The Puppeteer's Praxes (open)

[Wilfred]

Post away! This thread will remain open during its entirety. You can also find the OOC thread discussing this thread here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25627-The-Puppeteer-s-Praxes).


Cadling Road meanders gently downhill towards the coast, situated at the base of a slope on the landward edge of the city. This affords a fleeting glimpse of the dappled ocean here and there, peeking out from between buildings and peering over terracotta-tiled roofs. The street is wide enough for two carriages to travel abreast over its well-swept cobbles, and is lined with a variety of middle class shops; book stores, butchers, a couple of ironmongers, a number of tailors and so on - the lifeblood of the bourgeoisie. It is midday, and the city of Serenti has emptied much of its populace to the coast in search of fish and pearls. Those who remain amble leisurely through the near-vacant streets, enjoying the sun and the quiet in their own time.

Every few minutes, one walks past a dark-windowed, two-storeyed shop on Cadling Road, without giving it much attention. To those looking for food and sundries, there is nothing of interest there. But to those who have found the flyers calling for help, this is their destination.

Should one walk up the few steps outside and through the door, they would be met by the jingle of a bell, and a softly-lit, cluttered interior. The front half of the shop is dissected by waist-height book shelves, display tables, and barrels of strange-smelling goods. The rear half, away from the street, is elevated by a couple of feet and separated by rich, mahogany balustrades. A wide staircase ascends through the middle to the upper landing. Taller bookshelves line the rear wall here, and a couple of chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Two alabaster statues, carved from shining marble, stand in contemplative poses against opposite walls. The only real sign of life in the empty shop is a wizened old man at a long table to the side of the stairs, scratching away at a ledger with his quill, peering intently at the paper through round spectacles as ink flicks intermittently into his long, bushy white beard.

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

The door to the small building opened, a bell above the door tinkling musically in the still air. The man sitting behind the small table a the edge of the dull room looked up to see who had strolled in.. and did a double-take as he saw the thing standing in the doorway. It wore a knee-length coat of blackest leather, light glinting against dozens of buckles across the garment. Underneath, just visible in the gloomy room, he wore what looked like a harness of blades and spikes. Everything about him screamed sharp.

Then a true abomination flapped in the door and landed on the.. man's shoulder. It looked like someone had taken a foetus, and sewn a pair of wings to it's back, before mutilating it in a dozen other ways. He would never know how accurate that guess was. The man behind the table swallowed thickly.

The tall, pale half-man stared straight back at the human, his slit pupils narrowing in the cold yellow irises. It.. he ran a hand over the shaved sides of his head, still sporting the bloody-red crest down the centre of his head. The short, balding man in the chair shifted uncomfortably, obviously not wanting to be the first to break the silence, but the thing standing before him seemed to be enjoying his discomfort. The horned man reached into his coat and took out a silver case, taking a hand-rolled cigarette out as his eyes roamed the room.

Rumours around Corone had been buzzing lately with all sorts of talk about the events going on here in Serenti; it was like there was a creeping madness seeping into the bones of the coastal city, turning honest citizens into maniacs, making pillars of the community go on vicious killing sprees. Perhaps that was why this creature had come. Finally, it turned his attention back to the man and smiled.

"You the one offerin' jink for chant on the murders?" it smirked a razor-edged smile, lighting the cigarette with a tiny flare of black fire from his palm.

The man blinked. "Um.. e-excuse me?"

[Wilfred]

Oh, no you don't. You're not intimidating this old geezer quite so easily, Aur :P


The man gave a dry cough. "Oh, do excuse me - I just finished macerating the newts. The dust tends to give me a bit of a tickle."

He blinked again, and squinted through his gold-rimmed spectacles at his guest. Then, satisfied that his eyes weren't deceiving him, the old man relaxed back in to his seat. "You didn't just come out of the basement, did you? Only, Wilfred tends to widdle on the magic circles, the little devil. Just last week I had a Baatezu making a racket down there for three days. Wait - murders?" The man stopped his rapid-fire rant, and slapped his forehead. "Of course! How silly of me. I'm sorry, I've been a bit tired lately. As you can imagine. Please, have a seat."

He gestured at one of the wooden seats opposite him at the table, and it slid smoothly out across the decorative rug by itself.

"You certainly look the part. I would recommend keeping an eye on your... pet, however. Tea?"

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

I was going for incomprehension of the accent and appearance, cutter, not fear. :P

Aurelius smirked to himself, liking the old bloke already. He took the seat offered, not questioning how the greybeard had moved it.

He waved a hand at the offer of tea, rummaging through his pockets before producing a small ivory flask with a flourish. "I'm already covered there, cutter," he smiled, tipping his flask in salute to the old man before taking a healthy swig. He didn't say a word about the Baatezu, but a small, wry grin touched his lips. Evidently he wasn't the only hellspawn from his old haunt in this neck of the woods. That would require some investigation...

Junior scurried down its master's arm, settling back on its tiny, pale haunches on the table top. It hissed a greeting to the ink-stained old scribe, the stitched shut eyes seeing him as clearly as the old man saw it. Curling its wings around it like a shroud, it settled down.

"So," the warlock started, tapping one fingertip against the table, "tell me more about these murders."

He leaned back in the chair, sucking in another lungful of smoke from the cigarette held between his lips.

[Krausus]

After three and a half days of wandering. And getting lost on the way to the shop he was looking for, Sirius finally found the two story building.

He tripped in, stumbled over his ankle length coat. After knocking over a few trinkets he hopped back to his feet and gave a smile as he smoothed down his frazzled hair. "I heard something about murders. "

When the man motioned for him to sit down, Sirius noticed that quill headed man he had encountered in a bar in that mining town. "Good, other than your- woeful entrance, i think you look the type. " Sirius settled down in his chair as the old man who had written the flyers was offering tea to the demon-man.

"Sir. Not to interrupt but, can we cut to the chase? I would rather love to have some fun"

As Sirius was saying all of this he had forgotten that he had no idea why he was actually here. He had only heard the "murders occurring, report to shop in this area" part.

"Actually, scratch that, and do you have coffee?"

[Prophet]

The Prophet had seen too much for many eyes but as he walked into the store and Looked around picking up books, the wizened looking old man sitting in the back looked at him like he had seen his type before.

"I heard and saw the murders. The flyers told me to come here "The Third Eye" right?"

The old man nodded as his eyes widened, he gawked at the small dragon that had just flew in. He perched on the man's shoulder and looked at the shop.

"Ah, Stormfire, good. Sir, I am Xaxan Ju-Nix'Tahn-Vaylk Horninx Asho Von Exuon. Better known as Prophet. This is my Dragon, Stormfire. Stormfire, say hello."

The dragon raised a clawed paw and almost waved. Xaxan walked up to the desk and looked at the man, he was pulling out some tea supplies from his desk when he looked up and saw Xaxan standing over him. He startles for a second before motioning to a chair which slid out of it's own accord. He smiled.

"Why, hello sir. Would you like some tea? But, please take a seat. It is so rude to leave my guest standing."

The Prophet sat down and took a cup of tea which had somehow heated up, he sipped it and looked at the man. Old, with the bushy beard. He had ink slops on his hands and beard but he ignored those.

"I heard about some murders"

[Wilfred]

"Still waking up, are we?" chuckled the old man to Sirius. "I can get you some coffee, but it's a bit early in the day for fun. At least, it is for me."

He closed the ledger and slid it towards the centre of the felt-topped table. The green fabric had a precisely-marked border chalked in about two inches from the edge, which the fellow rested his fingers upon. He began to tap upon the surface is a complicated tattoo, but halted part-way through.

"Would you mind extracting your, uh, your familiar from the table?", he asked of Aurelius, as the chalk outline began to glow. "I had a friend lose his tortoise in this thing a few years back. Still haven't found it, which is something of a concern whenever I use this table. Gods know where it's gotten to by now. Probably not very far."

He resumed his drumming after the short delay. The white border flashed, and the shadows of the table's contents faded out. A new set of items faded in - a small journal, a city map, an inkpot and quill, several spare sheaves of paper, and a silver coffee set.

"My name is Glofir Tormund", he said, pouring fresh coffee through a strainer and into a single porcelain cup. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Xaxan. And...?", he finished, giving the tiefling and Sirius an expectant look.

[Krausus]

Sirius took the coffee and sipped it deeply. Turning to the old man he said

"Sirius Willfire, Blind Blade, The Equinoxian, so on"

He looked at the table as the new items appeared. He sipped his coffee again.

"And if you dare attack me you will not be happy, tiefling. Even if it was a past life, I remember you."

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Aurelius complied with Glofir's request, taking another draw from his cigarette as he hissed to his familiar. The albino foetus took to the air, perching on his shoulder with a savage hiss at the other two people that had entered after him. It gnashed tiny needle fangs at the pair, the tiny scalpels that made its fingers stroking the thick leather of its master's coat.

One of the addle-coves said something to him, but Aurelius wasn't here to mark every word that came from some leatherhead's mouth- he considered just setting the wanker on fire.. but it wasn't worth the effort. He claimed to recognise the half-demon, but the warlock didn't particularly care.

"Piss off," he sneered at the mouthy little sod, not turning his eyes away from Tormund.

The Cager kept his serpentine eyes locked on the old man, intrigued by the taste of lingering magick in the air- the old cutter was a spellslinger, which meant he might even have a few trinkets lying about that the half-breed could.. liberate. He blew a thin stream of smoke from his nostrils, swallowing another mouthful of T'keela, turning the possibilities over and over in his brain-box. For now, he would focus on the murders, and get some jink in his pockets. Then he could focus on larceny.

"Pleased to meet you, mate," he smiled amiably to the old man, not deigning to acknowledge the other two sods more than he already had. He finished his cigarette, stubbing it out on the sole of his hobnailed boot, and sticking the butt away in one of his many coat pockets- he could have just dumped it on the floor, but the old cutter kept a nice kip, and Aurelius was smart enough to keep in the man's good books until he was paid for his work.

He effortlessly slipped into using the Infernal language, native tongue of Baator. If the old man knew about Baatezu, there was every chance he knew the language of the Nine Hells. The tiefling didn't want the other two knowing his name.. didn't want anyone knowing his name. Not after the mayhem he had caused up north in Radasanth; the warlock was still a wanted man.

"You can call me Aurelianus," he said quietly, hissing the sentence in a language no-one else on Althanas (Glofir aside, he hoped) would know.

[Prophet]

After some time, a cup of tea, and no small amount of discussion about the killings and the afflictions causing them. Xaxan looked up and noticed he was still in his Eredar form, he sstood up and looked at Glofir.

"Eugh, this simply wont do. Excuse me sir. I must depart for a second. I would rather not set you fair shop on fire..."

He walked outside and with a flourish of fire, his features changed. His nose grew, his hair thinned, his skin lost it's red tint and gained one of a tea shade. He stretched and allowed his hands to be bathed in flame, cleaning them slightly. He walked back into the shop and let his dragon climb back up to his shoulder.

He sipped his tea as he said calmly

"Good, now where are these brutal murders taking place?"

[Wilfred]

It has come to my attention that I should have clarified certain points about this thread. Please check here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25627-The-Puppeteer-s-Praxes&p=209657&viewfull=1#post209657) for details.


"Everywhere. That's the thing, really, although the murders were just the most recent development", said Glofir, leaning back with his fingers entwined about a fresh cup of tea. "However, I am sure that more, mm, contractors are due to arrive soon. I would prefer to wait until then before I touch upon these recent disturbances in depth - lest I have to go through it all again."

He took a sip, and smiled. "Besides, aren't you interested in meeting your prospective colleagues?"

[Prophet]

I might be inactive for a bit tomorrow and the next few days after that. Feel free to puppet me wherever we go.

"Sure, why not."

The Prophet leaned back into his chair and pulled out a small vial and pulled out the stopper. The ivory liquid flowed out into his hand and formed into a tube. The Prophet took out a tube of ink and inserted it into a hole at the top and let some flow onto the tip of the pen. He pulled out a pad of paper and started scratching away.

"Murders-Unknown cause-Will be discussed-Time-Broad daylight."

He stopped for a second and looked at it for a second before putting the paper away and putting the pen in one of the inside pockets of his coat.

"So, we shall wait."

He sipped his tea again and closed his eyes, if you could call flaming sockets eyes, humming an odd tune.

[Wilfred]

As Prophet's melody carried on, the shop remained stubbornly empty of all save the four already there. Glofir develop a slight frown, and checked the time on a tall grandfather clock at the back wall with increasing frequency. The candles in the chandeliers and sconces flickered and ran down ever so slightly as the time passed. At last, Glofir seemed to have had enough.

"Well, that is disappointing. One wonders where people's sense of civic duty is these days. Oh well", he finished with a sigh. "I'll not keep you waiting any longer. Let us begin."

The old fellow grabbed the quill, dipped it in a pot of scarlet ink, and began marking points on the map. "The three murders were performed by one Terry Wilcher, in the western part of the city, here. Apparently, he took a knife with him to the street market and stabbed three people in broad daylight. It was this case which fostered my involvement."

Glofir took another sip of tea, and ceased his penmanship long enough to tap the silver platter of the coffee set with his quill. A couple of plates of scones appeared, along with a small pot of whipped cream and a jar of strawberry jam. "Please, help yourself", he invited. Glofir himself began applying a liberal amount of jam to one of the scones before he continued with their business. "Terry's family are old friends. I never really knew the lad myself, but by all accounts, this was completely out of character, and apparently, he claimed to have no memory of the incident.

"It all clicked for me just then - the thefts, the assaults. I had heard the same thing, that what these people did was so unexpected for them. Gentlemen, I suspect these are no ordinary travesties. There may be some exogenous force, here."

[Hu]

Hu Tian had just about given up trying to work out where she was. Two facts followed her wherever she went. One, she was immortal. So if anything bad happened to her, it would not be bad for long. Two, she was going to have to get used to all of this pig shit and fantasy film set stuff sooner or later…

“So why not have fun?” she clucked. She had asked herself that question roughly thirty times on her trek across the city.

It had not given her any comfort. She had awoken in a ditch, more or less, and stumbled out into a busy market place. Clothes dishevelled, hair eschew, and heart racing, she had waited in a tavern for the evening to get coin to find clothes, hide them away for return trips, and get her bearings. Every time she came to wherever here was, she landed in a completely different city.

When she finally came to the correct door referred to in the advertisement, she straightened herself out. She pulled back her jet back hair into a knot, and tied it with a scrap of blue cloth. Despite the magic, the people of the world had yet to invent hair bands. She dusted her lapel, she checked her notepad and ‘quill’ were in the satchel she had ‘acquired’, and then put out a dainty fist.

“Hello?” she shouted, as the sound of her knocking rang through the dusty windowed building.

She looked down at her feet, compiled her thoughts, and leant some thought to the task. People were dropping dead all over the city, and Hu Tian was very good at finding out why.

[Wilfred]

Glofir peered out at the disheveled woman looking in. "The door is open, miss", he called out.

While Hu Tian dealt with the onerous task of entering the shop, the wizard rubbed his eyes wearily. "If you have questions about any of this, please feel free to ask them as they come up."

[Solar Haven]

Adonis had read the poster up on the wall and was intrigued enough to check out the shop were this was taking place. After all he couldn't stand any one murdering anything. he wanted to see if he could resolve this peacefully if he could, even though it may come down to bloodshed in the end. So he left in search of the Shop only to find it once a few people had arrived.

Seeing the present company inside, Adonis couldn't help but feel unnerved, he didn't like being in a room full of people he didn't know, let alone converse with them. so he found an open window and put his back against the wall nearby. Adonis had spent the last few minute's waiting outside the little shop, listening in on the conversation. At the mention of the Murderers not remembering the attack at all, a question sprang into his mind. Forgetting that he was just listening in on the conversation, instead of partaking in it he quickly blurt out.

"Was there any powerful Wind Magic used in the Vicinity? i read that all mind control magic derives from the wind element mostly, but branching off from there" He then continued to further justify his question "If magic was used, all we have to do is try and track down this mage that has a great affinity with the wind element. and if there was no magic used. it may be a substance they drank or ate, so if we were to locate any place that all of them ate or drank at, we would have a stronger place to start. After all these people can't be chosen at complete random, can they?"

[Krausus]

Sirius looked thoughtfully at the map for a minute then said

"What are the relations of the three people killed? Class? Power?"

He took a scone and put some jam on it before continuing

"If. We find a pinpoint relationship between the three victims, we could reasonably assume that the killer, in his delusion was killing specific people."

He then stood up and started pacing up and down the length of the desk, muttering things amount complex equations and special chemichals only found in the mines. That induce erratic behavior

"Ah-ha! Maybe, just maybe, there is a chemichal i heard of from a magus a few weeks back. He said it induces erratic behavior in the imbiber. So i would agree with this Adonis fellow, and say we find the place they all ate last."

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

"As for your mind control theory, mate, not all of it stems from elemental roots. Different planes, different sources of magick. Hell," he said, looking over his shoulder at the man perched over by the window, "it changes from sod to sod - material components, chants, incantations, invocations, somatic components, willpower.." he shrugged, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture to indicate the list went on and on. He was a walking example of this.

But 'e might be on to somethin' with trackin' any magicks used. The tiefling licked his fangs, keeping his thoughts to himself. It might be beneficial for him to look up any scryers in the area who could trace any lingering remains... He could consider that line of thought after he'd visited the sites and had a look-see himself.

Aurelius sighed, shaking his head softly - something else was bugging him. These people - the ones he'd already dismissed as beneath him, and the two others- were overlooking one very simple possibility.

"Who says this sod isn't just picking his victims at random?" he asked, lighting another cigarette from inside his coat. Blowing a cloud of smoke, he decided to ignore the muttering twat strolling the room. He turned his attention back to the map, his yellow eyes narrowing slightly as he committed the locations of the murder to memory. Junior chirped from his shoulder, shaking its wings as it stretched. It didn't understand anything that was being said, so occupied itself rubbing its scalpel fingers together with a soft *shikking* noise.

"Some addle-coves find out they 'ave a shiny new power, first thing they do is go on a spree."

A smirk spread across his face.

"That's what I'd do."

[Prophet]

"Hmph, 5000 years on your own would do you wonders...."

Xaxan glared at the the half-breed for a second, he then said.

"Well, it is nearing dusk and i must go. Please, make a copy of that map tomorrow.

The Prophet turned around and the turned back around.

"Oh, and you know how to get to me if you need me. But i cant come until dawn."

He then walked out of the door, waved and vanished.

Prophet's Tomb
"Eugh. Murders, senses, Hells, all of it makes sense but it doesnt. "

Xaxan sat down on the bed and pried Stormfire off his shoulder. He took out his pen and started scratching away again, writing down details and analyzing the facts.

"Lets see. Out of nature. That's what's bothering me. I have no idea why they are doing this. Only three traces of magic, that a two year old mage stuck in a pot at the bottom of the ocean could sense. They are sporadic. And they seem to be committed by one or two people. Never the same one twice in a row though....... Strange."

[Hu]

The moment she crossed the threshold, Hu wished she had not. The conversation was addling enough to her otherworldly mind, but the strange array of ‘individual’s’ that had gathered in support of solving the crime blew her cam entirely. She glanced at each member in turn, holding back the urge to ask just what, and why, and whom, and what-the-fuck-are-they-for? The latter question reserved for the red-skinned creature she could only describe as an oni.

“I…don’t know anything about magic,” she sputtered. She bit back her tongue, checking that it was okay to speak, and when she saw that everyone was looking at her, she continued all the same. “I do know murders, though.” She wagged a finger, and moved closer into the naturally forming circle. “There won’t be a trait binding them, it’ll be a cause…perhaps, just perhaps, an ideology. What sort of thing would bring people together to kill?”

She thought back to early China, and again, to the communist regime, and frowned.

“Rebellion, terrorism, and guilt, perhaps?” She shrugged non-chalant.

[Wilfred]

Prophet, please be careful about powerplaying. Nothing in Xaxan's profile suggests that he would be able to sense and pinpoint magic sources at any point in the city; something like that might require another ability altogether.

Glofir smiled gently to himself as he prepared more dishes for his guests. "All are good suggestions", he remarked, although he gave the tiefling a slightly concerned look. "I, personally suspect magic - but I have not confirmed that. We would do well not to rule anything out without the strength of further evidence. Please, have a seat, miss. And sir, you may come inside the shop, if you wish", he finished, addressing the last point to Adonis.

More refreshments materialised with a flick of the old man's hand, and he continued to speak in a weary voice. "This is precisely why I need help. I am currently busy adding to the list of cases - from what I see, the dispersal is random, the victims, quite average. So far, the only pattern I have noticed is that the incidents have become more and more serious with time. Gossip" - Glofir said the word with a mild look of disgust - "suggests that it all started quite innocuously. The earliest instance which I am reasonably sure is related to all this occurred three months ago. Wilfred, down."

Glofir seemed to be speaking to his knees towards the end. There was a low, dejected groan and huff underneath the table, then the wizard resumed his briefing. "If you believe there is an avenue worth investigating, please go ahead. But in order to qualify for payment, I will need you to do some things in particular. First, I don't want quick answers - I want the right ones. Evidence is your friend. If your current theories don't line up with the evidence, then drop them. Second, I will need someone to go to the watch house and see if they can get an interview with Mr Wilcher. The guard are being their usual unmotivated selves, and have not deigned to bother with such a thing for such an 'open and shut' case. Third, I need to know what happened three months ago. What we are seeing now are the ripples in the water - I need you to find me the stone which caused them. Otherwise, please pursue your own suggestions - I should like answers to those, as well. Is it magic? Is it poison? Something else, perhaps? Oh, and who would like some more tea?"

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

The half-breed let the information he'd just received bounce around inside his brain-box, trying to tumble to a solution. The fact the crimes were escalating told him one thing - if it was magick, whoever had the power to make these things happen was learning how to use it, how to control it. The implications of such a thing were vast.. and the warlock smiled darkly to himself.

He wanted it for himself.

But, as the old man said, they would require evidence to uncover the dark of it. The tiefling barely spared a glance for the tan-skinned addle-cove as he bid them farewell and buggered off. Less of them that stick about, more jink goes to me, he reasoned, idly stroking the back of Junior's albino head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the chit who had entered the store. The Cager perked up almost imperceptibly - the tiefling could practically smell another plane on the girl. He stored that little nugget away in his brain-box, to be assessed later.

Turning his quilled head to glance over the rest of the bodies assembled in the room, the half-demon noticed none of them were jumping at the chance to go interview the murderer. He smirked to himself realising his own reluctance - he was most likely the best possible person in the room to recognise a willing murderer, but if he were to go see the cutter in question, the one arrested for the last three slayings, it would mean talking to this burg's local law-dogs. With his currently wanted status, that was not an avenue Aurelius wanted to dive into... but.. then again, there was no reason the law-dogs had to know he was there.

"I'll talk to the leather'ead in the birdcage," he volunteered, blowing twin streams of smoke out of his nostrils as he spoke. "I know 'ow to get my way, so the lazy bastard guards ain't a problem."

The old man nodded, stroking his ink-spotted beard thoughtfully, casting a curious eye over the leather-clad gutternsipe sitting at his table. Aurelianus took another shot from his ivory flask before asking his final question.

"Anything else we should know 'fore we get started, cutter?"

[Krausus]

He turned once to see the old mage, if that was what he is, and then took another scone biting into it, chewed and swallowed. He then sat down, took a swig of tea. And looked at the map for a minute.

"Anyways. Lets see. So we have various murders. Committed by various people. Induced by god knows what. And we are to hunt these people down. Find out what happened to them and report to you. "

He turned pointedly to the door as his ferret came back with a small pouch.

"Master Glofir, if you wish, i found this Non admodum simplex apparatus."

He took out a small device that involved multiple springs levers and buttons, made of brass and tossed it to the old man.

"Its something, i have no idea what. Keep it as compensation for these delicious snacks, now, shall we all get going to where we need to be? It seems they're becoming more common so i say. Might as well go while the going is good."

[Solar Haven]

Adonis let out a smirk as he pushed himself further against the wall, he was quite fine out here. he wasn't forced to look at anyone, or to socialize in this manner. However the scariest looking of the bunch did adress something that Adonis had never thought of, Magic didn't have to stem from the 4 basic elements. Adonis thought that this could be a possibility, but all his encounter's had proven otherwise. Kit returned from his little exploration mission and patted at Adonis' Leg trying to get his attention.

"What is it boy?" Adonis knelt down and stroked the top of his familar's head, Kit seemed excited and wanted to show Adonis something "Ok, show me where to go boy" Adonis said as he picked up his little familar and placed it on his shoulder. He was contemplating telling them he would return when he had more information, but decided that would be self explanatory and he headed off where Kit kept his nose pointed"

[Wilfred]

Glofir accepted the strange little device from Sirius. "Curious. You shall have to tell me where you acquired this, some time.

"Before you go, there are indeed a couple more things", Glofir continued, giving Aurelius a pointed look. "If the guard won't give you what we need, then I absolve myself of any, mm, clandestine actions you feel compelled to take. If you are caught, it is on your own head. But I - and, ergo, your pay - would appreciate it if you kept violence to a minimum. In any case, there's no reason why more than one of you cannot interview Mr Wilcher."

At this point, the man procured a stack of small, handheld mirrors from the table, and placed them on the map. "I have made these devices to allow for communication. Just give them a few taps like so", and here he drummed his fingers in a simple pattern upon the bronze rim of one, "and it will open up a link with mine." He fished another, slightly older looking mirror out of his pocket. The reflections on both, however, appeared to have swapped. Glofir swiveled his own device around in demonstration, but the image in that one stayed fixed, while that in the mirror on the table began to oscillate.

"Please help yourself to one. They should have enough power to last a week or so. I believe that was the last thing I wanted to mention, so if you would like to get to work, please go ahead. Otherwise, I can spare a few more minutes here."

[Prophet]

"Oh, a bird on a branch sings of the secret of love. Oh there's nonsense crying over every mistake;You just keep on tying till you run out of cake. Because i used to want kill you but now i only want you gone. And so the science got done and you made a nifty gun for all those people who seemed to survive!"

Some amount later. As the dawn rises somewhere, another man was talking, a plan to create a new poison, one last try at it.
The Third Eye
The people gone, the sun cracks up, the sky goes black, and the world is brought to eternal darkness as a cackling is heard. Glofir's shop still stands and the old Mage look at Xaxan with little concern, instead playing with a bras device.

"Welcome back. You asked me to contact you, and here i am. Tea?" The old man flicks his wrist and a cup of freshly brewed tea shows up on the desk.

Xaxan took the tea and stared. He sipped it before swallowing and then setting it down.

"We'll try to figure this out. But I am bound to the place i sleep. And im going slightly crazy. You should hear the things i sing. Eugh. Anyways. Can I get a map, some lends and around 6000 sheets of paper sent to this *Hands Glofir a slip of paper* adress? I will do my work from there. So, i will keep in tou-"

Prophets Tomb
Xaxan wakes up and walks over to the sink he keeps. He takes out a mirror and combs back his frazzled hair, he beads his dreadlocks with onyx before putting on a pair of onyx lenses, and vanishes with a whirl of flame.

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

The tiefling smirked to himself, enjoying the taste of that particular phrase - clandestine actions. The words brought a trill of delight to the tip of his forked tongue as he mouthed it silently. Not that he needed it, the fact his.. employer had all but given him free reign to use whatever violent or illegal means were necessary to get the job done.

He didn't say anything else; didn't have to. The quilled half-breed settled for a satisfied, self-assured grin, and a conspirational wink to the old greybeard.

Sitting up, his bladed armour scratching inside his coat, Aurelius reached across the table and lifted one of the bronze-rimmed mirrors. The Cager turned it over in his hands, quietly impressed by Glofir's Art. 'e's a proper blood, the half-demon mused, his respect for the ink-stained mage rising another small notch. Dealings with Baatezu, crafting arcane devices, a dab hand at conjuration magicks... yes, Glofir Tormund was fast becoming a handy cutter to know.

Aurelius decided he was going to try and stay in the old boy's good books for the time being; never knew when you'd need a favour.

Tapping his finger on the table edge one last time, the guttersnipe pushed back his chair and stood up, taking his leave. The animated foetus remained behind for a minute, turning its stitched eyes to the assembled group. The abomination chittered and hissed to itself, turning on the spot to examine the giants around it. It could smell something close by, and skittered over the table surface, talons and scalpel-fingers scraping on the wood. Junior peeked over the table-edge, sniffing curiously.

From under the table emerged a mountain of muscle and fur, gnashing huge fangs and barking at the creature. Junior let out a sound somewhere between a shriek and a whisper, taking to the air in a flurry of black feathers and albino flesh. The familiar flew out the door as fast as its wings would take it, catching up with Aurelius in moments.

Back in the store, Glofir chuckled to himself and stroked the top of Wilfred's head.

"Good boy," he smiled.

[Wilfred]

Solar Haven

The bowels of any great city are rarely appreciated by those who walk above them. Beneath one's feet may lie a maze of sewers, basements, cellars, dungeons and even natural caves and sinkholes. As the buildings age and their inhabitants fade away, so too does memory of every nook, cranny - and secret entrance. Behind the lazy little collection of merchant shops which comprised Cadling Road were some less successful stores, some more so than others (at least, at first glance). By one small, dilapidated warehouse, an opening to this underworld had appeared. The lock on a centuries-old, weather-worn wooden trapdoor to the building's cellar, which sat in an adjacent alley, appeared to have given way, and the labyrinth of subterranean corridors awaited Adonis and Kit, who soon drew near.


* * *


Aurelius

The city watch house which held Terry Wilcher was but one of its kind within Serenti. The two-storey building sat behind a squat grey stone wall and two large iron gates which separated it from the street. From the front, the watch house sat behind a small courtyard and to the left, with a wide path leading around to the rear of the building, and its stables, on the right. The occasional citizen or patrol made its way in and out the wide open front door, through which could be seen a small waiting room and a desk sergeant. A couple of the guard stood watch outside by the gates, and a few more were enjoying a late lunch in the sunshine of the yard. All in all, the business of the watch appeared quite slow, despite the apparent troubles which plagued the city.



I've just tried to include things relevant/in line with the plot, while keeping your options open. Once I figure out what everyone else is doing, I'll run the core setting and NPCs for that as well :)

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Apologies for the long post. Just wanted to get this little bit done.

Across the street from the city watch compound, secreted away within a small alley, Aurelius ran his forked, black tongue over his fangs. It was a habit he had developed long ago, and could indicate anything from anger to lust. Today, however, the compulsive habit showed the tiefling's contemplation.

His practiced eye roamed over the defenses of the place, scanning every possible entry point, and all the problems he'd face when he tried. Sighing, lighting another cigarette, the warlock leaned back against the rough wall of the alley; he could try the direct approach, of course. But after his hijinks in Radasanth (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25156-Gaolhouse-Rock-(closed)), there was a heavy price on his horned head.. and the gutternsipe wasn't quite ready for them to give him the rope. No, Aurelius had far too much yet to do, to end up swinging from the leafless tree.

So, for now, the half-demon decided to bang around the alley - to kill time, until he was ready. He kept out of sight, out of the balmy Corone heat, until night fell.

***

The sun had been down nearly an hour when Aurelius finally slid from the shadows of the narrow alley. Junior had fallen asleep some time ago, curled up inside its master's coat. The darkness clung to him like a lover, letting the leather-clad half-breed circle the building trying to find what he needed. There was the large iron gate, guarded even through the night, by a pair of burly, well-trained guards. Pike that, then, Aurelianus thought. What he needed was..

Bingo!

At the side of the wall, level with the side entrance to the watch house itself, was a small postern gate. There were often entrances like these in such buildings, for the entry of servants, civil or otherwise. Any thief or criminal knew of these entrances, as they were almost always less guarded than the main gates. The door itself was hidden in a shadowy alcove, barely noticeable until you were beside it. And there, just as the Cager had expected, was a single guard leaning against his spear.

The tiefling allowed himself a fanged smirk as he smelled the alcohol on the guard. A bubber, eh? This'll be easier than I thought, he mused. Addicts were always happy to accept jink, just so they could fuel their habits. Aurelianus was an old hand at manipulating such people.

The watchman stood straighter to attention when he realised there was someone else standing before him, trying to be surreptitious in smoothing down his uniform and wipe the errant trickles of booze from his salt-and-pepper beard. He took his spear across his chest, peering out into the gloomy street. "Halt! Who goes there?" he asked, almost making Aurelianus groan at the cliché.

He kept his face as much in the shadows as he could. "I need to speak with someone in your care," he smiled. "A bloke by the name of Wilcher."

"That murdering bastard?" the guard spat. "Nope, not a chance! Captain's orders, no-one sees that scum til he goes to the gallows." The guard paused, as if suddenly coming to a realisation. "Why do you want to see him anyway, mister.. ?"

Aurelius reached into his coat - the guard tensed, bringing his spear up - and the tiefling brought out the ivory flask. He took a swig, savouring the burn and bite of the Aleraran spirit within. He offered the drink to the law-dog, and the older man took it. Somewhat hesitantly, yes, but he took it and swallowed a healthy dose of T'keela before handing the flask back. There was a flash of gold in the gloom of the street, as the plane-touched took out a small, heavy pouch; the gold inside clinked together audibly as he bounced it in the palm of his hand. A garnish, in Sigil's vernacular, was one of the oldest peels in the book - and with good reason. It bloody worked!

"I'm an old friend of 'is," Aurelius lied effortlessly, "and I'd be.. grateful if you'd let me in to see 'im."

The guard's eyes darted from the tiefling's own, down to the pouch. He licked his lips.

[Solar Haven]

Adonis had been walking for what felt like forever, winding in and out of building's before finally reaching a dilapidated warehouse at sunrise. Kit had jumped off of Adonis's shoulder and crawled in an hole in the wall. Quickly scurrying over to one of the many doors where it began scratching at the opposite side of the door, Signaling Adonis to open and walk in through that specific entry.

“Well, this sure is one abandoned building, what is in here boy?” Adonis asked as he cautiously pushed open the door. As it creaked open, a gust of wind entered the building, kicking up age old dust. Once the dust had cleared Adonis entered the building, it smelt like stale beer and mildew. On closer inspection Adonis noticed there was some footprints in the dust on the far side of the warehouse leading around some barrels and boxes.

“Kit go scouting. Someone has used this place recently and I want to know if they are still here. I will check the parchment on this side of the warehouse, if someone was using it, maybe they left some clue's behind as to who they are” Adonis whispered to kit as gently as he could. Hoping that whoever or whatever was using this place wasn't here anymore.

Kit made a cute noise, signaling that he understood what needed to be done and quickly scurried off. Adonis slowly stood and unsheathed his rusted iron sword, he didn't want anyone getting the jump on him if Kit couldn't find them before, they found him.

Adonis sighed and started picking up pieces of parchment from the floor, and carefully inspecting them. ”One of these has to have something of interest on them!”

[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 (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25330-The-Prayer-(Closed)) 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 (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25630-The-Puppeteer-s-Praxes-%28open%29&p=209844&viewfull=1#post209844) 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.

[Krausus]

Sirius walked into the shop again and smiled as he saw the boy settled in the overstuffed chair, shoving scones into his face. He walked up as the other chair pulled itself out, and he then scowled at it while he pondered the nature of that magic.

"Glofir, i didnt learn much from the ale house except that they have a horrible reputation and worse food. But,
I did see that big red demon walk in later on. Some mages came running out a few minutes later, screaming something about fire, locks and cheap ale."

Sirius smiled as he thought of the two mages that cam running down the stairs. They were bawling on and in about some red guy, and a faulty lock, and fire, and then something about cheap ale, then after some time, they walked back up to their room and didnt come back down that night.

"So they were quite scared and i might just have a small lead about the orgin of the murders. On the far side if town, there's a small shack where a supposed "Witch" lives, and from a few people i heard that the purp erratic people who preformed the murders visited her the night before the killing. I find that quite strange."

He tapped his chin and pulled out a pipe from the pockets of his coat and lit it, blowing out a smoke ring that looked vaguely like a small house.

"You have any beds? I haven't slept in days."

[Tad_MacLaren]

Tad looked up as the tall man approached and smiled back. He grabbed a second scone before he finished chewing up the first; but this one he broke in half, surreptitiously offering a piece of it under the table to the dog. Upon hearing the newcomer speak of demons and mages Tad tilted his head to one side, giggling when the man got to the part about a witch.

"A witch!" he exclaimed. "Which Witch is it?" he giggled, amused at the homonyms. "I like witches" he said quietly, smiling to himself.

After taking another bite, he held out the (somewhat less than) half-scone, offering it to the man. "Hongry?"

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

I'll do my best, cutter.

Aurelius turned his serpentine eyes from the assembled guards, to the pitiful sod sitting hunched in the dank, filthy cell.

"You.. fine, upstanding gentlemen 'aven't been mistreating this poor bloke, 'ave you?" he smirked, marking the irritated glances he was receiving from the armed guards. "Wouldn't want to 'ave to add that in next to your cap'n's name now, would we?"

Aurelianus shrugged at the hostile atmosphere. The guards knew this was the captain's idea, but they weren't complete idiots - they knew something wasn't quite right. Keeping the brim of his hat low the plane-touched took out a long cigarette from inside his coat, lighting it with a small burst of Hellfire, hidden in his cupped hands.

The man before him was muttering to himself, head in his grimy hands, his fingers obviously broken. Aye, they've worked the berk over good and proper. The tiefling felt no pity for the human. Why would he? The only justice one could expect in life was what they had the balls to take for themselves.

But there was something that struck the natural born killer as soon as he looked at the wretch before him: there was no way the man was a murderer. Well, technically, maybe. But 'e didn't do it by choice.

Aurelius glanced surreptitiously at the three men around him, marking their movements, picking out individual weaknesses for each one; if the warlock was to have any hope of uncovering the truth behind Wilcher's actions, he had to speak to the man alone. That meant getting him out of this hell-hole. The illusion of hope, or the promise of release would serve to loosen his lips. First, however, he would have to get rid of the five sods surrounding him.

He let out a bitter sigh under his breath; even as fast as he was, the tiefling doubted he could take out all five silently. But.. he also knew how to play the subtle game.

"Captain," he started, his inhuman eyes dancing under the hat, "I was wondering if I might speak with this man alone? After all, with all you fine and noble gents standing here, people reading my book might very well accuse us of intimidating Mr. Wilcher, to provide false witness."

The captain made to open his mouth, but Aurelius interjected again, with a sly smirk.

"And looking at the man's injuries, it wouldn't be difficult for the reader to think this man had been abused while in your custody.." the smile gained a razor-edge. "I mean, if the book were to be read by your superiors.. well, the damage that could do to one's social standing, not to mention their career," the half-breed feined a shudder, "it doesn't bear thinking about."

[Brand]

Does it count as powergaming when I move my own characters when not in that character?
Brand smiled to himself and walked into the shop, looking over curiosities that he'd seen in so many shops before. He walked up to the table in the back of the room and looked at the three people talking, an old man and a taller man with crimson hair that looked like he had set his head on fire.

"This is The Third Eye, Right, if so I am Brand Phoenixeye, guardian, Art Mage, and known by a thousand other titles. Best known as the Weaver's Prodigy. I heard there were some murders and i was looking to find out about them and their source."

The old man in the back nodded and looked at him. He smirked, like he had seen him before, but Brand was sure that he never had met this old person before. Then the man with the red hair turned and looked at him and raised an eyebrow, he seemed to be wearing a strip of black cloth around his eyes and he wondered how he knew where he was. Strange. After a bit Brand walked up to the desk and held out a hand to the grey haired man behind it.

[Wilfred]

That should be fine, Brand. However, if you want to try and get some information from (tavern) gossip, you will need to write that part out so I can provide it.

Aur, I'll get a post for you up as soon as I hear back.


Though Glofir was beginning to look a little hagard, he cracked a smile at Brand's entrance. "Oh? Nice to see another practitioner about. Please, make yourself comfortable. I'll be with you shortly."

While he was occupied, Wilfred stuck an inquisitive nose at the scone in Tad's hand. Some memory of training must have lingered in his wide head, because rather than snatching at it, the dog planted his rear on the ground and set two big, brown, expectant eyes on the boy.

"Now - a witch, a witch... in a shack? Mmm, I know the one. That's old Mrs Gumbridge's place. She's lived alone for the past, what, ten years? Ever since her husband passed on." Glofir poured himself yet another dainty little cup of steaming black tea before he continued. "That sort of thing does attract rumours, but I'm fairly certain they're unfounded. Nothing I've come across suggests that the known victims have ever come in to contact with her." The old man took a sip, sighed, and glanced at the grandfather clock at the back of the room. "Still, this can wait until tomorrow, I suppose. I'm afraid I haven't any beds here, but I'd be happy to pay for your accommodation, as well as your travel expenses."

He dug out another few coins and put them on the table top. "Now then", he added, turning to Brand. It seemed to him that Tad would be suitably occupied with the dog until Glofir could figure out what to do with him. "I am Glofir Tormund. What can I do for you?"

[Tad_MacLaren]

Since the grown-ups were ignoring him (not a new experience), Tad shrugged and turned his attention back to the dog. "Hi doggy, wha's your name?" he asked, setting the bits of scone on the ground in front of Wilfred and motioning for him to take them. "My name's Tad. Does you like scones? I likes scones. They's nommy."

Tad scooted off the chair, squatting down on the floor to bring him face-to-face with the dog. "Whas' goin' on, why's e'erone talkin' bout murders and witches? I hopes Miss Gumby really is a witch, I likes witches. They's funny. Think we can go visit her?" Tad reached out to rub Wilfred's head and stroke the fur on his back and side. Tad pointed under the table at the old man's feet, "He's funny too. He has a funny name, Glow-Fur, I think I likes him. And he has scones."

At the mention of scones, Tad's tummy growled loudly. He giggled, and climbed back up into the chair where he could reach for another of the pastries.

[Solar Haven]

Adonis followed the footprint's with his eyes and walked over to the hidden doorway. The lock was easy enough to unlock and as he stepped outside in the dark, Kit grabbed a hold of his pant's leg and tugged for him to come back inside.

“What is it boy?” Adonis said as he lowered himself down to Kit's level. Kit immediately took off towards the Lantern and tinderbox and ran around in circles as if telling Adonis to take it. “Fine we will take the lantern with us, although it isn't that dark outside” Adonis sighed as he walked over and got the lantern going and slowly stepped foot out through the back door.

Adonis held up the lantern and slowly scanned the surrounding area, and took a few cautious steps forward. Stopping only when he felt something bend under his foot, he looked down and saw that an old weather worn cellar entrance had given way and collapsed.

Kit was at the very edge and seemed like he wanted to go inside.

“That doesn't look safe boy” Adonis said as he bent his knee's to get closer to Kit. Kit bit Adonis hand and patted his paw on the inside portion of the cellar, motioning that this was what he was trying to show Adonis.

“Geez, you don't have to bite me Kit, if you really want to go in we will” Adonis said as he sighed and picked up Kit and gently placed him on his shoulder as he slowly climbed down the rickety ladder leading to the cellar of the old warehouse

[Wilfred]

Tad - I didn't mean to try and sideline you before, sorry. But it hasn't occurred to Glofir to recruit a 9-year old boy for his mission, so he may take some convincing first :)



Aurelius - hope the minor bunny is alright. Let me know if you want it changed.

The captain liked to believe himself to be afraid of no man, and perhaps he was -but unfortunately for him, Aurelius did not quite fit the distinction. It's the eyes, he thought first, then, no, it's that grin. In fact, it was everything. So while he would have stood his ground imperiously against such allegations from a lesser man, right then, all he wanted to go away and scrub himself clean. Preferably in a tub of holy water.

"It's true, we haven't been able to get much out of him", the captain mumbled. In all honesty, they hadn't even tried for information. "But", he added, pulling himself up, "I'll allow you some privacy if you provide me with a copy of the manuscript before publication for approval. Is that acceptable?"

He took the tiefling's grin and nod as a sign of agreement. The captain and the sentry turned away, leaving Aurelius alone with Terry. As he reached the gaggle of guards at the cell block exit, the captain gave orders for two to stay on watch where they were.

As the captain strode back to his office, he paused one more time. "One moment, man", he said to the sentry, stroking his beard. "Run over to the Redquill archives. Some of the clerks should still be up... see what work they have of this 'Redin Coran', and bring it to me."



Solar Haven - if you like, I can use Kit to point out points of interest in my own posts, which may move things along a bit more quickly for you. Obviously, I would try and keep bunnying down to a minimum in that case.

Apart from a few grilles, the broken, rotting trapdoor was the only source of light in the cellar. Were it not for the lantern, Adonis would likely have been lost in the dark after just a few steps. This would have been particularly hazardous, given how cluttered the large, low-ceilinged room was. Crates, barrels, tables and chairs were piled in disorganised mounds, every single one apparently empty but for a bit of mould. Some wine racks and shelves lined the walls, too, all equally bare.

Everything in the room seemed still at first, separated from the lingering noise and movement of the city above. But after Adonis' senses adjusted, he could hear a faint whistling noise, much akin to wind, which had not been apparent in the warehouse or alleyway above.

[Tad_MacLaren]

Tad - I didn't mean to try and sideline you before, sorry. But it hasn't occurred to Glofir to recruit a 9-year old boy for his mission, so he may take some convincing first
No worries, I'm perfectly happy interacting with the dog :)

Leaving the adults to their conversation, Tad grabbed a double-fistful of scones, tucking two into his pockets for later and a third to share with Wilfred right now. He then ducked back under the table to resume his conversation with the dog.

"Mebbe we can help! Does you know where Miss Gumby lives? Why don we go see ifn she knows anyfing? Witches know lots of things! I bet she knows wha's wrong, an' somefing's definately wrong. Grown-ups usuallery jus' mess e'erthing up, but witches is different. Well, nice witches is different at least."

Glancing up at the other men, Tad quietly stole down into the front portion of the store, taking cover behind the first shelf he saw. In his wake he left a trail of scone crumbs, hoping to get the dog to follow him out of the store.

[Solar Haven]

Adonis squinted his eye's in an attempt to see through the darkness, his lantern was only lighting up a small area around him. Kit's ears immediately perked up and he took off into the dark room.

“What is of importance down here boy?” Adonis inquired as he checked out a few shelves as he passed them, running a finger along the edge of a shelf and inspecting the dust and mould on his fingertip before quickly brushing it off on his pant's leg. “No one has been down here in ages boy, why did you want to come down here?”

Adonis stopped and held the lantern up and tried to scan the area for Kit,but to no avail. Just as he was about to ask for Kit to make a noise he heard a faint whistling, at first he thought it was the wind coming from the rotted hatchway to the cellar, but upon listening more intently he could tell it was coming from within the cellar, one of the back walls.

A bright idea came to Adonis, he removed the glass from the sides of the lantern and watched where the flame was moving, and just went against that. After several moments of passing the same shelf over and over again, he finally looked over and kit was sitting on the middle shelf just looking at him, almost as if saying “You done yet”

“Fine, you are faster at this then me... it look's like the breeze is coming from behind this shelf” Adonis muttered as he put the glass back inside the lantern and set it down on a neighboring shelf. He grabbed a hold of the shelf and waited for Kit to move before throwing it across the narrow passageway making quite the racket. There standing behind the shelf was a hidden doorway, the wind was definitely coming from there, He turned the handle and pushed it open. Climbing into the under city, unknowing what awaited him his only thought's were ”I hope no one uses this old entrance, I did just kinda make a racket and destroy the room even more then it was”

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

The tiefling watched the men leave, smirking to himself as they went.

This is goin' better than I 'oped, he mused to himself. Wonder 'ow long 'til it all goes tits up?

"Well," he said, mostly to himself, "let's get started."

Reaching down, he opened the leather satchel and made a show of rummaging through it. Sighing, he rifled through the pack, muttering to himself and every now and again letting slip a curse. Both guards were watching, snickering behind their half-helms - the smug and superior little snot seemed flustered. That was good in their books. Sheepishly, he looked up at the pair and walked closer.

In a heartbeat, however, the tiefling had dropped the satchel and was darting forward faster than the startled guards could register, watching with perverse glee as they started to defend themselves.

Too little, too late.

The viciously serrated blades came out in a flash.

***

Sitting in his cell, head muddled, eyes throbbing with every agonised pulse of his heart, Terry Wilcher barely heard the two muffled *snnkchs*, or the meaty thumps that followed.

But his attention was brought to focus when one of the guards - one of the bastards who had beaten him mercilessly when they first dragged him in, in chains - was dumped at his feet, throat opened like a red flower. The second guard's body was dragged in after the first and dumped as unceremoniously. Terry looked up, confused. Aurelius leaned against the doorway of the cell, wiping his blades clean on a strip of cloth torn from one of the dead men's uniform.

"Get dressed," he snapped, gesturing to the corpses with the tip of one of his knives. "And let's get your sorry arse out of 'ere before they come back to check up on us."

[Brand]

Ok, back to posting. And before anyone asks about the band, i will be selling them on the bazaar for 15 GP for single color 20 GP for double and so on.

With a frown on his face Brand walked up to the chair where the boy was sitting then noticed the absence of the boy. He sat down and grabbed a scone from the plate and ate it Opening up his satchel he rummaged through it until he brought out a small needle and thread and started threading the string into his arm, continuing a half inch thick band of red and black threads that spiraled up his arm. Included in the band there is a small amount of blue in the shape of a sheet of woven thread, a symbol of his creators, The Weavers.

Brand looked up from his delicate work of piercing his skin every couple inches. He then cut the thread and stuffed the needle and thread into his satchel. He looked at Glofir for a second before smirking as he thought of an old friend of his who loved to work in a small inn, slightly out of the vicinity of Radasanth.

"We'll, to the point, i wish to help your case as much as i can if i can get an assignment from you or your accomplices. Of course i am willing to work with anyone. So, may i get something."

He looked at his arm and it's threads and frowned. He then nodded as he thought about how he could help.

[Wilfred]

Tad - please feel free to take control of Wilfred in your posts. Obviously, you'll need to check with me before he does anything like take an injury, but all the 'normal' stuff (following you around, sniffing strangers, chasing cats) should be fine. Brand - you may consider your character to be informed of Glofir's current understanding of events. It is up to you, now, on how to proceed :)

Glofir rubbed his hands, trying to ease the stiffness from his joints. "I don't have any accomplices, really, not these days", he said. "But I certainly have work... sorry, one moment. Wilfred!"

The dog, which had been slowly licking his way across the floor, perked up and looked back at the old wizard. Glofir snapped his fingers, and the dog trotted over in the typical, doggy, carefree manner. Glofir mumbled something under his breath, tied one of the little mirrors to Wilfred's frayed collar, and then wrapped some more scones up in a napkin. He affixed the parcel next to the mirror, and sent the dog off with a light slap. Wilfred huffed and, his attention once more returned to Tad, happily followed the boy out the store.

"As I was saying", Glofir continued. "I could certainly use some more help..."



Solar Haven - you're in the undercity, now. The part you're in now is largely separated from the rest of Serentii, but you might come close to the surface every now and then. The tunnels mostly run towards the coast, but you're otherwise free to elaborate on your surroundings (within reason).

Without the lantern, Adonis would have had no luck in traversing the underground tunnels. But the little flame revealed, beyond the bookshelf, a narrow, brick-lined corridor, running straight alongside the cellar. One end was boarded up, but at the other, towards the ocean (so far as anyone could tell which way the ocean lay while underground), was a shadowed, open archway. The darkness beyond seemed to be the source of the breeze.

Oddly enough, there was another lantern, and a tin of back-up oil set within a sconce nearby. The ground appeared disturbed, with muddy footprints tracked messily over one another. Despite the appearance of the warehouse above, it looked like this place was far from unused...



Aurelius - I hope you don't mind if I make things... interesting. Consider the lock as taking a bit of work, if you plan to use your tumbling skills on that.

Terry stared at the bodies with dull eyes, as though he couldn't trust what he saw. But after a few seconds, he unfolded painfully from the cot, and began to tug a tabard free from the corpse at his feet. Fortunately for them, the Empire's scarlet largely obscured the blood which had soaked through the fabric. After about a minute, the bruised and beaten lad was transformed from disheveled prisoner to haggard guardsmen, the discolouration on his face largely obscured by a helmet. They had everything they needed, except a key.

In an unfortunate bit of oversight, the duo appeared to be locked inside the cell block. The door at the end of the corridor was a heavy-timbered thing, bound in iron and with a daunting keyhole that looked like it ate any lockpick foolish enough to venture inside.

[Tad_MacLaren]

Tad peered around the doorframe, waiting for Wilfred to follow. When the dog trotted out the door, the lad knelt down face-to-face with Wilfred. "Good Doggy!" Tad rubbed his head vigorously and scratched behind his ears. Tad spied the package of scones, and reached out to take it from the collar. "Wha's this? Ooh, more scones! And... a mirror? Tha's odd." Tad stached the scones in his sack, and peered closely at the mirror. While examining the mriror, he noticed a name-tag on Wilfred's collar. "Wilfred. Is tha' your name? Hi Wilfred!" The dog's ears perked up, and his tail started wagging at the mention of his name.

"It must be. Well, think you can help me, Wilfred? Does you know the way to Miss Gumby's house?". Tad took a hunk of scone from his pocket and held it out to the dog, who happily snarfed it down, slobbering all over Tad's hand. The boy giggled and rubbed the dog's snout before standing up. "I bets you do, let's go find her!"

Tad clucked his tongue at the dog, and set off down the street, with Wilfred trotting along beside.

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Aurelius was glad of many things in life.

At this moment in time, he was most happy for his self-control; if he had unleashed the torrent of profanity building up inside his head when he realised he was locked in the cell-block, it would have brought every guard in Serenti running. The tiefling snarled viciously, grip tightening around the demon-hide grips of his knives. But, with a sigh and a deep breath, he knelt next to the keyhole; sheathing one of his blades, he reached up to remove the chained earring from his left ear. The object was, in fact, a masterful set of lockpicks, bought many years ago at great personal expense.

After a few moments, however, the guttersnipe withdrew his picks for fear of breaking them. Hooking them back through his ear, the tiefling stood, licking his fangs as he tried to decide how he'd escape this current conundrum. He glanced over his shoulder, and a smile crept across his face as he eyed Wilcher, standing with his back to him in the deader's uniform.

"C'mere," he snapped, waving the traumatised man over to the locked door. He took the rube by the shoulder, positioning him next to the door, facing away and pressed one of the discarded spears into his hand - from the back, the half-breed hoped someone standing on the other side of the door might mistake the man for one of their comrades.

With that, the little preparation he could make given the circumstances, Aurelius whistled through the small barred opening on the main door. He still had his hat pulled low, and one of his Baatorian knives held at the ready behind his back.

"I'm done 'ere," he called. "Somebody want to open the bloody door?"

[Wilfred]

Tad

After half an hour, it was clear that Wilfred was falling short of expectations. The dog showed a singular interest in sniffing posts, chewing unknown things which had been discarded on the ground, and widdling on whatever was stationary enough to take it, but not for finding the secluded shacks of mysterious old ladies.

The dog had - for the umpteenth time - turned haphazardly onto a new street, when they fell in behind a couple of guardsmen on patrol. Neither of them registered Wilfred or the boy as they ambled along the quiet, nighttime street.

"You're filling in for Jeremy again?", said the shorter of the two watchmen. Although their voices were hushed, there was very little background noise to drown it out.

"Yeah", his colleague replied. "The captain still has him working on that break-in at the Goldsbury estate."

"Thayne's that's still going? I can't remember the last time we stayed on a cold case this long."

The taller guard shrugged. "Captain's probably getting a little extra something for it..."



Aurelius

The desk sergeant's voice came thin and muffled through the wooden door. "Jeremy? Roderick? Everything alright in there?"

The two guards did not reply, as they were preoccupied with bleeding out all over the cell block corridor. Things were not looking too good for Aur at that point, until Terry gave the tiefling a blank stare and opened his mouth.

"Just dandy, rotbreath", Terry growled, in a slightly strained voice. "Open up, my tea's going cold out there."

"Watch it, Jeremy. I've half a mind to leave you in there." The threat was empty and good-natured, though, as Terry and Aurelius immediately heard the warden's boots click across the flagstones towards the door. They heard the jingle of keys, the scrape of metal in the lock, a click, and the creak of the door as it swung open.

The sergeant looked up into a vicious, fanged smile. He blinked.

"What...?" he began.

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

The guttersnipe acted faster than the guard could react.

Grabbing the man by the scruff of his shirt, Aurelius dragged him forward.. straight into the oncoming Baatorian blade. The serrated green-steel bit deep into the man's throat, lancing up through his chin and through the hard-palate into his brain. The man shuddered as he died, blood gouting from his ruptured throat over the knife and Aurelianus' marble-skinned hand. But the warlock was already dragging him down the small stone corridor, dumping his corpse alongside the other two. The plane-touched wasted a second wiping his knife and re-sheathing it at the small of his back. Then, to avoid any possible trouble on the way out, rubbed the blood off his hand on the deader's jerkin, and lifted the sod's keys. That done, he closed the cell-door and rejoined Terry in the hall.

He raised his pierced eyebrow as he regarded the human before him.

"I'll 'ave to find out 'ow you pulled that little trick, mate," he nodded, smirking. Then he looked down at the bloodstains on the floor, and turned his snake-like eyes back to the cell Wilcher had occupied for the past few days. "Later," he added.

The half-demon walked calmly out the cell-block, into the guard-house proper, and started walking towards the side-door he'd been let in. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure Wilcher was following, he kept his voice low as he talked to the man - "Anyone stops us, you can pull your little stunt again." The tiefling gave Terry a sidelong appraisal, sizing him up. "If not," he shrugged, "I'll pen 'em in the Dead-book."

[Tad_MacLaren]

"Wilfred, you's not helping 'tall! We's posed to be finding Miss Gumby, not piddling on e'erthing you sees!" Tad sighed, exasperated, and pulled out another scone. He broke it in half and offered the larger half to the dog, nibbling on the smaller half himself. "How's we e'er going to find her if'n you donnae take us there?" Tad shook his head at the dog, but wasn't ready to give up yet. He motioned for the dog to follow him for a change, and headed towards the outskirts of the city.

[Wilfred]

Aurelius

Terry shrugged. He had become familiar enough with the dead guardsman's voice to mimic it, and the thick wooden door had done the rest by muffling his impersonation to iron out the kinks. He fell in line behind Aurelius, and though he moved a little stiffly, he kept up. For whatever reason, whether from shock, exhaustion, distrust or simple temperament - or a mixture of each - the lad did not bother to ask any questions. He simply followed.

The duo had just reached the side door when a loud commotion sprang up in the building entrance. They could just hear voices through the stone wall.

"... in his office?", said one. It was unmistakable as that of the sentry which had let Aur in to see the captain.

"As usual", replied another. "Why?"

"There's not a single book by a 'Redin Coran' in the archives. Something's up. You two go check the cells, I have to see the captain..."

Footsteps faded away. Terry looked at Aur.

"I don't think it'll work this time", he said.



Tad - please feel free to describe the old lady, her house, and her persona. Just keep in mind what Glofir has mentioned about her :)

The shack wasn't difficult to espy. In a sea of nocturnal darkness, it sat apart from the huddled lights of the rest of the city, its windows twinkling like a lonely constellation. Wilfred had remained completely useless in finding it, but Tad had at least some sense of direction, and the dog was happy enough to follow.

The scones were gone, much to Wilfred's lament; he remained unwilling to abandon the cloth which had held them, and periodically dropped it from his mouth to snuffle at it hopefully, before picking it up once more and chasing after Tad.

As they closed in on the ramshackle house, Tad could hear humming from inside. Although the building was dilapidated, the surrounding plot of land was full of bushes, shrubs and trees. This garden filled the still night air with a dense perfume. Wilfred perked up, sniffed at the boughs, and almost ran towards the foliage in a fresh spate of inquisitive snuffling and territory-marking.

[Tad_MacLaren]

Tad followed Wilfred towards the house, peering through the dark at the heavily planted yard as he went. The scent of night-blooming jasmine was nearly overpowering, and he spotted moonflowers in a bed near the house, their petals spread wide for the evening. Tad stopped to examine the shrubs that the dog was so happily marking and squatted down to investigate several beds of herbs. He couldn’t be sure in the dark, but he thought he recognized belladonna and hensbane amongst a plethora of edibles. The plantings were clearly well tended, and a gardening stool was tucked up beside the dilapidated porch next to a box of spades and forks. The garden stood in stark contrast to the house, a picture of tidy order compared to the decaying chaos of the shack.

Calling softly for Wilfred to follow, Tad mounted the steps onto the porch. The old steps creaked ominously even with Tad’s stature upon them. The door to the shack was ajar, and a shaft of golden light illuminated the weathered wood of the porch. A wonderful smell drifted out, mingling with the night scents of the garden. The humming was louder from the porch, and though there were words mixed in Tad could not make them out. He stuck his head through the open door, looking about and saying “Hallo?”

Mrs Gumbridge was puttering around the single room house, tidying up and tending to a stew that was simmering at the hearth. White hair was gathered back into a braid that reached her waist. She was slight of frame, but certainly not frail. She had a certain sturdiness about her, and she moved with a spring in her step that belied her apparent age. She turned as Tad called, and he saw a grandmotherly sort of face, warm and full of wrinkles. When she saw her visitor, she stopped sweeping, and set the straw broom aside. Hands on her hip she assessed the boy. “Why, hello there child. A bit late to be out and about, isn’t it?”

Tad grinned at the old woman, taking an immediate liking to her. His instincts told him she could be trusted, and those instincts were seldom wrong. “I’s not tired at all!” He replied, stepping into the home. Wilfred padded in behind Tad, sniffing at the interesting delectable odors emanating from the stewpot. “I’s Tad, an’ this is Wilfred. Is you Miss Gumby? We’s looking for Miss Gumby.”

Suddenly a flash of black fur flew across the house, dashing from underneath a bed in the corner and somehow defying gravity to end up atop the mantle. Wilfred barked at the sudden motion, and the cat hissed back at him from the mantle. Tad knelt down, “Hush Wilfred. Is jus’ a cat silly.”

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Tits up, right on time, the warlock chuckled to himself.

He'd known his lie wouldn't buy him much time, but as he stood with his hand on the handle of the door, the deader guard's keys in the lock, he couldn't help but bemoan his luck. Another few minutes, and he and Terry might have given them the laugh long before the law-dogs tumbled to the fact something was up. He looked to Wilcher, smirking softly at the man's apparent lack of fear - though judging by the dark circles ringing the sod's eyes, it might have been simple lack of sleep.

The tiefling shook himself out of his reverie, unlocking the side-entrance with a solid *click*. He winced slightly as the sharp noise echoed from the rough stone walls. A brief second of holding his breath, senses strained for any tell-tale that they'd been marked.

We're fine, he thought. Just keep movin', and get his arse to Glofir.

Pushing the heavy door open, Aurelius ushered Terry through, casting glances back over their shoulders to make sure the addle-coved guards hadn't found them yet. The half-breed and the accused murderer crouched low in the shadows of the alcove, the more experienced criminal scanning the area with his inhuman eyes. He could detect no sign of anyone else, so with a subtle tap on Terry's shoulder, he got up and headed for the closest exit. The two figures crossed the narrow path between the building's wall, and the surrounding defense wall in a few heartbeats. In another moment or two, they would be out the small postern gate and could make a proper get-away.

The Anarchist just hoped his luck would hold out for that long.

[Wilfred]

Tad

Mrs Gumbridge cast a stern eye towards the dog. "Wilfred, is it?" she croaked. "Wilfred! Sit!"

At mention of his name, Wilfred looked anxiously back at the old woman, and then, hesitantly, lowered his rear to the thick rug. He remained there, hackles up, almost seated, but at the same time, looking as though he might spring back into action at the slightest provocation.

"Well, at least he's trained", Gumbridge mumbled. She set her broom against a rough-hewn wall, crossed her arms, and looked down at Tad in a not unkind manner. "I'm Mrs Gumbridge, yes. Why are you looking for me?"



Aurelius - you're on 3 stars at the moment. Well done!

"Guards! Guards!"

A shrill cry broke through the night's still air. A few seconds later, it was drowned out by the ominous, deep-throated toll of a bell atop the watch house. "Murder!"

Doors crashed open, and heavy footsteps poured out from the building. As Aurelius and his ward slipped past the side gate, squads of uniformed watchmen hustled out and away into the night, spreading the alarm, calling for assistance.

The long arm of the law twitched to life, and began to creep its fingers through the streets of Serentii.

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Not sure if that's sarcasm, or genuine congratulations. :P Either way, basher, thanks.

The sonorous tolling of the bell told Aurelianus that he had indeed run out of luck. He shared a brief glance with the dead-eyed Terry before grabbing the berk by the collar and sprinting into the alleyways between Serenti's many buildings. His sharp ears marked the sound of the watch-house's gates groaning open, and the tromp of dozens of booted feet emerging. If the sounds were anything to go by, the addle-coves had emptied their entire force out in a bid to capture the fleeing criminals.

An' the wankers might manage it, too, he sneered bitterly glaring at the oblivious Wilcher.

The tiefling's inhuman speed would have seen him free and clear of the patrolling guard army in no time, but being lumped with the blank-faced rube was slowing the Anarchist down more then he liked. With a start, Aurelius suddenly remembered what was tucked away inside his coat; Glofir's mirror. Skidding to a halt near the exit of one of the many narrow thoroughfares, the warlock grabbed Terry roughly. Without a word he shoved him down next to a refuse pile against the rough walls.

"Sit there and keep your bone-box shut," he hissed quietly.

He crouched next to the human, his black-leather-clad frame blending with the shadows blanketing the alley. From the entrance-way came the tromp of marching feet as a squad of guards rushed past. A torch was thrust into the alley, but hunkered down next to the refuse pile, the pair of escapees were more or less out of sight for the moment. The half-demon tapped the rim of the mirror hurriedly when the guards had passed on; slowly, the old man's face swirled into sight on the surface of the shining glass.

"I 'ope you got the Baatezu out of that basement, old man. I got a mate o' yours 'ere, and a whole 'eap of 'ell on our tails," he snarled.

[Tad_MacLaren]

Tad stood up straight, trying in vain to straighten his disheveled clothing and running his hands through his wind-blown hair. "We needses your help, Missus Gumbry. Somefing's wrong. Somefing's awful wrong. Peoples is killin' each other, but they isnae themselfs. They saided you was a witch... they was afraid but you's a GOOD witch, aren' you? You can help us, righ'?"

Tad looked down at the floor, scuffling his feet as his stomach growled. Wilfred whined, staring intently at the stewpot simmering by the fire.

[Wilfred]

Aurelius - no sarcasm. Merely congratulations and encouragement :)

If you wish to use the undercity, please feel free to bunny Glofir in your next post in directing you to an entrance, and guiding you while you're there.

Glofir's voice came out from the glass in a barely-audible whisper. "Yes, I could hear the alarm", he said. Although he wasn't visibly displeased, his erstwhile chipper demeanour had completely evaporated. "No, don't explain. I don't want to know."

"Hullo", said Terry.

Glofir ignored him. "I sent the Baatezu back a couple of days ago, the poor thing. The basement is quite empty, but I wouldn't call it safe, either. Hmm... there is an entrance from the sewers. That might be your best option. I can guide you to it once you're underground, but do not try and enter yourselves. I'll have to let you in. But first of all - what street are you on?"



Tad - I'm going to try and fit Gumbridge in as a relevant part of the story. If you had some ideas for her, however, I would be more than happy to hear them. If they can work with the plot, I will try and impement them (and I can always edit this post retroactively, if need be). Also, I think Gumbridge should be 'your' character; if my bunnies don't match her character, personality wise, you're welcome to suggest some edits.

Mrs Gumbridge gave Tad a small, sad smile. "Yes, they do say I'm a witch", she said, her posture relaxing a bit. "They say a lot of things about me. I try not to listen, these days."

She looked over at the stew simmering away by the hearth, then at a mean little table by the window. Her cat remained transfixed atop the mantle, still glaring down at Wilfed. The dog's tail swept back and forth sporadically, and he kept glancing anxiously back at the woman and child. Gumbridge met the dog's large brown eyes with a curious gaze of her own.

"Even so, I have heard about the murders..." she whispered. Then she shook her head, and looked back at Tad. "Go take a seat, lad", she commanded, and went to a small crockery cabinet by a sink. She fished around for some bowls, mugs and cutlery, and set them out upon the table. She filled both cups with fresh milk from a pitcher, and proceeded to take the two bowls over to the stewpot.

"I don't know why you're up and about at this hour, asking help for things you shouldn't even be worring about. But the least you could do is tell me your name - and who you mean by 'we'."

[Krausus]

Wow. Anyways. Sorry for bein inactive. Things got in the way.

Sirius made his way to a nearby inn. But thought better of it and instead went to the guardhouse , where a beep was clanging furiously, and guards were sent out to signal fires all over the city. Sirius walked up to the man at the main gate an said

"I need to see the Captain, General, whoever. I have important news on the string of murders. "

The guard looked at him, then sighed and asked his partner if he should.

A few minutes later, Sirius strode up the flagstone path and into the office of the Captain of the Serenti guards.

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Aurelius listened as patiently as he could while Glofir directed Terry and himself to the nearest entrance to the sewers. Nodding along in time with the old man, the tiefling committed the details to a memory that could at times be considered near-eidetic... provided the category in question was bub, whores, murder or general mischief.

As soon as the greybeard was done talking, the warlock tucked the mirror away inside his coat, careful not to catch his hand on the blades and barbs adorning his leather armour. He turned to Junior, the albino elf foetus flapping lazily in the air beside him; he muttered a few words in the hissing, sibilant tongue of the Nine Hells and the familiar took off into the night sky. Aurelianus' instructions had been simple - keep an eye on the law-dogs as they searched the city, take up a post outside Glofir's shop and should any of them approach, to give warning to its master. Obediently, it complied.

With that done, the Anarchist turned back to his ally-of-convenience. The man looked like he'd been through the wringer. "Let's get moving, cutter," he said quietly, his knife still gripped in his marble-skinned hand.

Without another word, the pair slipped through the filthy backstreets of Serenti and managed to make it to the aforementioned sewer grate. Aurelius ran a hand over the shaved sides of his mohawk, eyeing the entrance to the underground waterways. He still had reservations about sewers after Ettermire (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25044-Child-of-Darkness), but, as the sound of another guard patrol approached, the tiefling quickly got over the momentary hesitation. He held the rusted grate open and waved Terry through impatiently.

As soon as the man was clear, the half-demon followed him through, landing in a layer of murky water next to the human. His inhuman eyes easily pierced the gloom of the sewers and he set off with only a hand on Wilcher's shoulder to guide him.

He didn't want to have gone through all the hassle of saving the berk, just to lose him in Serenti's shit-pipes.

[Wilfred]

Aurelius - sorry for the long post. And the delay.

Whatever reservations Terry had about traversing unlit sewers in the company of a mass murderer went unvoiced. In fact, he said nothing at all as they shambled their way along. The human, by himself, would have been lost within a minute, but the odd grate let in just enough moonlight to allow Aurelius an idea of his surroundings. The tunnels were possessed of a sort of ghost light, which merely hinted at the shape of walls, channels and corners. They could just as easily have been lingering after images, tricking them in the darkness.

Still, they walked on without incident, and Glofir seemed to know where, exactly, underneath the city they were. Every now and then, he would whisper for them to take a turn, but otherwise remained as silent as the ex-prisoner.

They turned a corner, and were met with light. It was nothing strong - just the meagre orange flicker of a hendheld lantern, but it blazed like the sun compared to what their eyes had been adjusting to. At the far end of their tunnel, where it terminated in a T-junction, they saw two figures pace briskly past.

"... if Tom's left the front of the warehouse unlocked again, the boss'll string him up. Especially now the guard are going through the city with a fine-toothed comb."

The one who said this sounded like a woman. Her partner, a shorter, mousey little man, almost had to jog to keep up with her.

"Look, there's one", he said, and darted over to a sconce. In the lamplight, Aurelius could make out another lantern and tinderbox.

"Leave it", said the woman. "We'll grab them on the way back. We need to make sure there's nothing for the watchmen to find at the warehouse, then we can worry about hiding the stuff down here."

"Reckon they've caught on to us?" asked the man. Their voices were disappearing now, fading down the tunnel. "Do you think that other one was with the guard?"

"Nah. I reckon they were in the same business as us..."

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

I, too, apologise for the length of my post. Just wanted to get Terry to the store, to get things moving again.

By the time he managed to blink the flashing white spots out of his vision, the pair were almost out of sight, up at the far end of the tunnel. Aurelius could mark their conversation, his sharp, well-pierced ears pricking up. Cross-traders, Aurelius thought, running his hand over his jaw. The tiefling figured they'd either avoid the pair up ahead, or just nick them and be done with it. He didn't want to risk them lanning the guards to his and Wilcher's whereabouts..

"Don't even think about it!"

Glofir's voice hissed sharply from the mirror, as if he could read Aurelius' mind - which, for all the warlock knew, he possibly could.

"I didn't hire you to commit murders, I hired you to stop them!"

The half-demon growled under his breath, and tucked the mirror away inside his coat. Fine! he fumed internally, turning his eyes once again to the human behind him. The bloke had been uncommonly quiet, but after what he'd been through lately, the Anarchist wasn't sure if he could blame him. They waited a little longer, making sure the other two were long gone before they moved from the place they were crouching, dappled in shadows.

Aurelianus led the way, keeping low as he darted to the end of the corridor. His myriad charms and talismans tinkled softly, but other than that the half-breed never made a single sound; he was well versed in stealth. He stopped again at the end of the intersection and drew out the mirror one more time.

"Head left, and a few feet up the tunnel you'll see a manhole cover above you. That's the entr--"

The tiefling cut Glofir off tucking the mirror away again. He'd heard all he had to.. and he could hear more. The man and the woman were coming back down the tunnel, still rattling their bone-boxes at each other as they went, the light from their lantern giving them away as much as their yapping. Black tongue gliding over his fangs, Aurelianus quickly came to a decision.

"Let's go," he whispered to Terry.

Without another word, the tiefling held his hands behind his back, as if they'd been tied, and walked straight round the corner. He stopped when the light of the lanterns touched him, Terry standing behind him staring vacantly at the two cross-traders. The pair stood, wide-eyed as they took in the guard's uniform Terry wore, and his apparent prisoner.

"Run!" Aurelius urged, "his mates are right behind us!"

Then they turned tail and fled back up the tunnels as fast as their legs could carry them. Chuckling softly to himself, the plane-touched turned back the way they were supposed to be heading, quickly marking the entrance to Glofir's store even in the almost total darkness. A few moments later, he was boosting the mentally and physically drained Terry Wilcher up through the narrow opening, to be greeted by the old man himself.

[Wilfred]

Aurelius - if you want Aur to participate in the questioning, perhaps we could collaborate on the next post through PM or chat?

Terry's feet disappeared into the gloomily-lit chamber above them. Aurelius was up in a flash, hot on his heels.

The room they were in was fairly roomy, enclosed by four rough stone walls and illuminated by a number of umber spheres attached to cast iron brackets. A lone door sat nestled into the far wall, which liekly opened to the stairs up, and a grille in the centre of the ceiling admitted a frail breeze of relatively fresh air. Apart from that, the room was quite bare... save an eye-wateringly complicated ring of concentric magic circles, centred around the manhole Aurelius and Tery had just emerged from.

"I would be a bit more comfortable if you would exit the wards, if you please..." said Glofir. Terry didn't need telling twice. "Very good", said the old wizard, when both were safely free of the painted circles. He slid his sleeves up his arms, flexed his fingers, then performed an intricate series of gestures. The lines flashed with light once, then settled down. A deep hum filled the air.

Glofir gave them a weary look. "A precaution against things getting in. Or out. I would advise against entering them again. Now - upstairs. I'm sorry to insist on this, but I need to ask you a few things about... well, I imagine you can guess."

The young man's eyes looked as soulless as ever. "Fine", he said, and trudged towards the door.

[Wilfred]

Once more, Glofir had adorned his large, upstairs table with food and drink. While the porcelain tea and silver coffee sets remained, they had been joined by several bottles of elvish wine and, something of a peculiarity, elvish beer. It was much different to the standard lagers, being remarkably sour, but balanced by the strong presence of various fruits; some tasted of cherries, others of blackberries and still others with peach. Glofir poured a measure of wine for each of his guests. It looked like he hadn't slept since Aurelius had first stepped into his shop.

"I'm hearing troubling news about the breakout", he said, and his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the tiefling. "Patrols continue to run up and down the streets screaming bloody murder."

To illustrate this point, he paused, and the faint sound of frenzied yells came in through the windows.

Glofir continued. "Do you remember what I said about using violence? Because I do, and I'm sure I made it quite plain that your payment hinged upon not employing it..."

Before Aurelius could reply, however, Terry stood up. Without a word, he lifted up his tunic. The chest beneath it had the same colouration as an over-ripe plum.

"I heard them talking, Glofir", he said, when the wizard had had his fill of the view. He slipped the shirt back on and sat down. "When they were doing this every day. And you know what they said? They said that when I hanged, they'd make sure it wasn't quick. That they'd see that the hangman let me dangle for a bit."

"This man murdered people in cold blood..." Glofir began, but Terry cut him off.

"Those men deserved death! And he saved my life!"

Glofir seemed to be conflicted, and Aur's wolfish grin didn't help matters; the tiefling was observing the exchange, not with an air of concern, but one of indifferent amusement. Soon enough, though, one side won over; Glofir sighed and acceded the point.

"Fine. At least you've got results, which is more than anyone else has done so far. But I will stress the point - no more killing, understand?"