his thoughts, concentrating on a feeling of openness and willingness and transmitting it to the man. read thoughts greater charm for 1 SP, concentrating after that, will DC 25 You may read the surface thoughts of
a creature (Will negates if unwilling) for as long as you
concentrate.

[ICN]

Lydia gives the butler a flat look as she continues floating over the carpet, though the effect is rather weakened by her only cracking one bleary eye to do so. This was going to be a long day, she thought as her dearly beloved coffee pot drifted out of her bag and poured her a fresh cup. She tops it off again after the oafish... coworker tracked mud all over the mostly exquisite rugs. A sleepy wave of her hand cleaned the muck off the carpets save one, which had tastefully arranged the filth into two words: Gnome Made.

When they finally got to the crime scene, Lidia looked at the body and suppressed a sigh. Oh no, this scruffy bunch of miscreants would definitely do better than a trained team of investigators, including some that specialized in medicine. Truly, this could only end well. All the same though, if she played along with the Patron's little game she may be able to secure that office she had her eye on. With that, she sluggishly set to work, slowly drifting around the room and occasionally referencing a book while listening with half an ear to the others.

Not a minute later, another of her new coworkers had antagonized the butler into near apoplectic rage. With an unrepressed sigh this time, Lydia cuts in with her stoic cop tone before matters could devolve further. "Yes yes, the Exarch showed great... concern, for the law. Can you tell me what was in there?" She points a finger at the empty inlaid jewelry box. As she begins setting up her divining nest, she speaks to the group as well. "There are no signs of forced entry or struggle with an assailant. Pan Jinchan is our most likely suspect at this time due to enmity stemming from both business and personal matters." Her nest prepared, Lidia snuggles in and sets in to the magical half part of investigative work.

Divining time, CL 8:
If you possess the Time sphere, you may divine the events that happened within medium range (100 ft + 10 ft per caster level). You can only divine what occurred up to 1 hour per caster level ago. When you divine time you are only given the following details: The number of creatures that were in the area, their size, how long they remained in the area, and any movements they made while in the area. In addition, if objects were left unattended or unattended objects were moved during this time, you learn the size and vague shape of such objects.

[Oneris]

Nashirah al'Sa'd was all smiles, gambolling about the opulent surroundings in a manner that set her amulets and jewelry a jingle. She - is there a more fitting word? - frolicked this way and that, staring in wonder first at an antique Tien Vase, then peering behind a Chelaxian tapestry, before hopping deftly off the carpet not out of any heed to the butler, but mere to see its splendor without the addition of feet. A small star-spangled bunny hung on for dear life from her headscarves as she whirled, sometimes seeming more to be hovering at shoulder level.

"Oh wow... I haven't seen so many valuables all gathered up in one place like this in, well, ever! I mean - I have, it's just that they didn't really belong to anyone yet - I've only ever seen this much material wealth in markets and auctions of a thousand people. Sir Exarch here must have spent so long gathering this trove he barely knows what he's collected..."

Having finally torn herself away from an exquisite alabaster sculpture of a flock of doves, she entered the bedchamber full ready to impress herself with what eclectic assortment of ornamentation the man reserved for own body, but when she laid eyes on the sumptuous corpse her spirits instantly fell.

"Oops! Sorry, Mun, thought you were more secure there"

The bunny half-clambered, half floated back up to its perch atop her head, shooting her companion an admonishing look-
-floomph!-
-only to immediately tumble forward head over paws as Nashira bent over to examine the Exarch's remains.

"Oh, no no no. How horrid. Help me with my tools, dear, and let's hope to Desna this man didn't make that hole himself. Was he so afeared for lack of breath, he prefered to die by blood instead?

[Bhaakon]

You find no obvious signs of tampering.

This kind of thing always seems to give you a headache, but you persevere, watching the vague shadow of the Exarch's psychic impression move about the room in your mind's eye. You feel as it fiddles with plates and utensils, obviously consuming his morning meal, then wanders over to the massive suit of dressers, armoirs, cabinets, and jewelry boxes where the extensive wardrobe was kept. He tries on a dozen different combinations before he seems to find one he's happy with, then reaches for the fine ebony box that now sits open and empty. He removes whatever was within--and amulet you think--and puts it on. You think. Not for the first time, you find yourself wishing the power was more detailed.

With a sigh, you stretch out your sense as far as you can, studying to the full range of the magic. Servants and guards flit about the manor in your second sight, cleaning, patrolling, and other mundane activities while the form you believe was the Exarch lies in his bed, but none of them entered the dead man's chambers. Only at the very edge of your spell--some time late last night or very early in the morning, depending on your perspective on such things--does another person enter the room, briefly, to confer with the dead man and take what you're fairly certain is a piece of parchment.

"I delivered the Exarch's breakfast and set it out for him on the table." The valet explains to Uriah. "Just like I do every morning, then I waited outside until I was summoned to remove the plates." So far it sounds entirely truthful, though Uriah does get the impression that there was something slightly unusual about this morning's meal. The valet himself doesn't consider the fact that the Exarch took his breakfast a couple hours later than his usual habit to be important enough to warrant mention, but the thought does flit across his mind as he speaks.

"I...uh...I might have dozed off. It was quite warm." Uriah knows quite well that the man napped. The valet had the previous night off, and he'd only returned from an excursion to the fleshpots of the Kamaliyah, Merab's red light district, shortly before dawn. His head had barely touched the pillow before the butler awoke him, angry at his tardiness. It's hard to say with certainty how long the valet snoozed outside the dead man's chambers, but he doesn't think it could have been much more than an hour. "When I thought it had been too long, I knocked on the Exarch's door. He didn't answer, so I knocked again. Then I used the key and...and I found him..."

The man's distress at the discovery is real, but only partly because of the shock of seeing a body. Mostly the man is concerned about his employment prospects. Whatever the Exarch's faults, he paid his employees well. The valet is quite sure he'll not be able to find such a lucrative position again.



Meanwhile, Nashirah and Mun poke around the body, quite literally prodding about the wound as they make a thorough examination. It turns out that the woman is almost uniquely qualified to judge this particular damage, because it's of a sort she saw relatively often in her previous life. A normal doctor might be stymied by the round bore hole with its gnawed margins, but a fennec would instantly recognize the mark of a carrion beetle burrowing into a corpse.

But that's not as odd as what she finds inside the wound. Mun's cheery glow reflects off something inside, a delicate gold chain studded liberally with turquoise, garnets, and emeralds. A set of tweezers inserted into the neck wound grips the jewelry, and Nashira fishes out a two-foot length of blood-stained precious metal and stone before it sticks. The pendant, a fat lapis lazuli scarab embellished with more gold, catches in the wound. She must maneuver it around until it aligns properly before it slides out, the clearance so tight that it seems as if the scarab might have made the hole itself.

The scarab itself is entirely caked with clotting blood. Given the disposition of the chain as she extracted it, she's reasonably certain the lapis amulet had been nestled in the dead man's heart.


The butler stares at the necklace being extracted from the wound with a sick fascination--and increasingly pale flesh tone. "That...the Exarch's lucky scarab was in the box. He's owned it as long as I worked for him. He hardly ever went a day without wearing it. I'm sure it has some sort of enchantment, but it's never done THAT."

[The Hellbug]

As many as his talents are, medicine is not one of them, leading Tulug to sit down cross-legged on the floor and begin to prepare his own manner of investigation as the others crowd around the body. All that changes, however, when his companion pulls the jeweled scarab from the man's throat. The old half-orc jumps up somewhat faster than one might expect for a man of his age, the corner of his mouth curving up into a smile as his interest is piqued.

"Ah, now that is interesting," Tulug says, "Are you sure this is the same scarab? The killer is obviously someone of very powerful means, given the methods of the killings. I would not be surprised if this is a deadly forgery. If the work is high-quality, though, there are very few ways to tell for sure. Nashirah, would you be so kind? I think a thorough examination is in order." With his request, Tulug ferrets a scarlet handkerchief out of a pocket in his belt and extends his thus-sheathed hand out to his companion.

[Oneris]

Wonder and horror played across Nashirah's face like an indecisive slot machine, finally settling on two reels horror and one of wonder. Not even an inch of gore could hide the piece's exquisite craftsmanship.

"It-it's like it came to life and chewed its way into the Exarch's chest, as maggots do carrion..."

Bits of Exarch sloughed off to the gemstones' delight, but the scarab almost appeared to thrash in protest. She gasped and flung the thing back onto where it had come.

"...But so fast as to not allow the chain even time to settle around the man's neck before it too was dragged within his body."

At Tulug's asking, the necklace gingerly picked itself up from its victim by a pair of levitating tweezers - Nashirah was loath to touch it with even her soul's hand alone.

"Do be careful; it still hungers"

[TheOneHawk]

Erica smirks and comments, "Real lucky scarab, that. Not the luck he had in mind, maybe." Aside from a bit of snark, however, she merely stands and watches as the others muddle about with attempting to figure out what the item was, as if it wasn't obvious enough the thing had killed him. With any luck it'd kill Tulug, too.

[Desril]

Raven

Magic wasn't exactly her area of expertise, but she'd had to skirt around it in the past, and her more popular performances tended toward the dramatic and magical. So what she didn't know about magical theory she more than made up for in general exposure to possibilities. "Well, if I had to hazard a guess, either you're right," she says to Tulag, "And someone swapped his protective charm with a fake," probably how the thief would've done it if she took up assassination as a hobby, actually. "Or the thing was cursed last night. Or possessed, or some how controlled, I don't know, magic isn't really my area."

[Bhaakon]

Tulug examines the scarab as closely as he can without actually touching it. The interposing handkerchief made it a bit tougher, like trying to read a book through the base of a broken bottle, but he'd had enough practice handling potentially dangerous jewelry to learn the knack of it. Besides, the item's powers are self-evident. Just a few seconds after taking it in hand, the light hits the thorax of the scarab just right to to illuminate a shallow inscription...no, they're magical hieroglyphs, glowing brighter until they blaze against the indigo stone. They proclaim the item's many protective qualities, explaining them in plain language that even a layman could understand.

But that's the power of the trinket itself. Your mind's eye delves into the item's psychometric connection. The strong bond between it and its owner--or at least its last user. The emotions of thos last moment are strong. You can feel something tighten around your neck, not like a garrote, but the familiar weight of a favorite accessory. It shifts, subtly. Odd. Not as odd as the pain just below your Adam's apple...or the hot liquid sensation pouring down your chest.

Desperately, your hands reach up to rip off the scarab, but it's too late. Blood-slick fingers slip off its stone carapace as its slips into your throat, burrowing deeper...

Additionally, you may read the first Spellcraft spoiler in the OOC

The scarab twitches in the venerable half-orc's hand, and there's a sharp sting in his palm. He drops the amulet immediately, handkerchief and all. It hits the thick Vudran rug with a muffled thud, still bundled in the cloth. You wait, making sure it's completely still before looking closer. Close enough to see the tiny hole gnawed in Tulug's previously pristine hanky, and the single drop of blood staining the white fabric.

[ICN]

Once the divining is done, Lidia looks up sleepily at the others. Oh good, someone had extracted the murder weapon. More importantly, it was shiny, so everyone else was leaving her alone. She spends that precious moment of solitude to take another sip of coffee, then turns to the butler to begin a new road of inquiry. "Who was visiting the Exarch last night at approximately two o'clock Ante Meridian last night? What was on the parchment they took?

Preemptive Sense Motive on the butler: 35 in the OOC thread

[Ilorin Lorati]

Aril was so late.

Not like "Oh you're fashionably late", instead more of a "I'm pretty sure everything's already done and gone by now" late. She had made it late to the Vizier's office just in time for him to tell her that she had better run - RUN - across the city if she wanted to make it in time to even think about seeing some of the coin on offer, but that was the least of her problems. It was getting close to noon, so she had to hoof it mundanely across most of the metropolis, only being able to rely on her own - ahem - borrowed abilities for a slight speed boost, and then there was the small matter of how everything managed to get in her way. Everything from ornery camels to upturned carts and even a cart jam seemed to be conspiring to keep the noble-trice turned-thief from her prize.

"You're just as worthless as your mother," a muffled voice whispered into the raven-haired woman's shadowed ear from underneath her hood, causing a wince from the poor girl who couldn't keep a schedule to save her life. "A failure of a demon binder makes a failure of a writer. It's not even as difficult, and yet even still you manage to put her to shame!"

She ignored the voice, continuing her trek. It wasn't far now, but letting up was just not in the cards today. "An apple doesn't fall far from the tree, but even a rotten apple has its use. Set me free, make room in this wretched world for my glory, and I will assure the rending of your soul is - mostly painless." The goading was, at this point, a ritual, albeit one that still made Aril's skin crawl as she made her way towards the manse she was expected at. Seven years with the creature in her ear, seven years to learn to ignore it... and she had utterly failed, just as she had failed to remove it in all her attempts.

Perhaps he wasn't as wrong as she liked to think he was.

Stopping in the shadows just around the corner of the manse, she shook her head violently, forcing the thoughts out of her head. Whispering, forcefully, she finally dared a reply, "Stop! I don't have time to deal with your petty games today, of all days. We have work to do."

A malicious grin spread across the shadows of her face as she protected herself from the light for just long enough to release the magicked disguise she used when moving across the city. The black hair faded into blonde, and the faux features that kept her own identity safe from onlookers were reduced to nothingness. When all was done, the grin faded, and she pulled down the hood, tucking it under the collar of her shirt and striding proudly out of the shadows to where the demon could not speak so directly to her if it didn't want its presence to be known.

The trick to making sure one could enter was to act like one should belong. And, in this case, it was true; while a writer was a rather peculiar thing to call to a murder scene, she was expected.

If (or, more likely, when) the guards let per pass, the woman strode into the great hall, calling out for anyone that could hear and declaring she had arrived - whilst making her way across the rug and into the center of the room.

At least her soles were only dusty.

[Bhaakon]

"Gah, another one of YOU" Barks a well-tanned halfling woman in the most ridiculously overwrought maid's outfit Aril has ever seen--which really means something special from a person who has spent much of her life around theater company costume collections. She's on her knees trying to brush a rather unfortunate stain out of a hideous blue and beige carpet. If Aril didn't know any better, she might swear is spelled out "Gnome Made." But that's ridiculous, of course. It must just be a trick of the light and odd smudging.

"Didn't Old Herb tell you lot not to step on the damnable rugs? I swear, it's like you idiots think these things survived the ages just by happenstance, and not elbow grease and skill. And most of all NOT WALKING ON THEM." She shakes her balled fist in the air, enraged. "By the Humble Hand, get you up the stairs over there with the rest, and don't track one more speck of dust on my carpet or I'll roll your cold, lifeless body up in one and drop it in the harbor."

Once she follows the direction, chased up the stairs by grumbled oaths about oafish house guests and impending unemployment, Aril quickly finds herself in the Exarch's private apartment with the body and the other investigators.

[TheOneHawk]

Erica raises an eyebrow at the scrawny redhead. "Cursed last night? With a curse powerful enough to kill the Exarch who, with enough money to make a considerable bid on sun orchid elixir, most certainly has more than a few magical defenses? Unless we're talking about a Baba Yaga level mage, that's ludicrous. If you don't know magic, then leave the theorizing to those that do. Curses of this variety and strength are nearly impossible to add to an already crafted item, they occur during the creation of the item when the magic is still being woven."She shakes her head and looks like she's about to continue but then Tulug yelps and drops the amulet, bleeding, so she laughs instead and leans up against a wall with one hand resting on her sword and running her thumb over the decorative pommel.

[Bhaakon]

"Er...n-no visitors came to see the Exarch that I saw." The butler stammers at Lydia's question, mopping up the sweat on his brow with his own handkerchief. It was damnably hot, after all, and the there was a corpse in the chamber. It was only a natural for the man to be a bit clammy. "He summoned me late last night and gave me a note to deliver to the Pyx of Abadar. I didn't actually read it, but I believe he was having another of his accounts transferred to the city treasury to bolster his bid. As the valet was heading out on...ahem...personal business, I gave it to him to deliver."

[Hattish Thing]

Enshadu:

As the investigation continues all around him, Enshadu gets more comfortable with the luxuriously well-padded chair he's draped his perfect, unnaturally beautiful body across. The Thassalonian mage rolls his eyes as the obnoxious butler begins to complain in the wizard's general direction. Enshadu simply cranes his head back lazily and flashes a shimmering smile, his flawless white teeth glittering in the light. The wizard continues to grin eerily as the butler speaks, twirling his expensive-looking rune-carved, gem-studded walking stick as he relaxes within his chair, an apathetic look clearly visible on his attractive face. "Ha ha hahah ha."

The wizard laughs to himself, his melodic voice lowering down to a purr. "I meant no offense, you lovely little man, you. why, I'd never."

Enshadu laughs to himself again, as if his previous sentence was somehow the most amusing thing he'd ever heard. The Sin Wizard glances across the room casually, though the movement of his hungry eyes were nothing if not direct. He was silently assessing each of the other mercenaries he'd be working with for the rest of this particular assignment.

Finally, he speaks once more to the butler, his seething anger at being spoken to so disrespectfully by the miserable little man well-hidden beneath his layers of magical and mental illusions. "There's no need to be upset. I simply make it my business to learn as much as I can regarding what work I'm assigned to. When I'm not rumor-mongering, or grave-robbing, that is." Enshadu turns his head to gaze at the butler again, his eyes flashing for a moment. The unstable Pathfinder Agent continues. "But you wouldn't want to learn more about all that, now would you, my good sir. Good. Now, I understand that this may be a troubl-". Just as the wizard was finishing his sentence, the glittering necklace was pulled out of the dead man's throat wound.

The wizard's eyes grow wide as he watches it happen intently, almost too intently.

--

After a moment, Enshadu finally averts his gaze from the necklace, gripping his cane tightly as he does so. "Vile, rank, useless blood... Powerless, weak human. Miserable fool." He mutters a few bitter words under his breath quietly as he shakes his head. "Now's not the time..."

He speaks towards the others now. "As I was going to mention... Pan Jinchan seems like an obvious suspect. Unfortunately, my contacts have but a small bit of political leverage way off there, in distant Goka, so I know only a small bit about our Tian friend. She's powerful, and many of my contacts believe that she may have actually won the Ruby Phoenix Tournament some time ago, under a different name. Her symbol is recognizable now, and after she won, she founded some sort of trading company, similar to our dead... Erm..." Enshadu stammers, seemingly having forgotten the dead man's name. "Similiar to that one." He points. "Her organization is powerful, and was a known rival of the dead man's own organization."

"I recommend we hunt her down and schedule a meeting, if we can."

His eyes slowly dance back towards the necklace once more.

"Before we get to that, however... Does anyone mind if I take a look at that beautiful little piece of work there? There are pieces similar to it currently held within the depths of the Dark Archives. Perhaps there's a way for us to trace it back to the one who sold it..."

[The Hellbug]

Tulug takes a sharp intake of breath as his vision ends, just in time for him to toss the now-animated beetle to the ground. He breathes heavily as he cautiously steps over to where he had hurled the amulet, grabbing the handkerchief by the corner and swiftly ripping it away from the lethal item. "Hmm, faster than I was hoping it would be," Tulug says as he examines the small wound in his palm and wipes the blood away, ignoring Erica's snicker, "also, still active; we'll need to keep a close eye on it."

He is in the middle of using one of his wands to lift the scarab by its chain when Enshadu asks to see it. "Of course," he replies, "and I hope I don't need to warn you to be careful. As far as I can tell, this is indeed the Exarch's jewelry, or at least it still has the magical enchantments I presume he relied upon. It is meant to protect against magic, particularly necromancy--a useful talisman when it's working properly. The rest of what I saw only confirms what we already knew. The victim at least thought that this was his scarab, and, given the connection I felt to his last moments, I would be willing to presume that it is in fact his necklace, but tampered with. The rest--" he holds his hand to his throat, as if was his own that was attacked "--well, Nashirah was right about the rest."

[stack]

To the valet
Uriah leans in conspiratorially, Of course, of course. Many feel tired after a night on the town, eh? No one unusual make your acquaintance last night, perhaps someone that could make sure you were...less attentive than usual this morning? There is quite a reward for solving the mystery, you know, and leads that bear fruit would be well compensated."

[Desril]

Raven

Listening to everyone say what they know and theorize was fun, but it wasn't going anywhere. Luckily, it was then that Aril showed up and the vigilante gave her playwright a brief wave, "Running late again? Did you bump into some trouble in a dark alleyway or something," she asks with genuine concern for her friend before explaining everything that she'd missed up to that point, finishing just as the scarab came to life and nearly killed one of their new companions, I'll have to see what I can do with that when we're done here. If I don't give it to a certain someone myself, she thinks while glaring at Erica.

She doesn't reply to her at first, however, focusing her attention on the muttering mage and his recommendation first. "If this Pan Jichan has the connections or power to pull off a murder like this and leave herself as the primary suspect then this is going to be a short investigation. Don't forget that there are other bodies besides this one. If anything we'd probably be better served looking into her rivals and enemies to see who'd gain the most from framing her...but I suppose we do need to cover all ends..."

It's only after Tulag's confirmation that it was the Exarch's amulet that she finally turns to the insufferable woman with a look of smug superiority, "So, if it was the Exarch's amulet, then are you just wrong about how difficult such items are to curse and you're just too weak to do it, or should we start shopping for winter furs for our stay in New Irrisen?"

[TheOneHawk]

Erica laughs coldly, then suddenly the temperature in the room drops a few degrees and she disappears, reappearing directly in front of Raven. She leans in close, and speaks softly in an icy tone, "One, I have worked with Tulug before and let me assure you he is far from infallible. Two, the fact that this scarab has spells of protection upon it does not in any way make it absolutely certain that this is the Exarch's amulet, indeed we do not have any way of knowing at this juncture exactly what the original amulet did, except that it most certainly did not burrow into people's hearts and kill them. Three, if he is correct, which I truly doubt, then we have already lost. No winter fur in the world will save you if you decide to place yourself in opposition to that amount of power. You've already admitted magic is not your field, so still your tongue and let those who know what they're talking about do so."

[Hattish Thing]

Enshadu:

The Sin Wizard smiles warmly at the older spellcaster, legitimately amused by the surprisingly intelligent looking half-orc. They didn't usually come in that sort of flavor, such a rarity! An orcish-blooded one with a fondness for the more well-learned things in life. As Enshadu quickly looks the occultist up and down, accessing each of the other man's details, the dark mage chuckles nostalgically. Why, this half-orc reminded him so much of one of the "blood donors" that Enshadu had been so lucky to have come across all those many years ago.

How he had screamed! Ah, but power came at a cost for all.

Enshadu sometimes wondered what all had become of that particular individual. Though he had been only one of many orcs to have been harvested for use in Enshadu's blood magic experiments, he had been one of the more memorable subjects.

--

Finally, Enshadu snaps out of it. "I appreciate your forethought, lovely friend orc." Enshadu fights back the urge to snicker as he notes the half-orcs rather plain appearance. To distract himself, the Sin Wizard glances down at the medallion hung from his neck, currently glamored to resemble that of a shining Thassalonian medallion. "This isn't the first time I've dealt with items such as this. It is my job after all, though, I must say, it's usually far more entertaining to let the more inexperienced agents deal with the potentially hazardous artifacts."

He chuckles to himself, amused. The Sin Wizard quickly uses a cantrip to maneuver a cloth to wrap around the necklace, bringing the artifact close enough to possibly be identified. Upon failing to do so, he furrows his brow and sets it back down from whence it came.

--

Just as the Pathfinder Agent is about to respond to Tulug's own ruminations regarding the artifact, Raven speaks to him. "You make a good point, red. However, if I've learned anything over my years of work for the Society, it's that you shouldn't ever underestimate the ineptitude of your enemies. That, and you should never stick your di-" Enshadu winces strangely, before staring off for a second or two. "Anyway, yes. I believe that at least speaking to the woman would be a good place to start from. If we're lucky, she's an utterly embarrassing excuse for a criminal mastermind, and I get to electrocute someone until their eyes pop out. If not, well, we can go with your idea."

He yawns, before he's distracted by the sudden decline in temperature.

The Society Agent gazes off towards Erica with a bored look on his face. Ah, he knew this sort of person far too well. Hot-headed, pointlessly aggressive. Now was simply not the time.

Enshadu speaks, his tone tired and unamused. "Standing around playing, "I've got the biggest, magic-est prick" won't solve anything. We've got legitimate business to do, we can all act like heathens when the job's done and over with. Now, do you have anything useful to say, or shall we continue to let the investigators investigate unmolested?"

"Besides, I'd win that game anyway, obviously. (You sure would Enshadu!) Thanks, Enshadu."

More muttering, to himself.

[Bhaakon]

The butler shudders at Enshadu's honeyed words, his visage taking on all the telltale attributes of a man who has accidentally swallowed a horsefly. "Well, keep your speculations to yourself then. As well as your unprofessional commentary." He croaks back through a grimace. "One would think the Patron to be more careful in choosing his representatives..."

----------------------------

"No...no one new." The valet answers Uriah, and a scan of his thoughts reveals a number of scenes best left to the imagination. As much as the mentalist might wish the man to move quickly past such prurient scenes, he lingers for an uncomfortably extended period, playing through the memory several times before something useful comes up. The woman, who the valet is obviously quite familiar with, engaging him in conversation as the pair exchange the mouthpiece of a water pipe loaded (based on the fuzzy nature of the memories) with some sort of narcotic. Most of the conversation is the kind of mindless small talk designed to stroke the valet's ego.

But then the woman asks what he'd done to get the night off, and he mentions running a message to the Pyx of Abadar, brags about the responsibility of being entrusted with his employer's newest bid, and how it's surely a good sign for the raise he's preparing to ask for. The woman's inebriated smile takes on an edge, proof that she was nowhere near as impaired as she'd been letting on, and she quickly finds an excuse to dismiss the valet from her chambers.

[stack]

Uriah probes slightly more, carefully ignoring the images he did not wish to recall again. "So, last night was your normal night off, or was there a special occasion? Anyone know you would be away? Oh, and if I could maybe have the names of those you were with and where to find them. Strictly a formality of course, have to prove your whereabouts in case anyone tries to cast unwarranted blame. Better safe you know."

[Oneris]

Nashirah retrieved the necklace with her floating tweezers and hurriedly ushered the amulet back within the confines of its box. The blue beetle glittered nastily; the little trinket seemed capable of causing trouble even without resorting to outright murder. She winced as tempers within the room became even more heated, the witch's icy magic only casting it into harsher relief.

"Please, my friends. Let's not come to blows over this. What this pendant does is immaterial. If it was recently exchanged, a measure of its previous owner should be left behind, and if it was a well-beloved object transformed, then the poor man's love should be well evident. "

She gave a wan smile, then placed the open box gently on the carpet and stepped back. Her Garundi features slid away into a field of darkness, her silver jewelry dwindling to nothing but twinkling motes in a deep starfield that swam and shimmered and shrank into a small vulpine with large batlike ears and markings the color of night.

The creature blinked and sniffed around curiously, inhaling deeply sea of odors and aromas. Coffee and mint, incense and spice, smokey sweet and sickly pungent, all foreign to this home. Imprinting these in its mind, the fox sequestered them from its senses and turned towards the amulet.

[Bhaakon]

"Yes, my normal night off. Everyone knew I'd be out. Herb...er....the butler even gave me a letter to deliver, and a few silver for the trouble." The valet explains. "There's a shisha den in the Kamaliyah that also serves Taldan spirits if you ask, the House of Seven Saeals. I spent some coin there, like I usually do. I don't really know the names of anyone there..." That might even be true, but he certainly knows their faces, and now so does Uriah. The man who peddles the intoxicant, the pair of bouncers, a few of those who frequent the place, including the woman he's spent the night with.

------------------------------------------

Scents hang in the air almost like a rainbow haze before Nashira, mixing and mingling, waiting for a skilled nose to unravel them. A nose like a fennec's.

A thin thread of earthy ambergris--used only in the most expensive perfumes--hangs lightly the amulet, binding in place a cornucopia of other aromas, spices and floral notes from across Golarion that are skilfully interwoven into a pleasant bouquet. The Exarch's personal blend, as his body smells of the same subtle masterwork of the perfumer's art. A bottle on the nearby vanity--skillfully sculpted in the form of a preening satyr--sits in a cloud of the same. Clearly the amulet was used quite often by the dead man, and his is the only scent upon it.

But it's hardly the only scent in the room. There's a smell out of place, not belonging to any of Nashira's fellow investigators, the butler, the valet, or the body. A whiff of lavender and clove. With little effort you track it to the chair Uriah is currently sitting in, and the empty glass on the table nearby. Oddly, it doesn't seem to be coming from anywhere else. Like whatever left the smell simply materialized in that spot and then evaporated away without walking through the Exarch's apartment and out of the manor. The smell is weak and fading...barely noticeable at all. It must have been left some time last evening or before.

[Ilorin Lorati]

Aril the Definitely-not-an-associate-of-Raven

Aril practically jumps off the rug as the maid starts shouting at her, not catching most of what she said as she was saying it but otherwise following through with her commands; "Ack! What - No, I ju-- oh! Okay!" As she was pushed into the room by the tiny woman, the former noble took a moment to recover from that bit of shock and so she could see what her would-be compatriots in this endeavor. "Sorry. Sorry! I know I'm late. Wait, wha-- no, I'm sorry, it was just traffic, there was nothing about an alley that kept me from arriving. Who are you again?" Behind her back, a soft laugh echoes out from under her cloak, her passenger obviously enjoying the girl's situation and the flustered lies she spat out towards Raven.

Shaking her head violently to get herself back where her mind needed to be, Aril listens to the conversation out front of her, locking eyes on the corpse before looking around at the rest of the room. "So much focus on him and his... amulet? Has anyone checked the rest of the room?"


Bluff [roll0]

[ICN]

Lydia stares on impassively at the burgeoning chaos, then discretely floats a few feet further away from her unfortunate... coworkers. The lie, if it could be called that, from the newcomer is enough to draw a small snort from her, but then it's briskly back to business with the butler. "The full truth this time please, or at least a better job enhancing it."

[stack]

Uriah gives a nod. "Well, I think that should be enough for now. Don't go too far in case we need to ask any follow-up questions. Let me know if you remember anything else of importance, please. Thank you for your time." He stands, spying the small canine sniffing about the room. He raises an eyebrow, then nods back to the other room to discuss findings after they are free from the servants.

[The Hellbug]

Apparently, the half-blooded witch is just as intolerable as Tulug had remembered. However, allowing her to be shouted down when her opinion could, in fact, be correct could lead paths of this investigation unexplored. "Actually," the half-orc scholar chimes in, simultaneously allowing his companion to pluck the amulet from him, "our companion's caution at definitively placing the origin of the murder weapon is well-warranted. Normally, I have no trouble divining all of the powers of enchanted artifacts, but my reading on this scarab gave me no insight into the magical mechanism by which it killed the Exarch besides that which any of us could deduce with our own two eyes. Obviously, this is powerful magic at work--magic that would definitely also be powerful enough to counterfeit an emotional connection with its apparent owner, if the creator so chose."

"Now," Tulug continues, speaking more and more to no one in particular, "if this is such a counterfeit, Erica absolutely correct about at least one thing: all of the bidders and perhaps anybody looking into this case could be in great danger, for it would not only take a powerful mage to create such an item, but also an extremely meticulous mind to cover its tracks in such a way."

With his thoughts thus explained and other investigators looking into other lines of inquiry, Tulug seats himself in one of the comfortable-looking chairs in the room. "Excuse me, peers, but I have one thing into which I would like to look," he explains, "I do not require silence, but I would appreciate it if you wait to bring any new facts to my attention until I'm finished, as I will be quite indisposed."

He then closes his eyes and places his fingertips on the headband astride his temples, focusing on the power within as he blocks out the physical world from his mind and delves into the psychic echoes of the room's recent memory.

Casting retrocognition and attempting to concentrate for the full 8 minutes, corresponding to the last eight hours of events in the room--working backwards minute by minute--unless Tulug is distracted or knocked out of his trance by something.

[Desril]

Raven

Glaring at Erica as she teleports across the room, irritated at the show off, Raven doesn't blink. A benefit of stage training. Nor does she respond. Instead, she turns to the newcomer, playing off Aril's bald faced lie, the vigilante does her best to cover it for her, "Raven. We met on the way to the initial briefing this morning but as I recall you disappeared on me...but that awful lie really has me curious what you've been up to," she says teasingly before nodding toward Tulag and waiting to see if he can give them any more clues.


Better bluff than Aril [roll0]

[Oneris]

The fox tilted its head quizzically as if it couldn't believe its nose. It stuck its furry snout closer and closer to the ornament, inhaling deeply, until the wet leather near pressed against the gold. No avail. Apparently whatever it was looking for, it wasn't there.

The vixen trotted away with a look of disgust and batted at its nose with a paw. It wasn't about to change back until there was something to report, and so fell to rolling around on the carpet in frustration, kicking at invisible things and covering its face with its tiny paws. Nothing yet in the room smelled out of place, aside from the intruders/investigators.

Suddenly, it froze in mid roll, eyes wide and nose in the air, sniffing experimentally. Nothing was out of place in the room, but something was wrong without. With catlike agility, the fox kipped-up from its supine position and dashed out the door. The smell was stronger out there, on the chairs, and not just because of the eliciter. The man rose, and the fox snatched the opportunity to hop onto the seat. It snuffed around in the cushion, then made as if to leap onto the table, stretching as far as its short legs could stretch to close the distance between its nose and the glass.

But all was still not well. The little fox wrinkled up its muzzle and twitched its nose, and ran a short sprint every which way, turning its head again and again towards the glass as if to verify that no, there was no same scent in that direction. With no more directions to turn, no more leads to follow, and the revelation that once again it'd been thwarted, the vixen to stamped its feet in vexation and transformed back into a woman.

"I'm afraid Raven might be right. The amulet is thick with the scent of its late master and none other. If it were the original, then the saboteur would be of unparalleled power. If it were counterfeit, then not only did he conceal his own scent entirely, but had the mind to forge the perfume and sweat of a lifetime of use.

Erm, also, apparently late yesterday evening, that seat and glass were perfumed by a presence redolent of cloves and lavender. But strangely, I could find no trace of that scent anywhere else. Whomever sat in the chair and drank from the glass seemed to have appeared and vanished from that spot without moving at all! "

Nashirah is visibly shaken. She covers her mouth with her hands in a similar gesture to the fox as she whispers "This has never happened before...humans aren't aware enough of their scent to remember to cover it up..."

[TheOneHawk]

Erica gives a hard look at the fox-woman, her brow creased with concern. "You're absolutely sure of this? Well, as difficult as it is to believe, that's enough evidence that we must give that possibility consideration. The good news is, that would narrow our suspect list considerably. The bad news is that we can't actually do anything about it." She gives a wry smile then furrows her brow a moment, considering the possibilities. "So, since not everyone in the room is... well versed in magical theory," She casts a sideways glance at Raven, then continues, "In order to curse a magical item with a curse that powerful after its creation, we're looking at one of two spells, either Wish or Miracle. Both of these spells are incredibly rare and can only be cast by the most powerful of mages. The lower end of what we're looking at with that is someone like Elvanna. Additionally, Wish requires a fairly hefty investment, a diamond worth five thousand gold pieces. Aside from a mage of that level, certain outsiders such as an Efreeti are capable of casting a Wish, but this is not generally their method of operation. That leaves us with the possibility of a fake good enough to fool both Tulug's magic and Nashirah's nose, which I still find more believable but is outside the area of my expertise, so I will leave the theorizing there to others, as we all should when we don't know what we're talking about."

[Bhaakon]

"Yesh." The Valet downs another glass and refills it. "Not like I kin afford passage back to Taldor, and my...ish that a fox yoursh? Can I pet it?" The inebriated man smiles widely as the fennec hops up onto Uriah's vacated seat. He pulls himself up to his feet and weaves around the small table, reaching down to scratch the lilliputian fuzzball's elephantine ears just as Nashira hops up to get a good whiff of the used glass.

Off-balance, the valet tumbles over the seat and conks his head on the floor, the blow only lightly cushioned by the centuries-old rug. By the time he hauls himself to his feet, the fennec is gone, replaced by a Garundi woman in the colorful patterns and impressive jewelry of a Thuvian native. "Aww...were'd it go? I jusht wanted scritches..." The Valet asks, his inebriation magnifying the disappointment on his face.

----------------------------------------------------

"I...er...I mean..." The Butler stammers are Lydia's bald accusation of deception. Clearly he knows he's been caught, and he gropes about for some sort of ludicrous excuse to cover for his lies when Tulug, Nashirah, and the other thankfull pipe in to provide enough distraction for the man to collect himself. Not so thankfully, Nashirah's information pulls any hope of continuing the deception out from under the man.

"Fine. Fine. The Exarch met with someone last night. He had me arrange the sitting room personally--glasses, topping off the decanters, a fresh dusting--but ordered me to clear the wing afterwards. I don't know who he met with, but they didn't use the door. He summoned me and gave me the letter shortly after they departed, I assume. I'd...I'd thought they were a spy in the Patron's treasury, reporting on the bid totals." He looks nervous, and who wouldn't be, if this mysterious visitor was the killer. Getting on the bad side of a person capable of murdering the Exarch in this manner isn't good for one's longevity.

As Tulug might have expected, the ritual begins with an unpleasant replaying of the traumatic scene attached to the amulet. A slightly more detached view doesn't provide any new information on the moment of the Exarch's death, and he does his best to hurry past the unpleasantness. Then the boredom, as nothing seems to happen for the next seven hours. Probably because the only person in the room was sleeping peacefully, leaving no psychic reverberations to latch on to.

In deed, there's really nothing worth concentrating on until the very limits of the spell. Tulug can feel the Exarch's excitement as he pens a quick note and seals it with his signet ring. He pulls a silk rope, ringing a bell that summons the Butler, and hands his head servant the folded letter. "The Pyx, tonight." The Exarch commands, giddy. "I'll have the prize now, I'm sure of it. Sure! ...What are you waiting for? I said tonight! Go!"

[Hattish Thing]

Enshadu:

The Sin Wizard simply continues to chuckle quietly to himself as the Butler stammers a complaint in response to the Pathfinder Agent. Yes, that particularly annoying individual would have to be paid a visit after all this Thuvian business was done and over with.

No doubt he'd be far less annoying tied to a rotating wheel upside down in some basement somewhere.

Enshadu had to practice his aim somehow, after all.

--

The Pathfinder vaguely pays attention to all the talk regarding wishes, and miracles, and certain outsiders. He recollects a few blurry memories regarding some personal interactions he's had with Efreeti in the past during various Pathfinder missions. Though his few interactions had been both brief and confrontational, the Sin Wizard had learned more than enough about the firey outsiders during his two altercations with the creatures.

Specifically, how absolutely horrible the sensation of a large sized falchion ripping through your chest felt. It hadn't killed him, but it certainly wasn't a feeling he ever intended to feel again.

Memories of that particularly grueling mission take his mind away from Erica's conversation.

--

After a moment, Enshadu sighs and stands up slowly, allowing his expensive rune-covered robes to drop to the floor. He glances around the room once more before quietly laughing at something that didn't seem to be there at all. The wizard nonchalantly scratches at his neck after that, before waggling his fingers and leisurely walking towards one of the side-rooms, lazily swinging his gold and mahogany walking stick as he does so.

Enshadu enters the side-room, waving absentmindedly at the inhabitants within before continuing forward to a lavishly decorated sideboard, smiling. "Ahh, How decadent. I want one..." After he's done admiring the sideboard itself, the Pathfinder Agent leans back on his cane, his eyes glazing over as he glances at the many bottles contained within the sideboard. He didn't recognize any of it. "This one looks shiny enough..." The evoker reaches for a bottle, holding it up in the light, before another, shinier bottle catches his eye. After slowly leaning his cane against the wall, he reaches for it as well. "Make that two..."

Yet another bottle seems to call out to him from the sideboard, yet another brand he didn't recognize. After looking back and forth from bottle to bottle, the Sin Wizard shrugs and simply places both bottles in his handy haversack, reaching for the third as well.

"Or, you know, three."

--

With that, the Wizard makes his way to the sitting room again, finding a chair next to a table to sit in before pouring himself a drink from one of the three bottles. After pouring the drink into a conjured glass, the Sin Wizard takes a long, long drink from the bottle itself anyway.

"Burns so good. Ow."

[The Hellbug]

The end of this particular vision is much less unpleasant than the previous one for the half-orc, and he opens his eyes slowly as his mind comes back to reality. Sadly, there is nothing more to report than confirmations of what other people have already said. "Unfortunately," he affirms, "my Vision is too limited to see what actually happened between the Exarch and whoever his guest was. I did, however, see something: a letter to be delivered to the Pyx of Abadar that would apparently guarantee his receiving the Elixir. The Exarch seemed impatient to have it delivered, as if time might have been of essence. That's all I saw, but I could speculate on it further if we are so inclined."

[TheOneHawk]

Erica gives Tulug a blank look. "Congratulations, Tulug, you just magically found out what the butler here just told us, literally thirty seconds ago. Speculate away, though, now that you've caught yourself up to the rest of us."

[stack]

"The woman the valet was with last night also knew about the letter, hence my intent to find and question her."

[The Hellbug]

"Did he now?" Tulug answers and with a quick turn to the butler adds somewhat irritably, "that may have been useful earlier, Sir, though perhaps the dubious pleasure of being the last one to see the Exarch alive was too much to bear?"

He lets that accusation sink in before continuing. "But as to what I think: on the surface such a delivery would seem to just be a transfer of funds for the bidding. However, there is still a week left before the final bids are in, and he seemed certain that this would result in him claiming the prize. It would have to be a tremendous sum of money to guarantee that, or, as I suspect, something less transparent. I think this letter merits further investigation."

[TheOneHawk]

Erica nods sharply at Tulug, then pauses and glances from him to Lydia, then to the butler in quick succession. "I have another question first, actually. Would your divinations have noticed the casting of a spell, specifically on of the magnitude we have established as would have been required for the amulet to be cursed? And was the Exarch wearing it last night?"

[Bhaakon]

The Exarch was not wearing the amulet last night. He was in a velvet robe over gaudy silken pajamas, and no jewelry.

[Ilorin Lorati]

Aril

The writer looked on in horror as her friend, rather than diffusing the whole of the situation, decided to redirect everyone's attention to where she hadn't actually lied. Muttering "I stopped by your mother's house," in Raven's direction once it was all said and done, rather than give a real answer to the question that wouldn't be believed. Lifting up her lantern next to her, the writer whispers a command word to the magic device, drawing it around and looking for anything magical that wasn't obviously claimed by one of the people in the room.


Using Lantern of Auras, since I can't get an answer about if anyone has checked the room.

[The Hellbug]

Tulug shakes his head. "No, he was not wearing it," he replies to Erica's question, "in fact, he was dressed for bed. Perhaps his plan concerning the letter came to him unexpectedly in the night?"

"That is, again, pure speculation, but as to my divination: peering into the echoes of the past is not an exact art, but I can confidently say that a spell of the magnitude you are implying would cause ripples in the fabric of time far greater than the events I did perceive. That is not to say, of course, that a being that powerful could not hide the presence of such from my sight--and likely would, given what we already know."

[stack]

Uriah shrugs. "I intend to find the doxy and pick her brain a bit. Anyone who can keep a reasonably low profile is welcome to accompany me. I think too large a group would garner attention and risk earning any watchers left behind to spot interest."

[Bhaakon]

There are a number of magical items scattered about, mostly among the late Exarch's jewelry and wardrobe, though some potions as well. Curatives and poison cleansers, minor protective items, a jeweled headpiece heavy with enchantment magics, lenses to sharpen the eyes and another to translate any writing, among many other minor magical tools. The man had few particularly powerful items beyond the scarab, but maintained a collection of lesser arcanery to tailor for the needs of most any occasion.

No doubt they're itemized in the man's will, as they represent a small fortune. It would be foolish in the extreme to attempt to steal one at this juncture.

[Oneris]

The fox-woman raised an eyebrow at the gaudy 'gentleman's sack of the sideboard. Did the concept of 'respect for the dead' do nothing to deter open season on the dead man's belongings? Sure, looting the tombs of foregone pharaohs is a national pastime in Osirion, and in the open desert it's taken for granted that unused equipment would be put towards furthering the survival of the caravan as a whole, but this here was neither... Her smile took on a hint of a fang. Two can play this game. Why let only one person benefit from this opportunity?

She reached over and plucked the glass from the table, wrapped it in a scarf, and openly dropped it into her pocket, saying to the butler, "Well then. In light of your master's deceit, I think there should be little objection to me collecting this glass for evidence. As well as anything else we deem advantageous to the investigation. Mun, see anything you fancy?"

The animal spirit guide slowly floated over, tiny bunny mouth working furiously to hold onto a rather familiar inlaid ebony box, the corners already rounded and edges marred and pitted.

"Oh, of course! I don't think you'll have any use for this anymore, as dangerous as it is, and a murder weapon too! The Patron would probably like to keep such a dangerous artifact locked safely away."

Nashirah scanned the trinket trove with eyes aglitter, a teasing smile on her lips.

"Hmm, I see many things here that could be useful. You wouldn't mind lending us a few, would you? Your master exhibited such flagrant disregard for the auction regulations, and you yourself weren't exactly forthright with the details. The Patron would be so very cross to hear of this, but I feel he could be persuaded to forgive if much assistance was offered from this house. What do you think?"

[Desril]

Raven

Listening to the revelations about the victim's visitor, Raven starts debating what to do next, staying quiet for the most part as the others do as they will. Aril elicits a smirk, it was always so fun to tease her even if it wasn't perhaps wasn't the best time, but then the odd wizard decides to rummage through the wine collection and help himself. She very nearly said something then, before the fox-woman followed suit, resulting in a very audible sigh as the thief catches her face in her hand and shakes her head. "Could you two be any more blatant? We're trying to solve this man's murder, not root through his belongings and I'd rather not have your greed deducted from my payment. Now, if no one has any better ideas, I think I'll accompany you to question the woman," she says while turning to face Uriah.

But of course, all the blatant thieving made her perhaps too curious too test her companions, and while she was chastizing them for their thefts, she moved to find a trinket of obvious value and pocket it unnoticed. We'll see if any of them are sharp enough to notice, if they are, excellent, and if not...well, I'll figure that out later.


Appraise Take 10 for [20]
Sleight of Hand to stealthily steal said object [roll0]

[Bhaakon]

The Butler snorts as the peculiar wizard makes a few of the cheaper bottles disappear. "His taste in drink is as discerning as his taste in fashion." He mutters low enough for those in the main chamber to hear without the words carrying into the side room. Those with a bit more of a nose for such things know that all three bottles combined aren't as valuable as a single snifter from the unassuming decanting tucked in behind the others.

But Nashirah's attempt bully her way into raiding the dead man's wardrobe is a completely different matter from overlooking Enshadu pilfering a dozen crowns worth of (relatively) common swill.

"I think that you're a far sight distant from any actual evidence to accuse my Lord of wrongdoing." The Butler replies calmly, having now of this nonsense. "The glass and...ugh..the murder weapon are, of course, evidence, but if you think you can add the Exarch's jewelry to your vulgarly ostentatious display like a courting magpie, then you've another think coming."

As he speaks, a certain person named after a magpie-like avian swoops in and palms a ring even as she spouts duplicitous censure.

"Yes, madame, it is quite unprofessional. I will, of course, be sending a receipt to the Patron's palace detailing any and all items taken as evidence, as well as anything else that turns up missing."

[stack]

Uriah rolls his eyes in long-suffering fashion despite only having newly met some of the others. "If you are done playing silly buggers, I am leaving. I trust I can expect more professional comportment on the remainder of the task?" He raises an eyebrow at Raven despite having not noticed the theft until it was pointed out. He doesn't even spare a glare for the obnoxious wizard.

[The Hellbug]

"Shirah! If I heard correctly, the Patron is paying us more than enough to discourage such petty unpleasantness," the half-orc chides, "it'll do no favors to make enemies this early in the investigation." He supposes he should have expected this sort of behavior from the Pathfinder--a sticky-fingered lot, those--but he is somewhat disappointed in his more well-acquainted colleague. Not to say, of course, that Tulug had never taken for himself objects of the dead, but there is a fair degree of difference in finding rare objects out on the fringes of civilization and extorting the deceased's estate while the body is barely cold.

Tulug then turns to Uriah. "Civility will be my highest concern," he answers and prepares to leave, "I will focus my efforts on the other victims' bodies. The authorities may have missed something, and I'd like to wrap my head around these deaths as a series better."

[TheOneHawk]

Erica visibly grimaces as Tulug chimes in about the blatant theft and his destination. "Never thought I'd say this, but Tulug's right. These items are undoubtedly in the Exarch's will and are now the property of those he deemed fit. Unless you happen to be on his will, and no that does not mean you need to find and edit it, Enshadu, it does not belong to you and will remain in this house. Evidence taken will be returned at the conclusion of the investigation. If you have a problem with that, take it up with the Patron. As to further investigations, I also intend to go double check the previous homicides."

[Ilorin Lorati]

Aril

Aril's attention turns from Raven for a moment as she scans the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary but not seeing much of anything that seems to be worth her attention at first glance. Pausing for a moment to glower at her brazen partner, Aril looks around for any writings that need translating that the eyepiece would need to be currently in use for.

"Weren't you the one that just said to leave all that stuff alone? Have some respect for the dead and at least wait until the items go to their inheritors."

(Using a round of Blackened Psyche for Mind Link; yes, the voice sounds like Ezhno. :p)

[Desril]

Raven

Ignoring the others for now and quietly depositing the ring on a nearby dresser, Raven smirks in Aril's direction before replying to her mentally.


"You know I prefer the challenging of sneaking in, I just wanted to see who here is sharp enough to notice. This thing is too hot to take so brazenly."

[Oneris]

"I was just kidding." Nashirah pouted.

"The Patron didn't exactly budget us anything. I thought he may have wanted us to find our own funding..."

Her voice grew quieter and quieter as she failed to convince even herself. Pathfinders were evidently not good role models in civil settings.

"Besides, I didn't actually take anything, unlike En...shadow? and Raven over there..."

"Erm, you know...I'll just go with Tulug." Thoroughly chastened, she quickly fell in line next to the venerable half-orc.

[The Hellbug]

Nashirah's sheepish explanation takes Tulug by surprise. As clever as the shaman was about most things, her foibles like this one never leave the half-orc as anything other than positively puzzled. No matter, though, because it does remind him of one last thing, and he points an accusing finger at the butler before the haughty man can feel too superior. "And you. I wouldn't be so concerned about our behavior if you go to the authorities as much as your own if I were you, unless 'meddling with an investigation on which the reputation of Merab, no, Thuvia itself may ride' is something you wish to explain to them. If our task brings us back here again, I will have the whole truth the first time, sir. Good day!"

As he walks towards the door, it momentarily feels like a weight has been lifted from Tulug's shoulders. Good riddance, indeed.

[Bhaakon]

Scanning the room for anything not in Taldane, Aril finds a number of correspondences on the Exarch's mahogany draw-top desk penned--or brushed, or charcoaled, or, in one case, incised into a sheet of baked clay--in a dozen different tongues. You scan those you can read unaided--a considerable number given your collective facility with languages--and find that most relate to the mundane tasks of managing a globe-spanning shipping concern. There are a handful of flattering notes from artist or scholar looking for patrons, or distant relatives hoping to get in good on with their rich uncle Gregorios. A few are more...private, including a rather strained Varisian limerick punctuated with lip print in the most ridiculous shade of purple lipstick glittering with crushed gem dust.

To love one, it is said, is divine,
but night after night loses shine.
Instead leer at seven, each foxy,
not just one 'mid the thousands of doxies.
A lass for e'ery night might just do,
or go on and make your play for two,
even then the queue to your chamber's short of your wife's line.


Doggrel aside, there are still a number of letter that are impenetrable, but the Butler isn't going to just stand there while you puzzle them out.

"Excuse me, but I must insist you leave the Exarchs personal affairs alone. Only a handful of his business dealing are not under the Patron's purview, and I would be more than pleased to have his accountant forward the information on business in Thuvia, but his clients expect a certain amount of privacy.


1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th.

[Ilorin Lorati]

Aril

"Even if it could mean the killer may get away? Those are some awfully important clients, if so." After a pause, she adds, confused but not letting up despite the butler's protests, "What does this even mean?"

[Hattish Thing]

Enshadu:

The Sin Wizard spends much of the time during which the others are arguing drinking heavily from the bottle of poached wine, his eyes glancing from person to person as if he was watching the most intense game of tennis that ever was. Enshadu gets comfortable, resting his sore feet on the table as he drinks from the bottle. Why, watching his newer companions fight among themselves like this was almost as entertaining as the prospect of sending several thousand volts of magical electricity through some unlucky person's body! It'd been so awfully long since he'd been in a proper fight.

He'd almost forgotten the satisfying sound of crackling flesh. Smelled just like chicken.

As he listens, his right eye noticeably twitches when his name is mispronounced, but the minor transgression is quickly forgotten as Erica reminds the Pathfinder of a particularly pleasant past mission, involving exactly what she was so amusingly referencing. The best part was, it hadn't even been a particularly difficult mission! The only truly difficult part of it all had been the process of finding the damned will. However, several dead guards and the successful acquisition of a will later, The Society ended up making out with a particularly tidy cut out of some poor, dead old Ex-Pathfinder.

Good times.

--

After several moments, watching the others argue gets somewhat less fun. It was so hard to have a good time on the job nowadays. Enshadu stands up, stretching lightly as he does so, before one of the papers catches his attention. He leaves the bottle on the table for now, before striding over towards the paper, an eyebrow raised.

Speaking of searching for wills... Now would be as good a time as any to look for any important documents.

He does, eventually, come across the sheet of paper that Aril found. The wizard takes a good look at the incredibly poorly written poem on the note before blinking twice, slowly. He raises a hand up in the air as if to say something, before finally simply bringing his hand down to his chin. He rolls his eyes, before rubbing a finger across the stain, bringing it up to his lips before licking at it. Eurgh. That was... awful. "Don't know what I expected there. Hm." He shrugs. "Still not the worst thing I've tasted. That shade of purple is absolutely hideous though, ugh. No taste, whatsoever."

After muttering to himself, he speaks up. "Some woman smelling of lavender visited the floor-guy, right? Before he kicked Pharasma's proverbial bucket? Looks like the poor guy got some dopey note from the same lady. The lipstick tastes like Lavender. And I think Amethyst? The Sin Wizard takes another lick. "Mm, definitely Amethyst. Anyway, the Lavender Lady seems to be heavily involved around all this, she visited him very recently."

"If we're lucky, she's cooperative... Though I suppose I'll be just as pleased one way or the other."

[stack]

Uriah is already out the door as the exchange continues behind him. Others can dis-cypher letters and such, his field is more...direct.

[Bhaakon]

"I'm sorry, Madame, but I must insist that you leave the letters be. My Lord was quite serious about the privacy of his clients and the discretion of his shipments. You might even say he took secrecy as a sacred charge. Where he not already dead, he would defend those letter with his life, I'm quite...WHAT ARE YOU DOING, SIR?!" He explains as Enshadu licks the lipstick on the apparent love letter.

"That's is enough. Absconding with mediocre liquor is one thing, but attempted blackmail, and now...now... now...molesting the Exarch's private correspondence is quite another. Begone, all of you! Guards!" It only takes a moment for swordsmen in the indigo livery of the Exarch to show up. to escort you out.

If you have anything left that you want to do, post it now. Pick the next place you want to visit if you haven't made it clear already. Currently I have Raven and Uraih going to the hookah lounge; Nisha, Erica, Tulug and Aril to the morgue. Where are Enshadu and Lydia going?

[Bhaakon]

The guards escort you out firmly but politely. The same can't be said for a certain halfling, who physically blocks you from staining the carpets again with your filthy feet, all the while mumbling dire threats in a half-dozen tongues.

Once out on the street you quickly decide on your next courses of action and divide up to cover more ground. The streets are crowded with people racing to finish the last of their morning errands before taking shelter against the midday heat. The air is heavy with the smell of spices, cooked meats and baked goods, tea and coffee sold at stands on virtually every corner or carried about on cleverly constructed racks draped over the bodies of those who can't afford the license for a stall. One lad parades about with a score of gutted rats hanging from a stick, both a convincing testament of his prowess as an exterminator and an advertisement for cheap protein. A pair of woman and riotous colors have staked out one busy street corner, tossing a jaunty tune back and forth between a one-stringed anzad and a double-sided drum. A child dances, a brass pot nearby set out to collect donations from the small crowd of people watching the show.

It's at this intersection where you split up, heading to different districts on your respective missions.

The Morgue------------------------

The garrison of the Shurtah--the guard and policing force--is a squat stone cube just outside the far more impressive navy complex on the north side of he city. It sits on the border of Merab's slums, and the smells in this part of town are less spices, perfumes, and delicacies and more sewage, sweat, and domestic animals. The street vendors tend to have less appealing goods--bruised fruit, meat that's a a day or two past its prime, plain ceramics and dented cooking pots, cloth that's a bit rough or cheaply dyed--but the buskers are just a lively, and livestock for sale seems healthy enough.

Your letter form the patron gets you into the garrison to to the bodies without incident. They're in a cool room well under ground, each laid out on a heavy granite block. There's an altar to Pharasma in the corner, and the dead in here have all been magically preserved (which has the added benefit to suppressing the smell of decomposition). The Watch Sergeant leads you past most of the bodies--dead beggars or mugging victims stashed here until next of kin can be found--to the plinths bearing Duchess Svetochka and the Count Hasterton.

You're glad for the magics inhibiting the rot, because the count's body is well down that path. The scavengers have had at his corpse, tearing at the soft tissues of the face and gnawing the extremities. You can see the little bore holes where beetles and maggots have made inroads, and the color of the exposed muscle and organs is the green-brown of rot. Svetocha's body is in better shape, though her eyes and tongue are missing, and her lips are in shreds.

"We have the Count's servants in a holding cell, if you want to talk with them." The Watch Sergeant drawls, unimpressed by the grisly scene. "Well, talk at them. They still haven't said a word. The bird is in a cage in a broom closet. We can't shut that one up."

House of Seven Saeals----------------

The Kamaliyah is a rat's nest. Tight streets--alleys really--with buildings that lean outwards and choke out the light. The thin strip of blue sky you can see overhead are crossed by a web of bridges and cat walks, most little more than simple board stretch across the narrow gap. There's a steady stream of traffic on that upper level, maybe even more than on the street proper, but the public entrance to the House of Seven Saeals is at ground level, so that's the route you take. The place is only marked with some hand-painted Osiriani script over a heavy door, but you find it easily enough and have no problem getting past the bouncer--a burly dwarf with nary a hair on his body. You don't even have to show your official documents. The dwarf just takes one look at you, notes your obvious wealth, and opens the door.

Inside are stairs leading down to the cellar that houses the shisha bar. There are a half dozen hookahs ringed with piles of cushions and pillows. It's virtually empty now, only one pipe is active, a trio of women enjoying an anise-seed smoke, tea, and sweets. There's a bar of sorts--really just a table--weighed down with clean mouthpieces, jars, tins, and bottle of every description and manned by a portly female halfling.

The halfling blinks once, slowly, and turns toward you with all the haste of a zombified sloth. "Hmm?" You approach her, and the stink of pesh hits you like a backhanded slap.

Pan Jichan's abode-------------------

The rented manse of Pan Jichan is relatively close to the Exarch's. It's slightly smaller, but nearer to the Patron's palace. All in all equal in the vain contest of ego-measuring that rich people enjoy as a sort of international pastime.

The guards at the gate are Merab natives, as is the woman who comes out to greet you when your make your presence known. She's wearing a brilliant white gown and trousers in the local style--its shining cleanliness itself a testament to her wealth and careful manner--covered by a golden silk cloak stitched with an intricate vermilion phoenix design.

"Ah, the Patron's special investigators. Please, be welcome. The Lady is expecting you. She is in an important meeting, but will receive you in a few moments." The woman explains, politely and apologetically, as she leads you through the mansion to a well-appointed waiting room. The building itself is based around local architectural tastes, but the decoration ties in elements from across Tian Xia. The upholstery is heavy with golds and reds, wooden furniture is lacquered black for the most part, often with intricate designs, usually involving a red phoenix. There are artifacts on display from just about anywhere in Golarian you can name--and many places you can't. It's obviously a show of the reach of Pan Jichan's consortium, but the the items are fewer and more carefully chosen to fit an overall aesthetic than the obscene display of profligacy in the Exarch's home.

Your escort directs you to a set of comfortable chairs, though there are also cushions for those who prefer sitting on the floor. "I apologize again for this inconvenience, but the Lady of the house is very busy. Can I get you some refreshment or answer some questions while you wait?" She flashes a broadly smile that's reflected in her eyes.

If you want to go somewhere else, make a post heading there and I'll respond.

[stack]

Uriah makes a quick scan of the room, seeking the woman from the valet's memory.

[Hattish Thing]

Enshadu - Pan Jichan's Abode:

The Sin Wizard had been perfectly fine with where he was, pondering over the significance of the lavender woman while proceeding to drink more and more from the stolen bottles of swill publicly pilfered from the deceased man's case. However, when the armed guards showed up, Enshadu went along willingly, impressed with how polite the guardsmen were.

Usually he was knocked out first before being escorted off the premises.

--

After a few minutes spent staring at a map of the city, Enshadu casts a quick cantrip on himself, drawing from the magical reserves contained within the trapped shadow bound to him. Inky blackness appears, washing over him and shielding him temporarily from the sun's blinding rays.

It had been so long since he'd gone outside. Was it always this unpleasant?

Probably.

--

Soon, the shadowcaster finds himself wandering down the streets of Merab, enjoying the sights and smells of the exotic city. Upon finding himself confronted by a young boy wielding several bunches of gutted rats on sticks. After pausing for a moment, the wizard shrugs and moves towards the boy before speaking in perfect polyglot. "Yes, I'll have one of your... things." Life had been so boring lately! It was time to experience something new, something exotic!

Enshadu reaches into his robes before frowning. Only gold, no copper. Hm. There was only one way to go about this.

With that, the Sin Wizard purchases the entire cart of rat-kebabs, leaving a gold piece on the counter before merely plucking two of the rat-sticks from the case, leaving the rest behind. For the rest of the trip, Enshadu enjoys his exotic "delicacy" with a grimace. It built character.

--

Just before arriving at Pan Jichan's mansion, Enshadu hides his Pathfinder Badge within his robe, before stuffing the spare kebab within the Handy Haversack, for later consumption. The wizard knew very well of the history shared within Jichan and the Pathfinder Society.

Once the woman in white speaks to him, the Sin Wizard banishes his cantrip, squinting painfully as his eyes slowly and uncomfortably readjust to the bright light. Enshadu takes careful note of the many Phoenix emblems seen all throughout the waiting room within the mansion, and on the greeting woman's white clothing. He sits down, somewhat tired from the brief journey to the mansion. However, the offering of refreshments causes the wizard to perk up a tad. "Refreshments? Oh, oh yes. Fantastic, I was just about to ask, aheh." The Sin Wizard waggles his fingers before continuing. "Alcohol, please. Don't care what from, or where, or whatever."

As soon as the woman leaves the waiting room, Enshadu takes a moment to look around. As he glances around, he notices a glass case in one of the corners of the room. A chalice was held within, a chalice covered in glittering runes. Thassilonian runes! The wizard recognized the intricate, aggressively stylized runes immediately. He rises, looking around before slinking his wave over to the case and reaching for it. Before he makes physical contact with the case, Enshadu catches himself, slapping himself on the wrist for his momentary burst of greed.

Instead, he quickly detects magic, frowning deeply in disappointment as he recognizes the schools of magic. This was Sorshen's Chalice, or one of a set, depending on which source you believed. Expensive, clearly of great value. However, the particular powers granted by the chalice were, unfortunately, quite underwhelming.

However, he does take a mental note before he continues to wait, staring and studying at the chalice from afar.

[Ilorin Lorati]

Aril, amongst the dead.

Aril looks over the corpses with a grimace on her face. While describing a dead body was not alien to her, actually seeing one was obviously a rare curse, and one that she didn't particularly care to repeat multiple times on a given day. Turning to look away, she felt the rustle of a breath on her ear, whispering "What's the matter, child? Feeling a bit squeamish today?" Talking over her dark passenger to keep it from being heard in the echos of the room, the woman quickly adds "I'll speak to the prisoners, just lead the way - though I can't promise any will talk, I'm sure I can get something out of them."

[stack]

Uriah, fixes his smile in place as the pesh-stink wafts past. It wasn't his first time having to deal with such surroundings. Having not sighted his quarry, he leans amicably against the bar. Voice resembling nothing so much as honeyed silk, he begins. "Ah, my fair proprietress, perhaps you could be so good as to help me. A good friend of mine has recommended your fine establishment to the attentions of myself and my servants here. Indeed, he highly praised the company of one particular lady, but, silly creature that I am, I have misplaced her name." He shrugs and forces a blush, self effacing. "So, find myself in need of company and burdened with fortune, I thought perhaps you could save me from both?" He describes the girl in as much detail as he dare.bluff [roll0]
diplomacy [roll1]

[Bhaakon]

Pan Jinchan's Estate-------------------

"Of course, sir. I shall return with your refreshment shortly." The attendant's smile remains as she bows her head slightly and backs out of the room, careful not to disrespect her guest by turning her back on the man. Enshadu only has a few moments to peruse the decor, including the historically valuable and aesthetically unmatched--but only somewhat useful--chalice before the woman returns with a small crystal decanter and a single glass hardly bigger than a thimble. She pulls the plug from the top of the container and the acrid stink of nearly pure alcohol wafts out, assaulting the nose with its stinging pungency. She carefully powers the distilled ethanol into the tiny receptacle and then hands it to the wizard.

"As you requested, sir."

The Seven Saeals----------------------

The plump halfling smiles stupidly as the wave of verbiage washes over her, breaks on her breakwater of inebriation, and recedes back into the sea seemingly without altering her stoned visage. She sits still for a moment, quite literally a minute and a half, before a chubby hand reaches onto her table and pushes forward a particularly ornate silver coffer and pops it open. Inside is a pile of shredded shisha tobacco tinged crimson and sticky with some sweet-smelling proprietary marinade. Based on the expense of the container, it must be the best stuff in the house.

"Okay." She says, the word barely fumbling out past her drug-fattened tongue. "Wait a spell. Twenty crowns."

The Garrison (Prisoners)----------------

"All right. Follow me, then." The Watch Sergeant leads Aril, and whoever else wants to see the prisoners, up the stairs and back to the ground floor of the garrison. About half that level is made of cells to hold drunks and rowdies while they await processing. He leads you right to the back of the cell block, where eight people are stuffed in one iron-barred chamber designed to house two in semi-comfort. As it it, they must take shifts laying down to sleep.

Their eyes are sunken and heavy with bruise-colored bags. There are four men and four women, all human, and a seemingly random assortment of ages between 20 and 60 years. They're all shaved hairless, or at least they were before being imprisoned, but now the stubble is growing in. They watch silently as you approach the cell, dull eyes not quite as lifeless as a broken beast of burden, but utterly lacking expression. "Like I said, they haven't said a word so far. The crow won't shut up, though. He's in a closet down the end of the hall over there. Just go in and take the sheet off the cage."

[stack]

Uriah flashes another smile, depositing the coins.

[The Hellbug]

Tulug, at the Morgue

Gruesome, to be sure, but not quite my area of expertise. While Tulug has had a small amount of experience with medicine in the past, it was mostly with diseases and the like, not wounds and the analysis of such. Therefore, he keeps out of the way anyone who wants to examine the bodies themselves. However, at the sergeant's offer, the half-orc lodges an additional request. "I'd like to, yes, but there is something else I'd like to examine first. Have you impounded any evidence from the deceased, particularly anything they had with them at the presumed times of their deaths?"

[Desril]

Raven

It wasn't her first time visiting a house of ill repute such as this, nor would it be her last, but Raven still couldn't stand the smell of these places. It always stuck to her clothes too and she made a habit of taking a bath before reverting to Selene after any trip to such a place. Still, she understood how they worked and while Uriah gave the demanded coin, she decided to speed things along, "We are in a bit of a hurry, I'm sure you understand," she says with a pleasant smile...and ten more gold coins.

[TheOneHawk]

Erica barely glances at the corpses before following to the prisoners, making her way straight to the bird's cage. "It was mentioned that his sentience has been slipping since Duchess Svetotchka died. How far gone is he?" She doesn't wait for a reply before opening the door and pulling the sheet off the cage.

[Hattish Thing]

Pan Jinchan's Estate-------------------

"Of course, sir. I shall return with your refreshment shortly." The attendant's smile remains as she bows her head slightly and backs out of the room, careful not to disrespect her guest by turning her back on the man. Enshadu only has a few moments to peruse the decor, including the historically valuable and aesthetically unmatched--but only somewhat useful--chalice before the woman returns with a small crystal decanter and a single glass hardly bigger than a thimble. She pulls the plug from the top of the container and the acrid stink of nearly pure alcohol wafts out, assaulting the nose with its stinging pungency. She carefully powers the distilled ethanol into the tiny receptacle and then hands it to the wizard.

"As you requested, sir."

Enshadu returns to his chair and rests for a little bit just before the woman arrives within the waiting room again, her sudden appearance simultaneously startling the Sin Wizard with it's abruptness, and exciting him, seeing as refreshments seem to have arrived with her.

The wizard eyes the receptacle greedily, before accepting it with waggling fingers. "Hopefully this won't kill me."

--

After taking a drink, he speaks to the woman once more. "How much longer do you imagine it'll be? Catnap-worthy, or...?"

[Bhaakon]

The Garrison (Evidence Room)-------------

"Yes, a few items. All that the Count had with him is in the evidence lockup. Most of the Duchess's goods are still locked in her estate, though we did bring in some things. The bird's stand, her bedding and clothes, her case of poison samples." The Sergeant leads you to a heavy iron door near to the morgue.

The evidence lockup is as secure as a bank vault, and those who bother to check see that its magical defenses are even stouter than the physical guards. He retrieves a few crates and bags, all the things collected with the bodies. The Count's log of evidence is full of traveling gear, for the most part. Heavy clothes you'd expect to see from an Ustlavan nobleman on a boar hunt, far too thick for Thuvia. There's a magic pack with a pair of waterskins, empty. All told, about enough liquid to last a man a day in out in the dessert. There's a rapier, heavily enchanted but foppishly embellished and gaudy beyond good taste. The rest is a hodge-podge of items useful and ridiculous. A tea pot but no camp stove or cup. A great deal of silk string, but no rope. A bedroll, but no blanket. A tremendous surfeit of writing materials and a complicated device that you realize is some sort of telescoping pole. A small bucket full of dead leeches. The sort of thing you'd expect from an amateur with no idea how to mount a proper expedition into the wilds.

Svetochka's goods are more straight forward. Sheets and a diaphanous night gown soaked with blood. A pillow placed in a crate that's labelled with a black skull to warn of the poison. A jeweled headband (likely to reinforce one's intellect, as even the rankest apprentice knows that such items couldn't even be removed when sleeping). An intricately crafted folding case loaded with two score or more thick glass ampules. One of them, labelled 'Tears of Death' is empty. Then there's the perch, crafted from silver and ivory to resemble a tree bare of leaves. There are two small dishes, for water and snacks, a silk-lined nest of spun gold, and any number of comfortable spots for a raven to roost.

The Garrison (Broom Closet)-------------

The bird's bead eyes glare out through the cramped brass cage as Rcia tears off the sheet. He bites its tongue for all of three second before it starts blathering. "Oh, the half-breed cub has come to get revenge for her dear mummy. The prodigal daughter, no doubt guilty at abandoning us all. But why, I wonder. She was treated as poorly as me. Maybe here for congratulations, yes? To smooth my feathers and give me a treat for my service. No...wait...it is you, after all. Probably going to complain about stealing your prey, aren't you? Far too much like your father."

"Well, get on with it then. Yes, I have all day, but that doesn't mean I want to wait."

The Seven Saeals---------

The halfling nods glacially as Raven insists on haste, and toddles out through a beaded curtain with the...donation. Then the waiting begins. It's ten minutes before something happens. 'Something' being one of the women seated around the hookah finally working up the nerve to ask you a question.

"What are you here for, anyway? Never seen anyone get Lyn off her arse. Don't think I've even seen her go for a chamber pot." Another nods her agreement. If you glance beyond the table of goods, you'll note that the halfling's well-cushioned seat has a deeply-cleft dent precisely fitted to her frame. You suspect you could get a perfect casting of her rear from it, if one had need of such a thing.

Pan Jinchan's abode--------

"Not so long. I will go and check now. Please enjoy more while you wait." The woman answers Enshadu, setting down the bottle of pure spirits on a side-table beside him.

Fifteen minute later...or is it thirty? The clear liquid made it hard to judge such things. Regardless, the woman returns, still smiling. "The Lady will see you now. I apologize again for the delay, but she is most busy." She leads your through two more sets of doors, offering the support of her arm should inebriated guests need something to steady themselves that isn't both achingly delicate and extremely valuable--descriptors that apply to much of the villa's furniture.

Eventually you emerge in the central courtyard. The Exarchs's courtyard was nice enough, as such things went. Orderly and regimented. Pan Jichan's is a work of art. Plants, local and exotic, arranged in ways that seem both natural in their happenstance and planned to the last detail in their perfection of composition. There are things here that shouldn't be able to grow together in the same climate, but are, somehow, intertwined vibrantly. Paths wind through the garden, twisting between bushes and shrubs pruned to appear overgrown without actually getting in the way. The scent of orchids, roses, and citrus entertwin in an intoxicating aroma, somehow mixed with the smell of exotic spices, not from the kitchen, but from rare cultivars growing within arm's reach.

The center of the incredible oasis is a softly babbling fountain choked with lotuses and water lilies. Butterflies flutter about, while gold and silver fish dart along with frogs and turtles within the water. Pan Jinchan herself is in a wheeled chair nearby, dressed in crimson silks, a heavy blanket covering her lap in spite of the heat. She's work at an easel, painting a watercolor of the scene in front of her. It's not a good piece. The lines are crooked, and you can see her hand shaking as she goes make a final stroke before setting her brush aside.

The servant who guided you in takes away the painting gear and produces a glass of iced lime water as if by magic (though, on a second look, there's a pitcher of the stuff behind the painting), and holds it up to Lady Pan's lips to that she may drink. Then the attendant carefully turns Pan Jichang's chair so that she can face you directly. You note that there's nowhere for you to sit. In fact, there are impressions in the moss nearby where there must have recently been benches of some sort for entertaining guests, but they're now missing.

"So, a member of the Pathfinder Society." Lady Pan crows, her voice quite a bit stronger than her palsied grip. "Here to offer a much belated personal atonement, I expect. The compensation was as agreed, but I never did receive the formal apology I demanded as part of the settlement. Though I do believe it would have been more appropriate for a Venture-captain to deliver it. Or a Decemvir."

The woman who brought you here is no longer smiling.

[stack]

Uriah turns to the speaker, walking a bit closer. "Why, we are merely following a recommendation. Best to patronize those that have earned a good reputation, no? I trust that it not an uncommon thing here?"Lesser Charm: You may detect a creature’s emotional state (Will negates if unwilling). Unlike other lesser charms, there is no limit to the number of times you may use this lesser charm on a target in a day.

DC25, targeting the speaker

[Ilorin Lorati]

Aril

Aril scowls as she's left in front of the jail cell, looking through the bars at the people held inside. How many people were in there? How could the guard force them into such inhumane quarters? "You poor things. Did they just gather you up in here and forget about you? This is horrible!" Without even bothering to wait on any kind of response from the prisoners, Aril turns and moves to find a guard. "It would be easier to simply force the information out of them. Get them separate, get into their head and find just... where... to twist."

"Well it's a good thing I'm in charge, then, because the easier way isn't the way that will get results. First, we help, then we ask them what they can help with."

Ignoring any further protests from the demon, Aril continues her hunt for a guard. Once she finds one, the woman points back in the direction she came, questioning "Could you explain to me why the dead Count's servants are all being treated like chattel? They don't even have enough room to breathe, much less keep a semblance of a healthy schedule!"


Diplomacy if needed: [roll0]

[Hattish Thing]

Pan Jichan's abode--------

"Not so long. I will go and check now. Please enjoy more while you wait." The woman answers Enshadu, setting down the bottle of pure spirits on a side-table beside him.

Fifteen minute later...or is it thirty? The clear liquid made it hard to judge such things. Regardless, the woman returns, still smiling. "The Lady will see you now. I apologize again for the delay, but she is most busy." She leads your through two more sets of doors, offering the support of her arm should inebriated guests need something to steady themselves that isn't both achingly delicate and extremely valuable--descriptors that apply to much of the villa's furniture.

Eventually you emerge in the central courtyard. The Exarchs's courtyard was nice enough, as such things went. Orderly and regimented. Pan Jichan's is a work of art. Plants, local and exotic, arranged in ways that seem both natural in their happenstance and planned to the last detail in their perfection of composition. There are things here that shouldn't be able to grow together in the same climate, but are, somehow, intertwined vibrantly. Paths wind through the garden, twisting between bushes and shrubs pruned to appear overgrown without actually getting in the way. The scent of orchids, roses, and citrus entertwin in an intoxicating aroma, somehow mixed with the smell of exotic spices, not from the kitchen, but from rare cultivars growing within arm's reach.

The center of the incredible oasis is a softly babbling fountain choked with lotuses and water lilies. Butterflies flutter about, while gold and silver fish dart along with frogs and turtles within the water. Pan Jinchan herself is in a wheeled chair nearby, dressed in crimson silks, a heavy blanket covering her lap in spite of the heat. She's work at an easel, painting a watercolor of the scene in front of her. It's not a good piece. The lines are crooked, and you can see her hand shaking as she goes make a final stroke before setting her brush aside.

The servant who guided you in takes away the painting gear and produces a glass of iced lime water as if by magic (though, on a second look, there's a pitcher of the stuff behind the painting), and holds it up to Lady Pan's lips to that she may drink. Then the attendant carefully turns Pan Jichang's chair so that she can face you directly. You note that there's nowhere for you to sit. In fact, there are impressions in the moss nearby where there must have recently been benches of some sort for entertaining guests, but they're now missing.

"So, a member of the Pathfinder Society." Lady Pan crows, her voice quite a bit stronger than her palsied grip. "Here to offer a much belated personal atonement, I expect. The compensation was as agreed, but I never did receive the formal apology I demanded as part of the settlement. Though I do believe it would have been more appropriate for a Venture-captain to deliver it. Or a Decemvir."

The woman who brought you here is no longer smiling.

Enshadu continues to enjoy the particularly strong beverage and admire the room around him. Though the thought of poison comes to mind once he's up to his second glass of the powerful drink, Enshadu simply shrugs and rolls his eyes. If someone as powerful as Pan Jichan wanted him dead, she most likely wouldn't do it with poison.

Besides, this as expensive stuff. It'd be such a waste.

--

The Society Agent continues to sip and look around the room, occasionally slapping himself aside the face when he feels like he's getting a bit too groggy, careful to avoid accidentally slapping the particularly large blood polyp situated towards the right side of his cheek. That'd be most unfortunate.

Finally, the woman arrives once more, this time with better news.

The Sin Wizard stands confidently, relying upon his glamorous walking stick to steady himself. "Ahh, fantastic. I appreciate your Lady's generosity, I ain't felt that pickled in quite some time. Still, music would have really topped off that whole waiting experience. Though, I guess decent musicians are hard to find and keep these days. Keep in the... you know, paid with gold sort of way. Not in the bad way! Not against their will, or anything like that. ...Obviously." Enshadu blinks twice before awkwardly smiling at the woman and walking forward gingerly, his right leg asleep from the long wait. As he walks down the many luxuriously decorated halls, Enshadu politely waves off the woman's offering of support.

With Enshadu, touching people usually ended in an explosion of blood and electrified gore, after all. That, and it would be foolish for the evoker to risk revealing his true appearance here.

--

As he steps outside into the gardens, the Sin Wizard curls his upper lip in disgust and looks around the area. It was all so bright, and warm, and awful!

As Pan Jichan reveals herself, Enshadu gazes towards her painting for but a second before averting his eyes. Now would be a poor time to comment upon the woman's artistic skills, or lack thereof. The Sin Wizard looks around the area for some sort of chair, taking note of the uncomfortable absence of a seat of any kind. That was concerning. The tone that the old woman in the wheelchair takes is even more unsettling, however, to Enshadu. Apparently, Lady Pan was the kind to hold a grudge.

Enshadu didn't fully understand it. What's a crew, or a ship between mutual business partners? The gold the Lady had received to remedy the relations between the Society and Jichan had been worth far more than their lives, or a sunken vessel.

After a second of looking forward, somewhat caught off guard, he speaks. "Uhhh. Yes. Society Agent, Gold Member, guilty as charged. Heh, gold member." After quietly giggling to himself, Enshadu bows curtly before noting the other woman's sudden lack of a smile.

"Anyway, yes. I am Enshadu. I regret to inform you that I am not, in fact, a Venture-Captain, yet, nor a Decemvir. No, rather, I'm here on official business, Ms. Jichan. Got a fancy piece of paper and everything."

"I... apologize for any inconvenience that my appearance as a representative of the Society may cause you., bt there are matters of far greater importance than a few dead sailors and a lost ship that need be discussed, Miss. Jichan. If you weren't already aware, Exarch Gregorios was found dead a short time ago. Murdered. My patron and I have reason to believe that you may be at risk."

"Your full cooperation with this investigation would be most appreciated, as I'm sure you'd wish for your enterprise to have as little to do with all this murder-y shenanigan stuff as possible. So, if you don't mind, I have a few questions My Patron has bid me to ask of you during this... regretfully bright day. What was your relationship with the Exarch? Do you have any idea who may be behind this murder?"

"Also, do you have a free chair anywhere? My feet hurt."

[Desril]

Raven

For her part, Raven just smiles at Uriah's comment, figuring that such an obvious lie would fall on its face, but no point in ruining it now, "My friend here is just a little inexperienced but always so professional, I wanted to show him a good time and a little word of mouth goes a long way."


Bluff [roll0]

[The Hellbug]

Tulug starts his investigation by cataloging the Count's possessions, shaking his head in disappointment as he looks over each item. The man was a fool for going out onto the open desert with such gear, but it was fairly obvious that he at least expected to be there, even as poorly-informed as he evidently was. The half-orc had expected the Count to have been kidnapped and left for dead, given the deaths of the other victims, but, alongside that suspicious message to the Exarch, the Count's relative preparedness was beginning to make it look like the murderer (if there had been, in deed, only one) could be luring the victims to their own deaths somehow.

For now, Tulug takes the water skins in hand and begins to concentrate. The Count's time of death is uncertain and would be pushing the limits of Tulug's abilities regardless, but hopefully there is still some connection to the man in his possessions, the water skins in particular chosen because of their connection to his death--hopefully his dying emotional state would have left a mark on them.

Object reading on the water skins; a long shot, but potentially a helpfulone.

[Bhaakon]

The waterskin is fairly new, you note as your look it over. Local make, featuring the bright colors and bead work in the distinctive geometric designs Merabi craftsman pride themselves on. The cork is missing from its spigot, no doubt discarded somewhere in the desert as the late Count tried, desperately, to suck out the last drop of life.

You close your eyes and concentrate, and a vision come to you. You see a dead body still gripping the waterskin tight in death, just beginning to bloat in the sun. Flies swirl in a lazy cyclone above, scattering briefly each time the jackal or one of the vultures camping out the corpse darts in to nibble.

But suddenly there's a frightened screech from the jackal, and it sprints off with its tail tucked between its hind legs. The vultures are gone just as fast, raising a cloud of dust as their great wings beat hard to get their ponderous forms aloft.

A moment later the air next to the body...unravels, is the best way you could describe it. A slit forms in reality and widens into a ragged portal. A thing sloughs through, a lopsided form with too-long arms and pink, glabrous flesh shiny with mucus. A robe of darkest black is thrown over its seven-foot form, the hood fitting ill over a head that's little more than tumor with a toothy maw. It lurches its way to the count's abandoned pack, the claws of one gangling arm digging into the hard pan to steady its shambling gait. The being's other arm grabs the leather sack in and dumps the contents, scattering them about until it find what it's looking for...a book, but an odd one. It's a set of lead plates, a score of them, bound together into a codex. The cover plate is an ankh encircled with arms or wings.

The creature gurgles--you assume with satisfaction, though in truth it sounds like a pneumonia-sufferer's death rattle--and staggers back the way it came. The portal sews itself back together, leaving a scar in the air that takes some minutes to fade. Then your vision is done.

The symbol you saw is that of Nyarlathotep, and outer god known better in this region as the Black Pharaoh.
The creature is a Dimensional Shambler.

[TheOneHawk]

Erica smiles coldly at the raven. "Rafal. I am very pleased to see you've not yet completely reverted to a mindless animal. Would you kindly explain to me exactly how you managed to murder my mother where so many others have failed over the years?"

[The Hellbug]

Tulug sets the waterskin down weightily as his vision clears. "Hmm, no evidence," he mutters as he looks through the count's pack again, hoping for some sort inspiration he had missed, "but my vision showed me a peculiar sort of scavenger, a bulbous mass that, I daresay, isn't of this world. Just as peculiar was the count's cargo that was taken: a tome related to the Dark Pharoah Nyarlothotep. Count Vieland was definitely in something over his head, whether or not he knew it. Shirah, we need to find out why this man walked out into the desert to his death."

Still seated, the half-orc turns his attention to the Duchess's belongings, eventually settling on the headband for his reading.

[Bhaakon]

Aril------------------------

"They're uncooperative witnesses and suspects." The guard answers Aril's angry query with a defensive tone. "We can't have them taking up half the cells in the jail, they can't be tried or sentenced until we figure out what happens, and they can't be released until they start talking. They haven't even asked why they're being held, complained, nothing. They just sleep, eat, and wait around staring into nothing, like...well, like a donkey or something. Except a donkey will bray if it's not happy. They just...don't do anything."

Indeed, the late Count's servants don't even seem to register Aril's attempt to get them into nicer cells.

Erica------------------------

If a bird could grin, Rafal would be flashing teeth from ear to to ear. If he had ears.

"You ask like it was hard." The raven brags. "No one else ever got around the wards on her bedchamber, but she let me past them. She was a fool to trust me given how she treated me. Thought that the leverage of turning back into bird would keep me in line. But she's wrong...oh ho was she wrong. Rafal doesn't take that kind of demeaning treatment sitting down. The way she'd hand feed me like a chick. Or tell me, me. what magics she wanted. I was the expert, clearly. And how she'd take my counsel and discount it. Like how I told her to assassinate you before you came back and did her in. But no, she was confident you were too much f a coward. But I know you always hated her. Everyone hated her. But only one of us could actually do something about it."

Seven Saeals------------------

Your first impression is that the woman is numbed by narcotics, but, digging deeper, you find that her interest is more than idle.

"Day's a bit young, innit?" The woman replies. "Most of the professionals are sleep now, you know? Probably have to pay extra for morning service." She shrugs. "But Lyn would know, so I guess you picked the right place."

As if on cue, the halfling shuffles back into the room and hoists herself back up into her seat, twisting slightly to settle proberly into the familiar crater in the cushions. Finally, when she's properly situated, she nod ever so slightly towards the bead curtained portal she just returned from.

"Upstairs. Second door." She mumbles. She blinks as she speaks, her eyelids making the arduous trip across her lenses over the course of a solid ten seconds.

"Oh...upstairs. I guess you'll get what you came for, then." The woman observes, popping a cookie in her mouth. "Twenty crowns, was it? I'd have guessed twice that to rouse the girls before noon."

[TheOneHawk]

A short, harsh laugh escapes Erica at the bird's words. "I suppose you didn't take it sitting down, considering you can't physically sit, but you sure took it for a damned long time. You were her familiar longer than I've been alive, Rafal, and behind her wards for all of it. If you wanted to kill her so bad you'd have done it long ago. Gods know you had the opportunities. Why now?"

[stack]

Uriah excuses himself, "Maybe we were not unexpected? Or maybe the service here is everything I've heard? Good day." He gives a nod to the halfling as he passes toward the indicated door. Few would catch the wink to his companions as he turns, giving them pause to consider his words.bluff to pass secret message 'something is up', bluff [roll0] autopasses the DC to be understood, rolled only to determine interception DC

[Bhaakon]

Lady Pan's Estate--------------------

The shipping magnate in the wheelchair frowns, her parchment skin crazing like poorly fired pottery until the tension of the expression. "I'm afraid the only chair here is taken." She replies. "Would that I could stand up and offer it to you. Alas, I fear that such a...Gold Member, was it? I've never heard of such a thing. No doubt some sort of title inflation. A functionary in good standing with the Pathfinder Society, such as yourself, will simply have to continue to stand well for the time being."

"As for Gregorios," The loathing drips from her lips as she pronounces the name. Whatever annoyance she has for the Pathfinders, it's nothing compared to her opinion of the deceased. "I have no dealings with slavers, smugglers, and liars, as I'm sure your superiors can attest. I'm certainly pleased by his demise, as pleased as anyone would be when sewage is washed from the gutters by a fresh downpour, I cannot claim responsibility. It would be foolish for me to kill the man here, where I have so much to lose if caught. It would be far safer to wait until after I win the auction, which I fully expect to win. Besides, I'd be in a better condition to give such matters the personal attention they deserve. Were I so inclined, of course."

She pauses, and the servants holds the lime-water up to Jichan's lips for another shallow sip. "I'm sure you'll find that the man had many enemies, both potent and pedestrian. He was wealthy, but not personally powerful. Just about anyone could see to his end if they managed to get close enough. And then there are all the...less well-heeled bidders. Perhaps some of them think to slip into the top six. I couldn't give you their names, though surely the Patron or his representatives could do so."

[Desril]

Raven

Uriah seemed to have the situation in hand, and though she hadn't known him for long, Raven's intuition said to trust his abilities, so if he said something was up, she was inclined to believe him even if she didn't notice herself. She was, however, curious by the woman's rather obvious interest in them, but unfortunately couldn't press her on the subject without risking tipping their hand, something which wasn't worth the effort without anything clear to be gained while there were still leads to follow up on. So for now, she simply nods her head to the woman in time with her partner's good-day and follows along to meet their suspect.

[Hattish Thing]

Lady Pan's Estate--------------------

The shipping magnate in the wheelchair frowns, her parchment skin crazing like poorly fired pottery until the tension of the expression. "I'm afraid the only chair here is taken." She replies. "Would that I could stand up and offer it to you. Alas, I fear that such a...Gold Member, was it? I've never heard of such a thing. No doubt some sort of title inflation. A functionary in good standing with the Pathfinder Society, such as yourself, will simply have to continue to stand well for the time being."

"As for Gregorios," The loathing drips from her lips as she pronounces the name. Whatever annoyance she has for the Pathfinders, it's nothing compared to her opinion of the deceased. "I have no dealings with slavers, smugglers, and liars, as I'm sure your superiors can attest. I'm certainly pleased by his demise, as pleased as anyone would be when sewage is washed from the gutters by a fresh downpour, I cannot claim responsibility. It would be foolish for me to kill the man here, where I have so much to lose if caught. It would be far safer to wait until after I win the auction, which I fully expect to win. Besides, I'd be in a better condition to give such matters the personal attention they deserve. Were I so inclined, of course."

She pauses, and the servants holds the lime-water up to Jichan's lips for another shallow sip. "I'm sure you'll find that the man had many enemies, both potent and pedestrian. He was wealthy, but not personally powerful. Just about anyone could see to his end if they managed to get close enough. And then there are all the...less well-heeled bidders. Perhaps some of them think to slip into the top six. I couldn't give you their names, though surely the Patron or his representatives could do so."

Enshadu stands awkwardly and winces as the old woman shifts her expression, causing all sorts of uncomfortably labyrinthine wrinkles to form across her aged face. By the gods, her skin, it was so dry! What a calamity, it hurt to look at. Had she never heard of moisturizing?

The Sin Wizard doesn't quite catch all of what the woman says as he ponders whether or not offering the ancient shipping magnate some facial lubricant would be considered proper or not in present company.

Probably not.

--

Eventually, the Pathfinder Society agent responds. "That is, uhh, most unfortunate, yeah. Looks pretty comfortable though, so ya got that going for you. Which, you know, is better than nothing, I suppose. Yeah? Yeah." The Sin Wizard offers a lopsided smile as he attempts to make small conversation to smooth over the rather tense situation. "Anyway, uh, yeeeeah. No chair, got it. Cause, the walking thing, yeah. Kinda keeps the chair sorta... I, uhhh. Hm. Right, this is harder than I remember. Heh. Harder. Er." The wizard pauses, bringing his free hand up to rest upon his face as he slowly stops talking, the intricacies of small-talk lost upon the blunt and rather callous and socially inept Pathfinder. "Enough about you, I suppose, more about me."

There! A subject he knew much about.

Enshadu gives his best smile before straightening his posture once more and continuing to speak. "Heh, don't worry, Ms. Jichan. You've little to fear from this gold member." Deadpan. "I suppose I will endure having to stand a bit longer." He scratches at his face. "Uhh, I couldn't help but notice that you seem to hold a particularly low opinion of the dead guy. I mean, it's understandable. Was a bad guy, I guess. And he had such a poor taste too, bleh. Er, poor taste in alcohol, that is. Not the man himself. I wouldn't know how the dead guy tasted. That'd... that'd be pretty weird, am I right? Heh."

"Anyway, yeah, you clearly hated the guy, and I guess it's true, it wooould be pretty inefficient to just order the guy killed yourself. Too much at stake and all, if ya got caught. Though... You _could_ have always gotten somebody else to do it. That's what I would have done if I was super rich and wanted some guy dead."

"Unfortunately... My Patron would appreciate it if I returned with proof, rather than a handful of nothing. Sooo, and, uh, this is purely hypothetical, obviously, but if you were a suspect in this most heinous murder, how exactly would you go about proving your innocence to the devilishly handsome representative of an interested third party that stands before you?

[Bhaakon]

Seven Saeals------------------

You head through the beaded curtain and turn left, up the stairway that twists through three landings--at least, you judge, two stories--before depositing you in a space where the rules of propriety and good taste clearly have no sway at all. Every surface is brightly covered and soft. You feet sink into thick carpets nearly to your ankles. Dunes of silken cushions flow around the room. The walls and ceilings are covered so thoroughly by upholstery that you think you must be in the safe room of a garish asylum. And if that's the case, then the dozen bodies in scandalous states of undress must be the doctors and orderlies. Men, women, humans, dwarves, halflings, a bleached gnome with a fiendish looking assortment of whirring devices, an elf with more spiked leather than a Kuthite monastery, stout half-orc with a bandolier of...creative wands. They aren't exactly lines up for inspection like slaves at the auction, but the practiced ease of the proactive poses lets you know that this is every bit the meat market.

There's a man standing beside the door, tubby, bedecked in a silken shorts, a bright yellow smoking jacket, and not much else. You almost don't notice him, walk past him, your attention exhausted trying to take in the sheer audacity of the decor. He slips behind you, placing a hand on each of your shoulders. "So...do you see anything you like? Oh, what am I saying. You can't possibly tell just by looking, Get in there, talk with them, touch them, sample, if you will, before you choose. They won't bite. Well, except Beatrice there." The leather-clad women grins, flashing teeth filed down to points reminiscent of a sharks. "...The muzzle costs extra, but I'd strongly suggest it for a novice." The humor in the procurer's voice has just enough of an edge that you have to wonder if he's joking.

Uriah immediately picks out a young woman at the back. Her clothes are more modest than the rest, her pose closed and shy, her makeup playful and a bit childish with its glitter and bright colors instead of smokier, subtler tones. It's the woman the valet was with.

Broom Closet-----------------

"I...I don't know. It was just all the things added up. She's down here, far from Irrisen. She let her guard down some, maybe. Kept her poison in her room instead of her lab, across the palace. I saw my opportunity, and I took it. Could have been that other bitch's bird. She let it roost on her shoulder, you know. I was in the room watching it on her shoulder, like an equal. Do you know the last time I roosted on Svetochka's shoulder? Forty years. That's how long. Look, it wasn't my fault. The meal worms had eaten something bad. It just...came out. She never let me forget it. No. Couldn't ever perch on her again. Had to perch on my gilded tree of shame." The bird ruffles in anger, squawks in rage. "She made me wear a diaper for two months. Do you remember that? A DIAPER. IN PUBLIC."

[stack]

Uriah makes a show of looking over the assembled meat before settling on the destination that was never in doubt. He signals his choice with a faint nod, then waves away the others vaguely.

[TheOneHawk]

Erica chuckles briefly at the memory of Rafal in a diaper, certainly one of Svetotchka's more amusing punishments for the bird, before continuing her questioning. "What other bitch's bird, Rafal? When and where was this?"

[Desril]

Raven

It'd be difficult to get anything from her without giving away our motive, maybe it's best to just confront this one directly?

Smiling as Uriah waves the others away, "I won't be participating, but what's the cost to watch?"

[Bhaakon]

Quoth the Raven---------------

"Bah, that shyster fortune teller Svetochka brought in. I told her it was nonsense, of course. Everyone knows that harrowing is too unreliable to be trusted, but she invited the veiled swindler and her bird in for a reading anyway. Probably just to spite me after I gave my reasonable opinion." Rafal ruffles his feathers in remembered outrage. "She put on a good show, I'll give her that much. Stepped right out of the shadow in Svetochka's own sitting room. Granted, I've seen plenty of people magic their way into a place, but it's far rarer outside of Irrisen."

"So she ran her shuffle, all kind of cheap magic to send the cards flying about, and told asked Svetochka to pick. So she does, and the Betrayal flips over." Cawing his amusement, Rafal pauses a second to get out all his mirth before continuing. "Maybe she wasn't a grifter after all? Anyway, the array had the Big Sky, the Tyrant, and the Courtesan all out of alignment, the Bear in the center, Juggler in the top right. Or was it the bottom left?" Rafal tilts his head, that very avian expression he defaults to when he tries to think hard or recall something. "I...I can't remember right..."

Seven Saeals------------------

The girl Uriah indicates pouts slightly at the man's gruffly forward attitude. Clearly her typical clientele expected a certain reluctance, naiveté. A fact made manifest by her response to Raven's suggestion. "W...watch?!" She stammers, seemingly scandalaized. She even managed to blush at the thought, a rather neat trick worthy of the finest Chelish opera stage. "That's so...I never..."

"Three to watch. Five to join." The procurer answers smoothly.

The woman whimpers, but nods, blinking back tears as she's led into the side room. It's every bit as well appointed as the loby of the cathouse--and precisely the chamber Uriah saw flash across in the Valet's mind (albiet significantly less hazed by intoxicants).

"P...please...I'm new here." The woman pleads, playing up her part. "Don't do anything too...adventurous, I beg..."

Lady Pan's Estate---------------

"If a devilshly handsome representative of a neutral third party stood before me, I might offer him a glass of chilled plum wine and explain that it would be utterly foolish of a person in my position to engage in petty revenge plots before securing my renewed youth. That it would be foolish of me to act when I am so obvious a suspect. That I am for too...decrepit" She pauses a bit before settling on that adjective, spitting it out like a snake launching venom. "To do much of anything, and that I would not entrust so personal--perhaps enjoyable--a task to a mere hireling. Further, that throwing around such accusations in the absence of proof is a good way to find yourself hauled before the Patron himself under accusations of slander."

"But since it is in fact a greasy, pustular oaf cloaked in a simple illusion who stands before me, a minor cog in a globe-spanning ring of scoundrels and grave-robbers, I will simply point out that I have met all my obligations by simply meeting with you, and that you should now hasten from my sight before you are made to."

[Hattish Thing]

Lady Pan's Estate:

The Sin Wizard smiles pleasantly as she begins her response, bringing his hands together in anticipation of the no doubt quite thoroughly luxurious glass of delicious plum wine that was supposedly coming his way. The long, annoying walk here was definitely worth it. In fact, Enshadu temporarily spaces out for a few seconds as he quietly daydreams about the incredible wine he was about to have. As such, a rather simple expression forms on his face, his pleasant smile shining brightly, too brightly.

However, Lady Pan's sudden change in tone snaps the wizard out of his dream.

Now that he took a better look at the situation, Enshadu suddenly found himself feeling steadily more and more uncomfortable. As the old woman continues, the wizard sort of just stands there, stunned for a few seconds. Finally, he recovers, a perplexed look on his face. Enshadu had been called lots of things before, usually by creature's that promptly exploded in a shower of magical energy and blood soon after. Obviously, that wouldn't be the first case here. It was odd, the Sin Wizard could hardly remember ever feeling this powerless, or genuinely self-conscious about his ravaged physical form.

--

The Pathfinder Agent simply raises his hands high, assuming a relaxed stance, finger-guns awkardly directed towards her general direction. "Okay, so, first, wow. Rude. This is 4716 or something, you can't just go around calling people "pustular", lady. That's probably, like, deeply offensive to the pustule people of the Oenopion Wastelands." The Sin Wizard frowns deeply, shaking his head as if disappointed in a child. "Second, I dunno what you're talking about with greasy here, but that was pretty uncalled for too. Really uncool, lady. I'm just trying to do my job here, there was no need to get all personal and stuff. I've got feelings, you know." The wizard barely manages to keep a derisive chuckle silent. Instead, Enshadu sighs before taking off his hat, bowing deeply before the others in the room, exposing his rather hideous true form to all within, his body language clearly quite sarcastic. "Despite everything, I must say, I am thoroughly impressed with your marvelous ability to pierce the many incredibly complicated illusions layered atop this exceedingly powerful hat of mine. Truly a feat worthy of the greatest champions of the Ruby Phoenix Tournament."

Enshadu rises from his low bow before promptly rolling his eyes, placing his large feathered cap upon his head once more, and turning.

He speaks over his shoulder. "Anyway, thanks for your... cooperation. This "minor" cog's gotta walk though, plenty more suspects to question, plenty more ground to enjoy walking on."

"Not that you'd know much about that."

--

With that, The Sin Wizard ducks around the corner, hurriedly rushing along his way out into the street and heading for the nearest alley.

[stack]

Seven Saeals------------------
Uriah closes the door carefully, turning to the woman. He looks into her eyes for a moment.
powerful charm (read mind) + curse (3SP total) DC25, roll twice and take worse, pulling the name/description of whoever she passed the information on to that she got fromthe valet.
Powerful Charm: You may pull a specific piece of information out of a creature’s mind (Will negates). This is usually enough information to answer a single, specific question to the best of that creature’s knowledge, in no more than 25 words. A creature who successfully saves against this powerful charm may choose to provide no answer to your question or attempt to lie with their Bluff skill. If you use this powerful charm twice on the same creature to ask the same question, the same answer (correct, no answer or lie) is given again.


"I would actually like a word with you, if you don't mind."

[Oneris]

Chastened from the admonishment, Nashirah quietly took in the surroundings in a far more subdued manner than at the palatial manor before. The sights and smells of the city--the smells especially--assault Nashira's senses, threaten to overload them. It was always like this in Merab and similarly populated spots. Too many people, too many stenches and sounds. The unwashed and, worse, those who considered liberal applications of perfume to be a good replacement for a proper bath, pungent spices used to excess, the discordant percussion of the local music. In small doses, in a modest caravan, such things could be endured, maybe even appreciated, but the overwhelming stimulation of a crowded market made it hard to concentrate, hard to think about anything but fight or flight.

Her mood couldn’t help but be lifted as they entered the morgue and descended into the depths of the earth. The vacuous silence siphoned away the ringing in her ears that had built up to near intolerable levels during the trek across town. While it lacked the warm earthy scent of freshly dug earth, the breezy coolness and close confines was a balm on frazzled nerves.

Which is fortunate, because she's going to need all her faculties to figure out what it going on here. There are no obvious conclusion to be drawn from the bodies that she hadn't already read in the Vizier's report. The Duchess had clearly perished of blood loss, pecked to death after being poisoned senseless. The Count had died of dehydration or heat stroke--at least that was the proximal cause. After seeing what had been found with his body, it's clear what he actually died of.

"Idiocy. He died of sheer idiocy." Her annoyed frown reached the limits of how far her face could stretch. "Barely enough water for a midday stroll? Clothes just begging for a sunburn to the bone. A title's worth of noble gold and yet he couldn't buy the wisdom to realize a half-competent guide could save his skin more than this mess. Not that it would have helped; dabbling in matters of the Dark Pharoah would have already sealed his fate. I take it that the tome was as willingly in his possession as the rest of his 'supplies'?"

[Bhaakon]

Lady Pan's Estate-------------------

Pan Jinchan's tight smile slowly morphs into a garish grin that crinkles her parchment-thin facial skin as it grows, crazing her flesh like a poorly fired teacup. Her head servant watches the wizard's performance stone-faced, an impressive display of control in the face of the Pathfinder's ridiculous outburst.

As Enshadu turn to storm off, the Thuvian woman leaves her place at Lady Pan's side and retakes her place as the untrustworthy crypt-robber's minder. She hastens ahead of him to open the door leading to the quickest exit from the property, placing her a few steps ahead of man as he flings his parting shot over his shoulder.

Lady Pan's grin immediately turns flat and pales as the blood is squeezed from her vice-tight lips. She lets out a hushed grunt of shock and anger. It's not much, but for a woman of Lady Pan's formidable self-control, it's virtually slobbering rant of uncontrolled rage. The constant tittering of the many exotic birds that populated her garden--hardly any actually native to the area--nearly falls silent. Only one avian continues to caw, it calls close enough to stilted human laughter to highlight the insult.

Enshadu turns back to ward the door, just in time to catch and open-handed slap across his cheek that shatters the shocked hush of the garden and his pride alike.

The minder rubs her hands together to banish the sting from her palms, eyes staring daggers at Enshadu even as she speaks in her typical polite and cheerful tone. "The exit is this way, Master Pathfinder."

And the exit is indeed that way. She must have given you quite the run-around on your trip in, because it only takes a dozen steps to exit the inner garden and walk out the front door of the estate. A far cry from the many halls and antechambers you traversed before meeting with the owner of the house. Well, renter.

Outside, you make for the nearest alley. It's a tight space between the outer walls of too lavish compounds. And they certainly do need walls, because the streets are a press of bodies even in the rich part of town. You cut through the crowd towards the shadowed alley, fighting off an aggressive kahve merchant with a steaming brewing apparatus mounted on his back, pointedly ignoring a haranguing Groetan's warnings of the inevitable descent of the moon to drown us all with its molten fondue core, and wading through a flood of street urchins in the final stretch before you reach the calm and cool confines you'd been searching for.

You didn't notice it at the time, but once you've had a moment to collect yourself in the alley, you realize that your left hand is a bit lighter than usual. Significantly lighter, in fact. The garishly ostentatious Thassilonian pinky ring that should have been there is missing. Its historical and personal value is, of course, beyond calculation, though its does contain near to fifty crowns worth of gold and precious stones.

The Seven Saeals-------------------

The wide-eyed innocence of the woman melts away as Uriah's magic takes hold, and her body language changes subtly. Her right hand released her left wrist, and both fall back naturally to her side. Her gaze, previously glued to your feet and only occasionally flitting up to the face, now lock with your own confidently. Her pouting lips drop into the flat resting expression of indifference that is often mistaken for annoyance.

"Talk then." She says, her voice now deeper and slightly smokey, the no longer straining to make the adolescent squeal she'd previously used. "Usually they only talk after, but instead if fine. I get paid either way."

[TheOneHawk]

Erica raises an eyebrow at the bird's failing memory. "Slipping already, Rafal? Come on now, you can remember a few cards, gods know you were probably as enthralled by shyster as Svetotchka. Tell me the layout of the cards."

[Hattish Thing]

Lady Pan's Estate:

The Sin Wizard merely chuckles as the woman slaps him upside the face, her slap leaving a small handprint on his deathly pale true skin. For the rest of the trip out of Lady Pan's Estate, the Pathfinder barely manages to keep an incredibly smug grin off of his face. Once he's left the estate, the self-satisfied wizard pulls the hood of his ripped and somewhat faded Thassalonian robes over his head and magnificent hat, attempting to hide his rather horrific true appearance until he's somewhere more private.

After a moment navigating the streets looking rather absurd, the Pathfinder limps down an alley.

--

"Ahh. Now, that's better."

Enshadu stretches his arms and yawns as he adjusts his extravagant feathered cap, raising a furry eyebrow as he mentally decides upon his new look. It would not do him well to maintain the same appearance he possessed when he met with Lady Pan. After years of work with the Pathfinder Society, Enshadu grew fairly accustomed to constantly shifting his form. Too many horror stories of furious nobles sending assassins after offending Pathfinder Agents.

Soon, he decides upon the form of a tall, intimidating figure dressed in Thassalonian robes of scarlet and gold, a long cloak cascading off of his broad shoulders onto the ground before him. After a few seconds of shifting his form, Enshadu decides to remove the hair he was boasting in his previous form, enjoying the bald look. Next came the many Thassalonian tattoos. The look suited him, it made him feel... powerful.

With that business done, The Sin Wizard looks down and notices that a rather large ring he'd been wearing on his pinky suddenly wasn't there. He looks about for a bit, before sighing and scratching his nose. "...Aw. Darn. That was my favorite dead guy thing. I think." In truth, the Sin Wizard wasn't sure he was actually wearing something previously. With how much shapechanging the wizard was accustomed to, it was somewhat difficult to fully recall what was real and what was purely illusion!

Eventually, he decides to leave the alley and head for the morgue. It was time to share the news of his magnificent success!

--

The Morgue - Effects:

After casting a quick Penumbra cantrip and Prestidigitation to keep the sun's harsh rays away and rid the smell of alcohol from him, Enshadu makes his way to the morgue in a particularly cheerful fashion, considering he was, after all, heading to a morgue.

Upon arriving, the Sin Wizard calls out. "Mm... Fellow investigators? It Is I, Enshadu, but different. Balder. Sleeker. Extra rune-y. Anyway, uh, yeah. Good news everyone!"

"Er.. you guys find out anything?"

[Oneris]

The sound of oily words and bouncing of oilier flesh oozed its way into the once-pristine morgue as the Sin Wizard entered in yet another disguise that hid none of his essential identifying factors.

Nashirah's lip curled at the accompanying stink of unsweet rot. "You mean Extra Pruney? Have you done anything else than pickling your brain in new and creative ways at each place you've been? Shame to say, there's nothing to drink here but embalming fluid; though given your tastes that can't be much of a downgrade."

[stack]

Uriah reaches out and brushes a finger against her shoulder. "Recently a customer said something important to you, the valet of Exarch Andronicos. Who did you tell? A man is dead because of it. Help us and we can protect you."charming touch DC 23, friendly for 4 rnds, read mind still up

[The Hellbug]

Tulug nods in agreement with Shirah's disgusted analysis. "Presumably," he answers concerning the foul tome, "with an item that rare, it wouldn't be a wonder if he never left it out of his sight. Can you get anything from the body? I'm afraid to say that my reading was barely more informative about the reason for this man's death than a more conventional look at his belongings--despite the presumed maleficence of the missing item, I would hazard a guess that the interloper claiming it was not involved in the fool's demise."

__________________________

Tulug barely spares a glance at Enshadu's new look--the wizard's antics are quickly becoming unremarkable when lined up to the rest of his social blunders. "Our investigation is still ongoing, though I can hesitantly say that Count Vieland, here, walked off into the desert voluntarily and woefully misjudged his ability to survive there, for one reason or another. Erica and Aril are still seeing to the prisoners. How went your trip?"

[Bhaakon]

As Tulug picks up the jeweled headband--more of a tiara, really, of woven platinum gravid with sapphires and diamonds--and the force of the panic trapped in the item sears his fingers like a sizzling pan. His flesh is in no actual danger of blistering, but the pain is real, and he juggles the jewelry in his hands reflexively, as if it really were hot.

Unsurprisingly, a picture comes to him of Svetochka's final moments. Laying down and realizing, horribly that she's unable to move. Trying to shout, then scream, then plead for help through unmoving lips. A brief flash of relief as your beloved familiar alights on your chest, head tilting back and forth. Rafal would help you. He could feel your rage, the bare sliver of fear. You could feel his...

...his satisfaction. That's not right. Not at all. All you've ever felt through your connection is his affection, occasionally shame or fear, but you'd given the bird no true cause for that. You spoil the thing rotten, after all. You try to figure out what that means, but Rafal only leaves you an instant to consider before his beak darts in, trying apart your lips, dragging out your tongue like a fat worm. It gets to work, and you can't really think much after that. Then he turns toward your wide, weeping eyes...

[Hattish Thing]

The Morgue - Effects:

Enshadu waggles his eyebrows as he draws closer, taking in the scene intently as he looks about at everything. His eyes eventually settle upon the exquisite rapier, before the Sin Wizard responds to the other investigators.

"You misunderestimate my capabilities, fox-one! Such a negative way of thinking. Investigations are far more entertaining when you're less than entirely sober. Just like filling out chronicles..."

A second passes as the Pathfinder takes a better look at the weapon.

--

"But, anyway. Yeah. Pan's got nothing to do with the murder. Which isn't to say she's probably not horrible in some other way. Like. With regards to fashion taste, or something. Maybe some other murder. But." Enshadu trails off as he continues to gaze intently at the rapier, clearly distracted by the weapon. "This is... evidence. The best evidence." With that being said, the Sin Wizard reaches for the blade and balances the weight of the weapon in his hands.

"This must be how pirates feel."

"Anyway, yeah. Lady Pan couldn't have done it. So, that's one dead lead. I mean, not literally dead, but, not useful anymore."

The Pathfinder makes a gesture with the rapier, thrusting forward.

"This is so cool."

[Desril]

Raven

It wasn't exactly subtle, but now is hardly the time to be subtle. And with Uriah utilizing magics to get the information out of the girl, Raven opts to take a more conventional approach. "I'm sure it wasn't your fault, you and the valet were just unfortunate pawns in a game you didn't know you were playing, but you're both loose ends now, which means you're in danger. But if you help us figure out who you told and who committed the murder then we can protect you."


Diplomacy....or bluff? Or intimidate. Honestly I could justify any of them [roll0]

[Bhaakon]

Rafal-----------------------------------

The bird's head shakes violently. "No...no, no, no, no. It's empty. Blank." It reaches back and yanks a feather from its wing. Then another. Not loos down or semiplumes, either, but flight feathers as long as a finger or more. "I...can't recall." He pulls another, his right wing looking a bit ragged already. "Help me...you need a familiar, don't you? Somone must. Find me one and I'll tell you more, yes? Definitely..."

[TheOneHawk]

Erica laughs, a short, cold sound without even a hint of humour. "What use do I have for a bird who cannot even remember the events of a few days past." She shakes her head and takes a step closer to the cage, staring directly at Rafal and speaking softly with a dangerous edge to her voice. "If you will not tell me the layout of the cards, then you will at least describe this woman and her bird in exacting detail. Now."

[Bhaakon]

Rafal-----------------------------

"I...she looked like a woman! A...a woman! I don't know, all you bipeds look alike to me." The bird sqwaks, taking a break from yanking out feathers as it's distracted by the change of subject. "Veil, and...um...brown eyes. Purple and blacks and grey cloth, lots of shiny, shiny baubles sewn in with silver thread."

"The raven, though...female, healthy and plump. Plumage shiny and jet, very healthy. Clear eyes. Her beak was a touch hooked for my taste, but no one is perfect."

[TheOneHawk]

Erica nods absently as the bird babbles mostly useless information, though she files it away just in case. She ponders him for a moment before speaking again. "You know, Rafal, you weren't wrong when you said I'd come to kill you. I had no intention when I arrived of leaving you alive. But seeing how your mind fades, I think I'd rather just let you watch everything that you are fade away until you become nothing more than a simple raven, unremarkable and unimportant in every way. Then, I will return, and I will take you and keep you in a cage until you die. I think I'll call you Sparrow. Not that it'll really be you anymore. You'll be nothing but an aggravating memory of my childhood, long since dealt with." She smirks and turns to leave. "Goodbye, Sparrow. I'll be back, but you won't even know."

[Bhaakon]

Rafal------------------------------------------

"I still know her magics!" The bird caws after Erica. "You can sell me, if you're fast! Help me find a new master and you can keep all that gold!"

Champagne Room---------------------------

"I...I didn't think anyone would die over it. It was just talk about bids. That kind of thing is bought and sold all the time." The woman stammers. Her nervousness returns, but this time it's not an act. Her left hand finds her right again, this time twisting a gold band around her thumb. "I told the Vulture. That's all. I tell her all the things I hear from the bidders' servants. Everyone here does."

A vision flashes across her mind. The woman before you is climbing up to the roof with a trio of oil lamps. She sets them out in a pattern and waits. It hard to judge time in a memory, but you sense it's an hour or so before the a man covered head to foot in dark cloth slips out of the shadows on the adjacent rooftop and leaps the small gap to meet with the prostitute. She tells him about the bid she heard from the valet. He nods and tosses her a heavy purse of coins, then leaves.

[TheOneHawk]

Erica doesn't even reply to the doomed bird, merely turning and giving him a mock bow before shutting the door behind her. Leaving the closet, she once again ignores the silent prisoners and rejoins the group looking through the evidence just in time to see... someone playing pirate with the dead man's rapier and not a one of her supposed colleagues doing anything to stop him. Typical. Striding into the room, she pulls out her sword in one smooth motion and then suddenly disappears, reappearing mere inches from the intruder, well inside the range of his clumsily wielded blade and with her own pressed into the soft flesh of his neck just enough that a drop of blood wells up and rolls down the polished metal. "I don't know who you are, and frankly I don't care, but you have exactly three seconds to drop that sword before I give a lethal demonstration as to how they are properly wielded."

[Oneris]

"You-uh...nnng...guh...whuh?"
Most animals are by nature very curious and suspicious creatures, unassessed phenomena bearing the potential to be perilous or a boon. Thus, a fairly reliable method of capturing the rapt attention of any creature is to present them with a scene not easily classifiable into either of three: 'the harmless', 'the hazardous', or 'the helpful'. There is little use in the wild for a fourth concept: 'the bloody stupid'.

Nashirah, who had only recently managed to grasp the last, was still unpracticed at reflexively registering even this textbook example. As the bagatelle ball of Enshadu's latest antics flew straight past 'Helpful' without a second thought and rebounded violently between 'Harmless' and 'Hazardous', the fox-woman's head gradually drooped into a quizzical tilt.

The arrival of Erica and her egregiously threatening estoc thankfully put an early end to what would have likely been several more minutes of stupor. Rational thought settled in favor of violence and Nashirah aimed in the idiot wizard's direction a rebuking swat quite more forceful than needed in retribution for her headache.
"Oi, don't kill him too hard. That's just Enshadu, being dangerously unhelpful as usual."
Slap:[roll0]
Damage: 1

[The Hellbug]

Erica's arrival suddenly turns Enshadu's antics from merely aggravating into vaguely threatening (though not to the half-orc personally), and so it Tulug's response is a measured one, having seen this sort of over-the-top bravado from the witch before (although he does note that it's in his defense this time in a rare turn of events). "Actually," Tulug adds dryly, "from my experience, it's probably she who feels more like a pirate. Erica, you may lower your weapon; this man is not a threat, merely a fool. Our fool, in fact--you just missed his grand reintroduction." The half-orc extends an open hand to the wizard. "And Enshadu, would you kindly return that piece of evidence if you aren't going to do anything besides annoy our allies with it?"

[stack]

Uriah nods, "Of course, its not your fault. How do you contact this vulture?"

[Hattish Thing]

Enshadu:

In response to the sudden attack and threatening demand, the Sin Wizard drops the golden rapier and five-foot steps into an unoccupied space, away from Erica and Nashirah.

[TheOneHawk]

Erica rolls her eyes at Tulug's words, letting Enshadul step away once the rapier is safely out of his hands. Her sword, however, remains bare and pointed at the fool. "This is absolutely ridiculous. I don't know how you got hired on to this job, Enshadu, but I will not tolerate this buffoonery. First you rob the late Exarch who's death we're investigating and now you wish to play pirate with a piece of evidence? No. Absolutely not. You're lucky I don't kill you on the spot so as not to risk you completely botching this entire operation. I'm going to offer you a set of choices, instead. Either you agree to some ground rules of conduct and professionalism, you walk away and hope to whatever god you worship you never see me again, or you refuse and die."

[Hattish Thing]

The Morgue - Effects:

At the Sin Wizard steps to the side, he narrows his eyes, his self-satisfied smile having transformed into something more akin to a furious scowl. His lips curl into a sneer as the other woman continues to speak to him so harshly.

"That's enough of that."

He reaches into his spikey-runed Thassalonian robes and quickly unhooks a golden cord, revealing a belt of fearsome-looking metamagic rods of various colors and sizes, each decorated with a variety of ancient runes of Wrath.

Enshadu pulls a large, crimson metamagic rod from it's hook and raises his arm slowly, aiming the intimidating Thassalonian artifact at the woman.

"We're on the same team here, buddy."

"But if you threaten me again, don't think for a moment that I won't incinerate you."

--

The Sin Wizard remains deathly quiet after that, his glimmering eyes glaring at the other caster, never lowering the metamagic rod for a second.

After 5 Foot Stepping, Enshadu uses his Move Action to pull out his metamagic rod. With his Standard, he readies an action to cast a spell if he's approached, or if an aggressive action is taken against him.

[The Hellbug]

And the imbecilic bickering doesn't stop with Enshadu releasing the rapier; in fact, now both of them are threatening to kill the other--in the middle of a civil building no less. Tulug grits his teeth together in frustration, and his next words come out a little less kind than he would have wanted. "Look at you two, at each other's throats like children over what?" Tulug asks, seemingly rhetorically.

"No, please enlighten me," he continues, almost in a growl, "because from where I'm standing it looks like you two are threatening to kill each other for nothing more than marring each other's delicate egos. Well, here's what I think: we're on an investigation for the Patron of this city in the city's own morgue; whatever problems you have with each other aren't worth destroying our reputation and angering the very same Patron. We can continue this discussion later once we've all had a chance to calm down."

As he speaks, the aged half-orc reaches for the censer hanging by a short length of its chain from his belt. Focusing his energy through it, he tries to magically calm everyone down.

Casting calm emotions. Will save DC 17 or be calmed and unable to take any sort of violent action.

[Bhaakon]

Evidence Room--------------------------------------

The massive iron door of the evidence room rings like a gong as it slams open against the stone. A woman walks in, face weathered by decades walking the ebat in the Thuvian sun, steel gray hair gathered in a single tight braid. Her bright-red jacket jangles not with jewelry, but with commendations in the Taldan style--such awards a custom that has spread across most of the Inner Sea in the last few centuries. Her uniform is embellished with signs of rank--a lofty rank indeed. Anyone who has spent much time at all in town recognizes the Sahib of Merab's Shurta, the city's watch and the closest thing it has to a land army.

She takes two strides into the vidence room, glaring up into the eyes of each of you in turn before commenting in the flat, bored tone of a schoolmarm lecturing a pack of reprobate toddlers. "Have you made any discoveries that a team of my trained investigators could not? Beyond figuring which of you has the biggest sword, I mean."

Her own weapon, for those interested in measuring such things, is a curved sabre fitting her lilliputian stature. The wear on the hilt tells you that it's seen a great deal of use in spite of its brevity.

The Seven Saeals-------------------------------------

"There are a lot of ways, I think, but the people here only ever use one. We bring some lamps up to the roof late a night and set them out in a pattern to be seen." The woman explains, describing the same pattern that Uriah saw in her memory. "But if you do, you'd better have something to tell him. The Vulture pays well, but things happen to those who waste his time. People who lie to him...they just sort of disappear."

[Hattish Thing]

The Morgue - Effects:

The Sin Wizard's furious expression fades away as quickly as it appeared on his face. Now, his usual lop-sided grin forms once more. Enshadu steps back once more, shoving his metamagic rod back into the long sleeve of his runed Thassalonian robe.

He turns to face the woman and bows low, snapping his fingers as he raises his back once more, producing an extravagant bouquet of beautiful dessert flowers from the sleeve that the metamagic rod vanished into.

Now, the Pathfinder snaps his fingers once more, and the bouquet disappears into thin air.

"You look important. Have we met? I am Enshadu, of the Dark Archives, bearer of large rods."

--

He nods a bit before standing up straighter. "Anyway, yes. Discoveries have been made! It's all very exciting!"

[TheOneHawk]

Erica glares at Enshadu for a few moments before sheathing her sword and stating "We will discuss this later. Please tell the Sahib what... discoveries you have made, Enshadu."

[stack]

"Well, I have no intention of disappearing. Thank you." Uriah smiles and draws his companion off to the corner to share his discoveries discretely.

[Hattish Thing]

The Morgue - Effects:

Enshadu flashes an obviously fake smile towards Erica before clasping his hands together and tapping his fingertips against one another. He steps back a tad, before raising a tall eyebrow and snapping his fingers, attempting to break the awkward silence.

In truth, the Sin Wizard had no idea what to say. He never did especially well when put on the spot!

Think, man, think! The Pathfinder passed his Confirmation somehow!

Oh. Right. Bull****.

--

The Pathfinder offers a warm, brilliant smile at the guard before beginning to speak, gesturing passionately with his hands, all the while taking good care so as to know exactly where on his body his metamagic rods were located.

Could never be too careful with guards...

"Well, you see, officer. It all started on this bobsy-die of a morning. I have seen and done many magnificent things in my time, but today has certainly been especially extraordinary. Exciting! A tad minacious, certainly, due to that bizarrely feminine monorchid grasping the pointy-weapon over there, but exciting nontheless. Most astonishing, really. Remarkable. The investigation, that is, not the snollygoster." The Sin Wizard continued to smile as he mentally went over his expansive vocabulary, attempting to construct a relatively impressive-sounding sentence using as many large words as possible. He was banking entirely on the assumption that the guard would simply have no idea what he was talking about, and not attempt to pierce the verbal fog he was in the process of generating. "I've solved many important and most rubicrative crimes during my post-amiously lengthy career as an incredibly experienced master investigator, but this particularly vagarius zetetic is utterly baffling. Never in my life have I been confronted with such an effable case, a most challenging case. Such a pantagruelian challenge, this case. Why, not even the mystery of the infamous Sky Key Solution was so demanding a case, that transpicuous mind-boggler!"

The Sin Wizard nods vigorously, continuing. "The investigation at this years anfractuous bid for the city of Alabastrine was not so labyrinthine a plot, nor so extravagant an enigmatic situation than this, this most riddlesome conundrum! Why, it is enough to make your average umbriferous blatherskite barmecide!"

Those were probably words.

"Despite the quandarius state of this great mystery of ours, I've managed to deal it quite the sockdolager. I have managed to extract some information out of this proverbial braintwistery bafflegab situation! One of our currently greatest and most prestigious of suspects, the comminatory Lady Pan Jichan, that doryphore of a draff, is thoroughly innocent of this most heinous crime of murder. Believe me, my most gobemouche officer, this is no habile gasconade!"

"Pan Jichan is innocent."

--

Enshadu bows low once more, before smirking towards Erica.

[Bhaakon]

The Sahib takes in the spectacle of Enshadu's bloviation with the analytical eye of a practiced investigator. She steps closer as he winds down, leaning in and sniffing pointedly.

"You. Are. drunk." She states flatly.

[Hattish Thing]

The Morgue - Effects:

The Sin Wizard makes a fifty/fifty gesture with his left hand before shrugging. "Drunk-ness is relative. Regardless, my point stands. The Lady is no killer, not of the man in question, at least."

[TheOneHawk]

Erica's expression turns from disdain, to shock, to outright anger as Enshadu makes a complete fool of himself, and by association her, in front of the Sahib. As soon as he finally spits out what meager, unsubstantiated information he claims to have she steps in front of him and lowers her head respectfully towards the woman, speaking through gritted teeth. "I apologize for my... companion's manner, Sahib, I hope you do not judge the rest of us too harshly for his failings. Our investigation is just beginning so we are still laying the initial groundwork. Lady Svetochka's familiar spoke of a visitor to her rooms shortly before she died, similar to the late Exarch, and I will be following up on that lead immediately." She glances between Tulug and Nashirah briefly. Neither had demonstrated any particular competentence, but at least she knew Tulug was capable of vaguely professional speech. "Tulug, do you have anything to report?"

[The Hellbug]

Though relieved that the Sahib's arrival finally seems to have defused the situation between his two companions, Tulug is irked by Enshadu's long-winded report. For all of his words, the wizard still apparently could not manage to say why he is so sure Pan Jichan is innocent. The half-orc would have time to dig for that later, though, for face needed to be saved in front of the Sahib.

"Of course," Tulug begins at Erica's prompting, "first of all, I can corroborate through the residual whispers on her tiara that the Lady Svetochka's death was precisely as the previous investigators had supposed, though, and you'll have to excuse me for editorializing, the fact that her familiar was able to hide its motives from her until mere moments before plucking out her tongue is suspicious enough to merit further investigation. Secondly, given what we know about the Exarch's death and the Count's, here, I hypothesize that he was not kidnapped out into the desert, but lured. His belongings seem to indicate that he went out into the desert of his own from will, at least."

Tulug pauses and considers mentioning the contents of his vision concerning the Count but decides against it for now. "Finally, there is some evidence, perhaps, for why the Count marched to his death, but out of respect for the dead, I would prefer to keep silent on the matter until it can be investigated more thoroughly. Suffice to say that the late Count kept strange council and may have been engaged in activities far beyond his ken."

[Desril]

Raven

Biting her lip at the sound of this 'Vulture' and the methods to contact the fellow as Uriah explains, Raven frowns. "Points for style, I suppose, and seeding a reputation. We should probably try to contact him tonight, don't you think?"

"After telling the others, of course. I'll need time to do some inquiries of my own, see what I can find out about him. You should never meet someone who trades in information without any of your own."

[Bhaakon]

Evidence Room/Enshadu's Fencing Academy----------------------------------------

The Sahib turns away from Enshadu before he can elaborate, dismissing the altiloquent dispsomaniac's twaddle with contumely in proportion to its imperious elocution.

She stares a Erica instead, judging her words first. "Follow it how, then? Did the bird give you a name, an actionable description?" She turns to Tulug. "And you. If this so called 'strange company' is in any way dangerous, it is very much my business to know who or what it was. You may be serving the Patron through the Vizier, but protecting the inhabitants of this city is still my responsibility, personal embarrassment be damned. Do you know how many noblemans' sons and daughters I've pull dead from pesh dens or bordellos? I'll not be scandalized by an aristocrat's perversions, nor will I spread them around."

"And you." She glances at Nashira. "What are you planning, hmm? Some sort of arcanery? Reading khave grounds? Maybe you'll just sniff out the killer."

It's just a hunch, but the Sahib might be a touch miffed about you taking this case out from under her.

The Best Little Whorehouse in Mareb------------------------------------------------

As you discuss the revelations, Eriah's charms fade and the young woman takes something of a more aggressive pose. His view into her surface thoughts remains, however, and he sees a vague inamge of her once more up on the roof with the lanterns. This time it's not a memory, though, but a plan of action. And when the Vulture appears, you're fairly certain that she's telling him about you two.

[Oneris]

"I-" Nashirah raised a finger to clarify that she was actually going to just stuff a stray spirit into the corpse to make it talk, but suddenly froze with a look of abashed horror.

"Uh...hang on a tick"

Quick as a flash the bat-eared nightfox reappeared and dove onto the mortuary slab with a single-minded determination rarely seen from the reynardine rapscallion. It sniffed and snuffed in earnest over the departed duo, then leapt straight into the box of evidence, tiny legs scrabbling to maneuver each piece of effect past its nose as if haste could substitute methodicy.

[Bhaakon]

It's not nearly as strong as in the Exarch's private apartments, but there is a whiff of lavender and cloves to be found on the Duchess's effects. Specifically the items that, due to their powerful enchantments, she would make a part of her daily attire. The smell is weak or non-existent on the many pieces of mundane show jewelry that she would switch out depending upon the occasion, perhaps because it's only present on most of the items through cross-contamination.

The late count's materials have been sitting in the evidence locker more than twice as long, and the smell of his bloated, decaying corpse has permeated them anyway. There's nothing to be found there but putrescence.

[The Hellbug]

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, it would seem. Despite defusing the situation between Enshadu and Erika, it seems that the Sahib's true purpose was to browbeat the investigators over their methods. Just as he is getting ready to deliver a stirring counterargument, though, the half-orc sees a look in Shirah's eyes that stops him dead in his tracks, a look he's seen before. Before he can say anything, the fox has leaped into the evidence box. Tulug winces as she rapidly sifts through the whole mess of items, barely studying any one piece for even an instant. "Shirah, take your time. No need to break anything." It's hard for the occultist to keep some amount of annoyance from creeping into his voice, but it at least looks like the fox knows what she's doing so he waits for her to finish for her to explain what's going on.

[Ilorin Lorati]

Aril the totally alive

The woman furrows her brow at the guard. What? Her next few words were carefully chosen, as she was working through the information the guard gave her at the same pace as her speech. "You mean to tell me, in all that time, they haven't done anything but basically stand there in a nearly vegetative state? Did you call a medic, or a cleric? A mage? Surely you at least have one magic user in your employ to help determine why they're catatonic?" Shaking her head, she takes the short stride back over to the cell and lifts her lantern at them. If there was any residual magic on them, her lantern would shine a light on it.


Using Lantern of Auras on the prisoners.
Arcana if any are there: [roll0]

And a few more if there are multiple:

[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]

[Bhaakon]

Aril----------------------------------------

"Aren't you a mage?" The guard asks, shrugging. "You or one of the others with you, anyway. Look, they got scanned for ensorcellment on their way in, and they came up clean. Much more magic than that starts getting expensive. We figure they're just being stubborn. Keep 'em locked up long enough and one or more is liable to break." Though you can tell by looking at the guard that he doesn't really believe that. Not anymore, at any rate. The dull, glazed look of the servants' eyes suggests that there's not much left in there to break.

"So stop dressing me down and give me a better idea."

Nada

[Ilorin Lorati]

Aril

"You're right, there's nothing here currently affecting them... which means the magic that affected them is already long gone or they're being affected by something that's not magic at all, such as torture or some other trauma. This will require someone with a little bit more expertise in mundane matters, or access to the inside of their skulls." Her thoughts immediately go to Uriah. "I think I know just who would help us find out more about what's going on with them. Excuse me."

Finally shutting her lantern, the woman strides away from the guard to go and find Uriah, the first person that came to mind when thinking about... minds. As she walked, however, a small voice whispered into her ear: I could get in there, see if they will give a response so something a little bit more... direct. Don't insult me, you would just do more damage than you helped.

[stack]

Uriah turns away from his companion and smiles back to the woman. "Well, I fear we must be going, events elsewhere require our attention. Thank you for a lovely time."full round to study her for the mimicry talent, so she counts as familiar when using perfect imitation later on

[Bhaakon]

Aril, Uriah, Raven-------------------------------------------

The woman fidgets uncomfortably as Uriah looks her over, studying every detail for a possible later use of his magic. Which is really saying something for a woman in her line of work, but perhaps something about the spellcaster's cold, analytical eye triggers an unconscious response from the more base parts of her brain. Uriah can sense her plan to contact the Vulture cementing as he finishes the exam and make a polite farewell.

"You...uh...sure you don't want what you paid for?" The woman answer, but it's obviously just habit forcing the words. She's both suspicious and quite tired after being roused unexpectedly, and mostly just wants you gone.

Rushing past equally surprised procures in the lounge of the brothel and the halfling watching through half-lidded-eyes, you soon find yourself back out on the street and making your way toward the morgue, were you know most of the others are. You make it within a blockof the building before running into Aril on the street, and returning with her.

Evidence Locker---------------------------------------------

"If you think you'll be leaving this room with new chew toys, you can think again." The Sahib fixes her impatient glare on the fox rooting through the box of jewels, spell components, and clothing. Clearly she does not share Tulug's opinion on how much slack to cut the canid in its search. "If we can lock an idiot bird up, we can certainly cage a thieving bug-muncher."

[Hattish Thing]

Enshadu - Evidence Room:

After a few seconds spent staring off into empty space and muttering nonsense to himself, a fly lands on the Sin Wizard's ornate scarlet robes, causing the man to shiver and reflexively reach for his belt, as if to pull out a metamagic rod and immediately begin combat.

The mage pauses before going very far, catching himself and chuckling as he does so.

With a shifty look in his eyes, Enshadu rubs his bald head before yawning and attempting to play off the sudden movements as simply being part of his rather excessive yawn.

--

As the guard begins chastising the creature that bit him, the Sin Wizard waggles his fingers and slides over to the guard, though the movement is hardly subtle nor graceful. Once he draws closer, Enshadu begins to whisper to the guard, his eyes glancing back and forth from the evidence box and the guard.

"Heeeyyy, so. We may have gotten off on the wrong handerino, here." Enshadu grins now, his supernaturally white teeth shining in the light.

"It's a real shame really, ya know. Really. Cause, ya see, I myself happen to be a rather prestigious member of the Pathfinder Society, which I'm sure you know of after the whole... uhh.... Urchid Transport thing. Even got my own card!"

Enshadu then snaps his fingers, causing a shimmering card with a portrait of his face, winking to appear. He offers it to her before continuing.

"As much as it may seem that we don't know what we're doing, I promise that we do, in fact, have a real good hold on this whole investigatory business. I was even involved, somewhat! The Pathfinders have helped out the city of Thuvia on numerous occasions, we've even sent some of our very own Seekers to come out here and help out when things went all ****-tastic last year."

"Ya got us walking on broken glass here, ya know? It's hard stuff. But, trust me, on my word as a Pathfinder Agent, we can do all this ourselves. Just like we've done in the past, mind you. We've got this.

---

Enshadu gives his largest smile yet.

[Oneris]

A familiar scent beckoned from somewhere within the Duchess's effects, first here then gone as the material shifted like scurrying beetles in a dune. Her ears perked forward and a small foxy grin appeared at her teeth-this was a hunt! Nashi popped her football-shaped head out of the box and screamed indignantly at Tulug and the Sahib, then returned back to her rummaging with renewed vigor.

Soon, a length of silver filigree chain flipped out of the box like a fish, followed by a pair of bracelets, then a couple rings clattered onto the table until a master appraiser's array of the Duchess's most costly adornment lay strewn outside the box. But something was missing...there! The little fox ran over and sniffed at the occultist's hand, then sprung up and caught the diadem by her teeth, dangling from the headpiece until the half-orc relinquished his grasp to avoid damaging it. Nashirah added it to the pile, prancing in glee like a hound with his first rabbit and changed back to her humanoid form, feet still doing a delighted patter.

"Lavender and cloves, just like at the Exarch's! I think those two have had a common visitor~"

[Ilorin Lorati]

Aril

Aril waves at her coworker as he comes into view, jogging over to him and making an obvious beckoning motion for him and the others to follow."Oh Uriah, there you are. The prisoners seem to have a little bit of a problem that you may be able to help with..." Taking the others back into the prison, Aril updates them on all the specifics of the prisoners: primarily how they have no magical auras on them but still seem to be affected by something numbing their thoughts.

"I was hoping you could peek into their heads and see if there was anything going on inside at all? My abilities aren't quite that powerful yet."

[TheOneHawk]

Erica cringes visibly as the fox rummages willy nilly through the effects, obviously the Patron had not selected these people for professionalism. In any case, the findings are positive and tie the Exarch's death to Svetochka's quite well. "Nashirah's findings corroborate my own and now we have their scent. Certainly something we can follow up on."

[Bhaakon]

Evidence Room--------------------------------

"Then follow up on it!" The Sahib barks back. Clearly she isn't happy, but something in her eye tells you that she's not petty enough to undermine and investigation. "Now, before you cover the entire evidence room in dander." She spins, very much ignoring the card in Enshadu's outstretched hand. Her scabbarded sword, tied to her belt by a rather slack harness, swings wide. Wide enough for the heavy gold nob of a chape at the end to rummage through some jewels of its own, bumping just hard enough into Enshadu's nethers to make n impression.

"Watch where you're standing!" The Sahib snaps at the man as she storms off. No doubt to upbraid her own investigators for not sniffing out this new evidence themselves.

Dirty trick to sicken

[The Hellbug]

Tulug had been preparing to interpose himself between the Sahib and Nashirah--he had no intention of adding 'assaulting an officer of the law' to her list of grievances against the investigators and Shirah could be...a bit jumpy when she got like this. However, that leaves him inattentive enough to his vulpine companion that he doesn't notice her interest in the headband until she is already hanging from it. "Careful!" the half-orc reprimands her as he relinquishes his hold on the evidence, "do I need to remind you that next time, you can just ask?"

As far as the Sahib's exit is concerned, Tulug chooses to let Enshadu think this one over himself. There has certainly been enough drama around the fool wizard already, and Nashirah and Erica's agreement on a lead is more important. They will just have to proceed with the investigation without the cooperation of the officers of the law for now. "Actually, Nashirah," Tulug offers, "these are all very personal belongings of the victim--enough so that I would hazard they won't bear any scent other than her own. Had you considered that it might be her perfume? And if so, what was it doing in the Exarch's chambers...when she's already dead?"

[stack]

Uriah nods. "There are many forms of manipulation; I fear my own abilities only touch the surface of the possible, but I will take a look immediately." lesser charm detect thoughts on the first one he sees to find if he gets a reading. If that one save, move to the others. DC is 25

[Bhaakon]

Evidence room----------------------------------------------------------

Nashirah spins the glittering treasure on her finger like toy, enough gold worth of jewels and enchantments to buy up a city block whipping around the at a dizzying clip. Her eyes dart from the hypnotic glimmer of the stones in the cold magic light of the evidence room to dull orbs set athwart Tulug's rather unimpressive schnoz.

"Leave the nose work to the professionals." She snaps at the half-orc. "If it was Duchess Svee's scent, then all her stuff would reek of it. Not just the things she wore the night she had her caller. Besides, her body smelled like lily and mint."

Witness Lock-up--------------------------------------------------------

The shaves servants are pitifully easy for Uriah to crack. It only takes a second for him to realize that they're broken on the inside. There's hunger, fatigue, discomfort, but all muted, well below what he'd expect from people in their condition. They actually seem rather detached from the current situation, instead utterly fixated on other emotions. Fear, loss, and broken-hardheartedness twisted bizarrely so that they centered around the fur-clad, pudgy figure of a bespectacled nobleman. Count Lowls, Uriah presumes.

[stack]

"Well, that is a touch discomfiting." Uriah quips after peering into the broken minds. He exits the room to leave earshot of the servants before speaking to Aril (and anyone else that stayed with him), "They have minds, but they are...damaged. Fear, pain, loss, centered on a nobleman who I presume is Count Lowls. Wears spectacles from the impression I discerned from what they had left in their heads." He shrugs. "Time to compare notes with the others then?" If no one objects, he seeks the others.

[TheOneHawk]

Erica lets out a slow breath as the Sahib leaves. Even the parting shot she gave Enshadu does nothing to lift the stony, tight lipped expression from her face. She turns to Nashirah and speaks in a very controlled, quiet voice. "Excellent work, Nashirah. I was worried at first when you jumped in there, but I cannot argue with the results. We should, as the Sahib said, follow up on that immediately." She then takes in a deep, calming breath and turns back to Enshadu. "You are an embarrassment. Why the patron chose you for this job is beyond me. Out of my rapidly dwindling respect for him I will leave it at that, but either shape up or I will be forced to take matters into my own hands for the sake of the investigation."

[The Hellbug]

The sharpness of Nashirah's rebuttal takes Tulug by surprise, but the Sahib's exit has relieved some of the tension in the room, and the half-orc sees no reason to not help that trend along. And so it is after a short chuckle that he replies. "Lily and mint, hmm? Wouldn't have guessed. I'll admit, Shirah, I can't mimic that clever nose of yours, and you know it so how about you tell the whole story from the start next time? Oh, and give me that--you're even distracting yourself now."

[stack]

Uriah strides into the room. I believe it is time for a conference to share findings; I have some that are of interest. Shall we find a secure place to talk?"

[Desril]

Raven

Having not been able to peer into the minds of the broken prisoners at the lock-up, Raven was forced to stand idly by and wait for Uriah's response. Unfortunately, magic wasn't her strong suit, so she wasn't paying too much attention and it wasn't until they were already on their way back to meet with the others and share what they'd gathered that it hit her. "Wait, you said there wasn't anything magical affecting them, but can your power pick up anything mundane that might be dulling their minds? All this talk of magic and mind-reading and I completely zoned out, are we sure they aren't just being drugged?"

[stack]

Uriah shrugs. "I'm a mind-reader, not a doctor. Seemed more permanent than just a passing drug though."

[Ilorin Lorati]

Aril

"By what the guard said they've been in there for a while like that; either someone is supplying them with a constant stream of drugs - or they're traumatized well beyond what the average person can handle. The guard didn't seem to be the type to do something like that, but I can go back and talk to him some more?"

Hiding something. Mortals always hide something. Just like you. The woman visibly winces at the demon whispering into her ear, ignoring the inevitable laugh that echoes through her head as it realizes it got to her.

[stack]

"I think finding out more about Count Lowls may be a more fruitful avenue of investigation. I do have a meeting to attend this evening though, following the trail of the information that led to this morning's body."

[TheOneHawk]

Erica raises an eyebrow at Uriah. "Could you elaborate? Keeping our progress secret from each other is foolish. We have three leads we need to follow up on, but it's almost certain they intersect in some way and we'll miss it if we don't know what everyone else is doing."

[stack]

"Certainly. The dead man's servant spent the previous evening in a house of ill repute. Well earned ill repute too. During his dalliances, he allowed the...staff to learn a bit too much information. Specifically, about the new bid the valet had delivered to the Pyx of Abaddar. We discerned that she sold this information to one called the Vulture. Rather a dramatic name, but she seemed rather frightened of him. She intends to meet him tonight to inform him of our interest. We can either observe the meeting and attempt to trail him (I suspect he may be able to fly given the name and the rooftop meeting place) or simply attempt to subdue and question him there. I know the procedure to call for him, so we can allow the girl to make contact or I can take her place as needed." His form briefly shifts to e perfect imitation of the woman and her clothing before snapping back to his previously worn form."Thoughts?"

[TheOneHawk]

Erica nods sharply at the assessment, then glances around the room. "All right, we're going to have to split again. Nashirah and Uriah obviously are required for tracking down the mysterious visitor and the Vulture, respectively. I will accompany Nashirah, someone other than Enshadu should speak to Count Lowls."

[stack]

"The rendezvous with the vulture is not until Midnight, so I can spend some time looking into our not-so-good Count. People like talking to me."

[Bhaakon]

Nashirah's eyes remain locked on the tiara even as Tulug relieves her of the jeweled gewgaw, coveting the glittering treasure all the more because he'd taken it from her. But that's all right, because a cunning plan was already forming to retrieve the item, if only momentarily. Lips curl in a satisfied smirk as the plan comes together, and she addresses Erica--though her eyes rest upon the prize in the old half-orc's gnarled mitts.

"If Svee met with the same woman, does that mean the raven saw her?" Nashirah asks, tone as pointed as her natural canines. "But it was a familiar, wasn't it? It must be halfway back to a normal bird by now. Think about that, slowly losing itself, feeling its mind slip away." The thought is nearly enough to dampen her satisfaction at the clever idea. Almost. "Thoughts slowly buried beneath a flowing dune of instincts and urges until it can't speak, can't even point out our suspect. If only we had a way to help it keep its mind."

She pounces, her paw slipping out quick and smooth to hook the the tiara and take it back from Tulug, waving it around in front of her triumphantly so that everyone focuses on her prize as she makes her point. "Wouldn't that be convenient, some sort of magic to preserve its intellect."

[The Hellbug]

"Hmm, clever. Very well," Tulug concedes as he relinquishes control of the artifact for the final time, "though if you need any help modifying it to fit its new wearer, I can take care of it."

The occultist then turns to the others. "Actually," he interjects, "I have a hypothesis on the current condition of the prisoners. They were retainers to Count Lowls, yes? I conducted a divination using his possessions and saw a vision of an otherworldly creature claiming a book from the deceased Count's body. I could not identify the intruder before it spirited itself away, but the tome was marked with a symbol of which I have heard: the sign of Nyarlothotep, the Dark Pharoah. Now, this being's cult is small but not unheard of in circles I have frequented. Its kind have been known to inflict mental trauma not unlike that which you have described in the prisoners on those who become too acquainted with his mysteries--a terrible fate, indeed."

[stack]

Uriah taps his chin. "Want to come with me and see if we can dig up anything about this cult's activity in the area before midnight?"

[TheOneHawk]

Erica's eyes flash with anger as Tulug and Nashirah discuss saving Rafal from the plight he deserved, but she says nothing. Much as it pains her to admit, it's a good idea and Rafal remaining sapient could in fact be vital in their investigation. Indeed, it's probably that she would have had the idea herself had she not fixated on the little monster's death. After a few moments, she speaks up, snapping, "If you're going to save that blasted bird, I'd suggest doing it sooner rather than later. He's already fading."

[The Hellbug]

The half-orc shakes his head. "Unfortunately, when I said 'not unheard of' I meant strictly that," Tulug admits to Uriah, "I know of the being itself and its cult's reputation, but its cultists are extremely secretive about their membership--to find of them is an endeavor that would measure in days or weeks if one could find them at all, not hours. Add to that the entire lack of physical evidence surrounding the Count's death, and I'd call it more something to merely be aware of for now rather than a true lead."

[Bhaakon]

You head back up to the holding cells, finding the shorn servants of the late Count Lowls just as slack-faced and unresponsive as you'd left them.

The bird in broom closet cage, though, is agitated. "What are you doing back? I told you everything. If you're not going to find me another mast, then just leave me alone to my fate, you harpies." It squawks. But then it sees the tiara and "What are you doing with that? It's not yours. Are you stealing it? Wait, why should I care. It's hers, not mine. Whatever. Do what you want. I...hey, unhand me!" Rafal raves as you hold it in place to apply the enchanted bauble.

Fortunately the magic of the item is such that it shrinks to fits its wearer. The jeweled loop diminishes to the size of a large thumb ring, the perfect circumference to sit on the raven's brow. Rafal immediately ceases his protests as the magic band falls into place.

"I...hmm. That's quite a bit more astute and compassionate a strategy than I would have expected from Svetochka's churlish black sheep or her associates." The bird states calmly. "Well, I can't imagine that you'd do it without expecting some sort of recompense, so let me lose and spit it out. What is it that you want from me that has motivated you to stay the onset of my diminishing capacities?"

[TheOneHawk]

Erica grimaces as the bird links her to Svetochka, she'd been trying to avoid recognition as her daughter for years but that was mostly moot now, since the duchess's death. "You're quite right, this is no charity we're running and certainly not for the likes of you, Rafal. I asked questions earlier and you failed to answer them. You can no longer claim the excuse of failing mental faculties so now you will, truthfully and completely."

[stack]

Uriah turns his mind to the bird, feeling for its emotions as it speaks. lesser read thoughts, DC25

[Desril]

Raven

She hadn't been present when Erica questioned the creature whose species was her namesake, so she didn't feel any particular need to belittle the poor creature. Magic and familiars weren't her area, but she understood well enough that the poor thing's intelligence was draining away without its master's bond. And a little kindness could work wonders for getting anyone to fess up.

"There's no need to sound so concerned, Rafal, was it? All we're after is information, so tell us more about the woman you saw."

[Bhaakon]

"As I told you, she was just some nomad prognosticator, bedecked in purple veils and jew-jaws in what passes for fashion in these climes." The bird expounds. "Like this one here, except all I could see was her eyes, big and brown, and her hands, slim and nimble."

"She did the reading, as I described, and then...and then I recall she said a number. The amount Svetochka would have to spend to win. I believe that Tien crone was ahead at the time, and she told the Duchess what her bid was." The bird shakes its head, a surprisingly human affectation. "It was pointless, though. Even if she were teling the truth, everyone knows that the bidding does get serious until the final hours. There' no way an amount submitted this early would stand up."

Uriah sees the woman just as the bird describes. It would be difficult to identify her positively beneath the veil, but it might be possible to narrow the list considerably based on her height, proportions, and similarly broad traits.

[stack]

Uriah nods, "I have a good enough image to at least narrow the suspects down, if you want me to help. Otherwise I can hit the streets and see if I can find out anything else."

[Oneris]

Nashirah leaned inches from the ill-fortuned bird's cage, eyes as big as saucers, her vulpine nature almost betrayed by her air of not quite licking her chops.

"Say," she hissed with a hint of a tooth-baring grin, "would an eyewitness identification not be all the more trustworthy if the witness himself were there to make it? And further benefit of presenting such a fine familiaral candidate to interested eyes..." The most interested eyes were hers, and there was little to show that she'd let either bird or bauble get away.

"When was the last chance you had to sit upon a shoulder and spread your wings, bird-ow! Mun!" The shoulder's present occupant objected vigorously to his mistress's suggestion, and was overruled.

[Bhaakon]

Rafal hops reluctantly towards the door to his cage, obviously expecting it to be slammed on him just as he's peeking he head out--probably after the glorious, mind-saving bauble is snatched from his feathered pate.

"Y-yes...you really need me to identify and testify this woman, correct. And her bird, of course!" He glances at Uriah, suspicion in his beady eyes. "Unless you think you can tell two black birds apart! I've yet to meet a mammal who could. Why I've been called a crow so many times..."

[The Hellbug]

"Yes, yes, yes; I'm sure you'll be very useful," Tulug mutters, clearly annoyed at the bird's hollow chatter, "I have another errand I would like to run. It strikes me as dangerous that we know almost nothing of this 'Vulture' and are meant to meet him. I have a...friend--actually 'business partner' might be more appropriate. Regardless, I know someone who might have more expertise on the Vulture's dealings, and if we're lucky, she might even be willing to part with the information freely. I can make an appointement with her before the day is out."

[stack]

"A wise precaution. Shall we proceed then? I can assist with escorting our feathered friend."

[Oneris]

"Ohohoho! Don't I know it! Humans are so bad at telling even their own kind apart."
She swung the cage door wide and motioned for the bird to ascend its new perch. Mun, for his part, rose up on his hindquarters with his forelegs raised menacingly, ready to strike in righteous defense.

[Bhaakon]

Rafal glares at the mote-speckled bunny as he steps out and alights on his new place of honor, not willing to take even an ounce of guff from an amateur familiar. The raven had been at it for decades, after all, and he knew exactly who was in charge. Well, unless Mun was planning to kill Nashi. But let's be honest, even a magical rabbit would have that kind of backbone, what with its cringing, vegetarian pedigree. Not like a proud avian.

He ruffles his feathers as he settles in on his new perch, making himself comfortable before finally saying, "Well then, show me to your suspects."


OK, if you have any plans for the 8 hours or so between now and setting an ambush for the vulture, post them now.

[stack]

"Anyone bring restraints? If not I will pick some up before this evening. Otherwise, I will come along with our feathered friend in the meantime."