View source for A Series of Sad Bars



Svarshan rests a few buildings down from Ma Rosie's. He looks all the world like one of those redscales...a sleepy redscale with thick, twisted horns that point backwards. He sits on the lid of a rainbarrel, the slow snow-drifts floating down, coming to rest on his nose.

"Well that was informative."

Godwyn stood near Svarshan with a smile. "And entertaining at that. But the question is, did we really gain anything from it besides a bit of entertainment?" She folded her arms. "I don't see the point of that little venture, unless Aldean gleaned something from all that."

"Mrmm. We. Sseen together." The tail thumps the barrel and he grins at her. For a moment, his own features overlay the illusion, like an ill-fitting robe, but magic takes hold soon enough, and tightens its hold. "...and. You...ssseen. Ma Rossie's. Not look paladin."

Godwyn looked down at her clothes. "Well, that's what I'm wearing this for." A brown overcoat draped over the cotton shirt now, completing the look. "I certainly hope my acting skills were up to par, though. I'm sure Aldean would be dissapointed if I broke his cover.

Godwyn looked down at her clothes. "Well, that's what I'm wearing this for." A brown overcoat draped over the cotton shirt now, completing the look. "I certainly hope my acting skills were up to par, though. I'm sure Aldean would be disappointed if I broke his cover."

Talazia has arrived.

It takes several minutes before anything else happens or there's any indication of where Aldean might have gotten off to. Finally, though, there's a quiet baritone *hsst* from the smelly alley behind Svarshan's seat. A moment later, the bard puts in an appearance from the other side, sliding down the wall to sit inconspicuously but close enough to be heard. Up close, he quite thoroughly smells of the sickly-sweet miasma that hung in the air in the gambling hall ... and is missing his eyebrows. He looks quite the mess, really, from dilapidated clothing to odd smell to booze perfume. "Oy." The quiet greeting, though, is perfectly clear.

"Yess." The word is said with warmth and amusement, as though some secret were shared. Svarshan looks down the alleyway one, then the--and starts at the dirty hissing and then the even worse...

His muzzle rumples, and he sneezes once, eyes beginning to water.

"Good. Ssseeing you. ...our Hunter. Sshould be here ssoon."

Godwyn grimaced as she smelled him before he really showed up. "I have to say, when you take on a role, you really take it on." She found herself lucky she hadn't eaten anything. "So what did you get from all that?"

Speaking of the hunter, Talazia appears rather quietly near Svarshan. Elves and their quiet...who knew?

"Sailors be a suspicious lot, lass," Aldean answers Godwyn, snorting laughter. He's not as drunk as he appeared to be. "They won't talk t'any but their own. Aye, got sommat. Reckon it be enough." Meanwhile, he's adopted a pose that from the outside looks like the legs of someone passed out in the alley.

Svarshan shoulders Talazia good-naturedly, and follows it up with a quiet smile. "I ssaw you. Joining in the. Performance," he says, and then pauses. "I did not know you. Danssed."

Talazia says, "All elves dance, Svarshan. it's just a matter of how vigorously and why." She then looks towards everyone else."

The sith scratches at his jaw, and looks at the sil sideways, as though trying to determine whether she was fibbing or not. Eventually, he gives a thump of his tail. "Ssso. The. Docks." It's an opening, but. Perhaps not the only opening.

Godwyn nodded. "The docks. There's still the option of the orphanage down there. I need to go and check there anyway to find out how many are missing."

Aldean is quiet for the moment, listening to the area around them and whether anyone is listening to them.

Talazia says, "The docks is a good place to start it seems." *boingboing* The elf seems to bounce ahead of the group heading for the docks."

Thump, against the barrel. "Bassed on what our friend. Ssaid. They will not know. ...much. Sshould we. Focus on the. Infiltration, insstead?" Svarshan asks, looking at each of them. His tail reaches out, snagging the dancing sildanyari. Because sildanyari always dance.

It's not until the group has moved away from the area and is well and truly on their way to the docks that Aldean appears to straighten from a drunken haze. He hasn't bothered to change clothes; all of his adventuring gear has been safely left at the Temple of Daeus. The only thing he carries on him is a dagger, a mug, about 5 gold or so, mostly in silvers and coppers, and a set of cheap wooden panpipes tucked into his belt. Although he's got a cloak thrown over him, he's shivering some. 

He doesn't offer any commentary, either, until t hey're about halfway there. "Godwyn, lass, never do a role half-arsed. Do ye do it, do it right or ye might end up out on the street ... or with a knife in yer ribs," he warns. "An' I'd not use th'word infiltration 'ere, either. Boys hear that and they'll smell trouble."

About halfway there, Talazia begins to start blending into the shadows more and more. Rather than go out of her way to blend, she simply makes it as casual looking as possible. It's the little things. The fact that she doesn't talk to anyone....doesn't touch anyone, avoids contact with anyone. Doesn't speed up her gait, and walks casually as possible that makes her rather.....invisible to most people in the area.

On the roof of one of the buildings, a scuffed up redscale rests his soul. He watches the sailor walk past with a hungry look...outfitted as he is as a thug with a short blade, and the shoulders and scars to prove it. He says something in some dark language before turning to look down at the sildanyari...or at least the shadows that Talazia had vanished towards. The two groups are headed slightly different directions, different foci. He stays where he's best; on the rooftops.

GAME:  Aldean rolls disguise: (2)+4: 6

And so as others blended into the background, Godwyn played the role of one who is simply out on an evening stroll. Her disguise is not magical, but all the same, she's not wearing any of her usual trappings. Instead, she is wearing something one would normally not see her in, and thus... well, they might not know it's her at first.

GAME:  Godwyn rolls Disguise+2: (5)+3+2: 10

GAME:  Svarshan rolls disguise+10: (13)+7+10: 30

GAME:  Talazia rolls stealth: (1)+10: 11 (EPIC FAIL)

Talazia has no disguise...she needs no disguise......she blencds into the shadows, just as a good hunter should. Her prey should not see her, but she should see her prey.....that is the way of the hunter.

The docks are typical tongiht. THere are all manner of sea going vessel coming to dock and sailors going to and fro. On top of that, there's all manner of people who work here, going back and forth with therir business. At night, the crowds have begun to turn towrds peoples with greater darkvision. Oruchs, goblins, hobgoblins, the rare Golem or Khazad. And maybe an elf. Or two.

Svarshan rests on the rooftops overhead. A close look would show the sith's original form mixed imperfectly with illusion, but...he stays on the rooftops, as though hiding from some damnable employer. Or considering who to ambush. He looks down occasionally, fingering the short, thug's blade--at the characters below, before getting distracted by something else.

Although he still wears the same attire he did from the gambling hall, Aldean appears to have dropped some of the act he was pulling earlier, now looking around him at the faces and the crowds. 

Godwyn made her best attempt to stand out, while blending in at the same time. Sometimes the use of a disguise was to remove attention from others, and while she wasn't ostentatious, Godwyn was the most well-dressed.

Talazia is watching everything from the shadows. And sure....Darkvision helps....but it's all black and white. Know your prey.

Would you like to know more? (yes/no)

Snow begins to drift downwards in a slow spiral. It's Alexandria, with winter set in. Some of it drifts over the redscale's muzzle and he looks cross-eyed at it. Sneezes.

Talazia has reconnected.

You're blending in well enough so far. Mixed crowds. 

There's a particularly hopping tavern tonight here, though. The Fecund Fowl. The sign on it shows a fat duck sitting on a pond. A /really/ fat duck. 

Despite being busy, it has a sort of shady, broody atmosphere that simmers and roils with anger.

Godwyn's role was tested once or twice as she was stopped by passerby making attempts to sell her things. While she could not refuse outright, Godwyn was more than happy to hold off any purchases until further investigation of other shops. Wouldn't always be this easy.

Ah, a tavern. Excellent. Perfect place to get away from the hecklers.

Godwyn made her way toward the front entrance and stopped just to the right of it, leaning against the door. Then?

Then she waited.

Godwyn's role was tested once or twice as she was stopped by passerby making attempts to sell her things. While she could not refuse outright, Godwyn was more than happy to hold off any purchases until further investigation of other shops. Wouldn't always be this easy.

Ah, a tavern. Excellent. Perfect place to get away from the hecklers.

Godwyn made her way toward the front entrance and stopped just to the right of it, leaning against the wall. Then?

Then she waited.

Svarshan leans over as he sees the two wander into the Fowl. He goes quiet for a moment and then scrambles down the side of the building, and goes in search of the sildanyari.

Talazia has partially disconnected.

A grin lights the bard's face, one that fades as he gets a sense of the aura around the place -- and with a shiver as a snowflake goes down the back of his neck. "Follow me lead," he mutters quietly to the Sentinel, before fairly throwing the door open and wandering inside, looking around.

Godwyn gave a nod and made her way in... just slightly behind him, a few seconds. It might have been the difference between being seen with him, and being seen apart from him.

Talazia appears a short distance from the tavern, naturally in the shadows. She doesn't say anything, but she's sure Svarshan can see her.

The tavern oozes spite and resentment. Godwyn is eyeballed. Let's face it. Even in disguise, she doesn't look like she belongs here quite so much as Aldean or even Svarshan and Talazia might. People are minding their own business, for the most part, though sullen conversations continue and ales are being drunk in large quantities. 

THe bartender is a fat oruch with grey skin, eyeballing everyone. 

A very, very fat oruch.

It takes him a while. It's snowing and snowing by now...between that and the dark...well. It's a good thing he can see.

At least through that.

The sith rounds a bend and almost falls over the skulking sildanyari, even as evident as she's made herself. He takes a moment to straighten...and then gives a slow shrug. "Sa. No one. Found...anything. Yet. They went in--" he gestures towards the tavern with his muzzle.

Talazia nods. "Lead the way, Svarshan.

Svarshan gives her a half-smile, and then it's through the door of the tavern, and into the gloom. "Did you--?" he asks, the words only halfway out or there.

The grease on the oruch's apron doesn't drip anymore. No, it's deep-fried into him, half crispy and a third oiled. He snorts at the sight of newcomers--a near piggish sound, and turns towards one of the other patrons.

Oily smoke coats the rafters overhead. A typical, run-down tavern on the Docks. Someone's scratched a Radan symbol on the side wall--the only wall not covered in filth. No, that one's been given half a dead fish.

Aldean hadn't been kidding about alehouses being a horror. Really, in this part of a city, they're all about the same, and he looks around him, then leans against the bar, pulling out several coppers but letting the bartender see the silvers when the man takes a moment to look. If Godwyn joins him, he'll put an arm around her waist -- assuming she doesn't smack him. 

Godwyn joined him eventually, and...

...restrained herself. Honestly, it wasn't about to get any worse than this, or at least she hoped not. Then again, she trusted Aldean, whether he was playing a role or not. After all, she'd seen him at his worst. Or at least, a low point.

She even smiled.

"I did not ssee--" Svarshan tilts his head to the sign, and then makes a sign meaning 'negative.' He steps into the gloom with Talazia, and then looks around...and takes a deep breath, and then a deeper one. "Dragon. Forgive," he mutters... and at the sight of the coins Aldean holds out, he heads that way and closes his fist over the bard's smaller one. "I think. You owe me thosse silvers. Letss sit and. Talk?" He growls the words, but looks at the bard directly.

Talazia slid her way into the tavern....she's still stealthy.

A threat of violence isn't UNUSUAL. It's a cue for other sailors to turn the other way, for the pig-man to snort and slap his hand down on the counter. He watches for a moment, then looks away. 

Damn sailors.

GAME:  Godwyn rolls Bluff+2: (16)+3+2: 21

Aldean ... /freezes/ at the dragon-man's touch, his arm tightening around Godwyn's waist. "Uh ... yeah. We kin ... talk." There's hesitation in the words, and if played right, a bit of fear. He'll tug on the Sentinel, then, and hesitate a moment before following -- making a show of swallowing hard when the sith'makar's back is turned.

Svarshan grips the hand until Aldean gives him the silvers. The size difference is large--it probably covers the violence that doesn't come with it. "Thirty ssilvers. The number of a. Traitor," he says and then underneath his breath. "And a clossed dragon's eyess. You? Any. Missing?" he asks, keeping the words short and quiet. ...before smiling fangishly at Godwyn.

Click. SNAP.

"Spill blood, m'usin it in the stew tomorrowy. Understand?" Did he snort? Yes, yes he did. The oruch snorted at least every third word. He makes a show of wiping down the bar--with the filthiest rag this side of the Ox. Yeah. That's all it is--a show.

GAME:  Godwyn rolls Bluff+2: (18)+3+2: 23

There's low chuckles at Aldean's freezing reaction. Some people find it amusing. Others simply don't care, though at least one is eyeballing Godwyn with salacious intent. Finally, someone starts to sing from the corner. 

It's a baritone voice, low and dark, heavy with sadness. The song is about the death of a man at sea in storm tossed waters, mourning the things he did not get to see.

Godwyn grimaced for a brief moment. Wonderful. Someone interrupting their date. "Now what's this all about?" She glanced toward Aldean. "See that's what I warned you about gambling. Sooner or later, someone comes to collect." She gave Svarshan her best impression of someone intimidated. "Oh... right. Talking."

Godwyn gave her head a shake. Everyone accounted for, as far as she could tell. They were running out of leads.

"Then wass. Mistaken." The sith starts to shake his head...and then closes his hand around the silvers anyway. He'll give them back later. "Perhapss." He stands abruptly, the chair squealing.

A few of the sailors watch. One or two laughs while a third joins in a game. There's gambling here, too.

Aldean's eyes are quite wide, and it's with a bit of a shake in his hand that he hands over the silvers. There are enough there to cover ... but when the sith'makar releases him, he pulls back his hand and makes to rub his wrist, theatrically. The scolding about gambling produces a rather hangdog look. All in all ... And then he looks around, eyes lingering longingly over the games ... and notably /not/ on the singer. 

"Oh, goodness. Are you all right?"

Godwyn leaned closer to him. "Seriously... are you all right? You uh.. seem a bit nervous. That song, perhaps?"

Perhaps went underground," he says in lower tones as Svarshan leans against the table for a moment, one hand holding the thirty silver, the other one flat. "Perhaps. ..." he gives a shake of his head at Aldean and then reaches over and grasps the man by the front of the shirt. Louder: "Perhaps we ssettle...come now. Or we talk with the Bosssssun." Short words. Short sentences. Not too halting. ...disguise, disguise, disguise.

The rattle as more dice are thrown.

The song is known to a few others here. They too begin to join in, singing different parts of the song. It's not uncommon, of course, but it's deeply morose sounding. 

Glasses og up. The undercurrent of anger remains there. These are small and petty men who don't like their lot in life.

The fish on the wall continues to stink. Horribly.

"Hey hey hey...." Aldean's voice is a little shaky, although the song rises around him, and he can't disguise that it's one that he knows. "I paid ye ... no need fer all that." Still a little shaky as he's grabbed, but he lays a hand on the man's wrist, and tries on a charming smile. "AN' earlier'n promised, aye? So put me down." One foot twitches in time with the music. 

The redscale's eyes narrow. They're supposed to, aren't they? He growls, and leans partway across the table, snaps his fangs at Godwyn. "And herr?" he asks. "Two ratss. Two finess."

Godwyn can't help but look down at his foot for a brief moment, then back up at him. That... is odd. And to such a song, too. But the snapping of jaws forced her to focus her attention back onto the moment. "Y-you do know I'm not involved in this, yes? After all, I have nothing you want. Just came with this louse to make sure he gets home safe."

Yes, that's right. Keep up the act.

A few eyes are now on Aldean and the scaly fellow. And Godwyn. A jaw drops. There's a bit of laughter from one corner. The crowd grows marginally more accepting.

"You think thirty. Coversss the beer?" Short sentences. He can do that. The growling turns gutteral and Svarshan lets go of the shirt--but it's to throw Aldean dramatically back into his seat, before brandishing the silvers.

The shove is hard enough to throw Aldean into the bar, and he staggers and falls to its base, where he stares up at the sith'makar with wide eyes. "Wha -- wha d'ye want from me, mate?" he asks up from the floor. "Ye wanted ten, I gave ye that, ye wanted another ten, I gave ye that ... look...." 

Eyes are watching, of course, but it appears to be earning Aldean a small note of sympathy. 

A small one. No one intervenes, though. 

Not yet.

Godwyn placed a hand on his shoulder. Wasn't meant to be calming. It was meant to be an act, as with everything else. "Let's... just follow him. Do what he says. Perhaps I can somehow manage to get us out of this."

GAME:  Aldean rolls bluff: (1)+11: 12 (EPIC FAIL) to svarshan

Talazia remains stealthy. friggin elf.

"Thirsty ssilvers!" Thirty silvers! It's sith-makar humor, rough and snarled. ...not subtle at all. Not nuanced. Svarshan holds the silvers on high for everyone to see Aldean's supposed sin. ...and then several things happen at once. Several things.

He throws the silver at the bar as though incensed at the bard's comeuppance. And over damned beers no less, but isn't that a sacred thing? The holy drink of Rada? The silver hits and strikes--clattering against the filthy surface...and leaving bruises over the barkeep's pigface like oversized bruise-pimples that will surely turn to puss on the morrow.

And then the second thing happens. The second thing, happening so quickly in the smoky violence of the bar--a solid THUNK! and Aldean sails, lands on the far side of the room.

The third? Svarshan's grabbing the Bard's Lady Fair, and hoisting her over his shoulder with her ass upended.

Oh, yeah.

His money, and his lady swept out from him by the thieving brute.

It could not BE more classic.

God DAMN, Svarshan loves Myrrish theatre.

GAME:  Svarshan rolls perform/act: (14)+22: 36

Aldean has reconnected.

GAME:  Aldean rolls reflex: (12)+9: 21

GAME:  Godwyn rolls Perform/Act +s: (11)+3+s: 14

GAME:  Godwyn rolls CMB: (1)+13: 14 (EPIC FAIL)

Godwyn struggled. She forced, she flung her arms, she screamed.

Nope, not nearly good enough. He proved stronger than her.

In the back of her mind, she grinned. Perfect!

GAME:  Godwyn rolls Perform/Act+2: (10)+3+2: 15

She decided that, since this was an act... well, she'd done a good job so far.

She squealed again as he carted her out. "Uhnand me this instant, you brute! I have nothing you wa- *ow!*" She tried to look back at her date. "Don't just stand there, save me~!"

Svarshan slams the door for good effect and, "THIRSSSTY SILVERS!" he roars, and joggles his 'trophy' one-armed a moment, for horrid effect...before vanishing into the street.

Poor, poor Aldean.

Svarshan says "Ow" a few times for Godwyn's sake. "Ow." "Ow." "Ow." Because kickings.

At the moment, Aldean isn't saving /anyone/, nor is he exactly standing there ... but he does fly through the air with the greatest of ease, crashing into a table near the singer, foul-smelling beer and all. He lays there for a moment, with a groan that is not entirely feigned, but it isn't long before he starts to push himself up. 

Aldean has partially disconnected.

A hand has been offered to Aldean, of course. A foul smelling sailor with a pipe in his mouth helps him to his feet. Other pats him on the back. They return to their seat soon after. But it would appear that he's gotten some sympathy. The scaled wonder is being eyeballed. 

Someone is a little less welcome.

And nobody stops them from leaving, though one could definitely feel some ice there. If it wasn't still snowy out.

The door swings closed. Svarshan makes his best effort to get them to the top of a wall, somewhere nearby...so they can at least watch. And listen.

"Ow." He says obligingly. "Ow. Ow."

A little shakily and with the help of the sailor, Aldean gets to his feet. "Sorry 'bout that, mates," he says sheepishly, brushing himself off. "Already paid 'im more'n owed him ... but I don't give 'im more'n ..." He rubs at the side of his head. "Mayhap a song or two?" he asks, pulling the pipes from his belt and examining them to make sure they're unharmed. "Did a bit of shantyin'..." 

Talazia is in a dark corner of the tavern.....watching.......waiting.

It's easy enough for Talazia to blend in. One more quiet, stealthy person in a bar full of stealthy people who don't want to draw attention to themselves? Who's to care? 

There's an affirmative mutter from the crowd and another person begins to belt out a song, encouraging others to follow. 

This time, it's about a maiden who's lost her husband to the sea. Do these people know how to sing anything that isn't morbid and awful?

Although inwardly, Aldean shakes his head at the morbidity ... still. there's a clue there. Still rubbing the back of his neck and then the shoulder where he hit the table, he rights a chair and sits down, joining in with a will. He doesn't immediately order a drink, but this is one he knows well enough, and a sad tale indeed -- but instead of singing at first, since others are, he follows along on the set of panpipes he'd brought. Good for a haunting melody.

Godwyn waited until they were good and separated from the potential mess they'd made. Then again. Aldean was now among good company... and perhaps so was she. That might matter later on.

Once she was certain they were clear, she giggled. "Do. That. Again."


<hr>
<center>Part 2</center>
<hr>


-=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A07: Prestigious Moon's Sewing Room *>--=--=--=--=--=--=-

This small if disarrayed sewing room is covered in cloth and creaky, artifice sewing-machines that barely work. Of note are two small tables along one wall. Each boasts one of these machines, though more frequently mends and repairs are done by hand. 

The room seats four or five comfortably, though more than that would be a stretch. Almost unnoticed in the corner is a trap door...leading down to Sandy's cellar. It's full of wine. Wine and booze.

EXTRAS: +view                                 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Aldean          Blonde, tanned human male with a muscular build.      3s   2h

Solace          Mulblooded male with pale hair.                       45s  5m

Svarshan        Demons: BBQ with Spice                                0s   1w

Godwyn          Blond, blue-eyed, beatific Sentinel.                  26s  1h

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Out <O>                   

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

GAME:  Aldean rolls 1d6: (6): 6

GAME:  Aldean rolls 1d6: (6): 6

Late, late evening and a bottle of wine...courtesy of the cellar's owner. The cellar is certainly nicer than the earlier broom closet, and surprisingly spacious...almost as though its owner would build an underground castle dedicated to this secret, near-divine castle of inebriation. Rows of dusty bottles and not-so-dusty bottles, especially, line the walls or aisles. Against one of the aisles, Svarshan sits on the floor. He barely moves save to tap claw against leg. Tap.

Tap.

Incessantly.

Solace has discovered that the cellar has wine. This makes him remarkably tolerant of Svarshan's tapping, although he's firing back with an extended critique of every bottle in the cellar. It...almost...drowns out the tapping. But not entirely. "This is an /acceptable/ year, I suppose, although these particular fields were rumored to be highly acidic, giving the whole crop rather more of a bite than one prefers in an after-dinner wine, although it makes a decent palate cleanser between rich courses...and for the love of all the gods, will you please STOP THAT?" His cool, it seems, only lasts so long.

Godwyn chuckled at Solace's expense. It wasn't that she didn't find his talk of wine interesting, just that his frustration with a simple, repetitive noise was amusing. "So someone remind me why we're here. I mean, what are we doing?"

Tap. ...ta...Svarshan turns and eyes the artificer. He's in no good mood...a grumpy lizard. A very grumpy lizard who nonetheless stops the tapping and looks down at the half-emptied bottle at his side. "You can. Banissh any hangover," he says. He taps the side of his head--once--and then lets it rest at his side, as he rests against the aisle-row, and...just.

Sits quietly there a moment.

"Waiting for. Aldean. ...mrm. We esstablisshed him as. ...ssad? A dessperate. Man," to Solace. And that odd look crosses the sith's features again.

At length, the door opens. A set of heavy, solid footsteps, steady enough, and the door quietly closes behind them. Clearly, Aldean's never been here before, looking around as he is, and just as clearly, he took the time to clean up. His clothes are clean, the filthy ones from earlier nowhere in evidence, and he wears the few pieces of gear he normally wears in town. He's whistling a baritone tune, a much better rendition of one of the morbid pieces from the Fecund Fowl, and pauses at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing gingerly at his left shoulder. Other than tired and a bit on the inebriated side, he looks to be largely okay. 

"Good recruitment material," Solace agrees. He breathes out a sigh of relief as the tapping stops, but it doesn't keep him from inspecting Sandy's shelves for a bottle of his own. One of the rarer ones...although not SO rare that Sandy is likely to track him down and ask for payment in blood. "Especially for an egotist. They wouldn't want to recruit anyone who is too strong, in will or power, on their own. They want to facilitate dependence, encourage worship. At least, judging by their little performance when we feigned summoning."

Godwyn was entirely lost to the conversation. Apparently they'd done something without her.

While that was fine, it made things hard to keep up with. She cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak, when Aldean came in. "Well then, did you have fun, sailor?"

Svarshan looks at Solace more closely, keenly, and is about to say something to them both, when their erstwhile member heads down the stairs. He springs up, quicker than he ought and heads that way. When he reaches the bard, he grips his shoulder and places a palm against the man's chest, saying something quietly and in low tones. There's also a surge of faith-magic.

Aldean stops and blinks in surprise at the paladin's response, then grins good-naturedly. He does not, however, object as the golden light of Daeus' healing washes over him, and the hand that was rubbing his shoulder drops. "Thank ye, mate. Don't ye worry, worked out fine. Got sommat goin' there, an' me thanks fer that." The brogue is definitely stronger than usual, and this time, he tests the shoulder, with muh better results. It's then that he looks around at the others, the grin fading as he spots Solace. "Fair winds," he greets the others.

Solace snorts. He turns and leans against one of the shelves and says, "You're coddling him, Svarshan. If he has to let the bruises heal naturally, then he'll learn to fall /better/ next time." Despite the words, the tone is friendly, and the half-elf nods companionably to Aldean. The fading of the grin doesn't seem to faze him. Much. "You were approached, then?"

"When. ...there were timess..." Svarshan loses the words again. He stands there as still as stone and focused on something internal. It takes him a while to put it into words... "Everyone hasss their. Strength. In thisss...I asked. Ssomeone like Aldean. Ssolace. ...clever mindss. Mysself. Demons." He fails at words again, and gestures to the bard, "Pleasse essplain. Of thiss lasst. Evening. Pleasse. When you are sssettled." And more quietly, he thumps his tail, a I am glad you are okay. He ignores Solace. Of course.

"Not quite, mate," Aldean answers Solace, with a snort. "Got me somewhere, though." He nods to Svarshan, looking around him with interest before finding a patch of floor and sliding down the wall to explain. "Angry lot, that ... and they be sailors all, reckon. Sailors don't like folk as ain't like 'em. Had t'win 'em afore I'll get anywhere. Svarshan here mmade like a creditor fer debt. Loads o' sailors get that problem - if it ain't beer, it's gambling or smokes. Threw me about a bit, made like I were bein' bullied. Sorry 'bout th'arm, Sentinel," he adds. "Only way t'keep their paws off ye, or least lets me put a fist in their jaw do they try. Th'arm said ye be mine, an' most know th'signal. Anyroad ... by th'end I were one o'th'crowd. Stayed a bit, played some. Ain't singin' th'now, not yet." He frowns at that.

Godwyn nodded. "Accepted. So then, what did you get from all that? One would hope they informed you of something useful. And even if not..." She shrugged. "It's good to be accepted at least."

"...ssinging?" Svarshan ambles slowly over to the aisle again and grips it--drops himseof down onto the floor like the heavy lizard he is. Thuk. "I did not notissse much. Ssinging. ..." But he was focused on other things. Faking a fight. He quiets after that, just quiets and looks over to Godwn with a warm half-smile before looking to Solace. "Can we ussse this?"

Solace hmms. "That's a good start, Aldean. I...rather wish I'd been there to see it, although I'd have stuck out far too much. Still," he throws a wicked grin in Svarshan's direction, "must have been amusing, the paladin in a bar brawl." He chuckles to himself. "And certainly. Sailors have a variety of 'ins' to an evil cult. Alexandros doesn't approve of dark magic, so there are probably supplies that need to be smuggled in. Sailors are also a good source of sacrifices." He grimaces apologetically. "Sorry, but it's true. No one cares if an itinerate sailor goes missing, especially a low-level deckhand or laborer. And, of course, some ships still might deal in flesh, if you want sacrifices that truly won't be missed. An ear among the sailors could be invaluable, even if you aren't approached directly."

Godwyn said nothing as Solace spoke, and after he was done, she took in a breath. "Then we need a plan for when he actually gets invited. Because from what all you said, this could get very bad, very quickly. If we have some means of tracking him, we can get in as well... from a different angle."

"Aye, an' that be what it is. A start." Aldean answers both Godwyn and Solance at once, turning a hand palm-up in supplication. "Na, I understand. It be true enough. Sailors ain't educated, and most ain't that bright, neither. This lot ... there be sommat about 'em. They ain't happy. Ain't normal fer sailors on shore leave ta be singin' bout them as died at sea." He continues to frown at this. "Strange enough. I mean t'find out what ... seems like the sort as'd consort w' demons. But ... can't work fast, not wit' sailors. Got t'sell me story, make 'em buy it ... an' make o' meself a target. Draw 'em out." He shakes his head. "Don't dare sing with this lot. Don't want t'show 'em power." 

Svarshan leans back as the words begin to flow. He listens--taking mental notes but otherwise staying silent and twitching only occasionally. At Godwyn's suggestion he makes a noise in the back of his throat, a thinking noise. ...and then looks at the artificer. "Jussst over. Fiffty feet," he says and then taps the floor with a claw on either hand...and then has them switch places, before looking back to Aldean.

Godwyn shrugged. "I still think we should have a means of getting to you quickly. Regardless of how quickly this moves along, if you do get yourself inducted... well it's more or less going to come down to how quickly we can get you out, when something goes wrong." She didn't say if, mind.

Solace crosses his arms, and nods to Aldean. "You're the expert when it comes to the sailors. If you say you need time, then I can only assume our job should be to ensure you have it. And whatever other support you need to find out what's got them all so gloomy. Although the Sentinel's suggestion of tracking you somehow is a good one...it's a bit of a faux pas to misplace one's undercover agent. Never know where they might show up." He glances sidelong at Svarshan. "Fifty feet?"

"Aye. I'd be after askin' th'sildanya," Aldean answers, looking around the room for Talazia as if for the first time. "They didn't pay her no damn mind, an' aye, barely saw 'er. Ye'll need t'tail her, but I cna't carry nothin' magic on me. They figure it out an' th'game be up, I'm fer the Halls afore ye lot know what happened." Dead serious, but he doesn't sound frightened or particularly worried. "Gonna have ta hide th'spell stuff."

"Ssswap." The words are slow and the sith-makar makes the gesture again. Slow words, but...comfortable words, as molassas settling itself in the sunshine. Mmm. Nice. It's only too bad the sun isn't baking down, and it isn't a hundred degrees out, with a nice, sunny rock. Right now, everyone's collected and alive. Life is good. He nods druggedly to Aldean. "Any way to. Increassse interesst?"

Talazia has arrived.

Godwyn shrugged. "I still think we should have a means of getting to you quickly. Regardless of how quickly this moves along, if you do get yourself inducted... well it's more or less going to come down to how quickly we can get you out, when something goes wrong." She didn't say if, mind.

Solace crosses his arms, and nods to Aldean. "You're the expert when it comes to the sailors. If you say you need time, then I can only assume our job should be to ensure you have it. And whatever other support you need to find out what's got them all so gloomy. Although the Sentinel's suggestion of tracking you somehow is a good one...it's a bit of a faux pas to misplace one's undercover agent. Never know where they might show up." He glances sidelong at Svarshan. "Fifty feet?"

"Aye. I'd be after askin' th'sildanya," Aldean answers, looking around the room for Talazia as if for the first time. "They didn't pay her no damn mind, an' aye, barely saw 'er. Ye'll need t'tail her, but I cna't carry nothin' magic on me. They figure it out an' th'game be up, I'm fer the Halls afore ye lot know what happened." Dead serious, but he doesn't sound frightened or particularly worried. "Gonna have ta hide th'spell stuff."

"Ssswap." The words are slow and the sith-makar makes the gesture again. Slow words, but...comfortable words, as molassas settling itself in the sunshine. Mmm. Nice. It's only too bad the sun isn't baking down, and it isn't a hundred degrees out, with a nice, sunny rock. Right now, everyone's collected and alive. Life is good. He nods druggedly to Aldean. "Any way to. Increassse interesst?"

'

Solace nods to Aldean again. "Very reasonable. And, if worse comes to worst, it leaves you with an ace up your sleeve to enact the plan 'Get The Hell Out Of There', which is always a selling point." He smiles. "And we might could arrange more harassment, if you think it would help? Possibly some large, single debt that would be attractive bait for someone who wants to buy your everlasting loyalty. Or would you rather feed us the names of people who are worth looking into? If any seem unduly suspicious, we could quietly do some research on our end, and Talazia could convey information?"

"Both, methinks," Alean answers after a moment of consideration. He's sitting on the floor leaning against a wall. "An .. I'd thought t'fill the one hole in me story." With this, he spreads a hand. "got t'have a reason why I ain't jes' sign aboard sommat and get the hell out." It's his turn to speak slowly, now. "Reckon might be able ta fake bein' haunted. Ain't no ship'll sign me if that be so. If ye've other ideas, let's hear 'em."

Godwyn chuckled. "What with your acting skills? I've no doubt you'll be able to pull that out of your hat. Or whatever you're wearing at the time."

'You'd be surprised at what I could find out." COmes a female voice from a dark corner. It's then Talazia steps into the light.

GAME:  Talazia rolls stealth+batman: (19)+10+batman: 29

"There you. Are." Svarshan thumps the ground with his tail, and gestures to a spot on the floor. "We were. Jussst talking. Of you."

GAME:  Talazia dons a cape and is now Batman! She rolls Stealth+1000: (7)+10: 1017

"I think we could arrange some haunting," Solace says, his grin flashing again. "Could be fun. Bad luck, or actual poltergeists and such?" He jumps, slightly, when Talazia steps out of the shadows. The elf gets a scowl. "How long have you been there?"

Talazia says, "I can haunt better than you can." She says to Solace. before she looks to Aldean. "So you were recruited?""

Godwyn shook her head. "No, but he's seen as a sailor somewhat down on his luck now. We have a route that we didn't have before, and that's the best thing we've gotten all week."

"Mrmmm." Svarshan leans back as the words flow. At the notion of haunting, he looks particularly thoughtful, as though recalling an event in the past. Whatever it is, makes him smile just a touch.

As Talazia appears from seeming nowher, Aldean looks up, startled, and throws his head back in baritone laughter. "Ha! So ye can, lass. So ye can. Got a magical means too, can I hide it." He shakes his head at the recruit question. "Not yet, lass, but I've an opening. Twill take a bit o time." 

Solace hmphs at Talazia. "Fine. Take all the fun for yourself. Greedy, greedy." He doesn't quite pout, but he's clearly a bit disgruntled. Then he falls silent to listen to the conversation.

"What of. ...the competing cult. Idea?" Svarshan says after a while. "I can look asss a ssummoned. Demon. Is thiss. Useful?" The tail hits the ground once, and he twists to reach for the bottle he'd had open. Half-empty, he lifts it up to his muzzle, inhales the scent. The words are slow, relaxed.

Talazia walks her way over and slowly sits down. Of course, she doesn't say anything yet.

"Mayhap," Aldean says thoughtfully, then shrugs. "Does this fail, then aye. Might reate illusions too. As fer hauntin', do more'm one do it, might work better. Don't do it constnat-like. Jes now an' then."

Godwyn gives a frown, albeit a slight one. "Could we pull it off? The backup plan is nice, but only if we can execute.

"It could also be a good follow up, to tease out the leader once we know more. In order to be good competition, we have to be able to frame our rival cult as hitting them /exactly/ where it hurts." Solace ponders this with a thoughtful expression. He glances at Godwyn. "Oh, if it were required, it could be done. Svarshan makes a fine demon, and I imagine we could find a plausibly evil summoner /somewhere/." His voice is utterly deadpan at that last.

Svarshan looks over at the artificer for a moment. ...a long moment. ...and then reaches over and takes his wine. Drinks.

Aldean's baritone laugh greets Solace's deadpan remark. "Aye, ye'll do fer that indeed. Reckon need ta know a bit more first, do we want that," he nods to Solace. "An' ye make a right fine mastermind."

Talazia looks to Aldean. "In the meantime, ALdean. I'll be shadowing you."

Solace laughs at Aldean's remark. "Why, whoever suggested that I was talking about myself?" he asks, all faux innocence. "And I've played these games before...although, admittedly, usually with more magic and knives in the dark involved. It adds an extra challenge to have abduction and murder off the table." Is he joking? He's smiling, at least.

Svarshan looks over at Solace another, long moment.

The remainders of the poor artificer's wine vanishes. Slowly.

The wine vanishes, in its time, after the rest tromp up the stairwell. Svarshan seems content to rest there, in the quiet half-dark. In the must and smell of wine old and new. 

And drink the rest of Solace's wine. That's just a BONUS.