The Puppeteer's Praxes (open)

[Wilfred]

OOC: things might go easier if we keep time constant in this thread, and I'll try and make sure time does progress tangibly. I'm just worried about running each person at a different point in time, and losing control of that. Feel free to drop out for a few posts if you want your characters to wait, or perhaps have them follow up other leads. And Solar, the warehouse is only a couple of streets behind Glofir's shop; if Kit has already found the entrance, it should only take a few minutes to get there (and judging by dialogue, the mission brief with Glofir didn't take very long, so it shouldn't be any later than early afternoon). I will try and be clearer on such things as location in the future.

Solar Haven

It appeared that the scraps of paper which cluttered the warehouse floor had been put down gradually, going so far in places as to form reams of mildewed, slightly damp strata. A keen mind might be able to deduce the age of the building from a detailed study of the layers, but that was not what the duo were there for. Although it was fairly dark in the warehouse, a few beams of light made their way through the cracked roof. One fell upon a side bench, up against a wall, on which sat - conveniently - a handheld lantern and accompanying tinderbox. There were also a few tankards, all quite empty.

Most of the paper revealed nothing of apparent use; 'K at III s, null. One hundred', said one, and another, 'Getting cramped. Saw a neighbour, not sure if snake or rabbit.' A third one claimed that 'R doubled - tighten purse instead.' The freshest piece of paper was tacked to a warped wooden beam, and simply said 'R seen buying tavern steel. Bring seamstresses tonight?'

The footprints were another matter. The area appeared to be frequently trafficked, for an abandoned building, with said footprints converging behind the barrels at the foot of a sturdy old trapdoor. Unlike the exposed elements of the warehouse, its wood and iron remained strong, almost as strong as the massive padlock holding it closed. It was clear that the trapdoor was not only meant to remain shut, but would succeed in doing so.

Aurelius

"We-ell," drawled the guardsman, "I reckon there might be a way to get you in for a bit of a chat..."

His bushy brow furrowed as a plan began to stew away behind it. The promise of gold was doing all the work for Aurelius, as plain as day. Unknown to many except the guard - since there was little reason to care - the captain was something of a social climber and narcissist. The elements of an idea slid together for the guardsman, aided by the grease of liquor.

"We had a bloke come 'round a year or two ago, wanting to write a book. 'e said people like to read about murders." The guardsman shrugged, as though the prospect of bloody death was just another part of the routine. "The captain was quite chuffed, what with his name all over the cover and that. What I reckon, is if it worked once, it'll work again. Yeah, say you're here to interview the bastard - Wilcher, that is - for a story about his, uh, heroic arrest, and the, yeah, the rapid response of Serenti's finest."

The guard beamed at his own ingenuity. Then he frowned again. "You know how to write, yeah?"

[Prophet]

With a flash, Xaxan arrived in the center of Glofir's shop, smiling and humming an eerie tune.

"Well, Master Glofir. I shall be off to persue those mages i mentioned earlier. I think they may have a few answers to our current dilemma"

The old man turned and nodded at him, and then tossed a small hand mirror to Xaxan.

"Tap the frame a few times and it'll link with mine. It should last for about a week, then ill need to make more"

Xaxan smiled, murmured his thanks and pulled out a cigarette, he lit it quickly and walked out, taking in a lungful of the smoke and walking down the street to an old tavern. He went in and talked to the innkeeper for a few minutes, mentioning something about mages, a visit, and some unintended consequences. He frowned for a second before letting one of his fingers catch flame, and pressed it to the bar, setting it on fire and looking at the innkeeper.

"I would rather not burn down this inn, i like your food. Let me speak to them!"

The woman stood tall until he lit her bar on fire, she then shied away, she said meekly

"Room Nine, down the hall, up the stairs, and to the left, it's hard to miss. Please knock, i tried to go in and lost my eyebrows. And i work hard to keep this thing up and running, and not a pile of ash...."

The Prophet waved his hand over the fire and it dissipated, leaving only a scorch mark. He smiled and tipped her before walking to the room and pounding on the door with his staff. "Let me in Xarin, i know you and your brother are in there, and you know who it is!" He smiled as he thought of the prospect and shifted into his Eredar form, then adopted a face of firm indifference, with a hint of anger, he allowed his eyes to flare and took off his lenses, then stuck them in his coat. With a flourish, he lit his hands on fire.

He heard a scuffle inside as they tried to escape the window and found out that he sealed all windows before he came in, then the door opened as a younger magus stood in front of him, looking up at his face. "Xaxan... Why do you come this day?"

[Krausus]

Sirius continued to drink while Glofir talked. And talked. Twas rather dreary. He finally perked up once everyone left. Finishing more tea he set down the cup and smiled while standing

"Well, me and Shade are off to follow up the leads on the potion. Do you have spare money for the carriage? I spent my gold on horse feed."

Waiting expectantly for an answer, Sirius pulled out another puzzle cube and twisted it around. Quickly trying to solve it he kept working as Glofir kept scratching away at his books.

[Wilfred]

Xaxan & Sirius

The afternoon had begun to wear on, the shadows growing longer and its light a bit more red, when Glofir was struck by the thought that he should have paid more attention to what the Eredar had been saying.

"Mages?" he asked the empty air. "I don't remember him mentioning anything about mages. Hmm..."

His mind was somewhere distant, but not so far away as to completely ignore Sirius. While he cogitated, he pulled a few coins from his pocket and placed them on the table before Sirius. Then he looked down at the map which Xaxan had marked, shrugged, and muttered something to himself. He lifted his beady little eyes back up to Sirius. "Ale houses and such are a good source of news, as far as I understand. I don't have much hope that we'll learn anything new from gossip, but keep your ears peeled just the same."

[Wilfred]

I'm going to try and keep this rolling, so I'm forcing time forward again to catch up with Aurelius. I think he's waited long enough. Solar, feel free to keep posting. Hell, the same goes for everyone

The day grew, wilted, faded, and disappeared below the horizon, dragging its burnished copper skies with it. In its place, the nebulous dome burned gently with stars and half moon, white and cold above. The ocean breeze rolled in warm from the memory of the sun's rays upon waters at sea. Although the streets were lit by lamps, their warm yellow touch a counterpoint to the moon's stark silver, they mostly graced empty roads and boulevards. There were scant few citizens who had business outside at night, and most were preparing themselves for their beds.

Except for two figures, unheeded in the shadow of the watch house...

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Aurelius sneered softly, looking at the guard. Aye, in about twenty languages, mate, he thought. Granted, the vast majority of those had never been spoken on Althanas.. or this plane of reality for that matter. Still, he was a fast study when it came to linguistics- a strange knack many planewalkers picked up in their travels - and after his three years on this world, had learned many of their tongues.

The tiefling reached into the leather satchel he always wore under his coat, ignoring Junior as he stirred, hoping the flying foetus wouldn't flap out and give the game away. Thankfully, it squirmed a little then fell back asleep. The plane-touched took out one of the many notebooks he scrawled in regularly, and a quill, smiling to the guard; then, with a flourish, he took out the witch-hunter's hat from back in Salvar and sat it on his quilled head. The wide brim hid the better part of his demonic features from sight.

"Lead on," he gestured.

***

The captain's office was.. "lavishly decorated", Aurelius supposed the man would call it. Looks bloody gaudy to me, he mused, thinking back to the parlour of Agnie Lars (an acquaintance of his). She'd pikin' love this place. It was all the Anarchist could do to restrain himself from burning it to the ground.

"And you say I would receive compensation for every copy of the book sold?" smiled the older man behind the ornate oak table, stroking his oiled and immaculately trimmed beard.

This was even easier than the plane-touched had dared to hope.

"Oh yes sir, most definitely," the tiefling lied effortlessly, keeping his head low; the old berk mistook it for 'proper respect for one's betters'. Aurelianus saw it as keeping his half-breed heritage hidden from another of Corone's finest. So far, the middle-aged sod had been too busy picturing the fame and glory he would reap with his name printed in a book, detailing his, as Aurelius had phrased it, "noble capture of a most heinous criminal".

The captain checked his appearance for the umpteenth time in a small mirror inlaid into the table-top. He licked the tip of his ring-laden pinky and used it to smooth down one of his eyebrows.

"Well, mister.."

"Coran, sir. Redin Coran," Aurelius smirked. It amazed him at times how easy it was to make himself sound meek.

"Well, mister Coran, I believe we can accommodate your request."

The fanged grin widened under the shadow of the witch-hunter's hat.

[Tad_MacLaren]

((Do you have a tense preference? I'm seeing mostly past so I'll try to stay consistent))

Spying a door hanging slightly ajar, Tad poked his head in, to see what he could see. After moment for his eyes to adjust from the sunlight, he grinned to himself at the sight of the shop within. The wee lad slipped through the door, padding softly on bare feet. Once inside the building, he darted from table to shelf, inspecting the treasures on display. He wrinkled his nose and made a face after poking his head into a barrel of unknown, likely unmentionable origin.
"Euuuw, Tha's icky!" he exclaimed to no one in particular.

After a haphazard inspection of the front of the store, Tad wandered up he wide staircase to the rear portion of the room. He smiled at the old man, then ducked his head under the table and grinned at the dog.
"Hallo! he said, seemingly to the dog rather than the man.

[Solar Haven]

Adonis dropped his hand to his side, full of old parchment. This parchment was so old, and there was no foot prints coming to this side of the warehouse.

”This stuff is of no use, there hasn't been anyone on this side of the warehouse in forever” Adonis thought as he looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, as a gust of wind blew through the open doorway. When he opened his eyes and looked back down in front of him he took note of the lantern and tinderbox, thinking to himself if he ever has to head down some where dark he would come back for it.

On the opposite side of the damp warehouse, Adonis heard kit make a noise, as he headed to the other side of the warehouse he passed a note that seemed to be pinned to the wall. Adonis stopped and carefully took the parchment from the wall and stacked it on top of the other's in his hand and quickly scanned over it.

'R seen buying tavern steel. Bring seamstresses tonight?'

“Hmm, I wonder what this could mean. Maybe the old man would know something about this” Adonis mumbled to himself as he heard Kit make another noise. “Alright, Alright. I am on my way, what have you found boy?” Adonis said as he pushed the pieces of parchment into his pebble pouch on his belt.

Kit was sniffing cautiously at a sturdy Trapdoor in the floor, made of iron and wood. Voices could be heard with his Fox ear's, too quiet and far away for Adonis to pick up on.

[Wilfred]

Aurelius - I appreciate that you are making an effort to shorten your posts, but is there any chance you could cut them down a little more? Cheers.

The watch house cells were stout, brick-lined things. Each room was little larger than a closet with a cot, a bucket, a grill, and a heavy iron door. The captain rammed the viewing slot open and, lifting his lantern up to the rectangle, squinted into the darkness. Then he closed it up, and nodded to the guard which Aurelius had run into at the gate. Said guard approached the door, a heavy keyring in his meaty grip.

The captain was vain, but not entirely stupid. He'd called in three more guardsmen off their break, all of whom stood a little way back towards the exit. None of them seemed too pleased to have their free time interrupted.

The door swung open to reveal a disheveled figure sitting on the bed. His black hair was matted with blood, and a few of his fingers appeared to be bent at odd angles. What's more, he was covered from head to toe in bruises. The man raised two bloodshot eyes to the group outside, and blinked against the light.

Tad - no tense preference here. That sort of thing is usually entirely up to you

Wilfred's tail wagged a few times, then he rose up on all fours and padded over. The dog pressed his cold nose against Tad's knees as he circled around, and his tail continued to swing back and forth. Glofir, meanwhile, put down his pen and peered imperiously over the table's edge.

"Well now", said the old man. "Isn't it a bit late for you to be up and about?"

Although his tone was questioning, he slid the platter of scones towards the lad. They had somehow retained their odour, although it contrasted with the fumes released from the barrel of fermented slugs which Tad had opened up just before.

Solar Haven

The area around the trapdoor seemed to be much more heavily traversed. Boot prints covered the dusty floor, most of which had left a stain upon the wooden boards. A closer inspection also yielded one more set of boot prints which, rather than heading to the warehouse's main floor, disappeared out to the side of the building towards a small, almost hidden little side door. Although locked for whatever reason, the latch was on the inside of the warehouse, and so provided no obstacle. Presumably, it would lead to the moonlit alleyway beyond.

[Tad_MacLaren]

Tad giggled at the cold wetness of Wilfred's nose as he reached out to scratch the dog behind its ears. Glancing up at he old man he replied "Nuh Uh, I's not tired at all!". Tad's eyes lit up at the sight (and smell!) of the proffered scones, so he climbed into a chair and stuffed one of them into his mouth as if he hadn't eaten all day.

"I likes your doggie, whas his name?" the lad asked around a mouthful of scone.