Eberron Literary Trilogy

[Jeff the Green]

Chapter 1: The Chimes at Midnight
https://images6.alphacoders.com/421/thumb-1920-421148.jpg

Sypharos is an interesting time to be in Sharn. There is a frission in the air, growing each day, as though the Fury herself were manifesting through the city's residents. Scholars of religion and the planes may claim that there is no true connection to the Sovereign of Rage and Ruin, that it is entirely a matter of people using the month as an excuse to break taboos without consequence, but whatever the reason the city has gone feral. Parties and fights both spontaneously break out in the street—particularly after dusk—and every form of passion, good or bad, is heightened. This time of year the Sharn Opera House supposedly produces the most inspired performances, and this year the Diamond Theater has debuted a new play by Luca Syara about Galifar ir'Wynarn I's mistress, Ielenia, to rave reviews (as usual). (The rumors of backstage orgies are only too plausible, given the month and subject matter.)

Down here, though, in Cliffside, only the baser passions are let loose. Both watch-stations and brothels alike are stretched to capacity, and at dusk each night the streets are filled with sailors and residents, jostling, drinking, hustling, fighting, and dancing (occasionally horizontally). It is in this milieu, of course, that P.T. Beauregard has dragged the employees of his fledgling inquisitive agency out for a drink after proving to Mrs. Amamne that Mr. Amamne was having an affair. (She was less upset about the unfaithfulness than that it was with her brother.)

Stepping out of the Hole in the Bucket, slightly tipsy, does not exactly grant you fresh air, but at least it's a different stink, more of the docks than smoke and sweat and stale beer. In a somewhat awkward coincidence, you find that you can't all head home separately like you planned—you all live in the same direction from the bar, and thus are forced to remain in each other's company for a while longer.

[Khosan]

"Well," Mili starts, casually adjusting her mask, "That was...fun? I guess?" She doesn't sound so sure of herself, as if she just spent an evening with a few relative strangers, celebrating the equivalent of getting out of bed in the morning. "Yeah, that sounds good. Fun. I think I'll head home for now though. Things to do. Good night, everyone." With a wave, she starts heading off down the street.

An aggravating dozen steps later, with it becoming dead certain they were all headed the same direction, Mili stops and sighs, "I realize now that that goodbye was a mistake. I just ask that none of us acknowledge it and continue with our lives as if nothing embarrassing just happened." Not that she thought that was going to happen. There were good odds P.T. would laugh about it and remind everyone in the morning. For the next week. The young rodent fidgets, ducks her head, and quietly continues.

[Mahrke]

A hulking behemoth of a man, sporting a bowler three sizes too small for his bald head and an immaculate tuxedo, shepherds a gnome whose choice of dress is elegant at first glance, but garish upon further examination. His top-hat sports a black lace bow. His fingers are encrusted in extravagant, gem-studded rings. His hair is slicked back with too much pomade. Stinking of booze, he walks with a stumble. Occasionally, the large man taps the gnome gently with his held cane, steering him back on course whenever he veers to the side.

"Fun! Exactly. Soon enough, we'll be living life in the lap of luxury, just like tonight! Cavorting in palaces and solving mysteries of the high courts that have the watch scratching their heads like the gorillas they are. Amamne is only the name of the first cobblestone on the road to fame!" Even inebriated, he has a way about him. It's easy to believe that his words are straight from the heart, even though it seems like every other phrase out of his mouth in dealings of business is, if not a lie, then a truth stretched razor-thin. He grins, "Present me promises to not needle you for a faux pas. Future me makes no such commitment!"

[stack]

Sean ignores the gnome's exuberance, responding stoically to Mili. "Didn't get stabbed or shot. Didn't have to shoot anyone. Got paid. Don't know about fun, but I've had worse."

His eyes never stop scanning the area, the riot of activity during this season leaving him perpetually on edge. The strain is starting to show, an unusual hint of weariness shows in his face. The sudden movement or loud outburst of a passing celebrant makes his hand twitch towards his bow and quiver, but only slightly.

[Lateral]

Last out of the tavern is a tall half-orc, wiry but muscular, whose grimace fades into a milder scowl as she steps out into the humid, salty air. A long, black leather trenchcoat is draped over a simple white shirt, the rough fabric showing traces of the fine chain link hidden beneath it. Her hands, each wearing fingerless black gloves with conspicuous bulges over the knuckles, reach down to her belt, coming to rest on a small brown pouch and the well-worn hilt of a small axe.

"I've had... worse jobs. Not too interesting, but 'least we got paid. Better work'll come." She's speaking to her compatriots, but her eyes are focused on the side streets— she knows this neighborhood well, and so she knows to keep an eye out for trouble, scanning her surroundings through black-rimmed sunglasses that are conspicuously out of place in this near-sunless region of the city. "Rather be gettin' home quick, if you wouldn't mind. Not that this wasn't... fun. Just prefer to do my drinkin' in the privacy of my own home."

[Khosan]

"I...prefer not to drink. Ever." Mili drums her fingers across the temple of her mask, then presses down on it with her palm, "Bad for clarity. Fuzzy-headed already, making it fuzzier isn't ideal. But...Have to give things a fair shake now and again. Can't get stuck in a rut now."

[Jeff the Green]

Measuring distance in blocks doesn't quite work in the decidedly un-grid-like streets and alleys of Cliffside, but in a more orderly district you would have traveled about five of them before you hear a screech, then a clatter, and then a crash of splintering wood, and finally a series of shrieks and screams from the previously-raucous crowd. Within a few seconds the crowd in front of you starts a slow-motion stampede back towards you, though the cause is hidden behind a dogleg bend in the street.

[Mahrke]

"What?" Beauregard says quizzically, blinking at the commotion as it rises in a slow crescendo. "What?!" Again, this time with more urgency as he looks to either side. Nowhere to go...and at his height, being trampled was a -very- real possibility. "WHAT?! Panicked, he staggers to the side as Vincent steps past him, taking a solid stance and planting his cane between parted feet.

He made a fairly convincing wall.

[Khosan]

"I'll try to get a closer look," Mili takes a step forward, literally vanishing into the crowd only to reappear instantaneously on one of the above catwalks, then from there to an awning with a vantage point that gives her a better view of the cause of the human stampede. She waves at her partners just to make sure they see her, but otherwise quickly directs her attention past the bend in the street.

Mili's just using the Warp sphere to move around.

[stack]

Sean readies his bow and cuts toward the other side of the street, to get a better angle to see what is coming.moving forward and to the side, trying to get to the side of the crowd before it makes movement difficult and be able to see what is coming sooner

[Jeff the Green]

It's hard to tell in the poor light and beyond the range of your darkvision, but you can make out that there's some sort of large cart or carriage overturned in the middle of the street. One of the enormous draft horses that pulled it lies dead in the street, another still thrashes in the street, and any others must have been cut free. One hulking figure, a good ten feet tall, stands behind it. You can see it reach down and tear up an enormous paving stone before throwing it into the crowd, crushing some poor reveler.

[Khosan]

Eyes widening, Mili nearly cuts her belt off in the rush to get her blades ready. She bangs one against her metal perch to get the attention of the others still on the ground, while pointing with the other at the rampaging giant, "We got trouble! Get moving!" Wasting no more time, she hops down to a nearby catwalk, trying her best to steer clear of the main crowd with strategic teleportation. She offers some words of advice to the fleeing civilians via the fine art of barking orders, "Clear the area! Get indoors, away from windows and exterior walls! There is an extremely dangerous individual! It has already killed at least one person! Do not attempt to engage! My associates and I are professionals and will take care of this!"

[roll0] to persuade people to clear out ASAP.

Using standard action Warps to get close if the crowd is too dense.

[Lateral]

Mags lets out a string of swears as she hears Mili calling from down the street and dashes off after her, pushing her way through the crowd. As she does so, she lets out a roar and swings her arms around a bit— not enough to hurt anyone, just enough to keep them out of her path. She gains speed as she moves, adrenaline and magic pumping through her body, and as she rounds the corner you can see light and wisps of green smoke beginning to curl out from underneath her heavy jacket. She eyes the beast carefully, preparing to make her approach.

Standard: Strike Fear into the crowd, Intimidate take 10+2 for 35. It'll only shaken them, but I figure it should double as a way to get me some breathing room. Also it starts my sequence, link 1. Imbue with Enhanced Combatant, Enhanced Speed, Mutagenic Enhancement, Animalistic Transformation (Land Speed), for a total 80 ft. land speed.
Move: Swing around the corner with that 80 ft. land speed.
Swift: scout it as soon as I get eyes on it, Perception: [roll0]. Assuming that's successful, link 2. Also spotting it with The Devil, so I know its CR range.

[Mahrke]

Beauregard peeks out from between Vincent's legs with a frown. "Can't just go out for drinks," he mumbles. "Nooo. It's always something. A bar fight, or a watch raid. Are we Oracle -Hero- Agency? No! And yet, here we are." His whining is soft enough to be to himself, drowned under the din of the fleeing crowd. He tugs on Vincent's pantleg, and the absurd caricature of a man reaches down, and offers a hand. Beauregard takes a seat on his palm, and points down the street. "What you bet, Vinny? I'm betting...hired killer." Vinny remains stoic as he places the gnome upon his shoulder. He takes a surly pose, and grips his cane in two hands. With a wrenching motion, he twists the center bit of the cane, and it snaps forth, telescoping outwards to triple in size. The finely detailed head, depicting a bird of prey, pops up and open to reveal a long, gleaming blade, and Vincent begins to wade inexorably forward through the crowd.

As he does so, Beauregard points a finger at Mili and shouts. "Mili, make like a mouse and cheese it! We're not in the hero business!" With that, the mouse disappears, cloaked suddenly in a cowl of invisibility, her flesh and equipment given a convincing transparency.

Beauregard Move:Mount Vincent
Vincent Full-Round: Move 60' in the direction of the chaos, pushing through the crowd.
Beauregard Standard: Cast Invisibility
Target: Mili
Duration: Concentration (up to 1 min/level) + 4 rounds linger
Effect: Mili becomes invisible, gaining 50% concealment, +2 to attack, and striking creatures as if they were flat-footed. She gain a +7 to Stealth checks to avoid detection.

[Jeff the Green]

The giant creature is an ettin, and appears to be a Difficult challenge. Because they have two heads, they tend to be very good at wielding two weapons at once. They're very strong, but also stupid, lacking a language of their own and instead using a pidgin of Orc, Goblin, and Giant.

[Jeff the Green]

Ahead, several bodies lie in the street. Most seem to have been revelers trampled as they fled, but at least a couple wear good-quality armor. By the looks of it, they must have been guarding the cart that overturned, as well as its mate, which bears the basilisk of House Medani.

The revelers seem to have been fleeing from several hobgoblins, wearing rags and manacles with chains now broken, and one two-headed giant in the same garb, though, with its lank, greasy hair it manages to make the uniform look even rattier. Two fighters, in the same armor as the dead bodies, are surrounded and hard-pressed by the hobgoblins and giant. At least one of them, closest to you, has obtained a sword, while most of the others fight bare-knuckled or using their chains as improvised flails. The giant, of course, doesn't have much of a need for a weapon, as it wields a wagonwheel and smashes it into the nearest guard's shield, breaking it and flinging splinters everywhere. Smoothly, it also reaches down, casually rips up a cobblestone, and chucks it at the other guard, putting a sizeable dent in their helmet.

As Mags approaches, the nearest hobgoblin takes notice and breaks away from the guard they were fighting, waving its stolen longsword inexpertly.

Their turns take place narratively. You all go now. (Vinnie/PT are so far behind in part because Vinnie isn't as scary and in part because of initiative.)

House Medani's sigil:
https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/eberron/images/e/e2/Medani.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/316?cb=20080827131533

Knowledge (nature) to ID the giant. Knowledge (local) and/or (nobility) to know about House Medani.

[Mahrke]

"Did you forget your copper badges at home today or am I just crazy?" The gnome irately bellows, "We are not the watch and should be running away!" Alas, when words inevitably fall on deaf ears, the gnome rolls his eyes, and takes off his hat. He reaches into the extravagant accessory and draws forth a slender, four-pointed throwing star. Flipping it expertly and catches it, he points towards the fray. "Need I remind you that there is a very thin line between bravery and foolishness?" Vincent begins to move toward the calamity, wading through the fleeing crowd with strong, steady steps. When free, his pace picks up as he moves to join their companions.

Beauregard's Swift: Concentrate on Invisibility (Mili)
Beauregard's Move: Draw Starknife
Beauregard's Standard: Cast Invisibility
Skilled Caster: Perform (Comedy) of [roll0] v. DC 22. The result becomes the DC to identify with spellcraft. Failing this check by 5 or more means targets are unaware Beauregard cast a spell.
Target: Mags
Duration: Concentration (up to 1 min/level) + 4 rounds linger
Effect: Mags becomes invisible, gaining 50% concealment, +2 to attack, and striking creatures as if they were flat-footed. She gain a +7 to Stealth checks to avoid detection.
Vincent's Double Move: Shove through crowd to F15/G16

[Lateral]

Mags dashes forward, her form disappearing as she approaches. Moments later, there are two loud thumps and a metallic grinding sound as a large, heavy, very invisible object smacks into some hobgoblin faces.
Free: berserking, -2 AC/6 THP. Also examining one of the hobgoblins with The Devil, because I can. Move: Close the Gap to N8, link 3. Swift: switch imbuement to Enhanced Combatant, Enhanced Speed, Mutagenic Enhancement, Size Change, 50 ft. land speed, +2 to hit, +6 damage, +10 HP, -4 AC. Standard: barrage the goblins at O8/O10, taking the -4 to make it nonlethal. If either hits, link 4.

O8: [roll0] for [roll1] nonlethal bludgeoning
O10: [roll2] for [roll3] nonlethal bludgeoning

[stack]

Sean is all business, moving to get a better view, studying the giant-kin's motion for a moment as he fits an arrow and draws, a slight glow emerging from the bodkin. He looses, an explosion of crystal emerging from the impact.move 30 ft north

Swift to scout ettin, take 10 for 26, 21 after penalty for using perception to scout I stead if knowledge, target takes -2 AC against him on success

Energy blade crystal blast [roll0]
Damage [roll1] + [roll2]

Reflex save or entangled per crystal blast DC 16, CL7

Starts sequence on hit

[Khosan]

Mili disappears again, this time not under her own power at least. There's glimmers of magic, a few stray puffs of smoke from where she once stood and a sudden shift in lighting behind the closest hobgoblin. It takes a wound opening up on the back of the hobgoblin's legs for it to become apparent where she's gone.

Move Action: Mili Quick Teleports (1 SP) to M10.

Standard Action: Mili Dual Attacks the hobgoblin at L10.

Main-Hand
[roll0] for [roll1] plus 1 Bleed

Off-Hand
[roll2] for [roll3] plus 1 Bleed, Sequence Start (1/5 Links)

Swift Action: Mili imbues her sequence with the Minor Shapeshift energy, gaining DR 2/Evil.

[Jeff the Green]

The escaped prisoners are utterly unprepared for your assault. Mags's richocheting cannonball is far more effective than she intended. Rather than merely hitting soft tissue, it caves in the skull of one and leaves one unconscious with wet-sounding, labored breathing. The guard they were assaulting nearly drops his sword as one of his attackers drops dead. Mili's hamstringing slice is somewhat less immediately deadly, but does cause a nasty wound, eliciting a gasp and then rubbernecking to find the sudden assailant. And Sean's ensorcelled arrow also strikes true, albeit with less obvious effect on the somewhat more-massive target.

Though two of their members have been stricken dead by a barely-visible apparition, the hobgoblins react quickly, albeit with mixed results. Two rush Mags, one managing to rush her shoulder into her, but her punch goes a good foot wide, and though the other wields the iron bar he picks up surprisingly well, he misses wildly too. In a somewhat more impressive assault, one of the hobgoblins near the ettin smashes the guard's wrist, catches the dropped longsword by the hilt before it clatters to the cobbles, and brings it up to slash open the guard's throat. The guard falls to the ground, his armor clunking against the street.

The hobgoblin stabbed Mili stabbed makes a successful counterattack too, albeit less lethal. He reaches out to snag the mouse. His hand misses, but he spots an opening. His sword comes across Mili's other side, cutting into her and, with a brutal crunch, knocking the wind out of her.

The ettin does what ettins are prone to do. It tears a wheel from one of the wagons and hurls it at the surviving guard, but it misses and crashes through the window of an adjacent shop, then throws another cobblestone at Mags, again unsuccessfully. The guard, wisely choosing to help fight the escapees furthest from the giant, rushes at the nearest hobgoblin, but his sword is cooly turned away by a scarred forearm.

[Lateral]

Mags audibly sucks in a breath, and addresses the hobgoblins in their language. "Oooh. Erm, sorry 'bout your friend, there. I... mm. Well, I was... trying not to... ech. My bad." She takes a quick step backwards and, though none of the goblins can see it, throws her cannonball again; it ping-pongs around the alley, bouncing off of the ground, the walls, and the goblins' faces, before landing perfectly back in her hand. She then yells across to the ettin, switching to markedly less fluent Giant: "Hey, big guy! Come over here, why don't you?"

Free: berserking again, 5' step to M8, The Devil on X10.
Swift: scout X10, [roll0] for another link, link 5.
Standard: finish with whirlwind, five attacks. Targeting each target until it goes down, L10 -> O8 -> O7 -> X10 -> Z10. All nonlethal; if I get to X10 and Z10, those are at -3 to hit and -1 damage.
[roll1] for [roll2] nonlethal bludgeoning
[roll3] for [roll4] nonlethal bludgeoning
[roll5] for [roll6] nonlethal bludgeoning
[roll7] for [roll8] nonlethal bludgeoning
[roll9] for [roll10] nonlethal bludgeoning
Move: challenge the ettin, which starts a new link, re-imbue with the same imbuement. Link 1. The ettin takes a +2 to hit me and a -2 to hit everyone else for 4 rounds.

[Mahrke]

Vincent trundles forward to join the fray. He points violently at the Ettin with an angry grimace, and clasps his polearm with sausage fingers, falling into a readied stance. On his shoulder, Beauregard shouts at the Ettin. "Hey. HEY! Idiot! Cobblestones? Really? If you want to do some real damage, maybe stick your sausages up your nose and retrieve whatever rocks you have rattling around in that head." With that, a thick fog swirls forth from nothingness. Like a dense blanket, it ensconces the scene, cutting off the Ettin from the group of defenders. Beauregard calmly looks over his shoulder, speaking in a more normal tone. "Ugh, can you believe this fog? Whoever created it must be a bumbling fool. How is Sean gonna be able to shoot through it?"

Vincent's Move: Move to J11/K12
Vincent's Standard: Activate Patrol.
Zone (Punishing Rebuke): Whenever a creature attacks an ally within the patrol, not including Vinnie, they provoke an AoO from Vinnie.
Effect: Increase reach by 10', to a total of 30'. If Vinnie makes an AoO outside his normal 20' reach, he moves to do so. Vinnie has 30' move speed, and 9 AoOs.
Vincent's Swift: Challenge Ettin.
Effect: Ettin takes a -3 to attack all target other than Vinnie. He takes a +2 when attacking Vinnie.

Beauregard's Full-Round: Cast Illusion
Skilled Caster: Perform (Comedy) of [roll0] v. DC 22. The result becomes the DC to identify with spellcraft. Failing this check by 5 or more means targets are unaware Beauregard cast a spell.
Target: Squares in rectangle from Q6 to S11, 15' high
Duration: Concentration (up to 1 min/level) + 4 rounds linger
Saving Throw: Will 20, Disbelief
Effect: The squares become filled with illusionary Solid Fog. This pea-soup like fog does not hinder movement speed, but is thick enough to utterly block line of sight through it, and grant concealment for adjacent targets. This area counts as a zone of Beauregard's darkness, with Tenebrous Ledgermain applied.
Beauregard's Free: This never happened.
Target: Hobgoblin wielding the iron bar inside the fog.
Effect: Beauregard tries to Steal the iron bar, taking no penalty for using Steal as Disarm due to Master Thief. If his attempt of [roll1] v. CMD succeeds, the iron bar appears in his hand, which he drops on the spot. If this steal is successful, Vagabond Nick causes it to deal 9 damage.
Beauregard's Free: Tell allies its an illusion.

[Khosan]

Mili coughs, stumbling around. She squeezes one eye shut, trying to focus, but not seeing much room for headway on her part, she simply teleports to a safer position.

Standard Action: Mili warps to P5 at no SP cost.
Free Action: Mili uses the Abandan Focus link, expending her martial focus to add another link to her sequence. (2/5 Links)

[stack]

Sean already begins eyeing his next target, delibrately drawing his next arrow, ignoring the illusion, letting the crystal tipped shaft leap toward the ettin .
Free abandon focus for 2nd link
Move, focusing reload for focus + 3rd link,
Swift to scout a hob, 4th link
Standard energy blade on ettin [roll0]
Damage [roll1] +[roll2]

Ref 17 or entangled (CL is 9 from inspired sequence)

[Jeff the Green]

The ettin seems enraged at his prey escaping and leaps atop the overturned paddy wagon, scrambles over it, and then jumps down again, before ripping off a massive chunk of it and, his preferred quarry still hidden behind the next wagon, hurls it at the barely-visible Mags. It hits like (a large portion of) a truck, and Mili is struck by part of it as well.

This is not to say that the guard escapes. They sprout feathers. Or, rather, a feather, out of an ear. The other suddenly grows the tip of a quarrel, and they drop to the ground, to all appearances dead.

Perception to notice where the bolt came from. Also, Mili takes 7 "splash" damage.

[stack]

Sean frowns, the only outward sign of his growing frustration. He snaps off two more magically empowered shafts in short order, trying to watch the entire scene as he does so.perception: take 10 for 26

5 links from previous rounds

abandon focus (6 links, +3/+3/+3)

Standard: energy blade, crystal blast [roll0] vs ettin (still scouted for -2 AC)
damage [roll1] piercing + [roll2]
ref save 17 or entangled and immobile per crystal blast
crit confirm rolled in Discord 19 to confirm (ettin has -2 AC), +33 base damage ans 29 blast damage


Move: arcane apocalypse finisher, energy blade, crystal blast if not entangled after the first, regular otherwise [roll3] vs ettin (still scouted for -2 AC)
damage [roll4] piercing + [roll5] piercing if crystal, [roll6] bludgeoning otherwise
ref save 17 or entangled and immobile per crystal blast
(if ettin down, switch to next convenient target and use crystal blast)

[Jeff the Green]

The force of Sean's shot would probably have sent his arrow clean through a human's skull, but the ettin's skull must be harder. It only manages to pierce through its eye and lodge inside its brain pan. Once there, though, the crystalline magic takes over and shards of purple and green blast their way out from the arrow, exploding the giant's head and sending brain bits everywhere.

[stack]

Sean remains quietly happy he is not within splatter range. He calls to the others, "Bolt came from that way! We clear here?" he points to the south. If given the all-clear, he will rush in the direction he saw the shot come from, hoping to catch sight of...something.

[Khosan]

Mili wheezes, pulling her mask up just enough to clear a bloody cough on her sleeve, "We should be clear - oof, think one of my ribs is cracked. Giant was the last one to go down." She pulls her mask back down and staggers over to the recently deceased guard, placing a hand on their neck to try and feel for a pulse, "Someone check the, uh, the hobgoblin whose head Mags didn't explode. I doubt they'll be of much use, but I'm in no shape to go chasing after archers."

If the guard's alive but unconscious, Mili will spend a spell point to apply the blank form and Fast Healing 1 to them, concentrating on it until they're conscious.

If the guard's dead, she'll do the same to start healing herself instead.

[Mahrke]

Beauregard waves a dismissive hand at the fog, which disappears into thin air. "See? Now we're on the hook for new casual clothing, the bill for a cleric, -and- a perfectly good night of drinking has been capped off with this...crap. A crap cap if you will. This. This is why we don't do stuff unless we're getting paid." The gnome dusts off his lapels, and gestures downwards. Vinnie offers his hand to the gnome, who steps upon it and is lowered back to ankle height. Shortly thereafter, the halberd is snapped back into itself, once more resembling a rather more cultured, and fashionable, walking cane. "Besides all that, I'm actually pretty drunk right now, and judging by the...viscerous -overkill- our green skinned golliwog has enacted, I dare say you lot aren't quite right off the whetstone either. Thusly, I propose we seek a watchman and leave this mess in their incapable hands."

[stack]

Sean ignores his diminutive employer and proceeds to head toward the shot.

[Lateral]

Mags climbs out from under the wreckage of the cart, shaking her head and rubbing the beginnings of a rather large bruise. "I'm with Petey on this one, actually. Not eager to lay puncture wounds on top of this beatin', 'specially if no one's payin' me to do it."

[Jeff the Green]

Sean dashes in the direction of the crowd, but, even after reaching them can't spot anyone with a crossbow.

[stack]

Sean frowns, looking about for a few moments before returning, giving the others a shrug. "Nothing. A crowd is good cover."

[Khosan]

Mili quietly inspects the bolts, trying to find any identifying marks without pulling them from their fleshy resting place, "It's not always about the pay, guys." She scoots over to one of the hobgoblins and performs a similar inspection on their manacles, "With our friend the sniper and this level of mayhem, I'd guess someone with some weight to throw around was involved here. Probably a convict they needed to collect for some reason or another, but that's just speculation."

[roll0] to look for any identifying marks or features on both the bolts and manacles.
[roll1] to see if she can think of any recently incarcerated people of interest that might be involved.

[stack]

"Let's find the watch, get this mess dealt with officially." Sean looks around, expecting the ruckus to have drawn official attention by now.

[Mahrke]

Beauregard looks at Mili with abject horror. "It's not always about the...look. Look. We're a business. And. AND. If this was someone 'throwing their weight around' then I don't want to be one the wrong side of somebody that fat unless I have enough gold in my pockets to balance the scale, eh?"

[Khosan]

Rolling her eyes so hard they take her head on the round trip, Mili sighs, "You're a business. I'm an independent contractor currently offering you my consultation services. If all you care about is the cash, you're basically two steps from being someone's hit-man. You do some good, you get support from the community, which is far more valuable."

[Mahrke]

"Whoa whoa whoa. Hit-man? -We- are a reputable, upstanding, investigative organization here. Not just some goons looking to plunk someone's noggin in for dosh." Beauregard strokes his heavily-waved goatee in mock thought.
"You do raise a good point though. We're lacking behind when it comes to the PR game. Oracle needs to be an organization people trust. Not just Diet Dark Lantern. Still, we have bills to pay. Alright gang, we're gonna work this case, but it ain't gonna be pro bono. Let's find the watch and fill them in on what's happened. And then shake them down for a bounty." His eyes flick to Mili, "Good?"

Provided there are no disagreements further, Beauregard points a finger to the sky. "Gods. They're so incompetent I'm not even sure this'll get their attention." Up fire a glimmering blue mote into the night sky that, when it reaches its apex, explodes into giant, flashing, neon-like lettering, with an arrow pointing downwards at their position.

Need Watch
Catatrophe Afoot
|
v

[Jeff the Green]

The watch is not particularly quick in this part of the city. They're not quite molasses, but perhaps maple syrup. They seem to already have been on their way, though, because a small squad comes hustling from the east and skids to a stop upon seeing the carnage. "Weapons on the ground," a red-faced sergeant bellows. "Nobody else has to get hurt here."

[stack]

Sean has already stowed his bow. "Glad you could make it. You're welcome." He waves a hand at the now thoroughly nonviolent offenders.

[Khosan]

"You misspelled 'catastrophe,'" Mili comments to P.T., just before settling in to wait for the watch.

At the sergeant's command, Mili literally and figuratively bristles at him. Her fur stands on end in spite of her efforts to smooth it back down and her tone is sharply sarcastic, "You're welcome, officer. It's not as if we risked life and limb to put a stop to this rampage before quietly sitting and waiting for the proper authorities to get here. No, no, we, the conscious individuals who very clearly asked for help and waited here, we're the troublemakers. Yes." The flustered rat turns away in a huff, taking a few measured breaths, before turning back and politely, pointedly, jamming her kukris into the dirt where the ettin had removed a boulder's worth of paving material from.

"I hope you brought a prisoner manifest. And a coroner."

[Mahrke]

Beauregard shrugs towards Mili, "Hey, people come to me for spells, not spelling." As the watchmen arrive the gnome looks on with a ****-eating grin as Mili tells them what-for. As if to accentuate her point, the gnome makes an elaborate show of dismissing his illusory lights.

[Lateral]

Mags rolls her eyes and holds her cannonball out with one hand, letting it fall to the street with a heavy "THUD" as she stares pointedly at the watch sergeant.

[Jeff the Green]

The sergeant seems stymied for a moment. He is apparently not used to criminals giving up without a fight and isn't entirely sure what do do with himself until a weedy-looking patrolman in ill-fitting, poorly-scoured armor comes up and taps him on the shoulder before whispering in his ear. He turns back around to you, still red in the face, and blusters. "Right. Thank you for subduing these clearly escaped prisoners. Alikë, go tell the Medani enclave that their caravan has been... interrupted. Vorj, take down these," he looks at Mili and Mags, "people's names and addresses so the inquisitives can take their statements later."

The weedy patrolman approaches you and diffidently takes down your information.

[Mahrke]

Beauregard raises his eyebrows. He leans to Mags, and lowers his voice. "Hey. What's the difference between the city watch, and a broken wrist watch." There is a pause. "A broken wrist watch is right twice a day." The gnome raises his hand to wave politely at the nearby guard that likely overheard fragments of the gnome's low-spoken quip.

[stack]

Sean maintains a casual slouch. "So, we free to go then? Suppose Medani may want to thank us."

[Khosan]

Mili gives a fake name, 'Poe Dourton,' to the patrolman, but otherwise offers entirely factual information. She wraps up her report with a request, "Can you keep us," thinking better of that pronoun with a glance towards P.T., "me in the loop if you find anything interesting? I could use the mental stimulation."

[roll0]

[Jeff the Green]

The hapless patrolman circles around, collecting names and addresses. He looks skeptically at PT Beauregard, who must be passing a false name or making fun of the honorable rodent or some such, but nonetheless doesn't question him. The watch then permits you to leave before anyone else arrives.



PT and Mili

Shortly before dawn there is a polite, but firm, rapping on the door to True Sight Detective Agency. When answered, you see a mousy khoravar with glasses and untidy brown hair. She initially is looking up, apparently expecting someone taller, and is flustered when she has to shift her gaze. You notice a necklace with the Medani eye sigil on it. "You would be..." she glances at a piece of parchment in her hand, "Poe Dourton? Or P.T.? Dammit, Quarion, did you screw up the transcription again?"

[Khosan]

Mili is the one to answer the door, unfortunately early enough that she had yet to don her mask. The visitor is greeted with the healthy half of Mili's face, but quickly finds the door slammed in his face all the same and a screech of "One MOment!" following immediately after. Some items are thrown around, backed by the steady, manic chant of "Justamomentjustamomentjustamoment." Properly situated, the masked mouse answers the door, "Yes, this is Mi-Poe. P.T. is in the back." Mili looks the half-elf up and down, "Are you here about last night's incident?"

[Jeff the Green]

"What an unfortunate pair of names for a couple," the half-elf mutters, but then blushes. "Sorry, ignore me. Er. I'm Ilphukiir d'Medani. I'm not sure what incident you're talking about, actually. I was sent because Baron Trelib d'Medani would like a word with all employees of your agency. I wasn't told exactly, but I gather he wants to offer you a job as a subcontractor for something that isn't important enough to warrant sending a member of the family or a regular guild member."

[Khosan]

"We are absolutely not a couple. I just want to make that clear. If he even hears that notion, he's going to lord it over me forever." Mili pinches the bridge of her nose through the eye holes of her mask, "BEAUREGARD! Get your ass up, we got work. Paying work!" The rodent sighs and turns her attention back to the messenger before Beauregard comes back with something. Like a hangover. "Thank you very much. You didn't happen to visit Sean and Mags first, did you? If you don't know who I'm talking about, don't worry about it."

[stack]

Sean checks his gear before bed, the routine maintenance almost a ritual. In the morning, he grabs some kind of meat-filled pastry on they way to the office fro a stereo-typically questionable looking vendor.

[Mahrke]

P.T. finishes the last of his precise and meticulous razorwork, grooming his facial hair once more into neat, dapper, immaculate lines. He savors the embrace of a cool, wet towel before he hears the call of his pint-sized room-mate. It was a good enough set up, having her as a room-mate. Mili wasn't hard to get along with, and the gnome's low-ceiling'd abode made a fine habitat for the mousey one.

Beauregard descends the stairs in the back as he pulls on his top-hat. "Paying work. Splendid, splendid. The watch, I presume?" He grasps his lapels, puling them with a snap to straighten his jacket. Vinny, the lumbering oaf, emerges from the back room, moving to hover over the gnome like a ham-fisted shadow. "Here to seek the counsel of those that can pierce Sharn's veil?" The gnome gives a look he hopes comes of as all-knowing to the visitor. He mostly just comes off as a con-artist, sidling up to crowd the doorframe with Mili. "Our prices are quite reasonable, I assure you."

[Khosan]

"Keep it in your pants, Petey." Mili places an arm across his chest before he physically accosts their guest, "She's just a messenger from House Medani. Her boss, the baron, wants to see us - the whole company that is - as soon as possible."

[Mahrke]

P.T. rolls his eyes. "Trust me, there's nothing salacious about my interest in our collective pocketbooks, M-. Poe." The gnome taps his nose with his index finger twice, "As soon as possible, hmm? Even money says dear Sean is currently indulging in one of Mr. Snirt's pies of questionable origin. Let's meet him halfway, and make our way to Mags' place. I have an inkling she's nursing a hangover. How's the stab wound, by the way?" The gnome takes a small leatherbound book out of his breast pocket as he asks the question, pulling forth a stubby quill-tip and scratching down a note.

[Khosan]

Mili lets P.T. go ahead, staying inside just long enough to lock the doors, deadbolt included, before reappearing next to him, "'Nothing salacious,' he says. I've seen the way you look at people with loose coin-pouches." A drooling sound creeps out from behind her mask, until she realizes no one can see her mock facial expression to go along with it. She settles for rubbing her hands together greedily for a few seconds instead, "And the wound's fine, thank you. They didn't hit anything vital, so I don't have to worry about any internal bleeding, I just had to seal it shut and let my body do its thing."

[Mahrke]

"I'm just a man like any other, Mili. An incredibly handsome, intelligent, well-spoken, handsome man. Do you expect me to avert my eyes from such indecent displays of the spendthrift, knowing those gold pieces would be so much safer and happier in my own purse? If anything I do a favor to those that don't guard their coin. You have to lose something to truly know its value, you see." P.T. smooths his beard, and gives Mili a single finger-gun with his free hand, "Good to hear. Priests are expensive."

Beauregard makes his way down the street with Vinnie following close behind. When Mili catches up he smiles at her, and busies their journey with a recounting of their drunken night, and idle guesses at just what all this House Medani business is about. It only takes ten minutes or so to meet up with Sean shortly after the human has picked up his customary morning meat pie.

"Ho Gingy," the gnome calls, tipping his hat to the red-headed mercenary, "We've got paying work, on the double. Looks like our little intervention last night is to be worth the hassle."

[stack]

Sean briefly considers using an arrow to pin his employers mouth shut, but in the end just shrugs and falls into position following, giving Milli a nod on the way. He eats and walks, ignoring the accumulation of crumbs until he finishes.

[Mahrke]

The trio depart from Snirt's pies, and make their way to their orcish companion's house. Beauregard gestures to the door, and Vinny bangs on it with an anvil-like fist, rattling the thing on its hinges. "Oi! Open up. We've got work," the gnome calls in that characteristic, somewhat squeaky shout.

[Lateral]

A loud groan, followed by a series of loud crashing noises and heavy footsteps, rings out from the inside of Mags' flat. After an uncomfortably long period of silence, the door slams open, revealing a disheveled, obviously hungover Mags holding her cannonball semi-threateningly over her head. She blinks a few times, trying to clear her eyes, and stares down at P.T. "...Beauregard? What the hell's goin' on? It's too ****in' early to be bangin' on my door like that, I coulda caved in yer goddamn skull."

[Mahrke]

"Told you," the gnome quips to Mili, before returning his gaze to the orc. His head is craned back. "Right. House Medani wants us, on the double, presumably because of our actions last night, and I don't to tell you that Dragonmarked houses mean Dragonmarked money." The gnome gestures inside, "Now go on, brush your hair and get something more dignified on. I'd rather show up with a put-together mean streets detective, rather than a drunken prostitute-***-street tough."

[Lateral]

Mags rolls her eyes "Riiiight. 'Cause your 'carnival barker' look inspires so much confidence. I'll just be a minute; in the meantime, why don't you hold this for me, eh?" She holds out her hand and, before Beauregard can protest, drops the heavy iron sphere directly into the gnome's hands, slamming the door shut in his face. She returns about ten minutes later, looking significantly more alert and wearing her usual trenchcoat and shades. "So, what's House Medani want with us, anyway?"

[Mahrke]

The action gets a flinch out of the gnome as he stumbles back to avoid the weight of a metal ball he surely can't manage, but Vinnie is nothing if not reliable. A hand as large as the cannonball moves to intercept it, holding it aloft with stony stoicism. P.T. does his best to reclaim his dignity, pulling on the lapels of his suit and turning away from the door to wait.

When Mags returns, Beauregard gives her a fingergun. "Hey, now that's more like it. Presentation is everything, you know?" He begins to walk, and Vinnie offers the cannonball to the styling greenskin. "No idea, really. They're being mysterious. You know the nobility; obsessed with putting on airs and seeming so very enigmatic. But the baron wants to see us, and that means something a little more substantial's on our plate this time."

[Jeff the Green]

"Err, yes," Ilphukiir tells Mags. "Baron Trelib d'Medani requests your presence, though I'm fairly sure that it's less him being mysterious than presumptuous. The way our house works, he makes a request; we obey. We don't get explanations." She pauses for a second as she realizes what she'd said. "Please don't repeat that to him."

[stack]

"Yeah, putting on airs. Imagine that. How dare they." Sean intones, deadpan, while gazing levelly at the gnome.

[Khosan]

"Let's get moving," Mili pipes up, finally finished with the mystery-meat-inna-bun she picked up from Snirt earlier, "I'm thinking my hunch was right and I'd really like to find out."

[Mahrke]

"Right? Pretenders at greatness, I say," the gnome replies to Sean without a hint of self-reflection, "Dust off your pie-crumbs, fellows, it's off to the upper crust." With that, Beauregard begins for the Baron's manse, sporting an eager gleam in his eye.

[Jeff the Green]

The walk to Dragon Towers is a long one, a veritable hike up the cliff-side to the middle central plateau. As you ascend literally, you also ascend financially, through middle class and professional districts until you reach the home of the Dragonmarked House enclaves. The streets here are no more crowded and only barely less winding than Cliffside, but they stink less and there's less mud. The people wear decidedly more stately clothes, though there are more than a few popinjays here too. You are out of place, and the peoples' stares let you know it. A quick flash of a nascent Mark of Detection on Ilphukiir's forearm is enough to get you waved through the gates without a second look, though.

Eventually you arrive at your destination, an enormous manor house. Four guards stand at attention outside, their armor much more polished than a normal mercenary's and embossed with a gilt basilisk on the breastplate. Given that their weapons seem personalized and used rather than part of a uniform, however, suggests that their presence is not purely ceremonial. They nod their heads at you and Ilphukiir as you pass and enter the foyer.

The inside is at least as ostentatious as the outside. Everything is made of rare hardwoods or stones, with almost enough gilding to be tacky. A massive staircase rises immediately across from the door you entered, then curves around to balconies on either side and then above you. Art of varying styles and ages (and of varying degrees of nudity) adorn the walls and plinths placed here and there along the walls. A young half-elf who manages to look almost as mousy as Mili sits at a desk. (Presumably the staff is not chosen to be as impressive as the guard or the decor.) He looks up and raises his eyebrows at Ilphukiir. "You took your time. He's not happy."

Your guide blushes, but doesn't respond. Instead, she bids you sit and heads up the massive staircase.

Though clearly designed primarily as a statement of wealth, the manor is clearly a very defensible structure. The fencing is sturdier than it needs to be to keep passers-by from trodding on the petunias, there are a number of very narrow windows in the upper floors, and the main door is heavy oak bound with wrought iron. Even the roof seems to be guarded against covert intrusion; it is steeply pitched and there are a number of strategically-placed spikes to ruin the day of an intruder who attempted to fly or cat-burgle their way in

[Mahrke]

Beauregard self-consciously smooths his beard between his fingers when the troupe drawer stares. He nudges Vinnie in the calf, and the giant of a man straightens his comically undersized bowler. When they arrive in the stately mansion, Beauregard takes the offer to sit, drawing his hat from his head and offering the slightest bow, "Madame." The gnome hops up onto a chair (never designed for short folk). Vinnie, of course, remains standing. As soon as the mousy half-elf is out of sight, he turns his attention to their guide.

"I must say, you're being rather hard on her. I thought we made cracking time. Unless, perhaps, she took a detour before visiting True Sight?" He raises an eyebrow.

[Khosan]

"I feel so sorry for that woman's name, that's barely even a syllable off from being very rude." Mili comments once their escort is safely out of earshot.

She takes a seat next to Beauregard, swinging her legs back and forth like a small child as she takes in the interior of the mansion they found themselves in. "Hell of a fortress they've got here. Even got spikes on the ceiling."

[stack]

Aside from brushing off crumbs, Sean seems untouched by the increasingly lavish surroundings, maintaining a passive, almost bored expression throughout.

"Going to reckon that not having us here before he was done asking qualifies as 'late' in these parts. Not sure what ood ceiling spioke are going to do. A lot of work to throw people up there."

[Khosan]

"Mostly for people like me, thieves, burglars and the like. We're more likely to come in and out through the windows and upper levels. They're like aerial caltrops, guarding the places the people in heavy armor with the big heavy weapons can't get to. Doesn't even have to really get you, since even the tiniest drop of blood will tell the right spellcaster everything they want to know. Being a teleporter, I'm not that inconvenienced by them, but they're still a pain to deal with." Realizing she's in the presence of people who'd very much frown on her theoretical robbery, she turns to the receptionist, "Not that I have any intention of coming here uninvited." Her mask is lifted up and incidentally tilted forward by whatever expression she's currently making underneath it. A dedicated Mili-watcher would say she's forcing a giant sheepish grin inside there.

[Jeff the Green]

The weedy receptionist raises an eyebrow at Mili but then answers Sean. "We are expected to read the baron's mind, yes, but she took far longer than she should have to find four people like you." He sits and resumes scribbling something.

A few moments later Ilphukiir comes, fairly galloping, down the stairs. She seems not to notice the wisp from her ponytail that floats in front of her face, and from her expression it's fairly obvious she received a tongue-lashing. "He's ready for you," she says, and turns around and heads back upstairs without waiting for a response.

She leads you through a virtual labrynth of halls. As you reach further into the house the decoration becomes sparer and less deliberately impressive, though no less expensive. Portraits of d'Medani members now predominate, some of them the moving umbrikons recently invented by houses Thuranni and Phiarlan. Eventually, up yet another flight of stairs, you reach a pair of double doors. "This is not where he normally receives visitors," Ilphukiir explains. "It's been a night." She pushes the door open and gestures for you to enter.

Inside the baron paces in front of bookshelves that must reach the rest of the way to the manor's roof and span one side and half the back of the house. Massive skylights let in such light as the grey sky will provide, and a number of couches, desks, and chairs scatter the room. Either the baron is a neat-freak or he has a very diligent librarian in his employ, as only one book, open on a desk, is away from its place on the shelves. The man himself is no less neat: his charcoal hair is coiffed perfectly; his brash military moustache oiled and combed, and, despite his paunch, bears himself ramrod straight.

He nods to Ilphukiir—apparently a sign to leave and close the doors—and beckons vaguely to some chairs in front of a desk. "May I offer you a drink?"

[stack]

Sean bites back the smart reply that leaps to his mind, instead making at effort at a good impression, being certain that someone will make sure their host is annoyed and not wanting to push the matter when they could be getting paid. "Please. And good morning." he replies with a nod.

[Mahrke]

It was all so...posh. Rich. Extravagant. Ostentatious and yet, somehow, understated. And so damn elegant. Beauregard walks tall in this place. Here, he thought, he fit in. He knew these people, and despite his meager beginnings, he had was noble at heart. If, perhaps, not possessed of a noble heart.

When greeted, the gnome sweeps his coattails aside and takes a seat before the baron. He nods to Vinnie, giving the giant a little shooing motion. Stoic as ever, the man follows his absolute opposite in Ilphukiir from the room, standing outside the door with cane perched in both hands, tip planted between his feet. He stares down the hall, expressionless.

Eyes twinkling, Beauregard offers a nod to the man of the house, "Baron Trelib. An honor." He smooths his waved goatee between thumb and forefinger. His eyes flick to the man's facial hair, similarly styled. Elegant. "I must decline. I never drink before work. And, so early in the morning...I take you have had a sleepless night? Welcome rest deprived, I might guess, by the calamity we interceded in?" Beauregard removes his hat. His smile shows teeth. "Ah, my apologies, where *are* my manners. P.T. Beauregard, at your service. As is all of True Sight, of course," he says, moving hand, palm up, to the side to present his unlikely associates.

[Khosan]

"Can we just skip the pleasantries and get to business?" Mili asks, taking a seat as the baron directs, "I don't mind playing nice, but I'd rather not waste more time. We're already apparently late and I have a feeling we're about to be put on a clock."

[Jeff the Green]

The baron starts a bit and then groans. "Yes, it is morning, isn't it." He walks over to a side table and taps an ornate kettle, which immediately begins glowing. "Tea, then." As he spoons out some leaf into a pot and waits for the water to boil, he begins explaining.

"This contract is not with House Medani. It is with me. We will not be signing a confidentiality agreement; if you are unguarded with who you tell, you will not face lawsuits but a quarrel or stilletto. If you feel your existing loyalties prevent you from agreeing to this, you may leave." He looks pointedly at Mags.

"Recently, the Lorghalan Basilisk was stolen from outside my private office. We immediately closed that wing and claimed there was water damage, which is why we are meeting here. My daughter, Zelina, personally led a team of inquisitives to find it, and now they have disappeared. After last night I cannot divert inquisitives without answering to the rest of my house, and my primary freelancer is unavailable. You are to find Zelina and retrieve the basilisk. For this, I will pay you 2000 galifars."

He sets the tea set down in on his desk in front of you, rather more forcefully than necessary, then sits and reclines, folding his fingers in front of his face. "Will you accept this?"

The Lorghalan Basilisk is a silver statuette, approximately a half meter from tail-tip to snout, of a basilisk rampant.


Commissioned several hundred years ago by an earlier d'Medani patriarch, it has been stolen on several occasions. All but once it was immediately retrieved and the thieves subjected to various torments and humiliations. Once it was not recovered for almost 70 years, when it reappeared in the collection of a Zil triumvir, who extracted an outrageous ransom.

[stack]

Sean listens intently, holding his tongue. It seems to make sense to him, but he doesn't know Sharn the way the others do, so he won't speak first.

[Mahrke]

"Regardless of our personal affiliations, True Sight is nothing if not professional," the gnome begins, steepling his own fingers, "We are a quality outfit of multidisciplinary specialists, and that comes with a price. Our fee is 250 galifars up front, paid regardless of the success or failure of our investigation. In addition, you have requested not one, but two endeavors of us. One regarding the whereabouts of your daughter. Another seeking the return of the basilisk. Given the implicit danger of investigating a matter that has led to the disappearance of one team already, I'm inclined to demand three thousand galifars for the return of your daughter, and nine thousand for the return of the heirloom. Paid to True Sight, of course." There is a pause. "I understand if that seems steep. Especially if you are accustomed to utilizing House resources for whom contracts have already been, by and large, negotiated, but you get what you pay for, and I feel we have already demonstrated our professional capacity to you last night."

[roll0]
-4 to result if he is Good or Lawful

[Jeff the Green]

The baron's moustache twitches. "I am quite familiar with negotiating contracts. Certainly more than you are." His lips settle into a straight, thin line, and his grey eyes lock on P. T.

He seems less irritated with the exact amount than how you've divided it. In retrospect, implying that he values the basilisk over his daughter may not have been the wisest of moves.

[Mahrke]

P.T. put on a disarming smile, holding up a hand, "Of course, of course. Forgive me. I know many of those in positions in power choose to delegate such things. I can appreciate a man who tends to his affais with his own hands." Beauregard smooths his goatee between two fingers, "Though I do fear I have offended. Please let me make clear that the offer I have put forward does not, in any way, reflect a judgement on what you do, or should, value most. Surely your daughter's life is worth more to you than any material possession, but True Sight is not in the business of emotional extortion."

Beauregard leans forward, "I have requested nine thousand for the return of the basilisk, and three thousand for the return of your daughter for several reasons." He holds up a finger "One: whoever has perpetrated these crimes is likely to defend their material prize far more vigorously. Your daughter is likely collateral damage in that effort, and, should she be captive, I expect we will have an easier time reclaiming her than the basilisk." A second finger rises. "Two. Magics to find or locate people are more common, and often more reliable than similar magics to locate objects. This will make discovering your daughter's location easier than discovering the whereabouts of the basilisk, which I expect to also be guarded by wards against detection." The third finger. "Three. If your daughter was waylay-ed, or is held captive, I expect she is attempting her own escape in some fashion. That is likely to make her easier to find, or, perhaps she even frees herself. The basilisk obviously has no such ability."

"If you have in mind a different split for the payment upon completion, I would be happy to discuss that particular detail.
However, I have chosen the amounts I did to facilitate the utmost diligence in our efforts. If our pay for returning the basilisk was too thin compared to the likely-easier task of returning your daughter, I fear we would not have sufficient motivation to bring forth the resources, and face the dangers, necessary to retrieve it."

[Khosan]

Mili initially slumps back in her seat once it becomes clear the task has little to do with last night's events. Until the mention of the baron's daughter, that is. Almost immediately she perks back up, leaning forward in her chair and actually engaging in the conversation, "Were you close to your daughter? How well known is it, publicly, that you're related? They, whoever they are, might not know who she is, which is both good and bad." Good: they won't demand a ransom. Bad: they're more likely to kill her. Mili drums her fingers across her mask, thinking to herself, Suppose there's also the possibility she arranged this whole affair herself too.

[stack]

Sean remains mute, it being unlikely he could positively contribute at the moment.

[Jeff the Green]

Baron Trelib sucks his teeth, and his lips draw a whisper-thin line, but he seems mollified by Beauregard's explanation. "That is not unreasonable," he tells him. "I will pay 100 galifars now, 2500 upon Zelina's return, and 7500 when you retrieve the basilisk."

"We are as close as a father and daughter can be when one is gallivanting across the five kingdoms solving mysteries and the other is buried in paperwork," he explains to Mili. There's no catch in his voice or tears in his eye, but his face is pained. "We managed lunch once a month, maybe, and hollidays. We were supposed to celebrate Wildnight with a decidedly un-wild dinner. Revels in the street don't suit either of us."

[stack]

Sean has a strange feeling roused by the tale of familial sadness, something distant, regrets long pushed away.

He pushes them away again. He is on the job.

[Khosan]

"Hm," Mili rummages through her pockets and pulls out a small notebook and pencil. She jots down the important details and a few of her own hunches in the margins, "How recently was the Basilisk stolen? A week ago? Actually, come to think of it, how was it stolen? I won't claim to be much of a burglar myself, but I know architecture. This place is built like a fortress, it's about as easy to break into as a bank. Even getting past that, I can only assume it's been magically warded to a similar extent. I can make a few guesses from that, but I'd rather have the truth."

"And if you don't mind my asking, did you or your daughter keep any paperwork, memorabilia or anything similar regarding these mysteries she worked to solve? There might be some relevant information in there."

[Mahrke]

"Hrm. I find your offer...begrudgingly acceptable. I can sympathize with a man looking for his daughter, after all." Beauregard leans back in his chair, remaining silent as Mili peppers the man with questions. To some, the mouse might have seemed overeager, a gaffe of sorts in a world of elegant, purposeful interaction. P.T., though, appreciated it. Her demeanor often painted True Sight as highly motivated, supremely dedicated, and spectacularly thorough.

[Jeff the Green]

The baron looks pained. "It was stollen four days ago, and I'm afraid I don't know how. Last I spoke with her, she wasn't certain either," He folds his hands in front of him. "There is a silversmith she thought was involved, a Marshman named Calinto Mulhar. Wouldn't surprise me; never trust a foreigner, especially not a frog-eater from the Shadow Marshes.

"There's also the complication of the escapees. The timing is too close to be coincidental, and several of the ones you didn't subdue have abilities that would lend themselves to taking it."

At Mili's second question, he purses his lips. "I'm sure she does, though she's always preferred to keep information in her head. The problem is that any notes of hers would be extremely sensitive, and worth more than your life, or my position. I could possibly get you answers to specific questions, but rummaging through her papers is out of the question, even if I thought it were likely to help you"

There's been something of a buzz in the last week. Aside from considerable exaggeration of your own powers (though not attached to your names), it seems that the escape you interrupted wasn't just some hobgoblin and ettin toughs. Several high-value criminals, the names of which are secret, escaped as well. House Medani had recently finalized a contract with Breland to house criminals at the house's facility in Wroat, but this is now on hold.

[stack]

Sean raises an eyebrow, "Who were the escapees we did not get and what can they do?"

[Khosan]

"Don't worry about it," Mili scribbles out something in her notepad, "I can't say the information wouldn't be useful, but without written records...too many unknowns." It'd be like trying to find a white cat in a snowstorm in the middle of a glacier. "We'll look into the people you named once we leave. For now, can you show us where the Basilisk was stolen from? It hasn't been cleaned, has it?"

[Jeff the Green]

The baron nods at Sean and rummages in his desk before glancing around, getting up, and striding over to a table to pick up a piece of paper. "I just want to make sure I have this right, and obviously my mind is elsewhere.

"Rrregla, a serial killer of watchmen, discovered to be a choker; Durok, a bugbear and former Daask enforcer; Vrinn, a changeling thief; Grimgraj, a hobgoblin brawler; Mange, a mugger and burglar; and Scrimshaw, a gargoyle and yet another serial killer.

"Unless you have further questions, I can take you to see my private study, where the Basilisk was kept."

[Lateral]

Mags makes a bit of a strangled grunting noise as the baron concludes his list, and her fingers dig into the armrest of the couch. "...The escapees. Right. You wouldn't happen to have any leads on where they might've gone, would you? So we can question them, of course." She manages a polite smile, but her teeth are gritted.

[stack]

"A changeling thief? Not easy to track. Thieves and killers. Sounds like a group for a theft where you expect a fight. Was the basilisk was taken with violence?"

[Mahrke]

"It isn't the sort of team one would employ for thieving alone, regardless of how difficult that thieving might be. I'm sure any questions regarding how they took the basilisk will be elucidated momentarily. I presume you have not interfered with the scene of the crime?" The gnome stands as he speaks, pulling on his lapels, and doffing his cap. He reaches into the brim, searching for something within the magical container.

[Jeff the Green]

Trelib stares pointedly at Mags. "I don't, but I'm quite sure our inquisitives do, and the six will presently be enjoying the finest accommodations House Medani has to offer."

He rises from the desk and sweeps to door. "The scene lies exactly as it was found, albeit better lit and with more guards outside." He leads you a short ways down the hall and around the corner to a rather unassuming door. Outside are two House Medani guards, one with a halberd and the other a longsword, standing at ease in the hall. Trelib gives them a nod, which they return with a salute, and turns back to you. "Since the last time it was stolen, I've added alarm spells. Drepáni." He strides forward and opens the door. "You will need to speak it as well.

The office is well appointed, but clearly intended for work. There is one main desk in a dark hardwood, stacked with papers, scrolls and parchment, and two smaller ones toward the right side of the room. Bookshelves and file cabinets line two walls, with alphabetical labels or dates on them. Most importantly for your mission, however, is the small pedestal next to the baron's desk perfectly sized for a small silver statuette.

[stack]

Sean speaks the word as instructed. "Since the last time it was stolen? How many times has it been stolen?"

[Khosan]

"Multiple times, if it's the Basilisk I'm thinking of," Mili circles the main desk, scribbling notes in her notepad, ""It's a couple hundred years old, stolen a few dozen times, usually recovered not long after. Once went missing for over 70 years before it turned up in Zilargo, in the collection of one of the triumvirate no less." Noticing the increased number of eyes on her, Mili pulls herself away from the desk, "The story goes around the amateur detective circles pretty often. A lot of them tried to come up with theories about how it was done, but I didn't find it to be a good use of my time - I didn't want to be an amateur forever."

[Jeff the Green]

The baron offers a small, weary smile. "Indeed," he says. "It's a useful question for interviewing prospective inquisitives. Of course, we care less about the actual answer than how you got there."

The room offers little in the way of clues. Everyone except Beauregard, however, notices a pale pink dust blending into the carpet where the warding spells were found. It's also clear, from the layout and security, that you would need to be quite familiar with the layout of the mansion as well as the new security measures. It is almost certainly not something you could have pulled off.

[stack]

Sean slowly looks everything over. "How many people would know what the security looked like in here?"