[PF] Labyrinthine - IC I

[Cardea]

Player
Character
Build


RPZip
Beren Cord
Warder / Landsknecht // Vigilante (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=869300)


THEChanger
Radomil d'Lyrandar
Bolt Ace Gunslinger /Storm Sentry // Bard / Storm Captain (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=857338)


Chambers
Tosk Torrn d'Tharashk
Warder // Slayer / Duraak'ash (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=865578)


Athaleon
Variel Sidonus
Harbinger // Wizard (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=877890)


Aldurin
Valora d'Phiarlan
Distorter Cryptic // Artificer (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=857404)


rypt
Sidara Kell
Magus (Eldritch Scion) // Bloodrager (Primalist) (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=883091)




OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?495215-PF-Labyrinthine-OOC-I)

[Tone] (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yhEjzjh2Ns)

The rain falls harder in Sharn. Tumbling between towers and darkened windows but far away from locked doors. The earth pulls at the sky, and the sky must answer. The towers are slick with the rain, the streets are landing pads to a small flood, and it all goes down, falling faster and faster as it sails between the vaulted skyscrapers to the cobblestone below. The entire city is a drum, creating the background noise for the funeral of one of its fallen. The Longstairs is a quiet place, a place where Onain kept special watch over. Never a major crime happened here, never a major travesty. In a city of turmoil and upset, in a city of lavish magic and grand politic, Longstairs was a bastion of calm. You can tell as the funeral procession moves through it. Many are gathered to watch, umbrellas and floating discs keeping many people dry, as the body of Onain d'Tharashk is brought to its resting grounds.

The wake was last night. Some of you made it in time, saw the body. Temporary magic made him look like he was pretending, faking. A warm smile was on his face, and his skin looked like it still held his soul. But now, today, everyone is here, everyone is in a carriage or another, and everyone is hit by the rain. When they open the vehicle holding his casket, Beren Cord, Variel Sidonus, Sidara Kell and Wekerin d'Kundarak (by grace of flying magic) carry the wooden tomb on their shoulders to an dirt hole. The cemetery itself is nice enough, as cemeteries go. Hallowed Ground, with buried lodestones of holy power, protect it from grave robbers and necromancers. Expensive, but many people have invested, and the Longstairs honor the dead in their own way. You lower him into the hole, lower him into the ground beneath an ash tree, its tangled and gnarled roots moved by a druid to place the body. Petrila guides Leon, Reik, and Rina to the grave, drop handfuls of dirt, and watch as the body is buried, the casket adding in its own way to the drums of Sharn.

The reception is held at the Abraila Home of the Remembered. The city has obviously donated much of the food in this quiet place, and this wing of two gathering rooms, a kitchen, and a foyer has been paid for, as Petrila says often to others, with tones of somber gratitude. Many city officials are here, along with others of note, some of whom you recognize. Menya d'Cannith of the Darkwood Watch, Lalia and Tasra of House Deneith, Lord Commander Iyan ir'Talan and Iyanna ir'Talan, and no small amount of House Tharashk members. Talk is quiet against the background of drums, the rain silencing murmurs of maneuvering political. Brown carpets, black banners and tablecloth, somber lighting, foods from around Khorvaire, and the knowledge that one of the best now sleeps an eternal sleep.

What are you doing?

[THEChanger]

Radomil hid in the back of the second gathering room, slowly nursing a glass of wine. He had just barely made it in time to see his friend put in the ground - for once, the wind had not been with him as he hurried across the sky. Radomil glanced across the room, praying to whatever gods were listening that none of the Orien would show up at the wake. He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near here after all, not after what happened. But. He owed Onain. He owed Onain for vouching for him all those years ago. He owed Onain for the nights the half-orc had carried him back to the Windstrider. He owed Onain for being a friend, a true friend, and not expecting anything of him.

Radomil reached into the small pouch at his side and fiddled with the gem he had brought with him. Found on an island in the Thunder Sea, he had kept it for many years, not knowing what to do with it. It should fetch a good price, here in Sharn. Radomil was sure Onain had left enough money to keep his wife and children in good health for many years, but Radomil wanted to do something. A small gift, to the family of a good friend.

Spending 1500 of my remaining gold to obtain an emerald, which Radomil will attempt to quietly give Petrila before he leaves.

[Chambers]

Tosk

Dressed in all black silk - boots, pants, shirt, vest, and cloak - save for a band of red tied across his right bicep, the half-orc stands next to the fireplace. Slowly sipping from a cup of wine as his clothes dry Tosk watches the others in the room, making mental notes of their reactions, their emotions, to be used against them when he might need an edge over them. He absently reached to his side to rest his hand on his weapon and his fingers twitched when they didn't find it there. Instead he softly rubbed a bronze ring on his hand. Should he need his weaponry it was only a moment away.

Tonight's duel would be fought with words, the weapon of choice for nobles too scared to risk their own blood.

Tosk glanced at the remaining wine in his cup and quaffed it one gulp. Throwing the empty glass into the fire so that it exploded against the stone he strode over the sideboard and filled another. Raising it up he said loudly "A Tharashk lays dead in the ground tonight. Who among you will raise your glass in his name?" He says. "Who will speak his deeds so they may not be forgotten? Who will take up his enemies as your own, hunting them and driving them to the ground?"

[Aldurin]

Valora watched the funeral in the front half of the crowd, dressed to be Afnelle Virashen with a version of her outfit in full black instead of slate blue. She considered earlier to use her patterns to make her normal attire appear as black, but an illusory effect felt inappropriate for the funeral of a man who saw through her identities and didn't change opinion of her. Her patterns were still up to reinforce a physical disguise, still unwilling to reveal her true self to others, but she wanted her identity to be her only lie tonight.

At the reception, Valora drank wine away from the main groups that were discussing. Onain's death had finally begun to sunk in. That youthful dream of becoming an inquisitive had been fueled by tales of his deeds, and with his death came the reminder that being a hero didn't make her invincible. She would die one day as well, and probably not to a peaceful circumstance. After the second glass, she found herself having trouble swallowing at the same time as holding back tears. Not just tears of grief for Onain, but of dread to her own future. The alcohol was peeling away at her emotional barrier that had prevented her from worrying too much, and fears of excoriation from House Phiarlan and succumbing to a complication to the dragonshard fragments in her arms were beginning to run rampant in her mind.

She almost considered rushing out of the reception to have her breakdown in solitude until a Tharashk smashed a glass in the fireplace. The distraction was enough for her to regain some control over herself and step closer to the fireplace. With tears welling up in her eyes, the most she could do was nod in agreement with Tosk.

I'd like to take any cost of the funeral outfit out of the fluff budget, in necessary.
Valora would have taken 10 on the disguise checks for her physical disguise and Altered Appearance illusion, with results of 26 and 36 respectively.

[Athaleon]

Variel made small talk with the others attending the funeral, as he felt was both proper and expected of him. He bore it with practiced ease, though the question ever at the back of his mind was "How?", and he tried subtly to steer conversations towards that end. He took care to offer his condolences to Onain's kin, and though the words may have sounded old-fashioned ("if you need anything at all...") he meant them genuinely. As a half orc made his brash demand, he felt compelled to speak up. Softly, firmly, he replied: "I had done all those things for years. We all grieve for Onain, but we each do it in our own way."


Ongoing Effects:

[Stance] The Dragon Knows (60' Blindsight)
[Spell] Mage Armor (hour/level)
[Spell] Heightened Awareness (10 mins/level)
[Spell] Overland Flight (10 mins/level)
[Spell] Heroism (10 mins/level)

Spells Prepared:

Level 0:
Detect Magic, Read Magic, Mage Hand, Ghost Sound, Message, Prestidigitation, Detect Poison, Dancing Lights, Open/Close

Level 1:
Mage Armor, Grease, Vanish, Charm Person, Heightened Awareness

Level 2:
Mirror Image, Embrace Destiny, Resist Energy, Protection from Evil (Communal), Glitterdust

Level 3:
Haste, Slow, Pellet Blast, Heroism

Level 4:
Dimension Door, Monstrous Physique II, Emergency Force Sphere, Greater Invisibility

Level 5:
Monstrous Physique III, Wall of Stone, Dominate Person

Level 6:
Flesh to Stone, Greater Dispel Magic

[rypt]

Sidara

Sidara sat sullen and alone at a small table beside a window. She did not care that her hair and her cloak were wet. It suited her mood. Onain had been like a father to her, yet no one came to console her as they did Leon, Reik and Rina. Sidara envied them for that, and at the same time, hated herself for that envy. As she gazed distantly at the rainy skybridges outside, her expression an unapproachable mix of sorrow and self-loathing, Sidara wondered if Onain would have been proud of the woman she had made of herself. She wanted to believe that the answer to that question was yes, but she could not know. Now, she would never know.

At the sound of a half-orc's booming voice, Sidara turned away from the window, her harsh, inhuman eyes surveying a scene that was as alien to her now as the Demon Wastes had been nearly a decade prior. Tosk's mention of Onain's enemies brought to Sidara's mind the scenes of Karrhig vision, and the one question that had occupied more of her thoughts over the past week than any other -- how did Onain die? This was a question that could be answered, and as she observed others responding to the Tharashk's appeal, Sidara resolved herself to answer it.

[RPZip]

Beren Cord

Beren stood in the corner, nursing his seventh cigarette of the day. He'd tried to dress up for the funeral, he really had, but his essential shabbiness clung to him like a cloak, casting its pall over the fine suit he'd bought for the occasion. Beren didn't so much clean up as clean down. He'd said what needed to be said to Petrila, the words as hollow and meaningless as they always were, and now he waited. Waiting for something to happen. Trying to ignore the memories that clawed at him, the way the casket had felt when he'd lowered it into the ground.

The sharp crack of exploding glass pulls him forcefully out of his reminiscing, instincts making him pull in towards himself before recognizing the source. The man was angry, channeling it into his words as he raised his glass high. Anger. He could work with that. Onain had never been one to wallow in depression when there was something to be done. A good example to follow.

Beren pinched the tip of his cigarette out with his gloved hand, sliding the still-smoldering remnants into an inner pocket before stepping forward to join the gathering group. He plucked a glass from the waiting table and raised it high, looking the half-orc in the eye before taking a long pull. "To Onain d'Thrask. Long may his name be remembered, and to Dolurrh with his enemies."

[Cardea]

"A good Tharashk lays dead, brother," calls out a human male, a dragonmark plain across his neck. "You and I no better than the grass and dirt, but he was a good man. I am Hurnain d'Tharashk. Onain d'Tharashk saved me from the fighting pits, tracked down my captors, and brought them before the final shuffle off. I worked for him until his last dying breath. And now that he's gone, I'll have to find a new line of work in the morning. But until then I'm with you, brother. To Onain." He finishes up his cup in one drink, approaching the outspoken half-orc, hand out for a shake.

Talk in the room picks up, some of it directed towards the vocal Tharashk, but some more excited talk about Onain. The time he fell thirty floors to chase after a kidnapper, only surviving because he stole the criminal's feather token. The time he fought a raging Warforged Juggernaut, winning by luring it in front of a lightning rail. The time he sailed a small air skiffer through the side openings of an airship while being chased by ten mercenaries working for the smuggling ring he was investigating. More and more stories come forward, and the room seems a little less sour, a little less empty of the man's presence.

Hurnain d'Tharashk has an accent resembling those from the Lhazaar Principalities.

As talk begins to pick up, you notice that a new attendant at the funeral has shown up without any commotion. A warforged wearing a soaked overcoat, a hat atop his head, his frame clearly visible underneath the damp garment. He's looking around the room at the attendants, and you'd swear he was looking for something.

[Athaleon]

Variel shared one of his own stories of Onain, careful to choose one not related to their investigation to Allorith d'Phiarlan.

As he was wrapping up his anecdote he spied the warforged that had just come in from the rain, and made his way over. "Is there someone you're looking for?" he asked in a genial tone.


Variel succeeds at both checks even on a roll of 1.

[rypt]

Sidara

Ever at odds with her own emotions, grief was far less familiar to Sidara than anger. Anger had become a source of strength for her, but grief, well, grief felt more like weakness. Her own instincts, Karrhig's vision, and the voice that haunted her dreams told Sidara that Onain's death was part of something larger, something she needed to face at her best. This was no time for weakness.

A knot rose in Sidara's throat as Hurnain spoke, but she swallowed it. Tears welled in her eyes, but she wiped them dry. She knew what it was to have been saved by Onain, to have owed him a debt beyond repayment. She knew what it was to aspire to Onain's selflessness, and she knew what it was to fall short. She tightened her jaw and steeled herself. This was no time for weakness.

As others continued to share their stories of Onain's deeds, Sidara shifted in her seat. She could feel her patience waning. To recount all of Onain's triumphs and daring acts would take days. She wanted answers, or at the very least, she wanted to know that she wasn't the only one with questions.

[Chambers]

Tosk

"To Onain." Tosk returns Hurnain's handshake, firm but careful not to crush it. "Tosk Torrn d'Tharashk." He says. "What sort of work did you do for him? I know some fellows always in need of a good swordhand. Few jobs will compare with fighting besides him, it's true...but if you still have the fight in you..." He says and lets the offer hang.

[Aldurin]

Valora resumed her silence away from the crowd after a few moments, still struggling to keep her emotions in check as she finished her glass of wine and turned her attention on the warforged that had just arrived. The movement had caught her eye, and she needed something else to focus on besides her own fears.

[Cardea]

Hurnain squeezes back, smiling an honest man's smile. "I was his repairs man. If it was too extensive for a simple patch job, or when he ran outta the scrolls I gave him, I worked my weaving and bound the metals back right and proper." He takes out a small plate of metal from a vest pocket, holding it aloft. Dark gray, with traces of silver. He focused, before smiling, and the silver began to glow slightly with a hum. "Others couldn't get a hang of the webbing and weaving in the magic of his arm, but I'm a clever man, and a clever man knows his tricks." He holds out the plate to you. "Same metal as his arm. From me to you. Not much good it'll do me now. I don't have a mind to sell the rest off."

At a closer distance, Variel notices a few smaller details. The warforged's right eye is composite, with three pupils circling in the socket, focusing on the aged wizard. The jaw is segmented, letting it move more fluidly as he speaks, revealing a row of adamantine teeth that would otherwise be concealed behind a closed mouth. He nods, but uses a hand to motion for quieter tones. "Yes, but no business while the wake is still happening. Onain deserves that much. If you can stick around when others have left, Mr. Sidonus, it would help expedite my work. Do you know many of the other guests here? I already know the Tosk boy there, and the young Radomil, but three of these names elude me."

[Athaleon]

Variel lowered his voice accordingly, and nodded. "No business here, agreed. But before I start naming names, I would ask you what your work is, sir."


Sense Motive: [roll0]

[Cardea]

The warforged nods, pulling back a sleeve. On his arm is a carved symbol of an Inquisitive, a tracing of silver on mithril plating. "I'm in the business of finding people, Mr. Sidonus, though today isn't my lucky day. On a bit of an unlucky streak. Pulling up with one hand full of fury and the other full of dirt. Looking for two people who're only known by aliases, and a person who hasn't been to Sharn in a long, long time, so no one knows what she looks like anymore."

Telling the patterns and intentions of people is something more out of habit than something out of training when someone gets to your old age, but even so, reading the intentions of someone made of metal and wood has always been hard. The construct seems on edge, however, like a fox unsure if he's looking at is a rabbit or a wolf.

[Chambers]

Tosk

"Same metal as his arm..." Tosk says, momentarily speechless as he realizes what he's holding. He leans in close and whispers, his eyes wide and alert. "Are you saying that you're able to work dragonshards as though they were metal? That's..." Incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands. "...incredible."

He leans back and pockets the strange metal without another look to avoid drawing attention. "Hurnain, I have another piece of strangeness that has eluded my investigations, but for someone of your caliber it should prove to be no more than an interesting problem." He says. "I don't have it on me, but please promise me that you'll stay in town long enough to visit my boat. I would take it as a favor..." He says and looks around at the gathered nobility with a slight face of distrust. "And as he trusted you, that is vouchsafe enough for me that you will keep this between ourselves."

[Aldurin]

When Valora overhears the conversation between Hurnain and Tosk then notices them go quiet as Tosk whispers something along the lines of surprise, she decides it's finally time to get a quote on new arms should worst come to worst. She approaches Hurnain, politely waiting for him to finish his conversation with Tosk before speaking. "Greetings, I'm Afnelle Virashen. I overheard that you did work on Onain's arm, which is enough knowledge to trust you with a question." She hesitates, then pulls back the sleeve on one of her arms, revealing the faint scars from the dragonshard explosion. "When I dealt with that alchemical bombing attempt a few years back, sabotaging the airship had complications. Both of my forearms now have dragonshards embedded in them, and while the condition is currently stable I may have to seek amputation if a latent complication suddenly arises from it. What would my best options for new arms be if money isn't the primary limitation?"

[rypt]

Sidara

In search of someone with the answers she needs, Sidara rises from her seat and begins to work her way through the crowd. She isn't exactly hostile as she navigates the pockets of quiet conversation, but neither is she particularly discreet. Her patience is nearing its limits, and she offers no apologies for the elbows or shoulders that are battered in her passing. None of the faces in this room are familiar to her, but that shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Before Sidara was Ghaash'kala, she was an academy dropout, and before she was an academy dropout, she was an orphaned street rat. She never belonged in this element of society before, and she does not belong in it now.

The next room over has even less to offer her, as the farther she gets from the fireplace and Onain's outspoken Tharashk kin, the less people seem to be invested in the purpose of their gathering. Here, she can hear discussions shift from commiserating to networking; less consolation and more negotiation. With no mind for plots or schemes, Sidara can hardly stomach the notion that political games are being played at the funeral of the man she loved like a father. Feeling anger and frustration flush her cheeks, she recognizes that it's time for some fresh air.

She turns and heads for the door, passing a sodden warforged and a fragile old man on her way out.

[Athaleon]

It's Lord Sidonus Variel would have said under other circumstances, but not here, not now, and not to this Warforged. He raised an eyebrow at the insignia, but waited for Sidara to pass them before he spoke again, still in a genial tone. "Well, now. I have a notion that if I didn't tell you, you'd find out for yourself sooner or later. Nevertheless, as I've no idea what your business is with them: Any friend of the late Onain d'Tharashk is a friend of mine, and I must therefore respect their privacy." Variel stood aside and made an inviting gesture as he continued, "Pardon me, I've detained you at the door long enough. I will stay after the wake to hear you out."


Just in case, has Variel heard of a Warforged Inquisitive matching this description?

Knowledge (Local): [roll0]

[Cardea]

"Like metal? No, I work them like crystal. Working them like metal makes them act like children - volatile and messy, and not wantin' to be in the place they be in. And aye, I don't plan on leavin' for a good month, not until I sell off my other stock. Quiet as a frog's hair, I'll be." He turns his attention to the newcomer to the conversation. He looks at Valora up and down, with a look of pity and concern. "Lass, if you can't afford medical attention to get it out, I don't think you have the means to afford arms made of this stuff. You don't pay for this by the pound, you pay for this for the risk of craftsmanship, which costs a whole lot more than surgery."



Outside, the walkway that curves around the tower is shielded by an awning, the rain falling just outside it. Sky skiffs and barges and carriages pass by, their passengers blissfully unaware of the ceremony taking place just behind Sidara as she closes the door behind her. Blocking the pathway, leaning up against the tower walls, is the funeral director, smoking. He turns to Sidara, and takes out a cigarette to the woman. "You know, usually I can block out and be professional my work. It hits me hard too."

[THEChanger]

Radomil watched as the d'Tharashk warrior drew more and more stories to him, and he smiled softly. The stories about Onain brought a little bit of warmth to his chest, that the wine had been unable to. He could feel something of his friend still in the room, still watching over the city and family he held so dear. Funerals, Radomil had decided, were not an occasion he liked. But wakes were. Radomil's own voice joined the stories - in particular, Radomil enjoyed the story of how Onain won the title of Best Darts Player in Sharn from who else but Radomil himself.

A Perform check, to see how well Radomil tells his story.

[roll0]

It was shortly thereafter that Radomil saw the Warforged by the door, just as the Warforged spotted him. A shiver went down the captain's spine, and he made his excuses to the two young half-orcs he had been entertaining. It was time to go. The Forged was looking for him. He made his way towards Petrila, and bowed low. "I am very glad to have made it in time to see Onain off. I'm sure you've had enough of condolences and words for one evening, but if there is anything you should need, please, do not hesitate to call upon me." He removed the gem, and pressed it into her hand. As he did, Radomil pulled her close. "Forgive me. Do you know of another way out, besides the front door? A shiny friend is seeking me out, and I would like to have my presence here an unnoticed one."

[rypt]

Sidara

Sidara didn't step outside for company. At the sight of the man blocking the walkway, she stops, turns around and immediately realizes that all that's behind her is the door she's just closed. Pressing her eyes shut, she exhales a deep, volatile breath before turning reluctantly, almost defeatedly, to join the man against the tower wall. She accepts his cigarette without a word, lighting it with a spark of magic. Rather than pressing it to her lips, she holds it out before her eyes, staring at the burning flame for a time long enough for the man to wonder if she's forgotten his presence. The tension in her shoulders slowly lessens, and when at last she takes a drag from the cigarette, she tilts her back and exhales the smoke towards the sky.

"Did you know him?" she asks, staring out at the passing coaches, her voice quiet, cold, weary.

[Cardea]

Petrila looks at Radomil with a look of shock as her fingers wrap around the gem, and even more when she realizes what it is. "Th-there's an employee entrance, but, shiny friend? Do you mean Inquisitive Starbrandy?"

The Inquisitive nods his head to Sidonus, and moves further into the room, taking his hat off. Many a Warforged ornament their heads with magical items, or decorative pieces, an almost ritualistic practice that is universally shared. Rare are ones who wear full helmets outside of the War. But atop his head is a smattering of jagged scars, places where the metal was broken, pieced together, and forged anew. Many is the novice magewright or Artificer who could repair it without seams, which makes the metal scarring all the more distinct. He makes his way across the room, approaching Tosk Torrn d'Tharashk. "Mr. Torrn. I came in late for your speech, I apologize. And again I do. I must ask that you stay after the reception is over."





The man nods solemnly, then points to his ears. "Parents are Aereni. Grew up around the bodies they prepared. It might seem grim to others, but its respectful. Lot of people dismiss the body once the soul is gone. So when I moved here for work, I made my own practice and... well here we are." He takes out a long drag from his cigarette, breathing the smoke out through his teeth with a lost expression. "Onain used my funeral parlor whenever he lost someone on the job. A partner, a friend, someone he failed to save. They put all his glories on the front page, but as time went on, they put more and more of his victories in the back obituaries, mere mentions that so and so was lost, with the investigation coming to an end thanks to Inquisitive Onain. He paid for everyone he lost. No family ever paid so much as a half-crown if it was something he was working on. I knew Onain worked hard, but... between you and me? I never knew how much. Calluses and scars are one thing. You learn what hurt a man in his life, and what he worked for. Skin of his feet were like stone, which tells me long hours on his feet. I've dressed soldiers for their last march, and his were tougher. Muscles that showed signs of aging, but signs of stress to show he worked to counteract it. Some alchemical, some medicinal, most through exercise. The city is going to feel the loss soon, I guarantee. What about you? How'd you know Onain?"

[Aldurin]

Valora begins to consider a comeback out of offense to Hurnain's response, but hold's her tongue when she remembers that her offense comes out of the payroll and resources of her artifice profession, which must remain a secret. "Nevermind, then." She curtly replies, turning away to engage with someone else. The gall of him to talk down to me like that! I'll just learn to build my own better prosthetic arms that'll make his work look like rotting wood in comparison.

She notices the warforged's continued presence, and decides to start conversation with him. "You weren't here for the funeral, and I get the sense you're at the reception for business reasons, given your behavior. Is it Inquisitive business, perhaps?" As she looks at Starbrandy she struggles against staring at his scars, which make her want to hold him down until she can properly repair his head.

[Athaleon]

Variel's curiosity was piqued but, good manners to one side, he knew better than to press an Inquisitive for information. He returned to sharing anecdotes and offering condolences to pass the time until the wake was over.

[Chambers]

Tosk

The half-orc narrowed his eyes at the warforged. "I'm going to assume this is the first time you've interrupted two Tharashks in conversation..." He pauses to look over the odd scars on the machine. "...or perhaps that's how you've earned those scars you bear." He nods at the elf's questions and follows her gaze to the warforgeds head. Tosk makes no effort to hide his own stare. "Why wait til after? If you have questions for me, ask them now."

[Cardea]

"No, Mr. Torrn, I earned them working with one, so don't attempt to goad me at the his own funeral, when I'm still doing work for him." The warforged says, his composite eye turning to Valora, before his head follows. "Your arms. This must make you Miss Virashen. I'm going to ask that you remain behind as well."

[Athaleon]

Variel turned back to the conversation around the newly arrived Warforged, and tried to reassure Tosk. "Presumably these questions are not for all and sundry to overhear," he said quietly, "so let's avoid drawing undue attention. I, for one, intend to stay and hear him out. After all, this does concern the mutual friend we have all come to mourn—I can think of no other connection between myself and the rest of you," he concluded.

[rypt]

Sidara

Another long stretch of silence. Another long pull on her cigarette. It is not easy for Sidara to listen to the man describe the signs of Onain's suffering. She needs a moment to compose herself as much as she needs a moment to consider how to concisely answer his question.

"Onain saved my life," she says joylessly, watching as the cloud of smoke she's just exhaled drifts out into the rain. "He gave me a second chance, and when I squandered it, he was there to help me pick up the pieces and try again. That was almost ten years ago. I guess I waited too long to thank him." She turns to the funeral director for the first time, and if he had not noticed them before, there's no mistaking them now. Sidara's eyes are not the eyes of a human or an elf or an orc. They are otherwordly, and yet, to a man who has made a business of death, the pain behind them is all too familiar. "Onain was the closest thing I had to a father. I need you to tell me how he died."

[Cardea]

The director takes a long drag from his cigarette, breathing it out through his nose as he sighs silently. "Inquisitive Starbrandy, the warforged who just walked in, will have more. I only know about what happened with the body, none of the circumstances surrounding it." He barely finishes the sentence before he inhales sharply, and his breathing is heavier, more controlled. "His scars were opened up, his real arm was crushed, and attempts were made to sever his artificial one. But he was dropped from one of the towers. Spine, legs, back of the head were shattered on impact. I had to put his body on a brace. Inquisitive Starbrandy most likely has an autopsy report, if there was anything more."

[rypt]

Sidara

A burst of energy surges through Sidara's veins as her anger awakens the power of her blood. Heartbeat quickening, hands trembling, she staggers across the walkway, leaning forward to take hold of the railing that guards the tower's edge. Staring down into the darkness, all that she can see are the images of Karrhig's vision, images of Onain falling. Images, she now understands, of Onain's death. The metal groans beneath the force of her grip as she struggles to contain her rage, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy, labored breath. Such breathing techniques are well-practiced as means of controlling her temper, and slowly, steadily, she begins to calm herself down. Only after one final steadying breath -- a long, audible, almost meditative exhale -- is she comfortable speaking again. "Does Petrila know?" she asks drearily, emptying her hand of half a cigarette, the other half having snapped off between her fingers. "Do the kids?"

Mechanically speaking, Sidara expends 1 round of her bloodrage, taking 10 and utilizing the Strength Surge rage power on her Strength check to crush the metal railing. The total result of the check is 34. She is fatigued for 2 rounds after the bloodrage ends.

[Aldurin]

Valora begins to pay more attention to the details of Starbrandy when she hears his reply. "Work that is relevant to current events, I presume?" She responds with a quieter voice. "Yes, I'm Afnelle and I'm willing to stay to hear more." Her mind begins churning with information as she tries to process events. Did Onain predict his demise, preparing contingencies with this warforged? Why him, specifically?

Skill checks to identify Starbrandy, focusing on local reputations and anything of note about his construction that Valora can identify.
Appraise: [roll0]
Knowledge (Arcana): [roll1]
Knowledge (Engineering): [roll2]
Knowledge (Local): [roll3]
Knowledge (Psionics): [roll4]
Perception: [roll5]

[Chambers]

Tosk

"I will stay with the lady." Tosk says, then nods to Valora. "You know my name, warforged, but have not offered yours. Or should I be assumed to recognize you?"

[THEChanger]

Radomil frowned. "An Inquisitive? Did he work with Onain, then?" Seeing the look of shock on Pertrila's face, Radomil forced his body to relax. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to startle you. I simply. Well. After the incident with the Orien boy, I'm not exactly supposed to be here. I'd hate for that bad blood to be brought under this roof, but I couldn't." He looked away, hiding his watering eyes. "I had to be here, of course. Inquisitve Starbrandy, can he be trusted?"

[Cardea]

If your strength startles or disturbs the man, he doesn't show it. Maybe he expected it, maybe he's seen it before, maybe he's just a professional with people grieving, no matter what form they take. "Mrs. Petrila does, but her kids only know that their dad has to go away." He reaches into his pocket, and holds another cigarette to you.



"On point, Miss Virashen." Both eyes now focus on Tosk. "You wouldn't, no. Different circles, Mr. Torrn. Inquisitive 02891, Starbrandy. Onain was my master during my apprenticeship. Currently I'm to gather certain guests to stay. You two are a third of them. Just looking for a Sidara Kell last, but if you'll excuse me, the d'Lyrander I'm after is attempting to leave. Please make no attempts yourself. I'm not looking for trouble yet."



"I'm not sure, Onain never made it clear," Petrila says, a look of concern on her face. "But Onain trusted him, so I would say you can too."

Footsteps, heavy ones, come up from behind Radomil, stopping a respectable distance back. The warforged speaks, low, forward. "Hello Petrila. Radomil d'Lyrander, I must ask you to stay until after the reception is over."

[rypt]

Sidara

Seeming to lean on the railing now in a way she hadn't before, Sidara declines the cigarette with a meager wave of her hand, turning from the director's outstretched arm to the door of the funeral home. "Is there some place the inquisitive and I can speak privately?"

[Cardea]

He inhales one last breath of his stick, and then grinds it underneath his foot. He waves his hand, and blue trails of smoke flicker outside of his mouth and touching on his clothing. The smell of nicotine is gone from him. "I'm afraid you'll have to ask him. I have to return inside, I'm afraid. Excuse me." If allowed to pass, he heads to the door of the reception, and heads inside.

[THEChanger]

"Inquisitive Starbrandy, I presume." Radomil sighed, and slowly turned around, looking the Warforged up and down. "And are you officially detaining me, or are you simply requesting I stay? If you know who I am, I assume you understand I am somewhat nervous about remaining here for longer than I have to."

[Cardea]

"I am asking you on behalf of another." Starbrandy says, moving closer to whisper. "I am not here for King and Country, and I am not here for any House. I am currently here for you."

[Athaleon]

"Have any of you a notion of what this is all about?" the old man asked quietly after the Inquisitive left them for the moment. "My memory is not what it was, so I apologize if we have met before, but I really don't recall any other common thread between us than Onain."

[rypt]

Sidara

Sidara returns to the reception not long after the funeral director. She heads straight for the warforged in the dripping-wet coat, addressing him without waiting for him to finish whatever conversation he is engaged in at the time. "Inquisitive Starbrandy. I'm sorry to--" The words halt in Sidara's throat as she realizes that standing beside the warforged, and now across from her, is Onain's widow. Regret, sorrow, anger, shame. They each play across Sidara's face in turn, but whether Petrila notices, the Ghaash'kalan warrior cannot say, for she cannot bear to look the poor woman directly in the eye.

"I'm-- I'm sorry to interrupt," she says again, trying to pick up where she left off. Her gaze is flighty and her voice falters, but she speaks slowly, and with every word that follows, her focus narrows and her tone intensifies. "My name is Sidara Kell and I need to speak with you. Now." There is no mistaking the tension in her voice nor the tightness in her jaw. Her last word is practically spoken through gritted teeth. As she gestures back towards the foyer, inviting the warforged to join her in a more secluded area of the funeral home, Sidara glances once more to Petrila. This time, she manages to meet the widows eye, sharing, for the briefest of moments, a look of iron resolve and the promise that Onain's death -- no, his murder -- will not go unanswered.

An Intimidate check doesn't seem perfectly appropriate here, but I'm going to roll it anyway. It's not that I want to threaten Starbrandy or frighten him into complying, but I do want it to be clear that Sidara is upset and in little mood to be kept waiting. [roll0]

[Aldurin]

Valora found herself rather surprised when she recognized just how much was physically put into Starbrandy. The badge alone would be enough for a person to retire off of after pawning it, he must be well equipped and experienced with his equipment to stay this intact with that much wealth put into him. After finishing her examinations she answered Variel, "I'm certain Onain is the primary thread between all of us, probably the only one. I think what Starbrandy wishes to discuss is the circumstances of Onain's death and the events he was involved in to lead up to that moment. It's not unreasonable to assume this was in the middle of an investigation he was working on with Starbrandy, and he may have had us in mind for some kind of contingency plan." She took a look around the room to size up how many people still need to leave before the wake ended. "I don't think that there will be any harm in hearing out the warforged. Especially after the implication that he'll use force to stop us from leaving early if he has to."

[THEChanger]

Radomil allowed the Warforged closer than he normally would, and placed his hand on the cold metal shoulder. "Then I think I can be convinced to remain in the city for another night and day, at least. I assume there are-"

"My name is Sidara Kell and I need to speak with you. Now."

Radomil turned to face the newcomer. He had seen her during the service, but he wasn't quite sure who she was. He nodded to her. "Seems like a few people need to speak with the dear Inquisitive. Radomil, of House Lyrandar. A pleasure, I'm sure."

[Cardea]

"I'm a handsome man, Radomil." The Inquisitive turns to Sidara, shifting his shoulders, and standing at full attention. He steps close, his voice low. "Are you certain you are, Miss Kell? Seems to me you're more coal and brimstone right now. But you're in luck. I need to speak to you, and some others, about Onain." He nods his head over to Tossk, Valora and Sidonus. "Or you can try and make another demand. Flash me those pearly whites in anger again. I'm sure Onain wants you to throw a tantrum."

[Athaleon]

After finishing her examinations she answered Variel, "I'm certain Onain is the primary thread between all of us, probably the only one. I think what Starbrandy wishes to discuss is the circumstances of Onain's death and the events he was involved in to lead up to that moment. It's not unreasonable to assume this was in the middle of an investigation he was working on with Starbrandy, and he may have had us in mind for some kind of contingency plan." She took a look around the room to size up how many people still need to leave before the wake ended. "I don't think that there will be any harm in hearing out the warforged. Especially after the implication that he'll use force to stop us from leaving early if he has to."

"If that is what he's here for, I shall give him all the help I am able," Variel announced. "I fear I have no information for him on the matter, so I should hope he has some for us."

[rypt]

Sidara

Starbrandy's rebuke lands as a physical blow, but Sidara holds her ground. "No, I think he wants me to find whoever threw him from a tower." Her voice is low but no less strained than it was a moment before. "So whenever you're finished mocking me, I'd like to know what you know."

[Cardea]

Starbrandy looks at Sidara with a harsh look. "Oh, you're good, but don't get ahead of yourself. When everyone else leaves, then we all talk, just like the boss wanted us to." He turns his attention back to Petrila, and walks with her to a more isolated part of the room. His back stays turned to the rest of you, as is Petrila's, as they talk while looking out the window at the city.



If no one else has anything to say, or want to meet any of the other guests, do so now. Otherwise, we'll continue forward.

[Aldurin]

Valora nods to Variel. "I hope so, too." She then wanders off to mingle with the crowd and watch it thin. Towards the end when most of the other guests have left, Valora steps outside as if in need of fresh air, then places a Summoning Pattern just outside of the building out of sight of the other guests before heading back inside. When the last of the guests leave, Valora takes a look around the room (and another evaluation of Starbrandy) with Detect Magic and Detect Psionics just in case anything sticks out to her. Otherwise she waits for Starbrandy to speak.

Stealth check to place the Summoning Pattern without being noticed [roll0]

Spellcraft [roll1], Knowledge Arcane [roll2] and Knowledge Psionics [roll3] for any magical or psionic effects that Valora detects.

Appraise to reevaluate Starbrandy now that she can take any auras on him into account. [roll4]

[Athaleon]

Variel resumed making small talk with the other guests, trying at once to make it look like he wasn't waiting for anything in particular, and to provide the usual company and consolation for the other friends of the deceased.

[THEChanger]

Radomil coughed, not exactly sure of what to say after the exchange. But he turns to Sidara, frowning, gauging her reaction. "I don't think I like him very much either. But I want to find out what happened to Onain just as much as you do. If he doesn't tell us what we want to know, or if this is a trap, we'll just have to have each other's backs, aye?"

[rypt]

Sidara

Sidara continues to stare a hole into Starbrandy's back even as Radomil speaks. Only once she's heard his proposition does she turn to face him, her expression a clear reflection of her mood. Eyes lingering for a moment on the mark on the back of his left hand, she looks him up and down as if to take the half-elf's measure. Seemingly satisfied, she answers wordlessly, a simple and silent nod, before stepping away in search of a quiet corner to wait out the remainder of the evening.

I've updated Sidara's sheet with what will be her regular daily buffs, overland flight and greater false life. For the latter: [roll0]. The auras of both will be visible to Valora's detect magic.

[Cardea]

Two hours go on, with small talk slowly waning, until at last the Director asks everyone to leave. They shuffle out, in ones or in groups, until only the five of you and Starbrandy are present, with the Director taking Petrila to one of the smaller side rooms. He gathers chairs for the six of you, making a poor circle, and sits down. When everyone is seated, he reaches into his coat, and pulls out a few documents, passing it along the circle. He points his badged arm out at the space before you, and smoke begins to seep from his head, from the small spaces in the fitted pieces of metal and wood. It forms on the ground, taking solid form. The dimensions of a room form first, then a bed, a workbench filled with an alchemy lab and materials for magic item creation, a small forge, a stockpile of non-perishable foods in cans and jars. On the bed is a man. Tall even when he's sitting, his normal armored coat folded on the bed, his clothing built for abuse, cut short at his metallic arm. Onain sighs, and looks at a second form, which you recognize as Starbrandy.

After a few minutes of sighs, and looking around, Onain speaks.


"This case I've been working... the disappearances around the city, the stolen jewelry and metal, the missing kid. I wouldn’t have taken up the case. I thought Hakkaran was chasing his own tail when he started. But it was real, I know that now. Hakkaran… Inquisitive Hakkaran was investigating this before me, and he was found dead two days afterwards. I knew Hakkaran. Rough man, but all his time as part of a strike force in Darguun helped him out more times than I could count. If it had counted for him on this case, maybe I wouldn’t be in this... this. I followed Hakkaran's trail, and followed up on his leads. The day after I took the case, I was being followed. I don't know by who, but they always found me whenever I tried to give them the slip. I... I'm not going to let this shake me. I still have a duty to Sharn, even if... well. I hope they make me look good in the casket."

He laughs, and as Starbrandy opens his mouth, Onain raises up his hand.


"Don't talk, Starbrandy, I have to go through this.

"Each of you owes me or is willing to lend a hand, and I'm calling on that bond now. I need you to figure out why what is happening is happening. Starbrandy should have documents for you, things I've found, and the leads I had. Someone is making something, I can tell that much, but I don't know why they needed the child. Why that child, and why only one. If I knew who was doing it, I could explain it, but I don't, so I can't. I caught a glimpse of the one they're sending. He thought I didn't see him, but I had a filcher spot him for me. He’s a shifter. Dark fur. No distinct markings. Nothing else I could work on. I've seen him before, a long time ago, but I can't place it. I don't know who is doing this, who is responsible, but as my last duty to Sharn, I'm going to give it to those who I trust, who I think can solve it.

"Thank you."

The smoke disappears, and Starbrandy is motionless in his chair as he waits for you all to read the documents.

This sheet of vellum is marked as a copy in the upper right corner.

Country of Breland
City of Sharn

Judgement and Decree: Lharvion 1, 1018

In the Matter of the Petition of Arshalak Miter and Melrose Miter his wife, to adopt Marial Easkeya.

A MINOR CHILD

The above entitled matter came regularly on for hearing before the above named Court, at chambers, on the 1st day of Lharvion, 1018; and the court being fully advised in the premises did, on the 1st day of Lharvion, 1018, duly make and file its findings and order granting the prayer of the petitioners herein.

Now, pursuant to said order and on motion of Siranor Y. Orthen, Attorneys for petitioners, it is hereby adjudged and decreed that from and after the date hereof, the said child, having been given the name of Marial Easkeya by petitioners, and File No. 48199 by the Commissioner of the Council of Sharn, shall be deemed and taken to be the child and heir of the petitioners above named in all respects the same as though born to them in lawful wedlock.

It is further adjudged and decreed that the name of said child be, and the same is hereby legally changed to and established as Mariel Miter

By the Court
Jorria Tasker

Gorkara Hakkaran
Master Inquisitive
Private Sector

Subject: Crime Scene Search Investigation of the Death of Arshalak Miter, Melrose Miter, and Yorna Delmorra; Crime Scene Search Investigation of the Disappearance of Marial Miter

At 9:15 P.M. on Lharvion 1, 1018, I arrived at the wreckage of the Field Hopper, an Air Cabin run and operated by Sharn Shuttles, driven by Yorna Delmorra. At 8:10 P.M., an unidentified person crashed into the boat while it was ferrying the Miter family. Shortly after, the person burst from the undercarriage of the Cabin, deployed a Feather Fall token, and floated to an unidentified Air Skiff, which then took off, going down and north away from Downstairs. The Field Hopper spun on its nose, until it crashed into the streets of Downstairs. The bodies of Arshalak Miter, Melrose Miter, and Yorna Delmorra have been identified in the crash, but the body of Marial Miter was not found in the vicinity. She is presumed to have been taken by the unidentified person.

The unidentified man was wearing dark apparel, and burst out of and into the ship with his hands.

It is currently presumed he used a Feather Fall token.

While the family was assaulted, it is presumed that the crash is what killed all three found passengers.


Arshalak Miter
Suffered blunt force trauma to chest, head and back. Fractured spine, floating ribs were broken and fell two inches, with all sternum-rib points cracked. It is unknown if any damage occurred to Mr. Miter's legs, as they were scorched and charred when recovered. Black dust was found in wounds.
Melrose Miter
Suffered gouge wounds on chest. Wounds are large enough to presume that Mrs. Miter was unconscious when the Cabin crashed. Black dust was found in wounds.
Yorna Delmorra
Impact on chest and back indicate he was hit twice, and put up no effort to fight back. Presumed knocked unconscious at that point. Body was found against steering wheel, which was shattered. Presumed that the assailant hit Mr. Delmorra into the wheel, and then struck him in the head. Black dust was found in wounds.


Gorkara Hakkaran
Master Inquisitive
Private Sector

Subject: Grand Larceny of Belra's Bijoux

At 3:30 A.M. on Lharvion 5, I arrived at Belra's Bijoux. Belra d'Cannith, owner, has provided an inventory of what was taken, both lump amounts and specifics: two hundred and eighty-five pounds of onyx, two hundred and forty-four pounds of ruby, five hundred pounds of sapphire, twenty pounds of diamond, The Dark Raptor's Grace, Diadem of Seventh Mourning, and the Destruction of Avarel. Intruder broke into the store through the front. No wards were removed, and lock shows no signs of being picked. Intruder broke nothing, and took only these pieces and lump sum amounts. Theft was discovered when Belra's employee, Pella d'Cannith, began taking stock of inventory. Minor Images were left of the stolen pieces, at which point she sent messages to Belra and to the Town Guard. During statement taking, Pella continued inventory, and found that painted glass was left in place of the stolen gems.

Current estimate of stolen goods is impossible.

[At the bottom of the page, written in messier handwriting, is an addendum.]

Autopsy report says that black dust was found in wounds. I had them send me a sample. Its Onyx.

[On the back of the page, written in charcoal, is another addendum.]

I'm going to die. If all is fine, this is found in the compartments in my journal, and it just needs another Inquisitive's mark to open it. I found Black Dust in my food today, after I took a bite. I've eaten at Shakerin's joint for five years, so I know it isn't him. Someone is getting closer to me, someone is coming at me. I know this tactic. Fear. Make the enemy shaky. Someone is using my own handbook against me. And its working. But if they're using this tactic, they either know what I'll have to do to counter it, and they've already sized me up. I'm sharpening my cleaver now. Ten years strong this obsidian is. I hope someone chases this down.

And if the bastard who killed me is reading this?

I hope I got you good, you Khyber-loving, towerspitting crown-licker. Good enough so you take a dive.

[Aldurin]

Valora's mind raced as she read the documents and listened to Onain's message, immediately working on a list of priorities. I'll need the House to see if they have any information connected to Mariel, and if someone tailed and killed two previous Inquisitives I should avoid returning to the workshop until I properly identify if anyone is shadowing me. Should've payed more attention to the other guests at the wake, it'd make sense if at least one of them was keeping an eye out for anyone that was picking up the case. And if someone was waiting among the wake then they might be wondering why some of the guests haven't left yet. I can't treat this location as secure . . . Stopping herself from going deeper into paranoia, she passed along the documents after memorizing the details. "Starbrandy, did you study any of the guests of the wake for suspicious behavior? If Gorkara and Onain were tailed so effectively, it's not off the table that someone was sent to blend in among the crowd and watch for anyone who might pick up on the case. In which case that person would note that they haven't seen us leave the building yet, which could give away that we're now involved."

[Athaleon]

Variel read and reread the documents as they were passed around, trying to keep a neutral expression, but the hardening in his voice and around his eyes and mouth were unmistakable. At length, he spoke up. "If Starbrandy was indeed followed, then gathering us while we are all here together anyways would have been the safest way to pass us the message, not to mention the fastest, and time may be of the essence. The upside is, our best chance to apprehend this assassin may be when he attempts to murder one of us," Variel smiled grimly. "If he was able to hunt down Onain, his skills at subterfuge are certainly beyond mine. He will surely have taken precautions against scrying, as well."


Is there any "setting significance" to onyx, such as being used as a component for certain spells, religious or mythological significance, etc? Any appropriate Knowledge check to find out?

[rypt]

Sidara

Starbrandy's vaporous simulacrum has a particularly powerful effect on Sidara. This is the first time she's heard Onain's voice in nearly a decade; the first time she's seen the man not as the morticians magic made him appear, but as he was truly was, touched by years of age and effort. However fleeting or illusory it might be, there is a strange comfort to be found in his imperfect presence, and as his message ends and the smoke begins to collapse, Sidara finds herself wishing that it had lasted a little while longer.

"When was this prepared?" she asks quietly, as she waits for the documents to make their way around the circle. "How long before...?" The end of her question hardly needs to be spoken.

I'm also curious about the dust. Has Sidara ever seen or heard of anything similar happening in the Demon Wastes?

[Cardea]

Starbrandy looks at Valora. "Yes, but nothing spoke to me. My intent was to find you lot, not to ditch a tail. I'm not certain I'll be able to tell if someone has tried to tail me. I lack certain biological functions for the sign that they noticed." He turns to Sidara. "Two days."

Geography, Religion, Arcane, Local, History, Nobility & Royalty. Any combinations of these will give different results.

[RPZip]

Beren had left the funeral home earlier, intent on doing some good on the streets in his other persona, but he'd found a message addressed to the Son of Sharn near one of his usual spots. The note from Inquisitive Starbrandy requested his attendance at a meeting after the proceedings were over.

The Son of Sharn detached himself from the wall he'd been leaning against, fingers running down the adoption paper with his left hand. Onain's last testament had struck a chord in him. Whoever did this to his friend would pay, but there was something more - the name of the child dredging up half-buried memories. When he speaks his voice is much lighter than Beren's rough brogue with a hint of an upper Sharn accent. It's one of the distinctions between the two that Beren uses to hide his connection to the Son of Sharn.

"Better to have an assassin here than elsewhere. There's more than one way to find a lead," he says, fingers flexing on his dragonmarked metal arm. "The trick will be forcing him to reveal himself."

[THEChanger]

Radomil closed his eyes, sitting back after looking over the documents. Replaying the message in his mind. Suddenly thrust into...what? An investigation of assassination? Kidnapping? Something that had already claimed the lives of two Inquisitives? In a city he wasn't even supposed to be in? Onain had been a good friend, but this was quite a lot to ask of him.

Radomil opened his eyes slowly, and took another look at the adoption papers. Shaking his head.

"The girl. Mariel. Do you know if she has any living relatives? Either of her adopted parents, or biological? Do we even know anything about her heritage?"

[Chambers]

Tosk

When they are left alone Tosk looks again at everyone still there, his gaze lingering on Starbrandy. "Do not be alarmed." He says and rubs a silver ring on his finger. In an instant his clothes are replaced by a suit of gleaming full plate, his skull ram resting on his shoulder. He rests it against his chair and sits down carefully in the full plate. "Pleasantries are concluded, this is now a meeting of professionals. Professional attire is appropriate."

He watches the magical images play across the open space and sniffs to make sure it's not real, his face showing none of whatever emotion he might be feeling. "This child..." he says as the documents are passed around. "Do you have something of hers? A doll? A ribbon?" He asks. "Give me this, and I will find her."

He picks up one of the papers and glances at it a moment. "The dust as well...some taken from the bodies."

[rypt]

Sidara

A chill runs down Sidara's spine as it dawns on her that Onain had been investigating the kidnapping of an orphaned child.

Again?

Memories come rushing to the fore, unwelcome and unbidden. For the briefest of moments, she's back in that room. She can see their hoods, hear their chants, feel the cold stone beneath her feet.

This damned city.

Her jaw tightens and she wonders whether Sharn has changed at all in the 15 years that she's been gone. Not that she'd managed to cleanse the Wastes in that time either -- nothing of the sort, in fact -- but she'd always believed that Onain would fare better than she has -- that he would manage more than to simply hold the darkness at bay.

Among stolen gems, strange wounds and a murdered couple, Sidara focuses on the missing girl. She know's she's no great investigator. She knows that if there's a trail that Onain missed, chances are she's not the one who's going to uncover it. But she also knows the weight of the poor girl's suffering, and she knows she's going to find her. Once she's managed to read through each of the documents once, Sidara takes a hard second look at the adoption certificate before passing the papers along.

"Mariel -- how old is she?"

[Cardea]

"The girl's mother was a refugee from Sharn after the war, before New Cyre was established. Information was lost during the upheaval. No other relatives known. The Miters had no known relatives. Arshalak was a guardsman, Melrose ran a small forge." Starbrandy shrugs at Tosk's wardrobe change, pointing at his badge. "Anything of the child's belongings that were in the incident would have been collected as part of evidence. And any dust from their systems would be in lockdown. I can accompany you to collect either." The Inquisitive pauses a moment, staring out at Onain's casket. "The girl is 12. Her birthday is in five days."

[rypt]

Sidara

A wave of nausea washes over Sidara as she begins to believe that she is somehow connected to whatever it was that Onain had been investigating. Age, nationality, family status -- nearly all the circumstances of Mariel's kidnapping seem to have aligned precisely with her own. And yet as far as she knew, all those who had been involved with her abduction were either imprisoned or killed. Could they have been released? Could there have been more? The sour taste of bile coats her mouth. After all these years, could they be trying to finish what they started? Sidara thought she had closed that chapter of her life. Onain, whether knowingly or not, seems to have opened it again.

She exhales deeply, leaning forward in her seat to rest her elbows on her knees. "Have you seen the girl before or been given a description of what she looks like?" There's a pause and an uncomfortable swallow before she continues. "Does she have any... distinguishing features?"

[Athaleon]

The lines around Variel's forehead deepened as he frowned in thought. "Not much to go on... The girl's personal effects may have some hitherto-overlooked clue about them. And though, as I said, her captors will surely have warded her hiding place against scrying, even a slim chance of gaining some clue would still be worthwhile."

[RPZip]

Son of Sharn

Beren dipped his chin in thought, trying to find the connection between the pieces of the puzzle. His metallic arm reaches forward, finger running slowly over the list of stolen items. "There's something about this, some kind of connection. A warforged's heart, a diadem of the host and a ring." He frowns, arms crossing against his coat. "Tracing the items might be the best option for a lead on the girl. The problem will be finding them if they're being used rather than sold."

Beren turns to regard Tosk, giving him a thoughtful nod. "A direct link might be best. Even if they've warded against the obvious, there's no reason not to at least try. It'll also give us a chance to draw the assassin out."

[Aldurin]

Valora stood up and began pacing around the room. She didn't have solid directions to go on, and needed to get the details to Eskur to see what House Phiarlan knew about any of this. It wasn't likely that the corpses and possessions would be relevant to her, but she was still shaken from the revelation that Onain's killers might already be wary of the people in this room, and didn't want to split up immediately. "I'll have to check some sources, see if I can dig up anything relevant. After examining the collected evidence, I'll need to look into some matters alone. We should establish a place where we can safely meet and share our findings after this." As she listened to the others talk, she started walking along the walls. Her footsteps were silent, and she was intent on making sure she could detect any noise outside of the room.

Stealth to avoid making noise as she moves: [roll0]
Perception to detect any sound outside of the room: [roll1]

[THEChanger]

Radomil rubbed his temples, running over the information in his mind. "The nearest major deposit of onyx is in the Dragonwood. A decent way northeast. I don't know if it's significant, but it might be good to keep in mind." Still frowning, he began to pace. "I will need to tell my crew I'm staying for a bit. The House is going to be upset. But. To hell with it. The girl's affects first. Then, perhaps, a rest."

[Athaleon]

"I do not maintain a permanent residence in this city, but once we do decide on a safe meeting location I can ward it against both scrying and mundane eavesdropping provided the room is not overly large," Variel put in. "The spell will have to be renewed each day, so keep that in mind if I am indisposed, unless one of you also possesses the Talent."

[Chambers]

Tosk

"Either...?" Tosk asks. "Are they stored separately? The girls things first then." He says and stands up, shouldering his battering ram. "The sooner the better."

[Cardea]

"Brown hair, green eyes, tall for her age. The girl hasn't been claimed by any of the dragons, if that's what you mean." The Inquisitive continues on, looking at Valora as she becomes to creep. He nods, and continues on. "I have a few locations for safe houses from Onain. The one in the memory was one such place. In his will he had given me the key to them. I can split off access to one or two, as you need." He turns to Tosk, and despite the inorganic face, you can see the look of slight confusion. "Same building, different storage locations. I can explain more once we are there. Who else will accompany me to storage?"

You hear a few birds outside the building, like a dozen or so chirping in a line.

[RPZip]

Son of Sharn

"I will," Beren says with a nod towards Tosk. "Whoever this girl is, she was targeted specifically. There might be something in her effects to help tell us why, and from there we can determine where they may have taken her and for what purpose."

Moving things along...

[rypt]

Sidara

Sidara grimaces as she rubs her brow with one hand, seemingly perplexed, or perhaps frustrated, by the inquisitive's answer. There are too many similarities between the circumstances of her own abduction and those of Mariel's for her to dismiss the possibility that they are somehow connected, but at the same time, she is unsure as to how to reconcile that connection with such a significant deviation. The absence of any strange physical features would distinguish Mariel not only from Sidara, but from all the other children who had been gathered along with her to be party to whatever strange ritual Onain had interrupted.

As the others stand up and begin to discuss their next step, Sidara paces agitatedly behind them. She has never participated in such an investigation before and has little mind, and even less patience, for the plots and schemes she expects it to involve. She wonders for a moment how best she might contribute.

"You said the girl's mother came to the city as a refugee," she says to Starbrandy. "Did she grow up in High Walls?"

If Starbrandy's answer is yes, then she will volunteer to head to High Walls to ask around about the girl. I would imagine there's still someone in High Walls who she knew growing up. Maybe a former barkeep turned tavern proprietor or an officer of the watch with whom she had frequent run ins? I'm flexible with the details here, but my point is she'd start by looking for someone she knows (or knew).

If people object to splitting the party so soon, she can be convinced to join them at the safe house. If Starbrandy's answer is no, she'll join the others at the safe house.

[Aldurin]

Stops her pacing among the walls and steps back towards the chairs. "What did you mean by you lacking the biological functions needed to notice the people that tailed Onain and Gorkara?"