Tales of Neutral Ground IC

[(Un)Inspired]

As Niksar brushes past him, Gryphon turns fully around and watches him walk off. The warlocks words having cut deep, all mirth, any manufactured poise, even the hints of pointed anger are wiped clean from the wizard’s face. Replacing them is a forlorn look of self doubt, draped across him like a shawl. I really hate that man.

He reorganizes himself emotionally, as best he can, and approaches Kett while eyeballing the man she caught sneaking up on him. Thanks for your help, he says as he reaches her. All the pretension he typically speaks with having been slapped out of his mouth by Hetrion’s words. That’s the third person to threaten me tonight and we’ve been here, what, 25 minutes? Guess I’ve got a way with people.

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 52/52 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~7 hour), 6/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- Kett opens her mouth, ready to launch into a lecture about how she's not here to babysit him, how if he wants to get a hole blasted in his chest he should do it on his own time, and how they have more important things to do than hateflirt with what she assumes is a former lover. She doesn't say any of this though, holding up a finger for just a moment before retreating it back and sighing. She wasn't his mother - thank the gods for that - and he, presumably, wasn't in need of another matron in his life. "You're welcome." She lets it linger for a moment, just long enough to put the frustrations behind them, and then she's right back into work mode. "I haven't seen any sign of Arano, though I've asked the musicians to keep an eye out for me. Kleris has also vanished, not seen him since we came in. Anything useful on your end?"

[(Un)Inspired]

No sign of him yet. I was hoping we’ll be able to get a hold of him before the party really got started but I’m worried he’s hidden somewhere out of reach, and not gonna show himself till the auction starts.

Gryphon scans the crowd while thinking about their next move.

I haven’t seen Kleris since we arrived either. He should be easy to spot with all that Lilac and Silk. Maybe not with this crowd though.

[CozJa]

As the Magistrate explains his position, Arimart considers what he says, preparing his answer "His historical reasons are not as accurate as he believes, the Brelish crown lost many territories during this war, and Drooam is probably the less valuable... how could we justify a war against them more than one against the Goblinoids? Or why not attack the Zil then? No, no, the bitterest enemy must be the first to receive an open hand, else our people will call for vengeance against any wrong."

When the Masgistrate is over, the paladin recollects his thoughts briefly, ready to explain why the entire history of the Silver Flame has always been based on fighting to make the innocent a bastion against evil, and protecting the weak is a consequence of the call of the Flame; how whenever the church tried too hard to proptect the 'innocent' or to stop evil, it ended up doing more ill than anything else...

But all his perfect answer is stopped by the interjection of a dwarf named Drake Shardstone. Even if unexpected, the Prosecutor welcomes it, reasoning that this may not be the most proper time for a heated theological debate. He looks at the dwarf, trying to remember if he met him before, maybe during his years in Sharn.

"Greetings to you, Drake Shardstone of Sharn, and thank you for your appreciation... I guess..."

His mention of putting the past behind comes to Arimart as strange, and he feels a strange sensation at the back of his mind, as if something he really didn't want to think about was stirring to come up in his conscious thought.

[GameOfChampions]

Shemran raises an eyebrow and has the extreme urge to suddenly break character, there was enough information loaded in those few paragraphs to make the entire party freak out. She does keep calm when she is called out by the other women, she had no proof that Shemran was lying. This was a ploy to try and test her, "Well I don't know if that information I gave you contradicts what you heard but I can guarantee that my information is correct, all of it. A dragon never lies, it is beneath them and the Dragonborn descended from them hold true to that."

'Good thing dragons didn't say anything about creative truth telling then.'

Shemran clears her throat with a deep grumble and moves on though "Where did you hear those tidbits? It is amazing that such things have gone undiscovered by greater groups. Maybe we can move onto more... tangible trades after we have solidified this relationship a little more."

Then Shemran hears a song below, she knows they won't have long before she would need to get back to the group and relay the information she found, not just that but be there for whenever the mission starts to progress. If those fools were going to get into a combat like that the great and powerful Shemran needed to be there with them. She turn to her new... friend ""Well would you like to join me for a dance Lady Thara. The music is amazing tonight and the company scintillating."

[3SecondCultist]

Going Once... Going Twice...

The displays of the evening surrounding all of you - the gentle chorus of conversation, partygoers in lavish outfits riddled with sparkle and glamour, occasional mezzo-forte interlude of piano solo augmented by minor illusions and phantasmal images that play above the heads of the crowd, deluge of shimmering beverages and finger-food delicacies from the heartland such as thrakel spiced beef sliders with hotcakes, or mini-vegetable skewers - begin to recede as there is movement on the upper balustrades at the far end of the great hall. Two dancers who command the floor, a stunning woman wearing veils of silken night and an incandescent dragonborn clad in an armored ballgown, are the last to disentangle from one another.

Several more attendants appear, and you note that Ghastor has taken a position at their head, waiting at the base of the furthest staircase. The steward produces a small chime from his vest pocket and taps it. At the same moment, a clarion chime echoes through the entire space, drawing everyone's attention. With the other hand, he gestures up at the landing where two more personages have appeared. There can be no mistaking them for anyone but your hosts.

Ambassador Danilos ir'Sencriss doesn't look like a typical pampered nobleman. For one, the chest and shoulders beneath his clothes are broad and muscular, the results of an active lifestyle. He wears a tailored robe of sky blue with silver epaulets, with matching cuff-links and a stylized brooch in a single frozen teardrop of flame. Clutched in his right hand is a long staff of ice-blue metal, around the top of which orbit a collection of spheres of various sizes. His hair is pulled back to reveal windswept cheeks and incredibly fair skin, which suitably match the coloration of his attire. He carries himself with poise and grace... which is far more than can be said for the girl to his left.

Layla ir'Sencriss, in many ways, is the spitting image of her father: she has the same flaxen hair, similar chin and virtually the same nose. She is, however, a child, and so barely makes it up to her father's waist. She is also wearing a clearly oversized burgundy dress with a massive golden bow that sticks out at the back, not to mention her other accessories. Strapped on her left arm is a wooden buckler shield, and she struggles to carry what looks like a full sized short sword in her good hand. The end of the blade drags against the carpet, though nobody seems willing to comment on it. Finally, she wears an immense dark fur cap that slants perilously atop her head. Evidently, she has already been bequeathed a few birthday presents. Both her and her father are greeted with a wave of genteel applause.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of the Five Nations," Ghastor begins when the pair have reached the railing on the landing, his reedy voice threatening to crack as he strains to make himself heard, "and on behalf of his excellency Ambassador Danilos ir'Sencriss, I would like to thank you all for attending tonight's event. You have all been wonderfully patient guests, and we are nearly ready to begin. I would ask that anyone who wishes to present Lady Layla with a gift please come forward; if you form a queue in front of me, that would be most wonderful. After that, the ambassador is prepared to say a few words and we will reveal the lot and open the bidding."

As the clapping resumes, several members of high society are already angling to move up to where the queue is forming. The festivities, it would seem, are just beginning.


Arimart

Magistrate Taralos exhales slightly as this new arrival introduces himself. "My apologies Arimart," he says stiffly into one of the lingering silences, "I seem to have lost my composure. I will adjourn and leave you to the gentleman, but if you wish we may resume this discussion at a later date. Good evening Sir Kaessel, Master Shardstone," the judge exits to speak to a few other hangers-on, leaving you alone with the dwarf.

It takes you a second, but the name Drake Shardstone does ring a bell. You vaguely remember a face, indeed from your last days in Sharn. You were both attending an academic conference at Morgrave University on the synergies between planar manifest zones and inherent theurgic properties - for a case, of course. He wasn't a speaker himself, though you do recall his name being cited a few times in several of the more prominent research papers which were presented that evening. As your mind returns to this moment, you realize that he's actually been speaking for some time.

"... feat of daring to bring someone that dangerous back to stand trial. I can only hope that the Tribunal has rewarded you the way you deserve. When do you think the results of the proceedings will be made public?" Before you can answer, however, Drake glances back over your shoulder with a frown. He is obviously trying to focus on you, but seems distracted by something else in your vicinity. Before you can turn to get a good look, he raises a hand in apology.

"I am so sorry, Lord Prosecutor, but I need to go say something to Lady Lycia Velancor. She appears perturbed at both of us, and I would not want to think she is angry at me - she is a person of particular importance to those of us in academia. I'll be right back, sir." Striding off without another moment's hesitation, the scholar is purposeful, if not quite brusque, in making his way up to where the Thrane spymistress sits with her small retinue. You watch as he introduces himself, bowing profusely, before speaking to the woman though you are too far away in this crowd to hear what is said.

Suddenly, as you hear the first chimes and see that the auction is about to begin, Lycia rises to her feet and mutters something to another man by her side. Gathering up her robes, she begins to make her way right to the double doors, half of the dawnclad knights abandoning their posts to screen her. They do not stop until they have exited the hall, ignoring the protestations of the valet.


Shemran

Lady Thara breaks out into a second laugh, matching the pitch and cadence of the one before, but this one seems freer somehow, less crafted. "I'm not sure where you heard that, Lady Shemran; perhaps the Flamebrow Clan has never met a true dragon before. As far as sharing my sources go... I'm afraid that isn't part of the game. Perhaps if we were to meet again, I might show you more." She listens attentively to the music for a moment after you invite her to the dance before acceding with a steady dip of the head.

The elves strike up the tune - you don't recognize the music, but it begins with a slow, deliberate march of chords on the fortepiano - and the two of you are off! The pas de deux is a delicate dance, deceptively slow yet the timing of the rhythms would be disorienting for anyone but an expert. Thankfully both you and your partner know what you're doing; step, step, slide, and pivot, your motions punctuated together by the occasional dip or spin.

Though you're vaguely aware of the stares around you, your focus is entirely on the sheer act of it all, on the threading of the world's needle through each single twist and turn. Nobody observing would be able to tell who is leading - one moment you are sure it's you, the next you could swear that it's her. Lady Thara's eyes never leave yours from the moment you took up your ready positions, anticipating every beat effortlessly, but it's you who dominates the final exchange, completing the last count a half-heartbeat before she does.

And then, just as a quickly as it began, you hear the chime of a bell and the music fades away. Everyone is turning towards the stairs; it would seem that you've danced tonight's last. Not for nothing, as Thara clasps your wrist. "Algbo batobot jahus vi sumf throdenilt diwhaf loupon si jahus charisir!" She has returned to the draconic tongue, hardly surprising given the eyes and ears surrounding you in the spotlight.

"Wux tepoha coanwor vi petranasviw aurthon tarannen nomeno thurkear, usjalil Flamebrow, vur ihk batobot wux tepoha ultrinninana vi inloil di sia kornari. Tenpiswo, clax nomeno," she leans into you, lips brushing against your cheek scales once, and then again on the other side. At the same time, you feel a small object being placed into your palm. Peeking down at it, you spy a clear pearl wrapped in a filigree of black gold that almost seems to sap the heat from your palm. "Klae coi ekess relgr acht ve tenamalo, jalla wux huven ekess wiap persvek karifilt... inglatai. Halkvri hak, si huven wux bensvelk unef."

Then, expertly extricating herself from your grasp, the Lady Thara is gone.

Spoiler: Draconic

Show

"Well that was definitely more fun than I was expecting!"

"You have been a suitably pleasant diversion tonight, Lady Flamebrow, and for that you have earned a token of my favour. Here, take this."

"Use it to call upon me again, should you wish to engage in further... exchanges. Until then, I wish you good fortune."

[(Un)Inspired]

Gryphons thinks to himself as the steward addresses the room. He waits for the man to finish before turning to speak quickly to Kett.

Listen, if Arano IS here already then we need to change up our strategy for spotting him. Everyone who’s here for politics is talking about the new ambassador from Droaam, but Arano doesn’t give a damn about what I’m up to.

I’m gonna go make a big, theatrical scene and present my gift to the little lady. All the politicals will be paying attention to me, you make a note of all the people who aren’t watching my speech. Those are the ones that are likely to be Arano in disguise. We refocus our investigation on them.

The wizard waits to hear Kett’s response, and snaps his fingers to call over his Servant before taking his place in the queue.

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 52/52 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~6 hours), 6/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- She wonders, for a moment, if Gryphon actually heard himself when he speaks, or if his ego stuffed his ears worse than cotton. She nods solely to have him go and doesn't follow - if she could avoid handing over her gift then she would do. She does eye the fancy staff though. The last one she'd nabbed had made them a pretty penny, and that one looked even more delicious for her cottage fund. If she got the chance she'd take it, though he'd either need a lot more drink or a lot more punches to relinquish it, she wagered. She wasn't above seduction as a technique. Both Arano and Kett made use of it when required, but solely to fatten her purse seemed like a bit of a waste. Instead, begrudgingly, she does take Gryphon's 'instruction' and looks around the room once more, keeping an eye out for those who perhaps like her were not focused on the recently arrived host or the birthday girl.

[CozJa]

As the dwarf leaves him and the ir'Sencriss finally make their entrance, Arimart is forced to take a choice: following the misterious lady or etiquette?

Clearly, his answer is "Both"

Following the direction taken by the Iron Dame, Arimart observes her movements and those of the guards before they disappear behind the doors, than he turns to the 'important' part of the evening: the presentation of gifts for lady Layla. As the nobles start queueing up, Arimart moves as fast as he can without looking suspicious and reaches Gryphon and Kett, just in time to see Gryphon taking part in the queue.

Looking around, he present a swift and silent prayer to the Silver Flame

"My heart is your heart, my mind is your mind, my senses are yours. Tira's sight be blessed!"*

With his senses ready to perceive what is veiled by deception, the paladin approaches his shadow blessed companion, providing her some information.

"Seen now lady Licya Velancor, some high profile member of the Argentum. Pretty sure she is leaving the auction after some exchange with a dwarf named Drake. Considering how things are going I believe that Arano may not be here. I'll present the gift to lady Layla, see if you and Kleris can find a way to get some info from the dwarf and..."

He looks around, then gaze at Kett again.

"Please, tell me that Gryphon doesn't plan to dance with lady Lyla!"

Spoiler: *

Show

Using Divine Sense.

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 52/52 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~6 hours), 6/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- "Not sure." She's fast losing interest in Gryphon's ploys for attention. No doubt at some point he would step too far and be humbled for it. Kett's only investment in it is that his humbling doesn't negatively affect her. "Drake and I spoke, he seemed to think that Velancor," Kett gives neither title nor first name to the now absentee Argentum agent, "was someone that we shouldn't be bidding against in the auction. Deep pockets and stubborn, from my gauging. Strange that she'd abandon the field." Only some of the knights had left though, the rest remaining in place. If they were here to ensure her safety why would they stay when she left? Kett raps her fingernails against the balustrade in quick succession, again and again and again. Phase 1 had come to an end all too soon and she had far too little to show for it. This all felt like a distraction, she was being pulled into things that likely didn't matter to her. But did she have any other leads? Her eyes pick out no one of note from the crowd, nothing new at least. "If I had to guess she's preparing to have us all massacred by her knight escort." Kett postulates, paranoia prominently on display, though she says it with the idle musings that one might give trying to discern the intentions of a passing squirrel. In fairness that had only happened at one of her high society parties and it hadn't been Kett's fault, but such things tended to leave an impression, and if it didn't happen it just meant she would be pleasantly surprised. Expectations low, and all that. "I don't think Drake will give us anything more. Hand over your gift, see what you can get, be ready to fight for your life." She didn't really expect him to die in whatever came next, but it wouldn't hurt to give him a bit of a heads up if it was coming. Assuming his divine senses don't pick up on anything that would make her stop, she calls the conversation done. The likelihood of Drake offering her the full truth on Velancor was slim, she judged. Whatever his connection to the woman, he'd kept the extent of it from her and there was no reason to think that would have changed any time soon. Mayhap it was even her warning about Quicksilver that had prompted the exit, for whatever reason. She doesn't approach anyone else, keeping her attention focused on observing the crowd, but she does position herself slightly further away from the knights and the guards. The remaining number wouldn't be sufficient on their own, so if something dramatic and bloody was on its way then chances are the ordinary house guard were in on it too, and she wouldn't make herself an immediate target.

[GameOfChampions]

As Lady Thara leaves, vanishing into the crowds Shemran looks around, things were starting to move along and it was time for her to rejoin her companions. Thankfully, despite the dance, attention was now on the little lady of the night and her father. She casually makes her way to the back of the room again, getting a drink. Mingling along the edges with a few people she had seen earlier.

Then she heads to the same area she had been before, heading to the upper levels with less people now that they were going to give their gifts or talk to the man of the night. She is holding two drinks in her hand as she heads up. She waits for her moment, readying her illusions to switch. When the moment hits she once more leans into her change. Clothes, armor, jewelry, and body all changing at once in a massive blur.

Kleris is back. On top he is wearing a lilac silk button up shirt that has the top three buttons undone to show off some skin. Over that is a light grey silk three button vest. Down below he wears a matching pair of light grey silk pants. He had dark eyeliner on his eyes to highlight the blue in them, a touch of rouge for color as well as highlight his slight cheek scar, and his normally messy braid was redone and tightened with mithral thread running through it. His glamoured armor changes back to the form of a pair of black dress boots going half way up his calf and covered in intricate patterns, several rings of various metals, an intricate sword belt, the thread running through his hair, and the coat he was wearing. He wore a thick dark grey silk coat with several delicate steel rods strategically placed inside. The coat had a high collar, mithral buttons along both sides up to the thick slightly flared lapel, finally the coat had a flared hem thank to the rods supporting.

This time he waits for a moment, using prestidigitation to make a loud crash noise as if a waiter had dropped a tray or something. After doing that and making sure he is in the clear Kleris drops the illusion and casually strolls back down the stairs into the central area, holding both drinks and pretending to look around as if for another person he seems to have lost. Heading back to try and find his companions.

[3SecondCultist]

Events seem to be developing quickly now, as the steward's announcement resulted in a slow but steady rush of bodies towards him, the tide of sycophantic scavengers and hangers-on eclipsing those with the genuine best of wishes. The queue forms up almost with a will of its own, the myriad patterned dresses and evening jackets creating an occluding field of light that's almost difficult to look at. A few individuals can be made out among the glittering morass - Adias Navel and Vicontessa ir'Ardev - yet none quite so potent as Hetrion Niksar, who looks about sixth in line to present his gift to the lady of the house. Gryphon thankfully joins the line not long afterwards, though the warlock does not turn to acknowledge him.

Meanwhile, Kett and Arimart do another sweep of the hall to look for their errant operative. Scanning the sea of faces, the assassin and the prosecutor together don't spot anyone who matches Arano's given description. Arimart even taps into the power of the Silver Flame, his sight enveloped by a cool glow as he is granted a glimpse at the underlying substance of souls themselves. The fire surrounds everyone, limning the silhouettes in ribbons of celestial energy. To his sight, none present themselves to the gaze of the Silver Flame as being truly made of evil; while they may carry darkness in their hearts, they are none of them made of it. They may yet be righteous.

Unfortunately, there seems to be no sign of Arano. Of those assembled here, the vast majority are crowding in close to clamor at greatness, and the rest watch the same proceedings from a comfortable distance. The only people here, to your eyes, who aren't raptly gazing upon the ambassador and his daughter are the staff: the servers and guards, those moving around the space nigh-invisibly as they smoothly replace empty glasses and plates. One more recognizable face does appear in the form of the gate officer - Arrun. He is leading two more house guards towards the base of the stairs to maintain a security cordon, but he pauses when he sees Kett's face before continuing.

At the same time, you hear a faint crash and a few exclamations from the far gallery as Kleris saunters into full view, wearing the same bold lilac and grey silk get-up he had on when you all entered the hall. His long coat floats behind him as though fluttering in a nonexistent breeze. The other Khoravar seems to be carrying two drinks and looks quite alone on the central floor before finding your gaze.

[(Un)Inspired]

Settling into his place in line, Gryphon works through the last of the dreadful mood Hetrion foisted upon him, and resumes his placid demeanor. Just as he re-achieves a measure of self-mastery, a tremendous clattering of metal trays causes him to snap his head up and alight on Kleris, a drink in each hand.

Surprising we haven’t seen him trying to schmooze-up some investors for his Tavern. What sort of mischief has he been up to?

Didn’t that Tiefling show up the other day to complain that Kleris had done something improper to his daughters?

Yeah, I’m fairly certain it was something like that. Everyone has their vice, I suppose.

It was good to have him back, if only as another set of eyes. This plan to separate the possible-Aranos from the non-Aranos wasn’t a spectacular one, but I was better than the groups previous plan of bumbling around the hall hoping Arano announced himself. Gryphon pictured his companions reactions to his plan’s success.

Arimart giving an astonished look that dissolves into a curious look of slight pride with an attaboy comment; Kett grunting and saying something that might be offensive if it wasn’t grumbled into incomprehensibility; Kleris saying something either irreverently-stylish or stylishly-irreverent before slinking off to conduct some mysterious “business”. They all said “thank you” in such varied ways.

All predicated on their ability to evaluate this crowd. They HAVE proven to be competent beyond all reckoning thus far.

As his thoughts resolve themselves, he finds himself at the front of the present-bearing line. Waiting for Mr. Ghastor to announce him, he glides smoothly up to the base of the landing and gives the crowd an elegant bow, before repeating the gesture to the Lord and Lady of the evening.

As he strides slowly up the landing towards the hosts, he begins his speech, all the while coaxing his servant to float invisibly behind him, “Jaunt’s” cage safely ensconced in a sheet.

Lord ir’Sencriss, Lady Layla; I would be remiss if I failed to thank you for the invitation to your party tonight. As such a recent addition to Throneport society, I must say that the graciousness of your hospitality is a warm flame in a cold night.

As he continues his slow advance up the stairs, he shifts his address from the hosts, to the crowd, and back again as best befits the rhythms of his speech.

The least I could do, to show my appreciation for such generosity, was to arrive with a suitable present for our dashing adventurer. It’s not every day a flourishing hero turns 9 years old; a suitably gallant gift is necessary. But what sort of present could fit? What could help such an adventurer complete her quests? Help her battle and defeat her enemies? He flicks his eyes to make eye contact with Lord ir’Sencriss. While being age appropriate?

At this point, having arrived at the top of the landing, Gryphon pauses his speech, holding the crowd’s attention with the dramatic tension of the gift reveal. With a sudden flourish he whips the sheet off of the cage and casts it off the edge of the landing.

From deep in the Fairytale heart of Thelannis, I present to you, “Jaunt” of the storied lineage of the Blink Dogs. Just a pup now, he’ll mature into his teleporting powers as he grows. Able to fend off a hero’s foes in this world, and those from the ethereal plane, he descends from a line of Lawful Good hounds dating back to creation. There’s no more noble or loyal a animal companion for young adventurer.

Gryphon can’t help but feel a momentary flutter of homesickness as his speech has him thinking about his own pup.

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 52/52 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~6 hours), 6/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- She can't help express a sigh at Kleris' re-entry to the party from...wherever he'd been. Possibly wrecking half the manor if her luck held. She's not sure if it's frustration or an actual headache but she rubs her temples gently to re-centre herself, which gives him the chance to approach. Putting on a strained smile, she grabs one of his drinks, ignoring any protest offered. "Not going to ask where you've been, but please tell me you've found something to help us out tonight. I'll take anything at this point."

[GameOfChampions]

Kleris grins as Kett grabs the drink. Taking a sip from his own he launches into his cover story "Well I have a lot of interesting tidbits but I have no idea if they will be of immediate help. Immediate concern yes but help... that's up in the air. I went over to the side to try and bribe and or gossip with the servents, which was not too successful other then getting some basic gossip and info on who's who. While I was doing that though I managed to get caught in a position behind a pillar where I overhead a conversation between a Lady Thara and some dragonborn lady. The dragonborn seemed to be a new person on the scene but Lady Thara seemed to know quite a bit. She had a few tidbits to share with her new friend that blew my mind. This is what she said word for word."

He tries to affect Lady Tharas cold persona and dead voice as he recites the info she passed along to Shemran.

"One. The halfling woman who runs House Ghallanda's Golden Dragon location on the docks - I believe it's called Mayapple Hall - is not a halfling at all,
but a night hag who is secretly here by the tacit invitation of the Great Crag of Droaam. In exchange for selling secrets to the Daughters, she feasts freely on the pleasant
dreams of those who stay at her inn.

Two. Even as we speak, an expert infiltration team working for a secret society in the Aurum club and made up entirely of shapeshifters is breaking into Castle Thronehold
to silence the prisoner Maugrim Nameless before he can stand trial, for fear of him revealing their secrets. He will be found dead tomorrow morning, hanged in his cell or
having befallen some other accident.

Three. There are a number of fiendish operatives at work in this city at any given moment, each answering to the whispers of the Lords of Dust, a secret cabal of demonic
rakshasa who are loyal to the various Overlords stemming back to the Age of Demons. One of them is the Brelish magistrate Berem Lann, though his lapdog down there
by the name of Arimart Kaessel has also served as a pawn of the demons in recent weeks."

He shrugs looking out of words for a moment. "I don't know what to think. She said one of those was a lie and two were the truth but I have no idea which was which. they could all be true, none be true, or anything in between for all I know. All this does is muddy the waters more since none of it is Six Damned useful! Do we try to sneak out into the manor proper and start looking around? I don't know what else will be useful in this party.

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 52/52 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~6 hours), 6/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- Kett listens to Kleris' information with a passive face, giving nothing away as he speaks. It sounded to her like the sort of idle gossip the rich got up to to kill time. She would be pretty peeved if Maugrim got killed after all the effort and pain they'd gone through to get him there though. Arimart being a pawn of demons seemed unlikely, though unwitting was always possible. Maybe it was good for him that he'd been pulled into her circle of influence instead. Better the pawn of a phiarlan assassin than a demonic rakshasa, right? As for the halfling possibly being a hag, she could not care less about if she tried, and she didn't much feel like trying. "We should probably wait for the auction to start before heading out," she muses, skipping past any comments on the information. "Make sure Gryphon and Arimart have shmoozed the host and that we're all on the same page. We might only need one person staying here, so the rest of us could split off and 'get lost' in the manor halls."

[3SecondCultist]

Arimart & Gryphon

The queue moves gradually, an ostentatious menagerie in slow motion as one by one, the guests are permitted past the cordon of silk and steel and halfway up the atrium steps to the landing, where they present the young hostess with their offerings. Most of the gifts are trinkets or other miscellany from all over the continent, ranging from jewels to small weapons and fine articles of clothing. Layla seems quite charmed at each present she receives, giving effusive thanks to each of the guests by name and dipping into a lady-like curtsy even as her hat threatens to slip right off. The ambassador, on the other hand, doesn't seem to care a whit for the offerings so much as those doing the giving, fixing every petitioner with an openly assessing stare. Danilos ir'Sencriss says nothing, save for a slight nod or a pleasantry when acknowledged himself.

However, even before either of you get your turns to shine, there are some standout presents. Magistrate Taralos offers Layla a hand-crafted tablet that looks at first as though it's carved of stone, but in the light of the chandeliers actually appears to be some sort of opaque crystal. It has strange writing on it that Gryphon at least - as the closer of you in the line - does not recognize. Not too long after that, Hetrion Niksar is up. The warlock drops into a grand bow before the lady-in-waiting, his voice louder than it normally would be carrying over the assembled crowd.

"Lord Ambassador, Lady Layla, you have my thanks for inviting my friends and I to your splendid gathering. Spring has not yet come into its fullness, and already I predict that this ball has proven to be the event of the season." Niksar takes a step closer to the pair than anyone else has, while making sure to carefully angle his body outwards to those watching. His voice carries farther than it should as well, perhaps the mark of some magic.

"I understand that the lady of the house has a fascination with subjects arcane and otherworldly. Though I am but mortal, I do have the ears of some who traverse such other worlds, and have persuaded them to offer a boon." From a pocket of the robes he wears alongside his stylized plate, he produces a miniature lockbox. Falling to his knees, he holds it out for Layla to open. The moment she does, a radiant glow floats upward through the air and for a moment the guards step forward, one of the ladies below letting out a cry of alarm. Niksar is quick to step in, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"Do not be afraid, for this is no harmful magic," the white-haired man exclaims, "but a piece of the Refuge of Irian itself! This mote has the blessing of its master healer, an entity that knows only friendship and mercy. She has, in her compassion, granted my singular request for this artifact, which will protect the person of Lady ir'Sencriss from the encroach of poison, the touch of fear, or the ravages of disease! Let her be blessed with the radiance of the Eternal Day." He waits for the applause, which comes somewhat hesitantly at first. The wondering whispers among the other guests would indicate that few have heard of this 'Refuge', but that it is certainly a gift fit for a queen. Layla herself looks at the light in open shock, as it begins to form a slow orbit around her. Niksar does one more theatrical bow and locks eyes with Gryphon on the way down, though he says nothing at all to the wizard from Droaam.

When at last it comes time to show off your own gifts, the lady is still watching the light out of the corner of her eyes. She accepts the bottled dream from Arimart with grace, though her attention is still on the mote from Irian. It takes Gryphon and his invisible porter to shake her out of her reverie, as she breathes in sharply when he presents the cage. In fact, everyone watching does much the same. The moment that he lets fly the covering, Layla emits a noise only a young girl can make, something that can only be described as the offspring of a shriek and a squeal.

"Ohmygodsohmygodsohmygods!" Abandoning protocol entirely, she rushes forward to get her hands on Jaunt, but is stymied when the pup lets out a joyous bark and disappears, materializing less than two feet away on the outside of the cage. This of course prompts an encore performance from the girl as she begins to chase the blink dog. The ambassador moves forward as though to keep her in line, but evidently knows a lost cause when he sees one as he motions for his guards to help his daughter collect her new pet.

"He's perfect!" Layla crows when she finally has Jaunt somewhat settled in her arms, sword and shield long since discarded. "Thank you so much, Sir Kellson sir. Daddy, we can keep him right?"


Kett & Kleris

The two of you stand somewhat apart from the rest of those here, enjoying your drinks with aplomb while the others line up to kiss the proverbial ring. There seems to be a light show now, but neither of you seem to be called upon to present anything, at the very least. Nobody is looking your way now, and with the others gone Kleris' newfound information does not fall on their ears.

The wait-staff are more than happy to bring you more booze, the myriad array of colored liquids brimming from subtle stems of worked glass. As they do, you hear a set of steel-shod boots approach you from behind. Turning around - perhaps expecting one of the knights - you find instead the tanned features of Arrun.

"Good evening sir," he says to Kleris with a nod, though his feet are pointed firmly towards Kett, "ma'am. I must say I wasn't expecting you to be here, though Flame preserve me, it is a welcome surprise. If you've got a second, I wouldn't mind catching up." He frowns and his head turns for a moment, distracted by some shrill noise elsewhere, before looking back at you.

With a slight nod towards one of the vacant alcoves, Arrun indicates that Kett should follow him. He doesn't really look at Kleris, leaving it in question whether the invitation is for both of you or for her alone.

[(Un)Inspired]

A warm smile spreads across Gryphon’s face as Lady Layla plays with her new puppy. While it might appear that his heart was melting at this open display of childhood joy, his actual thoughts were, Oh, thank the fates “Jaunt” didn’t blink out of the cage before I presented him.

He gives the Lord and Lady a humble bow and pauses just long enough for ir’Sencriss to scan him with his appraising gaze. If neither has any more to say to the wizard, he turns and saunters down the landing.

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 52/52 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~6 hours), 6/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- She can't help but be a little surprised at Arrun's approaching her, and usually when she got surprised it was bad news. And the fact that he was asking for her meant one of two things. Well, two and a half. One is that he had a crush. Sad, but understandable. Two was that he was aware of her skillset or reputation, and either wanted to make use of her, or kill her. Still, she had little choice but to find out directly. It wasn't like spinning her wheels here was doing anything useful. She hands her drink off to Kleris - best to keep her hands free for whatever came next. "I'll have a chat, stick around to collect Arimart and Gryphon once they're done..." she trails off, looking at the animal-based shenanigans in the distance, "with whatever that is." She wouldn't hear any objections, and certainly didn't feel too concerned about heading off on her own, instead letting Arrun lead the way. Once in their small space, she gestures for him to begin. Whatever he had to say, she'd at least hear him out.

[GameOfChampions]

Kleris looks at Kett then after a second taps the glass she handed him and his own with a few sips taken from it "Well it uhhh... seems like a good time to freshen up my drink. Who knows maybe I can chat up the bartender or something. They always know the most fun tidbits."

Sadly he wasn't going to be going to be trawling for gossip anymore. He did figure that maybe the people working here would be moving among the halls a little more then the average guest. Maybe they would have some info if they needed to slip the party and wander around the manor.

Kleris walks up to the bar area with the bartender making drinks and various wait staff putting them on trays to circulate. He places the two glasses down and starts tp chat with the staff in the area, "Wow, this is pretty swanky. You guys must have a hassle taking care of it all though. Oh I bet a mansion with this much history must have a few ghost stories to tell? Any of you ever see some wraiths or shadows? Any interesting tidbits?"

[CozJa]

With the surprisingly effective movements of the crowd, Arimart find himself somewhat before Gryphon in the queue (though the half-elven prosecutor thinks that it may have been a deliberate choice from the young arcanist, to keep himself for last and give his present even more prominence).

The quality and importance of Hetrion gift is not lost to the paladin, noting how such powerful display of Irian radiance may attract unwanted attention for the young lady.

As his turn comes, he bows and present the bottle to Lady Layla, speaking with her with a soft voice: "This present from the southern lands is dedicated to a young Lady full of dreams, that one day they may become true! Blessings from the Silver Flame!"

With the last words of his blessing he raise up and looks Lord ir'Sencriss "... and may his light guide the righteous to the path of justice." He says, leaving with another gentle bow to the young lady. If the Lord and the Lady haven't anything more to add, he turns back and looks for Kleris or Kett in the crowd.

[3SecondCultist]

With both Gryphon and Arimart having bequeathed their gifts to varied acclaim, you are given your thanks. Both of you get applause from the crowd, and several appreciative pats on the back as you return to the main floor to mingle with everyone else. There aren't many left in the line now, and you imagine the main event will begin momentarily.

By the time that you all find each other, Kett is being led off by a familiar looking guard and Kleris is in the middle of trying to schmooze up one of the staff. By the looks of it, the server can't be much older than his early twenties. Chestnut ringlets frame smooth cheeks, and you get the impression based on the fine features that he's not entirely human. The almond shaped eyes confirm an elven heritage as he spins towards you, evidently surprised at being addressed as one of the help here tonight. Gryphon and Arimart approach just in time to hear the man's response to the question posed.

"Uh... not ghost stories sir, but there have been some strange goings on of late. I really shouldn't be sharing this... but you seem alright." He stammers to a halt when the two khoravar approach, resuming only when given the go-ahead. "Well we had Mr. Frey, the tutor from Arcanix for the lady of the house. He was real kind to everyone, not a bad bone in his body, and quite learned too. He was here for a few weeks, but then he started disappearing for days at a time. Eventually one day he just stopped showing up, and nobody knows why. I even saw the young lady crying; she was holding onto some necklace too, I'd never seen it before. And then, not a few days ago, this other noble from Flamekeep by the name of Velancor decides to show up with a whole retinue and escort of knights, and the lord ambassador just lets her take over! Even Jecriss and Dershad - some of the other servers - went missing a fortnight ago, and they've had to bring in new help. People coming and going all over, without any explanation."

The server then notices a few other partygoers calling for his attention. "So sorry, I don't know why I even bothered to tell you all that. Please do me a favor and keep it to yourselves? I don't want to lose my job for gossiping with the guests." Bobbing his head in a pre-emptive thank you, the server then moves away to continue his rotation.


Kett

Arrun leads you up the stairs so that the two of you are overlooking the floor. If the guard cares or even notices that Kleris has stayed behind, he hasn't made much of a show of it; though he maintains the stoic, professional visage that any man on duty should appear to have, it doesn't stop his eyes from wandering over to you more than is entirely appropriate. You find yourselves looking over the very same spot that you encountered Gryphon in earlier, though Arrun does not take a seat himself.

"Starlight," your companion says in an entirely different voice, running a hand through his hair, and you know him to be your husband at last. "I'd address you in elven, but it'd seem even more conspicuous coming from a wholesome grain-fed Thrane like this one. I don't have much time to talk, yet I couldn't help myself when I saw you in that dress. How's our daughter?"

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 52/52 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~6 hours), 6/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- A surprise indeed, and one that garners far more mixed feelings from Kett than she would like. At the very least, it was good to see his infiltration skills hadn't slipped at all. "How's our-" She cuts herself off, simultaneously incensed with rage and overjoyed. She wants to jump him right there and then, in both the romantic and the violent sense of the word. She shakes her fist, not at him directly but just holding it up, her fingers playing out a story of words half-spoken and half-formed, before finally she lashes out with a swift low kick aimed for his shins, unable to hold back her emotions anymore. A childish move, and one that Arano deftly deflects with his own foot casually moving it off to one side. It was him, for sure. They'd played this dance out in the past, and no hurt would be caused physically or emotionally by it. It was a game, in a way, along with an outlet of emotion. "Do you have any idea the trouble we're in right now?" her voice is a hiss, low but with full emotion, sincerity and care that she'd not conveyed even a sliver of to the others. "I'm meant to be bringing your head back on a plate otherwise Lia's will be served up to me, before they take mine." She can't hug him. She can't kiss him. She can't run her fingers through his hair. They were still too public, and they were pressed for time. He was right there. A foot away. and yet it was an impassable void. She sighs, running one hand over her hair to give her a moment to cool down. "I've got a cabin on a ship moored in port - the Heather." Important information first even with her mind a mess of thoughts. If they got separated, if they got split, he'd still know where to find her. Where he would find her. "Tell me you've got a solution to this because right now it looks like we're going to all end up on the run from the House." She doesn't entertain the idea that they'd die, it hasn't really entered into her plans at all. As always, her confidence is immense, even in a situation like this. She pauses, eyes meeting unfamiliar eyes that are still her husband's. "Lia deserves better than that."

[(Un)Inspired]

Sir Kleris, your dominion over those in the service industry is nothing short of supernatural. The more we learn about the goings on in this household, the more it appears something sinister lurks just out of our sight. We should probably collect Madam Kett and inform her of what we’ve learned. Do either of you see our dropkicking duenna anywhere?

As he speaks, Gryphon scans the room for the monk. His eyes glide over the alcove he traditionally reserves for threatening conversations with his enemies, and instead spies Kett performing some foot-based flirting with Arrun!

Interesting. Either that Thrannish guard has aggressive and uncharismatic taste in women, or Arimart’s biggest fan is someone else in disguise. The only person Madam Kett would know here is Arano and if that’s the level of intimacy she shares with him; he’s not just some child-assassin that’s threatened her family, he’s something like her child-bride!

Keeping his expression placid, the Khorovar addresses his two compatriots, Gentlemen, if you direct your eyes to that alcove yonder I believe you’ll see Madam Kett and our little friend Arrun sharing a moment of intimacy. That style of flirting-via-kicking seems di rigueur of a monk but perhaps a bit out of character for our stalwart Thrannish soldier... Although you know him better than I, Prosecutor.

[CozJa]

As Gryphon points in the direction of Kett and Arrun, the paladin takes a look at them, and a puzzled expression appears on his face. "Maybe I do not..."

[3SecondCultist]

For the second time tonight, you hear a chime reverberate through Solstice Hall. As the music dies once more, you see that everyone is looking back up at the uppermost landing of the hall, where the ambassador stands illuminated by a circle of pale light. It's as though he's an avatar sent from the heavens themselves. Somewhere behind him, you hear rather than see Layla playing with her new puppy over the protestations of her governess.

"My friends," Ambassador ir'Sencriss manages to make his expressive wave towards the multitude seem magnanimous, "thank you so very much for joining us here tonight for my daughter's birthday. It has been a genuine pleasure to see so many familiar faces, and for Layla to have been blessed with tokens of your affection. I'm positive that she will find great joy in each and every one of the presents she has received this evening." His eyes find Gryphon amidst the bodies, though they do not rest there for more than a moment.

"Yet as grateful as Layla and I are for your company, many of you have gathered here under different auspices. By now, you will have heard that I managed to acquire a particular artifact from the far reaches of Xen'drik, and plan to auction it off to all of you fine individuals. Well for once, thanks to the tireless efforts of the Clifftop Guild in Sharn, the rumors are true!" From his pocket, the dignitary pulls out a strange shape that looks somewhat like an orb yet with definite edges, holding it up in the air for everyone to see. By the looks of it, it has twelve different sides on it, along with arcane looking symbols that cannot be made out at a distance.

"Now I believe you have all been patient guests, and have earned the right to be let in on the secret. At long last, let me show you what your money will be buying!" Muttering a command word, ir'Sencriss lets the dodecahedron hover slightly in the air where it starts to spin; slowly at first, but accelerating violently to the point where you can't make out any of its various facets. All around the hall, the lights begin to go out. For an instant, you're worried that the object is about to explode, and several people around you clearly share that suspicion as they start to flinch away or close their eyes. But there is no explosion, no sudden carnage or sinister sacrifice.

What you see instead are stars. An entire constellation of celestial bodies, suspended on air like dust on a windless morning, is projected into the space above your heads. And the stars aren't alone; your eyes spot shattered pieces of illusory rock and gemstone that represent the Ring of Siberys, and you count all of Eberron's twelve moons in formation, orbital trajectories perfectly calculated along weightless trains. There is Aryth the Gateway, and Vult the Warding Moon at the very outskirts of the hall; in the middle you spy the burnished King Nymm, and closest to the center is the pearly silhouette of Zarantyr, the Storm Moon. What they encircle, however, is no facsimile of the planet of Eberron but rather a series of interlocked golden rings about ten feet in diameter that hovers in the dead center of the room's space directly above you. They move and spin around one another, gliding together and apart in an eternal dance that looks half a puzzle and half a work of art. At their heart is a lambent green energy that sparks and crackles ominously.

"Ladies and gentlemen, from the depths of the darkest continent, I present to you one of the wonders of the ancient world of giants: an Orrery of the Planes!" ir'Sencriss must raise his voice now to remain audible above the new-made din, but raise it he does. "Capable not only of tracking the movements of our world's rings and moons in real time, but with the right commands it can create stationary bubbles that align with the principles of the outer planes themselves. With this, you can walk through the vast wildlands of Thelanis in the comfort of your own homes, or study the inherent properties of the Perfect Order or Churning Chaos with no risk to your person. Whether your purpose is research or entertainment, only this orrery can transport you to every world known." Layla has walked forward to stand with her father now, grasping at his hand and looking around slack-jawed, though he barely seems to notice her.

Instead, in the wake of the stunned silence, ir'Sencriss presses his advantage. "The price will begin at thirty-five thousand galifars. Who would care to make the first bid?"


Kett

Arrun - Arano - holds out a single hand towards you below the threshold of the railing. At first it seems like an offering, but when he holds it up palm out you realize that it's actually a sign for you to stop. The twinkle you saw in his gaze just a moment ago is already fading.

"We're in more trouble than you know." Arano matches your pitch and volume, but there is a sudden intensity that was not there a moment ago. "Of course the Seneshal would send you after me; Taen always did have a taste for the cruelly ironic. As glad as I am that you're here Kett, I really wish it hadn't been you. I don't know what you heard, but I didn't betray the House. This whole thing is a setup."

Your disguised husband glances away the moment that the music stops and ir'Sencriss begins to speak. You catch him looking down in particular at the Phiarlan musicians, who don't seem to be paying you any mind at the moment. "Look," he whispers, "I don't have time to go into everything right now, but you need to trust me. Any moment now the ambassador is going to get the auction started, and then all hells are going to break loose. I have a plan that'll keep us safe, but for it to work I'm going to need your help to steal -"

Arano doesn't get to finish, as the lights are extinguished and the entire hall is subsequently set ablaze in an otherworldly radiance. The ceiling would be invisible, but for the recreance of the heavens of Siberys around you. It's impossible not to see the orrery, as it hangs above the very center of the dance floor like a planet cast in miniature. In fact, you spot your allies clustered not too far beneath it, amid the sea of astonished gasps and deific proclamations.

Yet Arano isn't paying the artifact any mind; his attention is directed squarely at the small blonde figure holding the ambassador's hand. He does not point at his target, but it's clear all the same. "- her."

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 52/52 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~6 hours), 6/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- Tonight was full of surprises, it seemed, but at least that meant it wasn't boring. At least it was clear he was taking it seriously. Her anger subsides as quickly as it had come. Kett follows Arano's gaze to the target, for that was all the girl was now. The reasoning could wait, she has no doubts in her beloved, and if he said that this was what was required, here and now, then so be it. Quibblings about 'other ways' and 'the right thing' were best left to a time and place far from here. "You don't need to ask," she cracks her first real smile of the evening, perhaps the first real one she'd had in days. Despite their predicament, it was exciting to work with him again, it had been too long. There was the audacious route, of course. Even with a tiny girl weighing her down, chances were she could outrun the guards, though that might put a rather large target on her, and chances are her team would take issue with it. While she fancied her chances against the rank and file, the other three were...less simple. Subtle wasn't as clear - she hadn't had much of a chance to scope out such a plan. It hadn't occurred to her that the birthday girl would be the goal. "Tell me what you need, I'm yours. Always have been."

[CozJa]

As the lights go down Arimart instinctively moves his left hand toward the hammer, but when the artifact explodes into a constellation his mood changes from worried to fascinated. As much as he is a man of the law, no one can remain untouched by such an amazing display of ingenuity and beautifulness.

For a moment, the paladin lose himself and leaves place to the young noble studying astronomy with the old preceptor, Dr. Haireem d'Medani.

"...Remember Arimart, the movements of the planes are not just far and disconnected physical acts, with no relevance to our everyday life. Instead, the very fabric of our reality stands on the fact that each and every living creature, unliving thing and moving body are always connected to each other. And we should always remember it when we go along with our lives...

Far words that echo in Arimart's mind in this moment, while his gaze rests on the orbits of Lamannia and Thelanis.

But suddenly, as ir'Sencriss starts the auction, this brief moment of his youth is taken away, and the lulling sensation he feels disappears under the storm of his worries.
He is not here to look at an amazing work of Art, nor to compete with a bunch of self appointed elites... The Paladin turns back to his friends, and looks at Kett, who is still standing with Harrun.
"What are they doing? Gryphon, Kleris, can you make out something of what they're saying?"

[(Un)Inspired]

Gryphon’s snooping is summarily suspended by the beginning of Lord ir’Sencriss’ speech. He feels a wave of self-satisfaction wash over him as Danilos briefly acknowledges the gift he arrived with, only for the feeling to be burnt away in a flash, replaced by sheer awe as the Orrery of the Planes is activated.

F*** me. The undead you could create if you had access to a Mabar manifest zone on demand. The clerics you could empower with Irian zones. The inventors you could inspire with Xoriat. The warriors you could train with Shavarath... Which country or, Dragonmarked House, will end up with the Orrery? Surely no individual could outbid a nation, and what nation would pass up an item of such potential?

The wizard briefly attempts to calculate the exchange rate between stolen dreams and galifars, but quickly abandons the thought as unwise. It isn’t until Arimart addresses him that Gryphon snaps out of his ruminations.

Ah, uh... No, Prosecutor, I’m afraid I can’t catch their words at this distance. Say, do you suppose Breland has a representative here tonight to bid on the Orrwry on behalf of the state?

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 52/52 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~6 hours), 6/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- The hashing out of a plan takes only moments of quick, coded back and forth before Arrun-Arano bids his adieu, leaving her to return to the rest of her 'temporary hirelings' newly invigorated. She isn't surprised that they're watching - though she would probably give them more courtesy in a reversed situation. It did speak to them not exactly trusting her, not that she really expects them to. For all of them this was only a temporary alliance of convenience at best and eventually it would become inconvenient. Perhaps tonight, perhaps not. That would mostly depend on them. "I just had an interesting conversation," she begins by way of greeting. "The guards are expecting a riot when the auction concludes. A lot of people want that artifact, and they're not the sort of people used to being told no. Buying in blood is sometimes cheaper and faster than buying with gold." She's speaking from experience here. "The phiarlan 'musicians'," she juts her chin over to them, "and your ex-boyfriend, Gryphon, are expected to be participating, along with the Argentum woman." She's not talking slowly, but she is keeping her tone measured and neutral to avoid the likelihood of being overheard. "Personally I don't much care who gets it since whatever happens it'll lead to Arano, but I do think we should take advantage of the chaos and maybe add to it a little ourselves. Provoke it, if necessary. Maybe take the opportunity to settle a few old grudges, or start some new ones." She was, essentially, stating they should all assist and incite the riot, in slightly more tempting terms. "The more chaotic it gets, the more likely that certain quiet individuals will be forced to reveal themselves, lest the item slip from their fingers. And if a particularly annoying aasimar or some House assassins up to no good should wind up dead or mutilated in the process..." Kett shrugs, her meaning clear. "Well that would be an unfortunate consequence I would deeply mourn."