Kerry-Anne Wayward Daughter
Log Info
- Title: Kerry-Anne Wayward Daughter
- Emitter: Jinks
- Characters: Andelena, Skielstregar, Telamon, Vaera
- Place: Lower Trades District
- Time: Monday, February 28, 2022, 11:00 AM
- Summary: Elianus Gurges needs help retrieving his wayward daughter, Krista Iantha (or "Kerry-Anne"). He suspects that she's fallen in with a bad crowd and worries for her future. The mercenaries meet with him to discover an ex-military man with a bit of a temper and a need to be in control; they wonder if Kerry-Anne wasn't right to leave. Information is gathered and and they discover Kerry-Anne is likely at a new party house located in the western trades called "a Braid Knot" run by the Jewelbraid tribe of Phurai Dae.
Research reveals that the Jewelbraids walk a fine line between honesty and banditry with rumors that they aren't above breaking the law in lean times. The sellswords also discover that Elianus is a respected name among the community and seems to lead an honest and charitable life.
Getting into "a Braid Knot" proves interesting but doable; three of the tribesmen guard the entrance and only need some persuading. The group surrenders their weapons and once inside the group mingles and locate the object of their search without much effort. She appears to be in the middle of some kind of scarification or tattoo process and beyond her faculties. The mercenaries intervene and her would-be husband loses his cool.
- Encounter 1: CR7, 3600xp
Jal (Swa5 CR4, XP1200), Kizzy (Rog5 CR4, XP1200), and Simza (Mnk5 CR4, XP1200)
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Dramatis Personae =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Andelena 6'0" 180 Lb Human Female Redhead with steel-grey eyes and powerful build. Skielstregar 7'2" 330 Lb Sith-Makar Male A silver/bronze scale with fangs and empty eyes. Telamon 5'6" 140 Lb Half-Elf Male A platinum-blond half-sil man with dancing dark eyes Vaera 7'0" 262 Lb Sith-Makar Female A tall, dark red Makari with a metallic leg. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- As the GM -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
It's not a particularly busy day inside of the local adventuring guild but a vague tension fills up the empty spaces in between people. The comfortably-built, younger woman sitting behind the shift administrator's desk jumps whenever the door to the street opens before doing her best to appear casual and return to her stacked paperwork. Her long coat is draped on the chair behind her and her smart shirt is sweat-stained at the underarms above her stylish and professional-looking vest. The bangs of her copper blonde hair are a mess with ink smudged across her forehead-- the cause becoming clear when she uses her pen-hand to rub there.
No one speaks openly about it but the murmurings are pervasive and one can't help but catch a muttered word or two: 'Greatwood,' 'Llyranost,' and 'elves' are the hot lever topics of the day. Apparently the guild has some concerns about the Sildanyari plenipotentiaries.
The rolemaster confirms your interest in the contract and sends you back to one of the meeting rooms. All of the doors you pass in the hall are open and the rooms beyond empty. It's a rather slow day, after all.
Finally, in the last meeting room on the left, the client waits. The room is far too big for one man and he sits nervous and uncomfortable at the circular table. This is the largest of the guild's rooms and the sort normally reserved for grand, concerted efforts involving dozens of contract workers for extended or complex missions. There are empty hooks on the walls where company banners should hang and stacked tables and chairs pushed against them.
The man is of a muddled lineage, generally common-looking and Acanian in appearance but with the strong jaw and high cheekbones of the Eldanar. His black-hair is cut high-and-tight while a thick, black mustache and dark stubble work to conceal fading scars about his lip and cheeks. He wears a simple cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows and a well-worn leather apron covered in flaps and open pouches for little bits of kit.
Skielstregar was making his stop by the guild to see what was present and needed doing. He had recovered from his incident with the ghouls, and he's back to his shining silver luster. The tension is noted with a raised brow. A job is inquired about, and now he stands in the meeting room with his cloak pulled over him to keep the ambient light from shooting dozens of reflections up on the walls and people's eyes.
"Peassse on your nesst," he greets cordially as he pulls out a chair for himself. "And hisss light on your path."
Telamon steps into the meeting room, blinking a bit. He'd expected a crowd, not just... one fellow. His dark eyes flick over the man, measuringly, studying him with that calm regard as he follows Skielstregar inside. "What he said," he cheerfully adds. "A pleasure to meet you even in such troubled times, sir...?" He allows the man to introduce himself, as he takes a seat next to Skiel.
Andelena walks into the meeting room, although she looks at the shift admin with a quiet look that asks, "Hey, you sure we're not cousins or something?" in the process. Her own copper-blonde hair is tied back into a bun today, making her look somewhat professional as she glides into the room dressed in full armor and her usual Sunguard white cloak.
"His light on your path too, Skielstregar," she calls out in greeting to him, a grin spreading on her face as she sees him. "The Knight's giving you a bit of his shine today, that's for damn sure."
She regards Telamon with a slight nod. Apparently, not much to notice. "What the kid said," the Sunguard replies, not nearly so interested in pleasantries. "What's the deal and how are we helping?"
The man takes a break from worriedly rubbing a hand over his bloodied knuckles to stand when the mercenaries arrive. He's a short distance past middle-aged and led an exciting life; a military man in his younger years if you had to guess by the way he carries himself. There's a tight nod in acknowledgement of the various greetings and then a look to the door. Maybe he expected more?
"Elianus Gurges," he introduces himself before bracing his fists atop the table and sitting back down. His face is set with worry. His shirt has no collar but he wears the Animus pin at a top corner of his smock that marks him in support of the Resurrectionists. The comment about nests draws a dark scowl.
"'is light on you, too," he offers in a distracted manner-- almost perfunctorily. His accent isn't far off from Andelena's, Myrrish, but likely east a ways. "My daughter's put in with the wrong type and I want her back but she ends up in jail or dead or worse..." He's rubbing at his knuckles again. "Filthy gypsy bandits."
<OOC> Jinks says, "Can do Kn.Local, Perceptions, and/or Sense Motives from folks!" GAME: Skielstregar rolls perception: (4)+10: 14 GAME: Andelena rolls Sense Motive: (16)+9: 25 GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (5)+11: 16 GAME: Telamon rolls sense motive+3: (20)+5+3: 28 GAME: Andelena rolls Perception: (10)+6: 16 <OOC> Jinks says, "Everyone can notice that Elianus appears to be a barber surgeon. His apron pockets have the sort of thing you'd expect one to have. There's also a working bag set against the wall behind him."
Skielstregar thuds his chest twice with a curled fist against his mithral armor. "Ssskielstregar, Warrior-caste."
His head tilts slowly to the side. "... bandits?" he echoes, eyes glancing to the employer's knuckles, and then back to the bag behind him. "Did you try and take them on yourself?"
Telamon spreads his hands soothingly. "Master Gurges, I'm sure we can get to the bottom of this." He cocks his head, regarding the man with an interested eye. "Indeed, Skiel raises an apt point. You seem to have been in a bit of a scuffle." He rubs his chin. "How old is your daughter, perchance? I admit that there may be questions raised if she has passed her coming of age."
Andelena bites her tongue at the slur that accompanies the description of bandits. She breathes in and exhales after a moment. "Okay. Where's the location of these bandits? Why do they have your daughter? Is she gonna come to us willingly?" she asks. "Because if she's an adult and she's left of her own free will, we've got a problem. Asking just to make sure everything's on the up-and-up."
Elianus takes his own deep breath, forcing his hands to open and sit flat on the table at the extra and unnecessary questions. He nods a few times: slowly at first but with a subtly-increasing rapidity as he seems to convince himself of something internally. "Alright," he says, looking up at the trio.
"No." His elbow thumps on the table and he shows the back of his hand with the battered knuckles. "I was upset and got into my cups. Then I tried to put my hand through a bannister at the Ox." He drops the forearm onto the table and side-eyes Skielstregar. "They wouldn't let me into their filthy... house of leisure to take Krista back.
"--and she's still a young woman. A girl, really." He glares between Telamon and Andelena. "Just-barely seeing 'er sixteenth winter. She's upset because I won't let her sign up with the guard. So now she's trying to ruin 'er life before it really begins to get me back. Trying to give up her name, too; going by 'Kerry-Anne' instead of Krista Iantha..."
Skielstregar slowly blinks, his dead gaze half lidding as his too-long talons drum across the top of the table. His eyes drift to Andelena. Shares a look with her, then goes back to their potential employer. "Okay," he simply acknowledges, but there's a whole prose worth of tongue lashing being coiled back.
Telamon raises his eyebrows. "That's... new. Usually they run away and join an adventuring party, not a brothel." He glances at Andelena. "However, I think a check on Krista's welfare is in order... and if they want to argue, well..." He flexes his fingers lightly. "...I imagine they'll listen to reason."
The two Daeusites' gazes meet. Andelena's clearly just not as pleased with this situation either. There's an undercurrent of a subtle anger that's accented by the slight flare of her nostrils. But she turns her steely eyes back onto the man, her arms folding.
"Alright. Just have to understand what we're getting into before we throw ourselves into the job."
She turns on her heels and makes for the door. "We'll find your daughter."
Then over her shoulder, the redhead says, "His light on your path." It's pleasant parting on its own. But it's clear Andelena's got some experience with Myrrish gentry because it's got its own backhanded quality that follows her out of the room.
The man thinks of something as you ready to leave, digging out a scrap of parchment that's been crumpled, discarded, and later rescued. It's folded roughly now and he tosses it across the table to Telamon. "Krista Iantha," he reminds. "The bandit trying to pull her along into his horse tribe did that. It's a decent enough likeness."
The fellow stands, crossing arms over his chest as Andelena leaves and the others follow. "I love my daughter but she can't be trusted to make appropriate decisions like this. Not yet. Remind her that her mother... remind her that Melaena is watching her and worries, too."
Skielstregar stands with the fellow Sun-lord, him lightly sighing. "Very well. We ssshal ssssee to thisss."
He gives the man one more once over, nods slowly, and ambles out of the room behind the cleric.
<OOC> Jinks says, "It's a charcoal sketch of a young woman, 3/4 portriat. It's smudged and stained a bit but still a good reference. Shares her father's jawline but a thinner nose and curly hair. She has a far-off and distracted look." <OOC> Jinks says, "If folks would like to attempt to gather information en route, I will entertain Diplomacy checks!" GAME: Telamon rolls diplomacy+3: (13)+11+3: 27
The party splits--you NEVER split the party!-- briefly to collect a fourth member and allow Andelena and Telamon time to wander the trades district gaining some further insight into the situation. Eventually, you regroup and the sorcerer leads you all to the determined destination: a new makeshift tavern in town.
Well, "A Braid Knot" is more of a hastily-converted squat than a tavern and looks it from the outside. In the middle of the western trades district, what used to be a moderately-sized two-floor factory has been converted into what's best called a 'party house.' The lower floor is made up of whitewashed stone that has been painted with simple-but-descriptive horses and figures celebrating. The upper floor is wooden and draped with colorful ribbons and a pair of long, draping banners in tan, with a black horse's head in silhouetted profile. The horses mane hangs in three braids with each braid two alternating colors: orange and green, green and red, and black and grey.
The main entrance is wide enough to host double-doors but the frames are empty and a pair of coloful heavy cloth drapes down instead. Three of the Phurai Dae lounge about the entrance; two women and a man in loose, bright clothing with multi-colored ornamentation braided into their dark hair.
The trio keeps a loose watch on the street, chatting and laughing as they pass a bottle between themselves. The man is doing his best to remain the focus of attention, attempting to hold the conversation as he tells some story complete with animated hand gestures. A swordfight of some kind, you'd guess.
Telamon likes to joke he has two talents. One is the obvious one: sorcery. But the other is subtler, and just as useful. Stopping to talk to a person now and then -- a Myrrish sellsword, a oruch priestess, a lucht trader -- and he assembles a surprising picture from the pieces he collects. "Krista's a bit of a hothead -- I admit I like her already," he grins. "And evidently she bridles at her father a bit. The gypsies, though... looks like they're Phurai Dae. Jewelbraid tribe, riding that narrow line between questionable work and outright outlaw status." He rubs his chin and gestures at the 'Braid Knot'. "And this seems to be their latest foray into 'barely legal' territory."
<OOC> Jinks says, "Anyone with Kn.Religion?" <OOC> Andelena says, "Yes, right here." GAME: Andelena rolls Knowledge/Religion: (12)+5: 17
Skielstregar splits off to grab an extra hand at the nearby local stop- The Fernwood Pub and returns some time later with a familiar redscale.
He shifts a bit on his feet, after Telamon gives his description, and he eyes the place suspiciously. "... this one is not againssst ssssuch establishments," he admits. "But this looks like it needs sssome sort of preissst to keep it... erm. Clean."
"Kid, don't call 'em that. The 'g' word. Not a nice word. Trust me, I'm from where he's from and that's not a word said in kindness to those people." Andelena's not rebuking Telamon or accusing him of anything--it's a gentle, yet firm explanation, like a teacher in school. "There's a lot of people where I'm from who use every single little excuse they can find to look down on others. Now, we can look down onto people for their actions--so if they're pressing people who aren't grown enough to know what they're doing for themselves, then we can just call 'em assholes."
She looks at the colors on the standard. "Well, kind of a leap... But seems like this might be a holy establishment of sorts. Could be Tarien, Ceinara, and Deimos. Old man could have reached to some conclusions based on prejudice."
Vaera did not take much convincing to go out and help a young person who seemed to be acting out, though getting ready from lounging around the fernwood took away any time to stop and look for information about what they were getting into. Still, hopefully having two imposing sith-makar would be better than one in such a situation. The red makari finally joins up with the others, with the briefest of nods. "So, if I am getting this straight, there's a stuck up noble, but a noble concerned about their daughter, who ran off to join up with nomads? And we're to figure out what's going on, and convince them to come back, right?"
"And ah, right, don't think I've met you before. Vaera, good to meet you." She adds to the unknown cleric.
Telamon rolls his hand back and forth as he replies to Vaera. "Hard to say. Our best bet might be to ask politely. Master Gurges is not a noble, but he is a man of good standing with a reputation for charity and helping his fellows. However... Lady Andelena may be right and his worries are making him... unreliable." He shakes his head. "I would rather do this with a minimum of bloodshed. If nothing else, it avoids unnecessary explanations to the town watch."
"Mossstly right, Firebrand." Skielstregar raises a brow at Andelena's explanation. "Right." Learn something new. His looks over the building, then gives a light shrug. "Well... if thisss isss attempting to be a place where there isss joy basssed off that..."
He looks to everyone. "... why don't we jussst go in with good spiritsss and vibesss?"
"Please, just Andelena. Or Andie. I left that Lady shit behind years ago--more accurately, I was unceremoniously crossed out of the family tree, but that's not important as much as it is a consistent source of relief." Andelena smiles to Telamon amiably.
The Sunguard nods to Skielstregar. "Let's go in. Be cautious, because for all we know, there could be something afoot, and, well, she's a kid. She's not big enough to be making decisions like this even if she's clearly running from a big fucking dick of a dad."
A beat passes before she says, "I don't mean the fun kind, either."
"As far as I am aware, 16 years is too short of a time for such decisions to be made, yes." Vaera sighs. "But of course, I would rather not kill or seriously maim someone without a very concrete and valid reason. So, convincing them to reconsider, or at least think things through seems to be the best course of action."
"Not a noble, got it. Least that means the father is less likely to have ulterior motives in getting their daughter back. Still, always worth hearing the other side of the story, too."
"Aaaaah, more logs for the fire!" Greets the entertainer of the trio, stepping out with his arms wide. His skin is dark and his eyes darkened further with painted shadow. His lean torso peaks through the space in between the bright cloth draped around his shoulders. He has beads in his wavy, brown hair: black and gray. A naked scimitar bobs at his hip. "You come for the good times, surely, but you dress for war." He tut-tuts with mock disappointment.
The largest of their number can't help but grin mutely at the familiar sequence. She's older, with streaks of white running through wavy grey mane. A few, tiny jewels are woven into to hair near her temple: green and red. Her big arms swell when she crosses them over her chest and takes up a position in front of the door.
Lastly, the youngest-- another woman-- has hair hanging down to her waist hosting a myriad of polished glass buables that sways when she saunters around the approaching group. Her eyebrows are shaved and replaced with tattooed script, one quirking up as her head cocks and she inspects the group. "Piss for the trench, Jal," she corrects. "Come to stab us and burn us and run us out of town..."
"Ay, Kizzy," laments the man, dramatically. "We ask nice. They make nice, surely. No need for piss-taking so soon..." He grins again at the quartet, "Yes?"
Telamon looks wry, and a little unimpressed. "The day's still young. But no one's bearing torches and pitchforks -- for the moment, at any rate." His dark eyes twinkle. "I much prefer a cup of hot soup and my lady by my side. However..." he lets it draw out. "...there's been questions raised. Answered questions mean no troubles and no blood spilt, which pleases me." He inspects his nails in an absurd pantomime of a bored nobleman. "It's so hard to clean good garments, after all." Suddenly his hand drops and he fixes the man with that calm, slight smile. "Let's start with a name, 'Jal'. Kerry-Anne."
Skielstregar tilts his head to the side, finding the mishmash of dangling baubles and inked skin interesting. "Ssssometimes joy comesss after war, and there's no inbetween," he rumbles warm.
He nods towards Telamon, him too crossing his large arms, mirroring the largest of the trio.
Andelena just raises a brow as she observes Telamon in action, eventually lifting a hand to her mouth to cough--a well-timed disguise for a chuckle that was clearly coming on--as Telamon looks boredly at his nails. She silently looks at Skielstregar with a gaze that communicates, "You seeing this shit?"
Her brief moment of hidden comedy aside, she resumes looking between Telamon and the people that they're talking to. Finally, she says, "We're just here to make sure the girl's safe. She's not a legal adult, so she has to remain with her legal guardian. Rules are rules."
Vaera did not have any visible weapons, but she was still armored, and there was no telling what was in that jacket. Those that knew her would know it was a lot of things. The red makari chuffs, and pulls at a glove on her left hand to get it fitted right. "Look, we do not want any trouble, and we don't want to run anyone out of town. But people can do some things they don't think through entirely when they get emotional. And if this girl is here, we want to make sure she knows what she's getting into." Vaera states. "Ideally, come back in a couple years for her, if she's still up for that."
"Ah, yes! Names are a good start and Jal is mine," agrees the peacock with a widening grin. One palm rests open and easy on the pommel of his blade and his opposite thumb hooks into the top of his pants. The weight of his arm rests, pushing them lower to reveal the subtle-V at the base of his abdomen. "But where would I carry Ann? You speak in riddles, Sildanyari. You will fit in quite well here."
The long-haired woman sidles up behind Skielstregar, brushing her fingers over the polearm after he has his say. "Oh, maybe not all for the trenches. I do like you..." The woman at the doorway clears her throat, forcefully, and draws a sufficiently-rebuked look from Kizzy. "Sorry, Simza..." She mumbles, stepping back and continuing her circuit and inspection.
Jal had looked over his shoulder when the largest of their number coughed, his smile fading briefly, too, and the true pecking order of the trio becomes obvious. "Yes, yes, well... ah--" he's lost his train of thought. He smiles dumbly, hips lips wide and his teeth showing as he locates his place. Vaera jogs his memory. "Yes, yes, a... girl? We have many girls-- many boys. And everyone is safe. Having fun and dreaming for Spring.
"If you wish to be another log on the fire you may follow Simza inside. But war does not exist inside and Simza will make sure you forget how to make it..."
Telamon shakes his head. "If you are hoping to impress me, Jal, you're going to have to work harder. But I'll give you full marks for your effort." His eyes glint. "Perhaps in Spring we might cross paths again. But in the meantime... the girl, Kerry-Anne. We would like to speak to her." His gaze slides to Simza, and he turns a dazzling smile on her. "Perhaps the lady here in question could conduct us to her, so we don't get lost?"
Skielstergar blinks as the woman approaches and purrs. He glances down. And lightly smiles with a little rumble and shake of his head. "Cute," is all he says, raising a hand to thumb the red scale on his necklace.
He scratches his head neck with too-long talons. "We don't seek war, and make sure that a log isn't too green to burn bright. Such saplings are terrible firewood."
And Skiel knows firewood.
"Alright. Does the name Kriste Iantha jog your memory instead? I'll be honest, there is nothing here in terms of 'services' that appeals to me. Just here to talk to this girl and get her back to her father so you lot can do whatever you like in peace after that." Andelena looks like she's on the edge of pulling out the real bit of authority she has, but considering how hard Telamon is trying to schmooze, she's holding off long enough to see if he gets results.
Jal sighs, crestfallen that no one wants to play his little game with him. He turns and slinks away, dropping down heavily onto a crate that the trio share as a makeshift bench. The bottle they'd been passing around is snatched up and he gestures moodily to the large woman with it. "... go ahead, Simza."
The Phurai Dae woman smirks and regards the mercenaries with mild amusement. "He doesn't know this girl you're talking about. We don't care about your names. We dream the Spring with you and make a bit of coin." She tosses her head back. "You can come inside with me to look for your girl but the tribes don't steal your children; that's a lie people tell.
"There's a dressing room just inside. Leave your weapons there and you can dream the Spring with us," she turns and pushes her arm through the draping cloth, lifting it up and stepping back. "... or look for the girl amongst the dreamers. But do not be disruptive."
Andelena looks back to the group. "Alright. That's straightforward enough to me," she says. "I'm in favor of just walking in and looking for the girl among the dreamers. Anyone else have any objections?"
She does look pretty reluctant to leave her longsword behind, however.
Skielstregar sighs heavily and ponders for a moment. "We do not asssume asss such about your people," he says, empathetically. He reaches up, pulling at some clasps and bandoliers. After some tugs, weapons dangle free from them, and he's left in nothing more than his armor. "Looking amongssst the dreamersss soundsss well to thissss one. Perhapsss.... another time thisss one will partake of thiss. No objectionssss."
Vaera sighs and pulls the dragonbelcher out of her jacket, unloads it, and sets it on the table, followed by reaching into her jacket, and pulling out an entire thunderbelcher which is similarly unloaded and set aside. Followed by a few daggers and the like.
"WeLl, so be it. We won't be overly disruptive. Just be careful Skielstregar, it seems like more softskins are taking a fancy to you."
The foyer is a converted reception room. There are doors on three of the walls (and hanging cloth to the street at your back) and an odd, darkwood, and metal-plated wardrobe that looks entirely out of place in the otherwise-unfurnished room. The massive thing has as much in common with a safe as a place to store clothes and you'd wager that the old factory building could collapse around it and the object would remain standing. A rather eccentric gobber (is there any other kind?) unlocks the reinforced furniture and accepts the weapons while Simza observes. The little guy makes notes on a box and smiles before re-locking the contraption and gesturing to yet another door. Simza steps outside.
Beyond the door indicated by the gobber is the dark common room of "A Braid Knot." Further in from the street it's even warmer, the air is moist, and the place smells of sweet smoke, sweat, and alcohol. A reed instrument is joined by a small pair of drums and a long-necked string of some foreign model to fill the room with music. The hard floors are covered with furs, rugs, blankets, and pillows of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Some people dance, others stand and talk or drink.
Five tents have been erected inside the common area and it's in these tents where smaller private parties occur. Two have their flaps open to reveal people lounging, smoking, drinking, and dozing. Three others are closed to offer some modicum of privacy.
There are more of the Dae in this room, the hosts all wearing jewels, beads, or smoothed glass decorations in their dark braids. Many of the people present are locals, however, and they mingle comfortably with the visiting tribesmen.
Andelena is not too happy to be without weapons, but she'll make do for the sake of keeping peace. "Man, I wish I was more like Aryia than ever," she says wistfully, looking wistfully in the direction of her cast-off longsword.
She sighs as she looks in the direction of the rest of the group. "At least it's kind of cozy feeling in here. Where should we start looking?" the Sunguard asks.
Skielstregar, hesitantly, gives his armaments up as they head inside. But he comments to Vaera on the way, "Let them fancy as much as they please, thisss one isss already taken," he smiles, nudging her with an elbow as they enter proper.
He swoops his gaze about, his frame relaxing some as a hand rests on his hip with a growing smile. "... thisss... looksss splendid..." he comments, looking like he'd be joining in if he wasn't on a job. "Perhapsss.... mingle? Asssk thossse that are passing out smokes?"
Having passed over a very nice dagger and a simple sling, Telamon sweeps the area with his eyes. In the dimmer lighting, his hair stands out, that strange platinum hue framing his face as he regards the festivities with a neutral expression. Casually, he slides his hand into his tunic, pulling out the sketch of Krista. "Huh. I was worried it was an opium den. This might be easier than I thought." He mulls it over, and nods to Skiel. "Mingle. Be polite. I have the picture if you need an image to jog their memory."
"Not a bad place, at least on the surface." Vaera nods. "But, we're here to find this girl. Just hope she's not in any of the closed tents at the moment. Best way to start is to speak to some of the people working here. Maybe show the picture to some of them?"
<OOC> Telamon says, "So I guess we're going to show the picture around? Diplomacy check?" <OOC> Jinks says, "Sure!" GAME: Telamon rolls diplomacy+3: (15)+11+3: 29 <OOC> Skielstregar will attempt to be naturally charming GAME: Skielstregar rolls diplomacy: (14)+2: 16 <OOC> Skielstregar says, "its the shiny scales" GAME: Vaera rolls diplomacy: (17)+1: 18
The Dae are busy having a good time and seem to be generally distrustful of folks poking their nose around. They're not hostile but you find that they're more interested in offering you the mouthpiece of a hookah or some particularly strong-smelling cup of what looks to be a cross of juice and tea.
Skielstregar and Vaera locate another Alexandrian woman who recognizes Kerry-Anne. Her lips are stained a reddish-purple from the juice and after two failed attempts to sit up and away from her stacked pillows she just answers questions from a supine position. Kerry-Anne is here, somewhere, with her new 'pony' (she giggles lasciviously) Taít. She's not sure where but probably downstairs.
Telamon is able to follow the information gathered by the two sith-makar and is told Taít and his prize are 'needling together' in a tent. A glassy-eyed nod is given to the tent nearest the large cargo doors.
Navigating through the crowd takes care stepping around and over folks, through groups, and across small mountains of pillows and piled blankets. Most of the common room is high-cielinged where the factory floor would be, with a staircase leading up to what were probably living quarters and an office for the manager/owner on the second floor.
Skiel is an imposing man. And he does his best to not be by sitting down and lounging around to make himself approachable. But he does his best to keep the frown from pulling down his wicked teeth to show after he gets some information, him thanking the woman and stepping off towards Telamon, who's had better luck.
"Thisss one's gut feelsss... be wary," he mumbles, waiting to be updated as he looks towards the stairs.
Telamon only has to politely turn down three offers of hookah pipes, sighing. "I must be a terrible disappointment to the strange prince." Leading the way to the tent, he holds up a hand, and then leans in slightly to listen at the closed flap, his brow furrowed.
<OOC> Telamon says, "Perception check to listen at the tent flap to see if I hear anything?" <OOC> Jinks says, "Sure!" GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (8)+11: 19
Andelena raises her hand to almost object to Telamon trying to listen in to the tent, but she just covers her mouth again. This time, she doesn't bother to hide a small 'snrk' that leaves her.
Skiel, towering over most, catches the half-sil man leaning in towards one of the closed tent. He tilts his head to the side, him lazily drawing closer. He doesn't mention anything, that'd give away information that's so befuddled to get here.
Vaera does her best to at least not be threatening to the people lounging around. She even manages to introduce a few people to Skielstregar, but she deigns to let him do the talking. Though she does stop to shake her head as she learns a bit more. "Well, it seems we have some places to check. Downstairs or the tents. Luckily, if things turn sour, don't need a weapon to crush whatever's dangling between that 'pony's' legs. To be honest, I am expecting more of an ass."
Telamon frowns, listening, then tenses slightly at whatever he hears. Firmly, he pulls the tent flap aside to look in, his expression a bit dour. "'Scuse me, do you happen to have any cinnamon? I'm fresh out..."
The lighting inside the tent is warm but furtive, produced by a set of three mismatched candles on an ancient brass stand. Opening the flap makes the candles jump and thick, sweet-smelling and intoxicating smoke billow out to slam Telamon full in the face.
Kerry-Anne (or Krista Iantha) lounges on her side with her draping, red-and-green top pulled up to reveal her bloodied flank. She looks much like she does in the picture save for her palid complexion and flattened, bead-woven curls matted to her sweaty face. Her lips are parted subtly and her eyes stare off into nothing.
A confused, flat-faced Dae looks up with a frown from where he leans over the young woman. He has a thin blade in one hand and his fingertips on the other are stained by inks of different colors. Nearly every inch of his sun-tanned flesh is covered in tattoos.
On the ground next to the object of your investigation is most probably Phurai Dae the boy named Tait. His wavy hair maintains some of his body but he seems to be in a similar state, otherwise. His fingers are woven into Kerry-Anne's and he holds a smoldering bowl up to her face while he watches her.
<OOC> Jinks says, "Gimme a fort save, Tel" GAME: Telamon rolls fortitude: (15)+3: 18 <OOC> Jinks says, "You're good :)" <OOC> Telamon says, "Can I roll craft/alchemy to determine what the hell that smoke was?" <OOC> Jinks says, "Sure!" GAME: Telamon rolls craft/alchemy: (20)+7: 27
"What the shit--" Andelena shoves her way into the tent, making sure she gets in front of Telamon, holding her hand up for a brawl. "That's it. By the powers placed onto me by the Shining Knight, I arrest you."
Skielstregar blinks as he looks over the shoulder of the others, his nose crinkling from the scent.
He squints at the blood. "... scar tattoo..?" he says aloud, and the Sunguard is moving before he could.
Meanwhile, Telamon staggers back, coughing, covering his mouth and nose. "...What the fuck? Is... is that honeydust?" He makes a gagging sound. "Gods damn, why the fuck would you use that if you're trying to put a tattoo on, you morons?" He doesn't even try to stop Andelena.
Vaera caught wind of the others finding something, And she was quick to join the others up near the tent. Though what she found inside was making her pause, and growl. "What, you want to make the decisions more permanent? You better have a good reason to be for doing what you are here, or I will happily help the sunguard drag you to the guard. And to be honest, I do not know how you could explain your way out of this."
"Whu-- HEY!" Tait finally realizes someone else is at the tent when Andelena barges in and raises her fists. He does his best to stand quickly but he's rubber-legged and his hands are full. He stumbles and falls back up to his knees before he remembers to let go of Kerry-Anne's hand.
The Dae with the stained fingers is confused but nowhere near as inebriated as the other two in the tent. He leans back away from the semi-conscious young woman and raises his hands in a symbol of surrender. "... is nothing illegal?"
"Right? Yeah! Hells' flames, yes! He's right." Tait finally manages to stand and wobbles dangerously in front of the Daeusite, scowling at Telamon's accusation. "Hurts less?" He half turns and hoists up his shirt with his free hand, showing off fresh bandages. "We're bound now! For life!"
Kerry-Anne moans quietly on the ground, her eyelids fluttering. She's clearly not in any state to offer her own defense whether it be to Andelena, Telamon, or Vaera.
"She's not in a state of mind nor of legal age to consent to anything. You're coming willingly with me to the Guard to explain yourself peacefully or we're going to do this the hard way," Andelena says as she approaches the man with the stained fingers. "Let's go. Someone pick her up off the floor, quickly."
Telamon wipes his mouth, looking disgusted. "City full of alchemists and you can't be arsed to buy a numbing potion? It's not even that expensive, you amateurish little--" He shifts into Oruch, and begins discussing Tait's ancestry and habits. Extensively. He flicks a stare at the tattooist. "Stay out of it, friend. Skiel, let's get her up and moving."
Skielstregar leans his massive skull in, dead eyes flickering a light crimson for a moment as a bead of something black and deathly drips off a fang. "Shut your filthy maw, hatchling snatcher," he growls, stepping in to gently pick up the strung out girl, a hand pressing into her side to stem it.
<OOC> Skielstregar does intimidate if it's wished, can be nixed if it's not wanted for later GAME: Skielstregar rolls intimidate: (20)+11: 31 <OOC> Jinks says, "it's good!" <OOC> Jinks says, "Folks give me Sense Motives, too, please." GAME: Skielstregar rolls sense motive: (18)+1: 19 GAME: Telamon rolls sense motive+3: (7)+5+3: 15 GAME: Andelena rolls Sense Motive: (8)+9: 17 GAME: Vaera rolls sense motive: (14)+7: 21 <OOC> Jinks says, "Alright! So Tait is definitely intoxicated, too, and he might actually be a little younger than Kerry-Anne. Nobody is picking up on malice. V can actually see how distraught he is the young woman is being taken away."
"Moving awfully quick, aren't you? Can't say she's been here that long, and you're already talking about binding yourselves together?" Vaera snorts. "And you didn't even have the decency to stop and do this properly. Perhaps for various concerns?"
"Certainly not a decision to be made so far in your cups either. I don't care if you're worried about her leaving, if you're going to rush into something like this, then maybe they're completely justified in getting as far away as possible, if that ever crossed your mind."
Tait stammers, moving to stop Skielstregar as the sith-makar collections up the wayward Gurges. "No, we're lin lo--" and then the creature is making his point and there are fangs and some kind of ichor and Tait blanches where he stands in a rapidly-expanding puddle.
"It's... tradition," he whimpers meekly.
The tattoo artist has the sense to stay out of the way and keeps his hands in plain view. He doesn't move but to scoot a little ways away from Tait's spilling of liquid fear.