Blades in the Dark: Gangs of Duskovol IC thread

[n0ble]

Wick cricked his neck from side to side as a wide smirk took to his face. "Mm. Perhaps I should improvise more often." The gas had, all things considered, worked remarkably well. As had the alcahest. But of course they had worked. He'd made them.

It seemed Locke and Pepper were rifling through potential valuables and the man who’d been tied up was a trance powder addict. Useful. Perhaps he could introduce factors to shepherd the addiction, in order to cultivate a dependent test subject.Though having a man high on a boat was…a dangerous prospect. Especially if they had to navigate dealing with the bluecoats. Wick exhaled. They could always trade him away if need be. “Time to go, mm?“ Much as he would have to have taken a sample of fluid from one of the incapacitated Blood Walkers, Wick did not find the idea of gasing bluecoats quite as fun.

[3SecondCultist]

Coil accepts the hug awkwardly, not quite moving to accept it but not pushing Elynn off entirely. Eventually he allows himself to be embraced, returning the favor with a pat on the shoulder. "Well, I appreciate the offer. We could use a navigator for sure. Here, hop on in." Letting the dockworker take the lead, Coil waits for the others to finish collecting the goods. He makes no move to join them, nor does he seek to claim first prize on any of the earnings.

"Come on, then!" The masked operative says after being alerted to the contents of the crates. "We can break them open and divvy everything up later. Let’s just get out of here, alright?"

[dojango]

The crew begins moving the crates to the ship. Well, most of them. Lon scurries back up out of the skylight to keep watch on the outside, while Elynn wanders down to the ship's cabin and lies down for a nap. Using the handcart in the warehouse, the crew is able to load a dozen of the heavy crates before the gangers start waking up. They no doubt have the biggest hangovers of their miserable lives, and mostly start groaning. "What's going on?" "Hey, what gives?" "****************" are a few of the curses that drift over from where they are tied up. Still, it were best that you were gone, lest they get a better glimpse at you.
Lon comes down from her vantage point. "Saw a couple of types keepin' an eye on the place. Couldn't make out who."

Wick's contraption works perfectly, of course. As the last hawser is untied, the boat slides towards the closed door... and its momentum forward carries the door up with a snap. The boat crashes into the water and glides out into the bay. The rope holding the door snaps off, and the door crashes back down. "Oh man," Elynn mumbles as he climbs back out of the cabin. "Uh, go up river a bit. Past the bridge. I know a place you can lie low." It takes a while as everyone fumbles with the unfamiliar controls and the fickle currents and winds of the river. There is a moment of panic as the ship's mast is about to clip the bottom of a bridge, before Elynn shows you how to fold down the mast. The thin glow of dawn is breaking as Lon and Elynn guide the craft in towards an quay. "Tie up next to that boat there," says Elynn. "She ain't going nowhere. Some fancy lawyer-types are trying to figure out who owns it. We're storing it for them. I reckon you can use these docks for a bit, I'll make sure nobody from the guild bothers you. I better get back home, my wife'll be worried sick about me." The streets are coming alive in the murky dawn. You're not too far from the public house where you met your contact.

[3SecondCultist]

With Wick's gizmo doing the trick and the boat out of the warehouse, Coil takes point near the front of the vessel. He peers out towards the hungry waters of the early morning in perfect stillness. The crates are all packed away on board, as is Elynn and all five of the original members of the team. He says nothing to the others, when it is clear that they are away. Instead, Coil takes the time to head down to the inner cabin, away from sight.

"Beautiful, is it not?" Jack Scrimshaw stands at the entrance, staring at the faded light of the morning. Dusting off the front of his coat, the lawyer takes a moment to allow the hateful remains of the sun's rays to caress his face. "In my travels, I have heard of treatises - written by ancient philosophers - that used to say that the sun was the center of the known universe. In their worldview, the celestial body represented the pinnacle of human potential. If only we could strive enough, we would reach it one day. I wonder what they would say now."

Leaving the question aside for the time being, Jack grips the railing of the vessel in one hand and his ebony cane in the other as the group begins to make for landing. He is the first off, striding up the dock. Tap, tap, goes the wooden stick. "Well then, this all went rather smoothly, wouldn't you say? All that is left to do is... collect our spoils. I have the prize in hand, so shall we be off?" His lips curl into a serene half-smile, but as always the pale eyes are completely blank.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Let's head into Payoff and Entanglements! Congratulations on finishing our first intro score, everyone!

[Elbeyon]

Locke gives a healthy chuckle at Pepper's declaration as they load the boat.

----------

Jack's entrance back onto the boat's deck draws Locke's attention. She turns her head toward the rising sun after he comments on its beauty. The sunrise was the same as always as far as she could tell. Maybe, Jack was simply being poetic because they finished a score together. Some stuff about new beginnings and a new day or some crap. His next line seals it. Yep, that was exactly it. At least his waxing wasn't without a finish. "Never heard of them", she answers upon hearing about a new cult. She had no desire to say more on a group she knew nothing about. Did they believe they could reach perfection or that they'd fly off to the broken sun one day?

The boat pulled up to the street, and Locke energetically hopped out to rope the boat to a bollard. There was a measure of haste so she could finish and keep pace with the group. She hurries a few steps so she's with the group again. "It wasn't so smooth to bore. It had enough twists to rivet. It went well. I'd say our work was worth the payment." Locke walks alongside the crew and starts rubbing her hands for warm. She says to Jack, "You seem a little under the weather, a slight cough. After we're paid, you should rest for a spell. It'd help you.."

[n0ble]

Willix ground his teeth in frustration. He needed to smoke. After making sure everything was secure, he ascended onto the docks. He’d considered a few possible improvements to be made to the ship. No doubt it could impress the true owners right before he detonated them. “Eh?”

He turned around and faced the glow of the sun, listening to Now-Scrimshaw’s history lesson. “Sol’s Anvil, if I’m not mistaken.“ Technically they wouldn’t say anything. They’d gone the way of the Lost District and Skovish Barracuda. When he spoke next it was in Iruvian. "<We are the Forge for a Better Human.> Or some nonsense like that." Clearly then, none of them had eve been slightly Akorosi. “They’d probably lament the destruction of the source for their irrationality.” Willix gave the fragments a few more seconds of vision, pondered their geometries, then turned and nodded to Scrimshaw.

“Seemed a rousing success to me. The job, that is” He looked down at his right loafer and noticed a few speckles of vomit. No doubt from one of Sharp’s men, post-exposure to Skullfire. “Hurm.” Willix audibly dragged his foot across the dock then inspected his shoe again and smiled. “Hmph.” Willix lit up a cigarillo and took a grateful drag. Truth be told it, stomping out some ****heads and stealing their boat had done more than normal alleviate his boredom. The memory made his body sag a little bit with giddiness as he let out a plume of smoke from his cigarillo. It almost seemed blue in the sunlight.

[dojango]

The crew heads up the quay, past the docked steamboat. It's paintwork is dull and grimy, with the name "Anglerfish" in fading letters on the side. The boat's foremast has an electrolamp hanging off a boom out in front of it. Under that light, you climb up the stairs of the quay back to the city. Elynn says his goodbyes, for now. "You need anything, let me know! I'll be at the guild house over dockside." He disappears into the crowds of workers heading out to their shifts.

It's a short hike across the bridge into Crow's Foot to where your contact is waiting. The public house is far less crowded now, with only a few workers getting a few drinks in before their shifts. Your contact is pacing back and forth, nervously when you walk in. "Did you get it?" he asks, as you come in. "Let me see it." After you hand over the satchel, he sits down at a table by the open hearth and opens the satchel. He pulls out the documents, scans them briefly. When he is done, he wads them up suddenly, grabs a pair of tongs from near the stove, picks up the papers and places them in the fire. They flare up, casting a brief light across the tavern room. "You didn't read them, did you?" he asks. Delilah shakes her head imperceptibly. "Good." Another man comes over with a few purses. The contact hands out your pay. "Thank the gods that's over with. I just couldn't bear the thought of..." he trails off. He pulls something out of his pocket and kneels in front of Delilah. "I can't bear the thought of you out in danger again, for my sake. Delilah, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Delilah gasps, says, "Yes! A thousand times, yes! I thought you'd never ask, Darmot..." she throws herself into his arms, they start kissing passionately. The few patrons gape a bit, then go back to their drinks. It's getting super-awkward. You should probably leave...

[Ramsus]

As soon as they're outside Pepper laughs aloud, but to herself at the display. "And here I thought all you Imperials were so grim and colorless. After I sell this gun, shall we go have drinks to celebrate?"
The thought to sell the gun and keep the profits for herself had never crossed her mind. For even though she was a scoundrel through and through, the code of the corsair was clear. Everyone else is fair game, but you never steal from your own crew.

[Elbeyon]

She'll leave them to their business. She got paid, and she never needs to see him again. She was simply a person that did a job for him. The coin lining the inside of her jacket, she flashes Pepper a big toothy smile. "A rousing success is worth drinking about here. I know just the place around here to get a drink."

Spoiler: OoC

Show

Locke doesn't usually go to most people's type of bar. She wants to go deep underground to an occult bar. A place filled with the strange.

[3SecondCultist]

The silhouette of a discerning man makes its way through the social club. Coil is dressed in the usual garb, save for the sword he normally carries over his shoulder. The security at the Veil is fairly thorough. He is hardly the strangest person here: everywhere, Strangers and other beings cavort with each other and the Duskwall natives.

Coil does not pay them any attention. He gently pushes his way through several conjoined bodies to arrive at the bar. "Hey Da'asha, he in?" When the waitress pushes him through to the private entrance, Coil finds his way down a flight of stairs, through a labyrinthine set of hallways, and into a set of back rooms without the need for a guide. He has been here several times before, after all.

The figure that greets him on the other side of the portal might be considered 'normal' by the Tycherosi, but it is obvious just by looking at him why he cannot go out into the city streets. Rolan Volaris has a set of slicked back dark hair, wearing a fine vest and shirt, as well as a gold chain necklace and a few jewels. All told, he looks like any other Nightmarket salesman... from the waist up. Around his middle, Volaris' body turns into hardened scales of a beautiful viridian black-green serpent that reflect the torchlight.

"Evening, Volaris," Coil says as he slowly takes off his mask. "What do you have for me tonight?"

---

On the Docks

"A rousing success." Traces of amusement play around Jack's lips as he repeats the words of his crew member. He makes no other comments about Delilah's upcoming nuptials, but he leaves the dockside tavern with a singular spring in his step. It's hard to tell exactly, but something about the man's exuberant movement speaks to a deeper affectation than simple parlor tricks or the feature of a false identity.

"Yes, I think today was..." the well-dressed solicitor breaks off into a sudden fit of coughing. He recovers after a few moments, looking outwardly none the worse for wear, besides being slightly short of breath. "... was a great first outing, of what could be many to come! Lead on, Locke. A wise man once said, it is always in one's best interests to live life to the very full. I don't know about any of you, but I personally intend on fulfilling that mantra. Where else to start but in the seediest taverns of the finest city in Akoros?"

---

A Friend in Need

"Objection!" The doors to the constabulary office slam open. Jack Scrimshaw strides in, cane tapping against every surface as though he were doing it purposely to annoy the Bluecoats who run the establishment. For a supposedly blind man, he avails himself well enough, pushing his way into the interview room without too much trouble.

"Ah, there you are my dear," Scrimshaw says upon confirmation that he is indeed in the right room. He takes Nyryx's arm, being careful not to press too hard. He then turns towards the sounds of the Bluecoat officers present in the room. "This is unlawful imprisonment of my client. In accordance with the Duskwall Charter of Citizenship, I demand that she be released forthwith. You lot are lucky that my office isn't going to press charges against the Bluecoats for this. Our contacts within the city's establishment pay a very handsome sum to the authorities each year specifically to avoid these kinds of debacles. The disgrace of it!"

At first, Jack's face is the very picture of studied outrage, but by the time the pair have reached the main doors, he is actively guiding Nyryx through the route to get back out onto the streets with a determined expression. He does not stop for anybody. When they are outside and safely out of earshot, Jack finally cracks a smile at the woman. "Well, I must say that went better than I anticipated. I apologize for roping you into last night's business. I can only hope that my timely intervention here has made up for the slightest fraction of the inconvenience I caused you."

---

The person who sometimes calls himself Jack Scrimshaw sits in his study. The room is quiet; save for the ticking of the little alchemical clock that he keeps above his bookshelf, the only noise is that which wafts up from the street. This time of twilight, it is but a few goat-pulled carriages, and the plaintive cries of the odd hawker. Then again, this corner of Charterhall is never all that busy to begin with.

At the man's plain but polished table, placed delicately in front of him, is his evening meal. Petrified mushrooms and assorted fungi, seasoned with herbs from various shops. Anyone with a refined palate would recognize some of the spices as being relatively expensive, coming from different parts of the city. A side of eel is presented in a deconstructed fashion, with the snarling head staring back at him from the edge of the platter. There, trapped beneath the sea creature's black coils, is a flank of red meat that has been dry-aged and smoked to perfection.

Breaking open the seal on a new bottle of cap wine from his personal stores, the man pours himself a glass. For a long time, he ponders the neon purple liquid inside the smoked crystal. After letting the vintage breathe, he takes his first sip. Putting down his napkin, he begins to tuck into dinner.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

So, a few different things are happening here! First of all, Jack did a Vice Indulgence for 5 Stress taken off of his sheet (both the first and the last scene here). Then, he's continuing (ending?) the 'group scene', and finally he is bailing Nyryx out of her predicament.

Dojango, if you want to reply to a scene, I would recommend the Nyryx one. The Vice ones work best the way that I've written them for now, in my opinion.

[dojango]

"Ah, my knight in shining armor," said Nyryx as the stationhouse door closed. "I knew you wouldn't leave me in there... Jack, what did you do? The Bluecoats were asking about some sort of missing treasure! I told them I was just a working girl, but I keep my ears open. Someone big isn't happy about something. Someone big is calling the shots. Maybe I don't want to know. That Sharp wanker musta told the inspectors I was there. I'm gonna spread the word he's a snitch, that'll learn him to keep his big mouth shut."

[dojango]

Pepper finds Garry in a corner of Ankhayat Park. He's wearing his heavy pie-storage contraption. Its telescoping legs are planted firmly in the ground, taking the weight off his back. He never seems to mind the weight, though. As Pepper approaches, Garry is staring aimlessly into the sky. "Hey, Pepper," he says as she approaches. "Just doing some sun-gazing. Thought I might run into you. Have one meat pie left! Saved it for you. Or Salt, I know he likes them too."

[Ramsus]

Prowess Training

At some point during their night of celebration and deciding to stick together, Pepper wound up in a sword fight with a drunken barmaid. It's ok though, Pepper was also drunk. Probably twice as drunk. And her sword, if one could even call it that, was quite rusty. But it's ok though, the barmaid's sword was also rusty. Probably twice as rusty. Neither of them were particularly skilled in sword fighting. Pepper probably would have had the upper hand if her sword would have ever gone where she wanted it to. The few times they did hit each other, nothing much happened. The swords were too dull to do any real damage and while some strength was used for the swings they were always wobbly and off point. The duel ended like it began. With broken rusted metal objects and glass on the ground and Pepper walking off with an entire bottle of rum and a palm full of the barmaid's rear end.

Two days later... their second day of owning the, in Pepper's words, "adorable" steamboat, she decided she needed to learn to control this new kind of vessel. So she started by moving all her meager belongings out of the place she had been squatting in and onto the boat. Later in the day she got her hands on the wheel and started off pretty slow and safe. By the end of the day she'd somehow turned the steamboat around on a canal it shouldn't really have been able to turn around in on accident and almost tipped the whole thing over.
She consoled herself that it was ok though since none of the rest of the crew had been on board at the time to witness any of it.
About ten minutes later she discovered that, unfortunately for one currently unnamed member of the crew, this was not in fact the case.

---

Long Term Project: The Hunt Consort for a Changeling

Pepper looked up at the completely black sky and nodded as if she understood perfectly and it was a normal thing for Garry to say.
At the offer of the meat pie she grimaced and then smiled. She'd grown pretty sick of them, but also the flavor had become kind of addicting at the same time. Garry knew his spices for sure. And of course the last pie of the day meant a high chance of actual real not-even-rat meat! Not a luxury to spurn.
"Well I can't say no to that! Thanks." she said with appreciation as she split the pie in half in her hands and just stuck her right hand down into Salt's mouth and fed half to the crocodile without even looking down like that's a thing people do.
With her mouth full of half a pie she just stuffed in there, she commented, "Yuf kno' Salf's agirll. Ey tol' y' 'fore. Mmmmmmmm Mmmmm! 'fats sum kick!" Then after some more chewing and a swallow she added with a laugh, "Peppery pie for Pepper huh?"

After they shoot the breeze for a bit while enjoying the pleasant breeze in the park, she lets Garry know what she came to talk to him about. She describes what kind of person she's looking for and asked, "Know anyone like that?"

[dojango]

"Need a teacher, eh? University's full of teachers. They know lots of things. Some of them might even be true, too. So why'd you come to old Garry? I already got a job. And I ain't taking any more apprentices now. Still ain't finished with the last one yet," says Garry, pointing at the pie being devoured by Salt. "Haha, just a joke," he adds, a moment or three later. "That's the kind of thing you want to learn about? Jokes, witty repartee, how to command the ancient spirits of the earth, salesmanship. And you want someone who can teach you about it for cheap? You know, I wasn't always the man I was today. Maybe we can find you my old master. He made me what I am today." Garry whacks a button on the side of his pack. The legs retract back inside. He adjusts the straps to allow the thing to rest more easily. "C'mon, haven't seen the old bastard in a dog's age. Last I knew he was living in a tenement over in Six Towers."

[Elbeyon]

Downtime: Ritual

The night air is fresh. There is an energy to the moon tonight. The hustle and bustle of a busy district is around her despite her being along the district's edge. She can see the Gaddoc Rail Station off in the distance, lit up by electroplasm. This place hardly slept. The nightmarket was always a crowd pleaser to her. The people moving about their busy lives undisturbed by the the deeper world and battles around them. She turns to the left to start making inroads towards her destination.

The new elites sure did like to show off their wealth. The lamps are maintained where they are supposed to be maintained while some darker spots facilitate trades of a more disclosed nature. The new luxurious buildings are a beautiful display of strength. Locke stops at her observations so far to let her thoughts settle and joins in with many of the other denizens of duskwall by window shopping through building windows and the stalls people have set up.

Eventually, she reaches her destination and goes inside a not too modest building. The place is a nice venue rented out by Aranna and her cult. Locke enters the larger room set aside for the group and makes some social rounds, chatting with the regulars. As the moon crosses the sky, the activities start to begin and Locke finds herself in a room unwrapping the fur containing her ceremonial outfit. Properly fitted, she makes her way to the ritual room she booked for tonight.

Spoiler: Large Image

Show

Art(ist)

A duo off to the side whispers as she enters. Three others sit by themselves, not troubling anyone. They're all wearing customs to conceal their identities. Locke recognizes one of the solos as a friend from Aranna's group. No matter, the amount of witnesses here aren't outside of her comfort zone. She makes her way to the middle of the room.

She takes a pouch from her waist and starts to create a circle of black salt for her watcher's protection. Locke steps inside the circle and starts preparing the ritual. A vial of arcane regents, a blood mix. Two packages of dried elements, black twisted flesh and ethereal hair. She pours a small bowl full of some foul smelling liquid and sets the flesh piece to soak inside. The other more ethereal component she leaves unwrapped on the floor. The vial is unstopped and left to rest.

She lights her lantern and starts chanting over the elements. The twisted flesh is plucked from the bowl and she carefully inserts it into the lamp's fire. It takes a moment to light, but the lantern starts to burn black, a smoke lightly billowing from inside. She keeps chanting as the smoke spreads. The fumes press against the black salt walls she assembled. The ghostly component soon gets picked up into the wispy currents of blackness. The open vial near starts to overflow onto the floor. The blood within growing and encircling her. She continues to chant. The blood evaporates red and now all three components mix in the air. Locke stops her chanting. The black and red smoke clings to her in refusal, and starts to crawl into her pores, mouth, and nose. Once the smoke is gone, the ritual is done.

She takes a moment to collect her strained body and steps outside the circle. Everyone leaves without a word expect the regular. Locke stays for a while, chatting with her before rejoining the main venue.

[n0ble]

Willix’s eye twitched involuntarily at the macabre display going on between Delilah and the contact. He rolled his eyes, turned his back and began to leave. Pepper’s offer made him glance back at the trio. A thin smile appeared on his lips.

It was a quaint idea. Sharing a drink with a few plebeians. Willix blinked slowly over his spectacles. “Tempting, but I’ve a familial engagement-“ Eight. “-to attend to. Should any of you have ideas for alchemies, come ask for Nine at the Bowmore Manor. You might have to wait an hour.” Or two. And that was if Willix was in a good mood. His gaze lingered on the two women and his smile grew a bit bigger at the thought of having either of the oddities at home. “If that’s all then.”

Wick showed himself out the door and back onto the docks. True be told he was bloody exhausted from the night’s excursion, but the tiredness hadn’t quite hit him yet. By the time Willix had left the establishment his smile had faded into a loose, thin lipped line. He began walking east, to home.

**************

Downtime Part 1: How Willix Learned to stop Worrying and Love Spiders

He hadn’t been entirely truthful. Familial obligations were a priority, yes, but some things came before family. Like research. There was always time for more research. And that meant a visit to somewhere in the city with a nice view. The war memorial at Unity Park was as good a place as any. Willix propped himself up into a sitting position on the bench. A mother was pushing a stroller nearby. She must have smelled Willix downwind, for her lips curled into a taught sneer as she passed by. Willix scowled, was tempted to flip her off or kick over her stroller, then thought better of it. He was still in his attire from the job and it would not do to cause a ruckus when dressed so poorly. Instead he turned to his satchel and removed the first of several books therein.

Willix had three to get through and the first of them promised to be the worst. It was a copy of Farros’ rag, A History of Armors. A book for children really, though it pained Willix to admit his knowledge of armor creation was about equivalent. No amount of rhyming could offset how boring Willix found spark-craft. He wasn’t stupid when it came to designs. The First had once commended him for creating a paper ship that sailed on the bubbles from the soap he’s smeared on the bottom. But it was all so…limited. Even a Skov had more potential for advancement beyond their base nature, with the right genius to guide them of course. And humanity was a resource that was increasing, in spite of the Unity War’s past efforts. Spark-craft, as a rule, depleted resources. Alchemy could at least be net positive. Still, Farros’ scribblings were needed to form a baseline for the principals of armor and so, begrudgingly, Willix had added it to his list.

The second book was actually a collection of six, one for each country in the world. Ultimately, buying them as an omnibus had proven cheaper than piecemeal. Willix, like many other outstanding entomologists, considered All the Land’s Spiders & Selected Readings on Scorpions a rather thrilling yarn on the nature of arachnids. That it was by an uncle, Daresh Bowmore, was coincidence. Normally Willix couldn’t stand to read things written by family, but Daresh had a certain exotic appeal to his writing. Perhaps it was his Iruvian half.

Just as the sun set, so too did it rise. An irritating fact, much the same as how Willix would begin and end his research with boredom. It was why he’d chosen the Omnibus for the middle. On Weaving: A Guide to the Soul and the Art of the Clothier was state propaganda, pure and simple. A religion sponsored brainwashing program that had since faded into obscurity on shelves. But it taught you how to weave. Or so the old woman at the book store had told him. Willix didn’t place much faith in anyone missing half his or her teeth, but he’d no idea where to start otherwise. Weaving was for servants and exotic seamstresses like that one at Dundrige and Sons. A Skov, if he was not mistaken. “Mm.” Perhaps he could have some fun disseminating the Church’s canticles. It’d be more fun than memorizing the weaving patterns and quotes about flesh.

Willix sighed and opened up A History of Armors:

Armor is many things. It can be conceptual, it can be mental. It can be pliable or firm. Light or heavy. But above all else, armor must be one thing: capable of protecting its wearer. You hold in your hands a window into the past through which we may glimpse how armor and it’s protective qualities have evolved over the ages. From the Skovish Zweihander shock troops so prevalent in the Unity War to ancient Severosi Cataphracts, this manual-

Willix looked up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Suffering Emperor preserve my mind from this drivel.” He hoped the others would appreciate the amount of pain he was going through to protect them…

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Rolled a 6 for the Study Long Term Project Roll. Alchemist should kick it up to a critical effect for 5/8 from the clock.

Downtime Part 2: Family Values

"Did you hear the Seventh is missing, brother?"

"Mm?" Willix had let his head lull to the side. There was particularly attractive member of the waitstaff leaving their table and Willix had an excellent view of her rear. His content smile faded as Maxim (Eight) caught him noticing.

"The Seventh-"She shot a glance behind her shoulder, then whipped her head back to sneer at Willix "-Oh Emperor dam your perversities, what was her name, the Iruvian half-breed..."

"Cyrene?"

"Yes yes her! The one who almost took your fruitsahaha!" It'd been true. Revenge for a previous dig at her sword forms. Things had gotten so bad everyone had feared the Second might get involved. He could see that Eight was laughing but there was an implicit edge underneath it all that sounded...bitter? Maybe life was getting to Her. Willix sighed. After the excitement of last night family matters seemed trivial by comparison. Still, contenting himself with idle family gossip was a nice return to formality, and there was a certain appeal to living a double life.

"Who cares? People go missing all the time in Duskvol, Maxim." Eight's face contorted into something approaching rage before she quashed it into a polite sneer. "Really Willix, Skovish at the dinner table?" He ignored the barb and sagged a bit into his chair. The sea urchin on the plate was looking less and less appetizing the more and more Eight spoke. He reluctantly flipped the mollusc over and speared a glob of it. He chewed noisily, making sure to get a few gobs of urchin laden-spittle onto Maxim's lobster. After finishing it, Willix wiped his mouth with an eel-skinned sleeve.

"So who do you think it was then?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Cleared 5 Stress Totally up for continuing the RP if you are dojango

[Elbeyon]

Downtime: The Hunt Consort for a Changeling (Pepper & Locke)

Garry lead Pepper to the last known location he had for the person known as Changeling. Unfortunately he wasn't there, so they spent the rest of the day talking to people who were the kinds of people who knew people if you people know what I mean. Eventually they put enough information together to give Pepper a direction in which to start looking. So she bid Garry a good day and tracked the place down. It was out of the way and once she got there, all she found was an empty building and the only clue she had were some strange writings. She couldn't puzzle them out on her own and it was late so she went back to the steamboat to sleep.

The next day she determined to ask Locke for her assistance. Finding Locke at “The Moon Under Water”, she approached with a wave and cut to the chase, "You have some time? I could use your help with something. I'm trying to hunt down this person who could be of use to us, but I encountered something weird. I'm no stranger to the weird stuff, seen plenty out on the waves, but haven't seen this before. Was hoping you'd have an idea about it."

The Moon Under Water: A bar/drug den that secretly aspires to get a strong foothold into the occult world. It has private rooms, mostly used for drugs and secret meetings. Locke usually hangs out here when she is available for a job. That’s where she is today, and some help will point Pepper toward Locke once she drops her name.

Locke looks to the curtain as it opens to reveal the familiar faced Pepper. She stares at her and takes a deep drag off her hookah. The few others in the room with her react visibility with discomfort at the stranger appearing, but Locke puts a steady hand up to signal that she is dropping out of the conversation to talk to her guest. Pepper’s next few sentences are seemingly lost on Locke. A slow exhale, she says, “I’m into that; I’d bet.” She chuckles at the vagueness. “Sure, I have time to explore the weirdness surrounding The Pepper’s hunt. If he can hide and seek from you, he could be worth my afternoon.” She takes light drag and let’s the smoke lose as she speaks. " never thought I'd have you as a client."

Pepper looks at the hookah with remorse. Remorse that she needs to stay sharp for this and not partake herself. "It might take a bit longer than an afternoon." Pepper comments quietly enough that she can still claim she warned Locke, but not loud enough for Locke to likely hear it over the noise coming from the rest of the place. "Great, glad to have you. Let's go then." Pepper says almost immediately after, grabbing Locke by the arm and basically dragging her out and leading her across the city.

She knows Pepper said something. She just doesn't know what. She’s about to ask her to repeat herself, but let’s out a “Whoa” instead as Pepper starts to drag her out of the room. The people with her in the smoking room start reaching for a fight. Locke puts a steadying hand out, a flat palm towards them, to signal that is fine, and they all seem to lose interest in her and go back to smoking and talking among themselves. She grabs her greatcoat and ushnka on the way out. Locke starts putting on her warmer layers as she hurries after Pepper. “It promises to be interesting.” Pepper seems a great deal more informal and friendly than she is used to almost everyone being. A true oddity in Duskwall. It’s very hard to try not to take offense at her rudeness, but Locke puts forth an effort. At least, until the group gets rid of their crates. After that, her business with them would be finished.

Spoiler: OoC

Show

dojango! Let me know if something needs changed. Pepper and Locke are in this together now. O:

4/4 Segments filled.

On the Docks

Locke answers Jack's impression on future fortunes by saying, "We get rid of the boxes, then I'm out. I work alone." She says even though she just did a team job. "Nothing against anyone. It is always in one's best interest to live life to the very fullest. A person can only look out for themselves to the fullest while not hindering themselves with other's problems. But, a part of life is celebrating the highs, and I do need some drinking company. Ever heard of The Moon Under Water?"

She shrugs as Willix bows out and seems to lose interest in him. Though she immediately gains interest again when he mentions the Bowmore Manor and she asks in surprise, "What? You work there?" She had her suspicions, but they seemed too unlikely to believe. "Are you trying to tell me that your one of the sons? What are you doing with us?"

[dojango]

As Pepper and Garry walk across town, Garry regales her with advice and tidbits about the meat-pie trade. "I'm not just selling pies, you know. I'm selling the memory of home. Comfort. And pepper, of course. Can't have too much pepper. Can have too much salt, though. I only sell the salted pies for cheap, late at night. Outside taverns. The publicans cut me in a piece of the action, you know?" When they arrive at the tenement, they find the one Garry remembered to be full of a large family. They slam the door in Garry's face. "Ah, everyone's got a lever. You just got to find it and pull it, and you can do so much more work... not everyone is as brave or strong or clever as me. And you, I suppose. You go inside, ask around. It's a little too crowded for me to move around in there. Be careful, they don't like strangers in there. They've got enough enemies here. Gangers, landlords, bluecoats, health inspectors..." Pepper goes inside to ask around. Eventually, she finds some leads about the man who used to live there a while back. Apparently, he'd left to go live with his nephew in Dunslough. She returns outside to where Garry is. He's carefully cutting a pie into eight pieces while a group of urchins crowd around him. Once he's done, they grab their pieces, and flee. Except for one, a young girl. She stays, hurridly shoveling the pie into her mouth with both hands. "Go on, girl, tell her what you told me," says Garry.

"The old man left last year. He gave me this before he left. Said I should use it to find him when I'm all growed up." The girl holds out a crude spirit mask. It is a simple oval, with thin eyes and simple slash for a mouth. "I'm gonna be a witch when I grow up. Going to turn all the bad people into frogs. Like the man at work that makes mommy cry. And those stupid boys who steal my lunch. Then mommy and me will eat frog soup every night."

"You can let Pepper borrow it. She's a good people," says Garry.

The girl reluctantly hands it over. "You better bring it back," she says. "Or I'm going to turn you into a frog too."

"Good luck," says Garry. "There's a protest outside the electrowerks soon. Should be a good place to sell some pies. I'll see you around, Pepper. Give my regards to Master Kendall."

With the mask and the leads given to her, Pepper tracks her quarry to a small hovel on the outskirts of Dunslough. The hovel is abandoned, and sealed up. Pepper waits until the coast is clear, and then carefully pries the door open. Once inside, she sees the place is empty, stripped bare. The walls, though. The walls are covered with strange scrawls of writing. The letters and words look vaguely familiar, but Pepper is not able to make sense of them. Save for the word "Changeling" scrawled across each wall, in the center.

[Elbeyon]

Downtime: The Hunt Consort for a Changeling (Pepper & Locke)

Locke flips the fur flap on her waist that hides her own spirit mask and puts it on. "You were right. Strange place you found here." Locke sticks her hand out toward Pepper. "I could get a better read if I had his retired mask. It should have a strong connection to him if he intended for it to be able to track him. You've found a mysterious one Pepper. Since I'm here for the sake of my own curiosity, perhaps you could clue me in on why you're hunting this person down? It's personal right? They owe you money? Mug a friend? Make friends with ghosts?"

[dojango]

Anna and the Spiders

There was an old parable. Anna and the Spiders. She had been an alchemist who had devoted much of her life and fortune to breeding spiders to produce a brilliant purple silk. It had taken her decades of course, but eventually she developed a breed of spiders that had been able to take the food they ate (flies that fed exclusively on the deep purple brambleberries that grew densely across the deathlands) and pass on those alchemical properties to the silk they wove. A beautiful purple silk, or so the stories went. Unfortunately, the day she had perfected her art and stood poised to corner the market and recoup her fortune, some itinerant sparkcrafter had figured out how to make purple dye cheaply and easily as a by-product of some chemical processes. He had gone on to have his formula stolen by his employer who had made millions, while poor Anna had died alone and penniless amongst her spiders... Of course, the story is merely told as a parable about the superiority of sparkcraft and the failings of alchemy, but then, some of the spiders lurking around the hedges of Bowmore Manor do seem to spin brilliant purple webs...

*********

Dinner with Maxim

Maxim gets a distant look. She eats her lobster absently, staring off into the corners of the room. A few waitstaff and servants hover around the edges of the room, and she doesn't respond to Willix for a few minutes. For a moment, though, the room is clear of servants, and she responds. "She's a half-breed. Stuck living a double life. Half a life. First stopped paying for her stupid fencing lessons, and I bet she's run off to wave those stupid swords and red scarves around like the other Iruvian idiots. She'll come back, crawling and penniless. Or she'll get in trouble in the gutters, and she won't come back at all. And you know what that will mean..."

[Ramsus]

Downtime: The Hunt Consort for a Changeling (Pepper & Locke)

Pepper laughs as she hands over the mask. "Completely wrong little Locket! I wanted to find someone who could aid me, and I guess the rest of us, with the ways of dealing with people and with supernatural know-how. I know a bit, but a bit probably won't cut it sooner or later. So I asked Garry's Famous Meat Pies if he knew anyone of that sort and... well here we are."
At which point she holds out the mask to Locke and comments, "Make sure to give that back, it's not mine and I actually plan on returning borrowed property for once."

While Locke does her thing, Pepper pays close attention. She doesn't really get what Locke is doing and only half understands the explanations, but she tries at least.

[3SecondCultist]

On the Docks

"An intriguing ethos," Jack says to Locke's quick dismissal of his notion as the group walks towards the nearest watering hole. He holds her gaze for a moment, a small and private smirk playing around his lips as though he had just heard a supremely funny joke. "Then again, perhaps living one's life to the full might encompass venturing beyond horizons previously unexplored. If so, then it stands to reason that you might benefit from working with a group, since you normally operate on your own. I myself swear by new experiences, and I must say that the events of the past few hours have been nothing short of exhilarating."

As the trio walks and Willix has left, Jack turns to the Islander. "I had the pleasure of visiting the Dagger Isles as a young man. Such a beautiful country. Do you miss the time you spent there?"


A Friend in Need

Jack pauses mid-stride, one pale eyebrow raising slightly while the rest of his face is composed in what can only be termed as distant interest. "Somebody big? Fascinating. I cannot say I know anything about a missing treasure. However, I will keep an eye out for any score large enough to attract the kind of attention you are claiming. I don't suppose that you have a name for me to investigate..."

"And of course," the lawyer continues, "you have access to my services, should you require them. Coil will be able to help as well, but you will need to contact him in advance. My door is open any time. I cannot promise the same for him."


The Last 10th of the Law

The table at the restaurant is just of a class enough for tablecloths, if not for silk imports. Plain cloth is enough for the Damned Damsel. The establishment is located a few blocks south of Saltford's, but not so close to the Menagerie as to make the prospective clientele too skittish. Most customers do not want to deal with the sights and sounds of that accursed place. The restaurant owner, a former Iruvian galley chef turned amateur gourmet, serves "authentic" dishes from her homeland, most of which is happily devoured by the Damsel's regulars. It is popular enough that there is usually a small stream of traffic between the hours of Silk and Ash.

And therefore it is more or less a perfect neutral meeting spot for this evening's meeting.

Jack arrives early, taking his stainless steel pocket watch from his vest pocket and checking the time before settling into one of the plush, wooden-backed chairs around the table. Fastidiously, he places a leather case on his lap and flips the lid open, pulling out the paperwork on the object at hand. Eyes flicking over the text on the page, he nods slightly before placing the file on the paper in front of him.

The others should be arriving soon. Elynn, and the other two men. They will have brought their own counsel, so Jack has set aside six seats for tonight's sit-down.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

For reference, the hours of 'Silk' and 'Ash' refer to 6:00-8:00. There's actually a whole chart of the Duskwall hours in the main handbook.

[Ramsus]

On the Docks

Pepper doesn't immediately answer and ponders the question for a bit. "A bit. But honestly I've been out on the sea for my whole life. What I miss is the rhythm of waves beneath me and the safety of sleeping surrounded by my crew. If I miss anything of the Isles the most, I'd say it's the color. Duskwall's very... dour. The low places are dark and dull and the high places are clean white or pale colors. Sure there are places with splashes of color, but the Dagger Isles just has color everywhere from the plants to the animals to the clothes. Here you've got.... electroplasm. Which isn't very...." She let's herself trail off for a moment to leave the complexities of that implied but unspoken since that's a whole discussion of it's own at least. She continues after a moment. "Well it's interesting." She pauses, then adds, "Like a blade is."

She only then thinks about the fact that Jack has been to the Dagger Isles and asks with some surprise, "What brought you all the way out there?"

[Elbeyon]

Downtime: The Hunt Consort for a Changeling (Pepper & Locke)

She taps her blood arc at the nickname. "Almost everyone calls me Locke. You should do the same."

"This guy you're hunting down is a whisper master? You should have led with that." She takes the plan mask and awakens her eyes to the ghost field. Her vision opens to the past. Those aware themselves could see under the mask, deep within the skull's eye sockets, a hard to realize white ghoulish glowing hidden by the broken sun's poor lighting. A trick to the eye - a blink erases that all from sight and mind. Was it all a trick of the light? A reflection in Locke's eyes or something more? She looks around the room, walks around, and looks down at the mask. She asks, "What does Garry charge for information like that?" He might not make a bad resource if he's this connected to know a whisper teacher.

"I'll give the mask back. I only need one." Standard policy, it's best not to ask too many questions.

[Ramsus]

Downtime: The Hunt Consort for a Changeling (Pepper & Locke)

Pepper just ignores the command to call Locke by her proper alias. Commands like that really only work when you intimidate the person you're speaking to. Pepper is not the sort to scare easily, especially since she has some understanding of Whisper type stuff.

She also doesn't respond to the snarky rhetorical question.

"For me? Not a thing. He even gave me a meat pie with real meat. We're good chums. In fact he's the first person I really got to know here. Though, I chose to make that happen." she replies to the actual question.

When Pepper realizes Locke isn't doing anything on the physical realm and also isn't going to explain anything, she too opens herself up to the ghost field to see what's what. Locke, already looking at this layer of reality, would see Pepper's eyes go completely black, except with little pinpricks of light like the dark ocean waters. Since Pepper is straining herself a bit, another manifestation would reveal itself to Locke. Little electroplasmic flickers that look like patches of scales on various places lit up over Pepper's skin.
To a person who wasn't observing the ghost field, it would probably just look like there was a dark shadow fallen over Pepper's eyes.

[dojango]

Hunting for the Changeling

What to say about the ghost field? It is a riot of sensation. It is a graveyard. Echoes of the past. Hints of the future. No two people describe it alike, and yet they all seem to say the same thing. It is overwhelming to mortal senses. The trick is to ignore everything but what you want to see. Pepper and Locke attune themselves to the ghost field and try to discern the mysteries of this small hovel. They see three robed figures enter into the hut. They chant, they scatter ingredients, they scrawl all over the wall. This goes on for a few minutes. Or years. It is hard to tell in the ghost field. Eventually, they finish, nod to each other. They gather up their materials and leave. The door shakes briefly as they nail it shut again.

Pepper and Locke continue to observe the echoes of the ghost field. They notice that the strange spirit mask glows slightly. In the distance, they can feel, rather than see, a similar glow. The spirit mask is warm to the touch. Comforting. Their quarry lies to the west. Through Dunslough and out towards Barrowcleft.

Nyryx's tale

"I don't know, Jack. Someone was making those inspectors and bluecoats hop. They were laughing about the Fog Hounds, though. Apparently they're in big trouble now. Lost their big score..."

The last 10th of the Law

Elynn may not understand the wranglings of the law, but he knows when he's in a good position for a deal. "I like it, Jack. We'll skim a little off the top. You, me, your friends. And the best part? Nobody loses..." The Skol River Shipping company had once plied the trade routes of the Skol River with its three steamships. Bad decisions, bad luck, and competition from the lightning rail had left it in dire straits. The owner had borrowed heavily from a number of sources, forgetting to inform them of his web of loans. And then he (and one of his ships) disappeared on a milk run down the coast. The other ship was lost in a fire while navigating the rapids near Cleves. That left the steamship Anglerfish as its main remaining asset. The Guild's mechanic's lien on it takes priority, and are storing the ship until the heirs to the company can be found, so that the other creditors may finish fighting over the scraps of the company. The Guild is prevented by ancient tradition and law from operating ships of their own, but nothing stops them from leasing out their asset to a friendly company.

Inside the restaurant, the others arrive. Dalia Theresa Sanden, from Sanden's Loans, and her lawyer William Padding. Carl Payment from The Bank of the River, and his lawyer Gunnar Howe. "Quite an unusual proposal you have there, Mr. Scrimshaw," says Mr. Padding. "I am not sure that putting the ship back into trading service again is a sustainable project, since that's how we got into this mess in the first place, but your idea does have some merit. If only to shift the costs of maintenance onto some poor suckers..."

[n0ble]

On the Docks

Locke’s comments drew a slightly raised eyebrow, but little else more than a shrug otherwise. “Mm. Yes I’m ninth. As for why…boredom. Mostly.” Some alchemies just had to be made outside the law. Willix hmphed his way into a walk away from the docks and towards home.

Anna and the Spiders

An idle plume of smoke billowed around the beetles and into the bell jar they were in. Willix withdrew his mouth from the test tube soldered to the bell jar, then put a cork in it. He watched the beetles writhe around, flipping themselves over only to kick weakly at the air. A particularly enterprising stag beetle was neatly flipped over another of it’s own kind, then both beetle and rival succumbed to the fog. Willix smirked at the jar and decided to name the beetle that’d gone for a walkabout Phineas.

All the Land’s Spiders & Selected Readings on Scorpions had proved to be immensely helpful. As was typical, the Bowmores had more to say academically than others. Even On Weaving had proven to hold more insight than Farros’ inflated piece. Everyone knew that Skovs got their iron from Lockport, not solely via raids on caravans to Blackvale. Why in Scurlock’s Gate would an Imperial put Bonechanter runes on their armor? It had been an annoyingly easy opinion to pick apart and, what’s more, had had no bearing on Willix’s research. Thus, A History of Armors had proven to be spectacularly useless outside of a few buzzwords Willix had followed up on.

The spiders however, had proved to be a remarkable find. He’d read up on their diet. Sucking out a victim’s vital fluids was a wonderful idea for a pathogen or perhaps a variation in the Bloodrose strain. Willix made a mental note to look into the applications of Bloodthorns and exsanguination, the turned his attention back to the beetles. Another source of vital fluid, but not for him. “Mm. Come to think of it…”

He reached over and took a generous gulp from the blue mushroom cider sitting to his right, only to follow it up with some smoke from his cigarillo. It was the same smoke as inside the bell jar. He’d need to keep an eye on the webbing as it formed. Cut away the excess, use it to begin some preliminary patterns. Hopefully a diet of beetles would fatten them up so they could make more of the purple strands. From there, new, if slightly garish armor could be woven.

Willix settled into the heady buzz that’d come down on his head, then went to work depositing the comatose beetles into the terrarium with the spiders.


Family Values


“Ah.” So that was it. Return to disgrace in the Ordering or death, which meant a ghost. And probably one still obsessed with its position at that. Willix quickly concluded that Seven was a ****ing idiot. But she sounded like a useful ****ing idiot. That she might have aligned herself with the Red Sashes was promising.

Willix twirled his pasta fork up with a mollusk that he’d spooned into the bowl from some white sauce. They looked to be gelling together quite well. Willix held up the fork-food and looked past it at Eight. He chomped down on the food and chewed a bit, then asked her thoughtfully: “ Do you think it was one of the other families? Perhaps Three?”

[Elbeyon]

On the Docks

A shout for the ever so busy Wick, "If you ever need some work done, come find me!" Him walking away is like a coin purse walking away.

Locke shrugs to the idea being her ethos. It was something she had said in the of the moment. It's not something she had thought about at any length or had any philosophical debates about. The independence she gained by being detached from others is what had real value, not some idea. She keeps a close eye on Jack as he smirks. "Looking beyond the veil is sort of what I do for a living." She's not drunk enough to be talking about such a dainty subject. She shrugs again. "I'll think about it," she answers him directly. "I want the rest of my money first."

She stays silent and listens to the two talk about past exploits and lives. Her hands in her greatcoat and her scarf around her mouth, she walks alongside them.

Downtime: The Hunt Consort for a Changeling (Pepper & Locke)

That slight disturbance in the veil is so close. Locke raises her view from the mask to Pepper and gets a good look at her. "Your eyes look like the ocean. The constellations peeking through the pure black water and sky." She wasn't trying to be poetic. The look flooded her with a memories from a past long ago. The scales are an interesting display. The ocean calls back to her too.

She asks with a touch of sincerity, "Do you know what creature my mask comes from?" Not one for games, she answers, "It's a leviathan scale. One of our hauls - it was armored with bone so hard it turned away harpoons. A ghastly creature. Its milky reflection could be seen with the smallest of lights. Below the water, it stared back at us with with thousands of faces. When we pulled it up, it turns out they were scales." Locke taps her mask.

They shared enough. Locke has a feeling they saw the same thing. She points out towards the light with the warm mask. "How about we stop waxing and find your master?"

[dojango]

Pepper and Locke

The faint glow in their minds is off to the west. They walk through the dusty, grimy streets of Dunslough, past the eeleries and algae farms. They walk past a few of the strange radiant energy groves. Most work gangs keep their heads down and ignore travelers, after all, they have quotas to meet and not enough time to fill them. They pass through to the edge of Barrowcleft. In one forgotten corner of a farm, they see a small paved square. The paving-stones are white slabs with names and numbers engraved on them. They approach the glowing figure near one of the edges of the square. A ghostly form is 'seated', so to speak. The ghost looks at Pepper and Locke as they approach. A distant voice, a thought audible on the ghost wind forms. <Greetings, travelers. I see you have brought my mask back to me. But why? I had not looked for it yet.>

[3SecondCultist]

On the Docks

Jack listens rapturously to Pepper's words as she describes her homeland. His featureless pupils rarely leave her face, and although she can't quite tell where exactly he is staring, it is obvious that she has his undivided attention as they head in search of nourishment. If there is anything that seems to elicit a further reaction from the tailored Stranger, it's the mention of his own past. At the question, he seems to purse his lips... or is he smiling? It's hard to tell precisely which, and the expression changes ever so slightly from moment to moment.

"My own story is hardly so interesting, I'm sorry to say. The land I am from does not have a name in the usual sense. I found my way to these shores some years ago, following a fortune and a desire to leave the place of my birth. There was nothing left for me there, you see. The Akorosi have treated me fairly despite the plight of my eyes. Rackham and Carrolby took me in when I showed some promise, and I have served them faithfully ever since."

There is no mistaking the smile that follows the story. "With a few side projects, of course. A man must have hobbies."


Nyryx's Tale

At first, Jack says nothing. He walks without assistance in the misty, boiling twilit half-dark, his face turned away from his companion and ally. The cane is noticeable in its absence, before it begins to tap once more. "The Fog Hounds... ah yes, the smugglers. I have heard of them, although only vaguely. I'll see what I can dig up on their activities."

Looking back at the prostitute, Jack captures her gaze with a rapturous grin. "Thank you, Nyryx. You have been invaluable of late, and I will not forget the role you've played in recent events."


The Last 10th of the Law

"Gentlemen, Miss Sanden, please have a seat. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of ordering some hors d'oeuvres. They should be along momentarily." Jack waits quietly for the others to stop their conversations before speaking again. The food is served before too long: groups of assorted seafood with an electroplasmically flavored ice wine. The oysters are served on a bed of black ice. Jack does not partake of the food, explaining to those present that he prefers to prepare most meals himself. He does, however, happily drink the wine.

"Yes, I believe the deal is sound," the man from Charterhall says after some time. "Let my other clients worry about the economic realities of keeping a tub like that above water. Money is always changing hands in this city, as you all well know. This project is favorable to you. If the project falls through, none of us will have lost anything other than an asset that was not performing. And if it performs well... there is a possibility that some of us here will share in the profits."

"In the end, nobody loses. And with the Docker's permission..." Jack echoes Elynn's words from only minute earlier. He raises his glass only after the paperwork has been signed. "To the spirit of cooperation, and the future of Duskwall!"