Bосторг IC: Chaos

[Deadly]

"Let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another's speech" -- Genesis 11

OOC thread

The Cast
Thanqol as Kirillov the News
Anarion as Elena the Angel
Elanorin as Dorian Hayes the Maestro d'
TheAmishPirate as Misha the Hardholder

We begin on any other day ...

Kirillov and Elena, sometimes it seems funerals are a daily fare in Rapture, much like the poison that fills the air, and the muck that covers the earth. Few of them are truly noteworthy - or newsworthy, perhaps - and most of them have already made a tour of the infirmary. So what brings the two of you out to this particular funeral, on this particular day?

And Kirillov, you've spent money and resources on keeping your radio running but left nothing for yourself. There's a little church in Rapture, old thing, not much to look at. They try to offer what little they can to those who come to them with nothing. Have you gone to them, or does that seem too low? If you haven't, what is the most bitter thing you've had to do to get by?

Misha and Dorian, it's not often you two share a confined space together, is it? Excuse me, it's just that I couldn't help but notice you two sitting in car together, out here in the gloom of morning. What's going on?

[Thanqol]

Kirillov and Elena, sometimes it seems funerals are a daily fare in Rapture, much like the poison that fills the air, and the muck that covers the earth. Few of them are truly noteworthy - or newsworthy, perhaps - and most of them have already made a tour of the infirmary. So what brings the two of you out to this particular funeral, on this particular day?

I would come to any event of any note at all - it is my duty as a reporter, and you never know what will happen. The more interesting question is why Elena comes so I leave the details of the scene to her.

And Kirillov, you've spent money and resources on keeping your radio running but left nothing for yourself. There's a little church in Rapture, old thing, not much to look at. They try to offer what little they can to those who come to them with nothing. Have you gone to them, or does that seem too low? If you haven't, what is the most bitter thing you've had to do to get by?

I wish I could say standing in line for alms still stung.

I look out of place in the shuffling crowd. I am tall and straight-backed and healthy. Me being here is taking food out of the mouth of Ms. Flayer who stands in line behind me, relentlessly filing her teeth down into points. Me being here means that poor old Mr. Eats who is in a wheelchair at the very back of the line might not get food at all today. They wear their deformities openly, in their mental and physical scars making it clear why they have been driven to desperate straits such as these. I? I have options.

I could join a gang. I could raid a caravan. I could brutalize some poor elderly couple. I could take my chances with the swamp eels - or the Capitalists. I could live a different life just like that, and I'd have somewhere warm to sleep and not be hungry all the time. But instead I stand in line for something mysterious and orange which has the consistency of rancid glue and the crunchiness of army crackers. And it is not the first time I have gone begging.

But it is a bitter season and I can't trouble my audience every time I run a little behind. Sometimes I have to sell my voice. I'd like to work a gig, sir, and I make it known that I am prepared to make announcements on-air on behalf of one who will pay.

I have options, after all. This is, sadly, one of the least dark among them.

[Anarion]

I would come to any event of any note at all - it is my duty as a reporter, and you never know what will happen. The more interesting question is why Elena comes so I leave the details of the scene to her.

Myself, I do not think you can go to every funeral. Not unless you are really 5 people or you travel backwards through time. But this one, mm, I want you here for this one because I am here to do something very unpopular and I think, maybe, it is better to bring the newsman and explain to him the problem, so that he will report on it accurately and we have fewer riots.

I get ahead of myself. The problem here is that this woman we are burying, Olga maybe, it's easy to forget names, we will call her Olga. She comes back from an expedition, she stays with her family, she makes them dinner, and then she collapses that night in her home, there is no breathing, so the family says bury her immediately. This is no good. I need to see her, to see the body. She has no wounds, no broken bones, it is sickness. If I do not see it, maybe her whole family gets sick, maybe whole town gets sick, you understand? We must know, must treat if treating is needed. But no, they want to throw corpse into ground and pile dirt on it. So I am here to do I don't know what. Stop them and get the body, angry as they may be. Or maybe just watch and pay attention and come back with a shovel tonight hoping I do not meet anyone.

I want you to know this newsman, I don't do it lightly, these are sacred things even in our times. But the living come before the dead and I will have that body one way or another.

[TheAmishPirate]

[Rolling Wealth: (2d6+2)[5]]

Misha and Dorian, it's not often you two share a confined space together, is it? Excuse me, it's just that I couldn't help but notice you two sitting in car together, out here in the gloom of morning. What's going on?

Right now, there is waiting going on. Waiting for Dorian to explain to me his intentions with my niece Vera. It is no good playing innocent. I have seen her wandering off with my own two eyes, and Gamy has seen her in his rat hole, and for once there are others to back her up. I have been patient man. More patient than I should have been. But I have told my family not to get involved with this Dorian, and now he is involving my niece in his hooliganism. I will know why.

I am in my bearsuit for the same reason my pack is with me; because I do not trust this man.

Sometimes I have to sell my voice. I'd like to work a gig, sir, and I make it known that I am prepared to make announcements on-air on behalf of one who will pay.

I have options, after all. This is, sadly, one of the least dark among them.

Then you are lucky man! When you make it known that you are willing to work with voice, you get message from Misha. He tells you he has proposition for you, important job, and wants to talk with you soon.

[Thanqol]

Myself, I do not think you can go to every funeral. Not unless you are really 5 people or you travel backwards through time. But this one, mm, I want you here for this one because I am here to do something very unpopular and I think, maybe, it is better to bring the newsman and explain to him the problem, so that he will report on it accurately and we have fewer riots.

I get ahead of myself. The problem here is that this woman we are burying, Olga maybe, it's easy to forget names, we will call her Olga. She comes back from an expedition, she stays with her family, she makes them dinner, and then she collapses that night in her home, there is no breathing, so the family says bury her immediately. This is no good. I need to see her, to see the body. She has no wounds, no broken bones, it is sickness. If I do not see it, maybe her whole family gets sick, maybe whole town gets sick, you understand? We must know, must treat if treating is needed. But no, they want to throw corpse into ground and pile dirt on it. So I am here to do I don't know what. Stop them and get the body, angry as they may be. Or maybe just watch and pay attention and come back with a shovel tonight hoping I do not meet anyone.

I want you to know this newsman, I don't do it lightly, these are sacred things even in our times. But the living come before the dead and I will have that body one way or another.

"Then you will have to go through me," I say firmly. "I will not stand by while you steal a loved one and break the hearts of these poor grieving souls. They deserve peace and a decent burial and not be picked over by witchery. You should reconsider."

I feel my heart beat and curl my toes against the ground as I fold my arms across my chest. Inaction might cause a disease to spread but this would cause a plague of anger just as deadly.

Then you are lucky man! When you make it known that you are willing to work with voice, you get message from Misha. He tells you he has proposition for you, important job, and wants to talk with you soon.

Ah. I look forwards to it.

[Elanorin]

Right now, there is waiting going on. Waiting for Dorian to explain to me his intentions with my niece Vera. It is no good playing innocent. I have seen her wandering off with my own two eyes, and Gamy has seen her in his rat hole, and for once there are others to back her up. I have been patient man. More patient than I should have been. But I have told my family not to get involved with this Dorian, and now he is involving my niece in his hooliganism. I will know why.

I am in my bearsuit for the same reason my pack is with me; because I do not trust this man.

"Nice car." Awkward silence.

Dorian shifts a little uncomfortably, there are just one too many bodies shoved in to this space for anyone's comfort.

"Does it move too or is this more of an outside reception room thing, for those who aren't fortunate enough to be invited to your house?" he continues offering a charming smile at Misha. Oh, he knows precisely why he's here and what it is you want him to say.

"Or is it that you can't drive, papa bear?" Dorian leans forwards, "'cause I can teach you that, no problem. For a fee, of course," he adds with a blatantly feigned business face.

[Rolling to Read a Hardholder: 5+2+0=7 1 hold]

[Deadly]

"Then you will have to go through me," I say firmly. "I will not stand by while you steal a loved one and break the hearts of these poor grieving souls. They deserve peace and a decent burial and not be picked over by witchery. You should reconsider."

I feel my heart beat and curl my toes against the ground as I fold my arms across my chest. Inaction might cause a disease to spread but this would cause a plague of anger just as deadly.

Funerals are normally a very quiet, somber affair, so a potentially brewing argument between two of the guests sticks out worse than a swamp bear hiding in a tea shop. Already a few people are throwing brief glances your way, trying to gauge whether it's more than a brief hushed whisper before you go back to being quiet.

[Anarion]

"Then you will have to go through me," I say firmly. "I will not stand by while you steal a loved one and break the hearts of these poor grieving souls. They deserve peace and a decent burial and not be picked over by witchery. You should reconsider."

I feel my heart beat and curl my toes against the ground as I fold my arms across my chest. Inaction might cause a disease to spread but this would cause a plague of anger just as deadly.

Funerals are normally a very quiet, somber affair, so a potentially brewing argument between two of the guests sticks out worse than a swamp bear hiding in a tea shop. Already a few people are throwing brief glances your way, trying to gauge whether it's more than a brief hushed whisper before you go back to being quiet.

Unexpected. I had thought Kirillov would understand. We can't risk everyone's safety over a little sentimentality. I don't even need it for long, if they'd just allowed me to do a few tests first, they could have had the body within a day or two for the same funeral.

[rolling to read Kirillov: (2d6+2)[5]

[Deadly]

Unexpected. I had thought Kirillov would understand. We can't risk everyone's safety over a little sentimentality. I don't even need it for long, if they'd just allowed me to do a few tests first, they could have had the body within a day or two for the same funeral.

[rolling to read Kirillov: [roll0]

You're looking at Kirillov when your eyes are drawn to another face in the crowd, on the far side of the gathering from where you are. You swear you recognize those features even despite the mask and distance between you. A local man, Grigori you think ... but no, it can't be. They put him in a grave not very far from here ... when was it? Almost a year ago. You never got a look at his body either ...

But then he's gone among the crowd, or maybe it was a ghost you saw. What do you do?

[TheAmishPirate]

"Nice car." Awkward silence.

Dorian shifts a little uncomfortably, there are just one too many bodies shoved in to this space for anyone's comfort.

"Does it move too or is this more of an outside reception room thing, for those who aren't fortunate enough to be invited to your house?" he continues offering a charming smile at Misha. Oh, he knows precisely why he's here and what it is you want him to say.

"Or is it that you can't drive, papa bear?" Dorian leans forwards, "'cause I can teach you that, no problem. For a fee, of course," he adds with a blatantly feigned business face.

[Rolling to Read a Hardholder: 5+2+0=7 1 hold]

Misha turns in the driver's seat, the ancient car creaking under his weight, and fixes Dorian with a glowing red stare. "Dorian. You disappoint me." He rumbles. "I give you good land. I let you run your gaudy food den. Prisma killed steelhorns your men could not." If he listed all the graces he'd extended him, they would be here until nightfall. Many of which this man needed to be reminded of. "And this is how you repay my kindness?"

Misha shook his head disapprovingly. "Charging me for driving lessons? Surely you joke."

[Anarion]

You're looking at Kirillov when your eyes are drawn to another face in the crowd, on the far side of the gathering from where you are. You swear you recognize those features even despite the mask and distance between you. A local man, Grigori you think ... but no, it can't be. They put him in a grave not very far from here ... when was it? Almost a year ago. You never got a look at his body either ...

But then he's gone among the crowd, or maybe it was a ghost you saw. What do you do?

I look distracted, distant suddenly. Kirillov might wonder if he's lost me, never a good sign for an interviewer, that. I try to shake my head and turn back to him. "No, you do not support this? Not even for an afternoon and hold funeral tomorrow instead?" I don't sound as confident as i had earlier. "Feh, town will hang me by fragile neck if I disrupt ceremony and then you tell them all on radio that I have gone insane. Can I not convince you? Simple autopsy would be done in an afternoon and then we would be sure nobody else would die...from this at least."

[Elanorin]

Misha turns in the driver's seat, the ancient car creaking under his weight, and fixes Dorian with a glowing red stare. "Dorian. You disappoint me." He rumbles. "I give you good land. I let you run your gaudy food den. Prisma killed steelhorns your men could not." If he listed all the graces he'd extended him, they would be here until nightfall. Many of which this man needed to be reminded of. "And this is how you repay my kindness?"

Misha shook his head disapprovingly. "Charging me for driving lessons? Surely you joke."

"A man's gotta eat." Dorian said with a conceding shrug. "You come to me now, shocked that I see an angle of profit in the curve balls life decides to throw me? You should know me well enough by now to know that that's what I do. And, as you also know, I do it well. I can smell a deal a mile away. The one you're about to propose, for example. Oh? What? Is that not why you began listing me all my unpaid favours that you hold on me, hm?"

Dorian smiled a wide charming smile, borderline smug.

"But you have my attention, as you know you would, what will buy me back these annoying unpaid favours from your bearclaws?"

[Thanqol]

I look distracted, distant suddenly. Kirillov might wonder if he's lost me, never a good sign for an interviewer, that. I try to shake my head and turn back to him. "No, you do not support this? Not even for an afternoon and hold funeral tomorrow instead?" I don't sound as confident as i had earlier. "Feh, town will hang me by fragile neck if I disrupt ceremony and then you tell them all on radio that I have gone insane. Can I not convince you? Simple autopsy would be done in an afternoon and then we would be sure nobody else would die...from this at least."

"I am not going to help you steal a body from a grieving family, even if we give it back later," I said, a hint of disbelief creeping into my tone. "Do you understand? Firstly, I am an unarmed reporter. Secondly, do you think any of these people would ever trust us again if we did something so absurd and insensitive? But you know this - if you wanted someone to dig up the body and kill any witnesses, no questions asked, you would have approached Mr. Hayes. Why do you ask me?"

[Anarion]

"I am not going to help you steal a body from a grieving family, even if we give it back later," I said, a hint of disbelief creeping into my tone. "Do you understand? Firstly, I am an unarmed reporter. Secondly, do you think any of these people would ever trust us again if we did something so absurd and insensitive? But you know this - if you wanted someone to dig up the body and kill any witnesses, no questions asked, you would have approached Mr. Hayes. Why do you ask me?"

"No, that is not..." I trail off. This isn't coming out how I wanted at all. This wasn't supposed to be a fight, it was supposed to be a reasonable request, a way to deal with a threat to everyone and Kirillov would let them all know I was being honest.

"Fine, yes, you win, we will not steal body from funeral." I glance out of the corner of my eye, seeing a corpse walking about has me spooked, probably not a great sign to Kirillov that I'm avoiding eye contact either. "So what now, do we just drive away? If you let me pick, I would say to you all people today who handled corpse should go into quarantine for two, maybe three days to see if they get sick. Is that crazy too, can we ask them that when the service is done? I...need your help to convince people, you understand me, Kirillov?"

[Thanqol]

"No, that is not..." I trail off. This isn't coming out how I wanted at all. This wasn't supposed to be a fight, it was supposed to be a reasonable request, a way to deal with a threat to everyone and Kirillov would let them all know I was being honest.

"Fine, yes, you win, we will not steal body from funeral." I glance out of the corner of my eye, seeing a corpse walking about has me spooked, probably not a great sign to Kirillov that I'm avoiding eye contact either. "So what now, do we just drive away? If you let me pick, I would say to you all people today who handled corpse should go into quarantine for two, maybe three days to see if they get sick. Is that crazy too, can we ask them that when the service is done? I...need your help to convince people, you understand me, Kirillov?"

"What, you mean editorialize?" I say with a faint smile. "Talk about my opinions on public health and sanitation? Spark a debate on quarantine? No, Elena - I'm not an expert. I'm not going to pretend I am. While I'm happy to give you a platform to speak from I am not going to throw my reputation and integrity behind telling these people to sacrifice three working days and risking starvation when I do not know. The safe side also contains dangers."

"I can't tell them that." I straighten my tie, smooth my hair back. I take a moment to relax and focus. I produce a long, silver antennae from inside my coat and hold it up above my head. "But what I can tell you is the news."

I stiffen. My eyes flash between hundreds of images like television screens scrolling through channels. Electricity sparks through my hair and a thousand fragments of noise and music pour into my ears. The world pours down through that ariel and I open my brain to it.

Open Your Brain: 10 Focusing on, who specifically is infected?

[TheAmishPirate]

"A man's gotta eat." Dorian said with a conceding shrug. "You come to me now, shocked that I see an angle of profit in the curve balls life decides to throw me? You should know me well enough by now to know that that's what I do. And, as you also know, I do it well. I can smell a deal a mile away. The one you're about to propose, for example. Oh? What? Is that not why you began listing me all my unpaid favours that you hold on me, hm?"

Dorian smiled a wide charming smile, borderline smug.

"But you have my attention, as you know you would, what will buy me back these annoying unpaid favours from your bearclaws?"

"You see? This is why you disappoint me." Misha gestured broadly, or at least as broadly as the confines would allow. "Everything is business to you. There is nothing you think you can't buy. This is not a ledger I have come to settle with you, this is life, if you would have a soul to see it."

He crossed his arms and huffed. "So. What are you hoping to buy with our Vera?"

[Deadly]

"What, you mean editorialize?" I say with a faint smile. "Talk about my opinions on public health and sanitation? Spark a debate on quarantine? No, Elena - I'm not an expert. I'm not going to pretend I am. While I'm happy to give you a platform to speak from I am not going to throw my reputation and integrity behind telling these people to sacrifice three working days and risking starvation when I do not know. The safe side also contains dangers."

"I can't tell them that." I straighten my tie, smooth my hair back. I take a moment to relax and focus. I produce a long, silver antennae from inside my coat and hold it up above my head. "But what I can tell you is the news."

I stiffen. My eyes flash between hundreds of images like television screens scrolling through channels. Electricity sparks through my hair and a thousand fragments of noise and music pour into my ears. The world pours down through that ariel and I open my brain to it.

Open Your Brain: 10 Focusing on, who specifically is infected?

You see the dead woman, Olga, and a man in the crowd a moment ago who left quietly. Both infected. You see others, but not many, and not the ones you'd expect: not the family or others who had close contact with the dead woman. Either it's not spreading - at least from people - or it hasn't begun to spread yet. The ones you see might have picked it up somewhere.

Elena, why don't you tell us who some of them are?

Then you see a woman in a shapeless but vividly red dress, her back to you, spray painting on a broken wall in bright pink paint: "What comes after tea?" Of course, you know the answer, everyone does: it's a common Russian pun. The correct response is, "The Resurrection of the Dead." You can't see anything of the woman except the back of her dress and long hair, but you figure you know where the wall she's painting is. This isn't the first you've seen of this unknown woman or her spray painted messages: everyone around Rapture has seen them crop up here and there on old walls and broken signs. Some call her a ghost, others an angel or a prophet. She appears in dreams and visions, but no one to your knowledge has seen her in real life. Only her messages.

[Elanorin]

"You see? This is why you disappoint me." Misha gestured broadly, or at least as broadly as the confines would allow. "Everything is business to you. There is nothing you think you can't buy. This is not a ledger I have come to settle with you, this is life, if you would have a soul to see it."

He crossed his arms and huffed. "So. What are you hoping to buy with our Vera?"

"Life is nothing but a giant ledger," Dorian disagreed calmly, "all deeds and misdeeds stacking up like endless income and expenses columns."

He shifted uncomfortably, "if you want to get all philosophical about it." Dorian didn't, and already regretted this line of conversation and therefore leapt with gusto in to the next; "I'm not interested in using your Vera as trade goods." Dorian said, leaning forwards with an offended frown, pinning a glare on Misha. Then a shrug as he sat back again. "It's not a good time of year for slavery and trafficking."

[TheAmishPirate]

"Life is nothing but a giant ledger," Dorian disagreed calmly, "all deeds and misdeeds stacking up like endless income and expenses columns."

He shifted uncomfortably, "if you want to get all philosophical about it." Dorian didn't, and already regretted this line of conversation and therefore leapt with gusto in to the next; "I'm not interested in using your Vera as trade goods." Dorian said, leaning forwards with an offended frown, pinning a glare on Misha. Then a shrug as he sat back again. "It's not a good time of year for slavery and trafficking."

Dead silence. From all the occupants of the car.

"...that's not very funny," Misha said flatly. His men nodded in agreement; they'd all heard better. "Then what are you using her for, huh? Serving girl? Dancer? Or have you put a gun in that poor child's hands?"

[Anarion]

Elena, why don't you tell us who some of them are?

The man in the crowd who slipped away, Johann Driver, one of Misha's men, and as I follow his image, I see Misha lit up like a beacon, the disease upon him. And nearby, old Mr. Eats sad in the church line and not long for this world, and then over by the radio station, unhinged young Natasha with her gun at the ready but her body being eaten from within. There might be another, slipping out of sight, but those are the four that I think you're seeing, Kirillov.

[Thanqol]

You see the dead woman, Olga, and a man in the crowd a moment ago who left quietly. Both infected. You see others, but not many, and not the ones you'd expect: not the family or others who had close contact with the dead woman. Either it's not spreading - at least from people - or it hasn't begun to spread yet. The ones you see might have picked it up somewhere.

Elena, why don't you tell us who some of them are?

Then you see a woman in a shapeless but vividly red dress, her back to you, spray painting on a broken wall in bright pink paint: "What comes after tea?" Of course, you know the answer, everyone does: it's a common Russian pun. The correct response is, "The Resurrection of the Dead." You can't see anything of the woman except the back of her dress and long hair, but you figure you know where the wall she's painting is. This isn't the first you've seen of this unknown woman or her spray painted messages: everyone around Rapture has seen them crop up here and there on old walls and broken signs. Some call her a ghost, others an angel or a prophet. She appears in dreams and visions, but no one to your knowledge has seen her in real life. Only her messages.

The man in the crowd who slipped away, Johann Driver, one of Misha's men, and as I follow his image, I see Misha lit up like a beacon, the disease upon him. And nearby, old Mr. Eats sad in the church line and not long for this world, and then over by the radio station, unhinged young Natasha with her gun at the ready but her body being eaten from within. There might be another, slipping out of sight, but those are the four that I think you're seeing, Kirillov.

I lower my arm gently, easing the aching shoulder muscles and brushing the ash-like residue of the lightning from my shoulders. I give Elena a look that in another time, when faces were flesh and open, might have been a tired smile. "Beware the Red Walker, beware the Resurrection," I say grimly. "Beware Eats, Driver and Misha. Beware the signs and the paintings. This is not a mere disease you have stumbled upon, doctor, it is an ailment with its roots in the spiritual and supernatural. I shall address Mr. Misha, he has already called upon me, but do not waste your time and reputation bothering the victims."

[Anarion]

I lower my arm gently, easing the aching shoulder muscles and brushing the ash-like residue of the lightning from my shoulders. I give Elena a look that in another time, when faces were flesh and open, might have been a tired smile. "Beware the Red Walker, beware the Resurrection," I say grimly. "Beware Eats, Driver and Misha. Beware the signs and the paintings. This is not a mere disease you have stumbled upon, doctor, it is an ailment with its roots in the spiritual and supernatural. I shall address Mr. Misha, he has already called upon me, but do not waste your time and reputation bothering the victims."

"I thought, Mr. Kirillov, that you did not editorialize. Medicine is not your area of expertise, it is mine, and if this eats at the body, then I shall unravel it and cure it. Are you certain there are only the three though? So few, and Misha will not easily consent to coming. I'll need to find Eats and Driver." I look at him. "Please pass along a message for me, newsman. Tell Misha my door is always open for him. Exactly that, no editorializing."

[Thanqol]

"I thought, Mr. Kirillov, that you did not editorialize. Medicine is not your area of expertise, it is mine, and if this eats at the body, then I shall unravel it and cure it. Are you certain there are only the three though? So few, and Misha will not easily consent to coming. I'll need to find Eats and Driver." I look at him. "Please pass along a message for me, newsman. Tell Misha my door is always open for him. Exactly that, no editorializing."

"The news is the news," I say without passion. "I simply speak it. That said, there is a fourth name, but that one is both dangerous and my responsibility so I will investigate it alone."

[Anarion]

"The news is the news," I say without passion. "I simply speak it. That said, there is a fourth name, but that one is both dangerous and my responsibility so I will investigate it alone."

"Which you conveniently forgot until pressed, hmm? Yes, fine, I have things to do now, I suppose, but I will find you later and see."

[Tell me, what is my best way to go about investigating the sick here? Reading a sitch (2d6+2)[4]

[Deadly]

Dead silence. From all the occupants of the car.

"...that's not very funny," Misha said flatly. His men nodded in agreement; they'd all heard better. "Then what are you using her for, huh? Serving girl? Dancer? Or have you put a gun in that poor child's hands?"

There's a discreet knock on the window next to you. Rolling it down you find your man, Johann Driver, saluting you. "There's a problem, father." His wary eyes drift slightly towards Dorian on the other seat, and he clams shut. Clearly he knows better than to say more in the presence of this foreign dog.

Tell me a little about Johann.

"Which you conveniently forgot until pressed, hmm? Yes, fine, I have things to do now, I suppose, but I will find you later and see."

[Tell me, what is my best way to go about investigating the sick here? Reading a sitch [roll0]

Kirillov is the key. He knows more than he says, and he's clearly trying to hinder your research. Whatever is going on, Kirillov is in on it and trying to keep you out of it! It's hard to believe the news man is at the center of a conspiracy and a cover-up, but it's obviously true!

You can't trust Kirillov, and Misha is compromised. That leaves you Hayes ... Hayes might be your best bet to detain and 'persuade' Kirillov. Extract the truth from Kirillov!

[Elanorin]

Dead silence. From all the occupants of the car.

"...that's not very funny," Misha said flatly. His men nodded in agreement; they'd all heard better. "Then what are you using her for, huh? Serving girl? Dancer? Or have you put a gun in that poor child's hands?"

"Heh, right, if that was serving or dancing I'd be out of business by the end of the month," Dorian scoffed. Then paused, looked at Misha, then added, "charming girl though. Love her," he added. He opened his mouth to continue when-

There's a discreet knock on the window next to you. Rolling it down you find your man, Johann Driver, saluting you. "There's a problem, father." His wary eyes drift slightly towards Dorian on the other seat, and he clams shut. Clearly he knows better than to say more in the presence of this foreign dog.

Dorian looked up at Johann outside the window, eyeing him with casual curiosity, clearly interested in hearing of this problem he'd come to tell Misha about. When the man clams shut at the sight of him, Dorian merely offers him a smile of feigned innocence.

[Anarion]

Kirillov, that filthy liar! I knew I could not trust him. He plots to kill us all and tells me to stand idly by?! No, Elena is no such fool. But I cannot act now, no, not with the crowd here, they'll sympathize with him. No, I will need loyal men, loyal and trustworthy, like Dorian, to aid me. Then, when I have Kirillov alone, yes, then I will learn the truth, yes.

I give a friendly wave goodbye, and tilt my mask up in an implied smile, "well, have a good day Kirillov, you remember my message to Misha, yes? Just send someone along if you need help."

[TheAmishPirate]

There's a discreet knock on the window next to you. Rolling it down you find your man, Johann Driver, saluting you. "There's a problem, father." His wary eyes drift slightly towards Dorian on the other seat, and he clams shut. Clearly he knows better than to say more in the presence of this foreign dog.

Tell me a little about Johann.

Johann! He has been with me nearly the longest of all my family, and is one of my faithful lieutenants. If I am a big roar, he is a cool howl. Careful with his words, a fine pack leader, though perhaps smaller with his dreams. I think he would be happy just staying put and staying fed, da? He also likes those little two-wheeled cars you see sometimes - motorcycles, he called them? He has one himself, a busted-up old thing I let him keep in the garage, and I see him searching wrecks in the field for parts.

"Heh, right, if that was serving or dancing I'd be out of business by the end of the month," Dorian scoffed. Then paused, looked at Misha, then added, "charming girl though. Love her," he added. He opened his mouth to continue when-



Dorian looked up at Johann outside the window, eyeing him with casual curiosity, clearly interested in hearing of this problem he'd come to tell Misha about. When the man clams shut at the sight of him, Dorian merely offers him a smile of feigned innocence.

Misha gave Johann a brief nod. "Da. One moment, I will be right out." He rolled up the window, turned to the smiling Dorian, and lifted him out of his chair by his shirt, claws of metal and bone resting pointedly on the man's chest.

"Many apologies. I must go, and you have wasted all your time with jokes. Now, talking is over." He growled. "I want you to swear to me now, by all you hold dear, that you will not bring our Vera to harm. Or else I will fill your life with misery and woe."

[Rolling to Go Aggro on Dorian: (2d6+2)[6] Swear that he will not bring Vera to harm, or else face reprisals. Not Harm here and now, but unspecified bad times later.]

[Thanqol]

Kirillov, that filthy liar! I knew I could not trust him. He plots to kill us all and tells me to stand idly by?! No, Elena is no such fool. But I cannot act now, no, not with the crowd here, they'll sympathize with him. No, I will need loyal men, loyal and trustworthy, like Dorian, to aid me. Then, when I have Kirillov alone, yes, then I will learn the truth, yes.

I give a friendly wave goodbye, and tilt my mask up in an implied smile, "well, have a good day Kirillov, you remember my message to Misha, yes? Just send someone along if you need help."

"Good day to you," I say without inflection as I take my leave. My stomach growls and scratches at me. Hopefully Misha pays well because after today, I will have nothing.

So where would one go to find Misha? What does his court, or house, or throne or whatever he speaks from look like?

[Deadly]

Misha gave Johann a brief nod. "Da. One moment, I will be right out." He rolled up the window, turned to the smiling Dorian, and lifted him out of his chair by his shirt, claws of metal and bone resting pointedly on the man's chest.

"Many apologies. I must go, and you have wasted all your time with jokes. Now, talking is over." He growled. "I want you to swear to me now, by all you hold dear, that you will not bring our Vera to harm. Or else I will fill your life with misery and woe."

[Rolling to Go Aggro on Dorian: [roll0] Swear that he will not bring Vera to harm, or else face reprisals. Not Harm here and now, but unspecified bad times later.]

You and your men are so busy with Dorian, you don't notice the stench until it's nearly choking you. It's a stench so foul it slips right through the mask and leaves you feeble and sick. There's only one thing you know of that reeks like that: Taxman. You've neglected your payments, and in your distraction, Taxman has slipped right under your nose. Already you can tell it's bad; maybe it's the smell, maybe it's your intuition, but somehow you know ... Taxman has taken Vera as his due.

There's also Johann, who wouldn't have disturbed you if it wasn't important. But you can't deal with both personally.

What do you do?