RPG Grove

"Oh, no, that's better!" Iana leans forward, eyes brightening as she declares, "You're a mystery. If he's got any curiosity about him at all, he'll want to know more about you. Of course," she has to concede with a sigh and another disdainful roll of her eyes, "there's always a chance that he hasn't got any curiosity. But even so, we can play on the fact that you put him off-balance. Then he'll want to be on guard against you."

"Oh, he's got curiosity at least," Asra informs her. "Our conversation was primarily bouncing questions off of each other. Luckily, he's also proud and boastful, so I was able to get far more from him than he did from me. Still, and I loathe admitting this, he has enough intelligence that I wouldn't put it past him to be more prepared and tight-lipped the next time we go up against him. That, or his master will have reigned in his leash to keep him from spilling any more of her plans."

The smile emerges fully onto Iana's face, sparking bright with anticipation. "Oh, that is exactly what they train us in," she declares, with a quick smile over at Garnyn. He'd like this part of Obsidian work, she suspects.

Iana pauses for a moment, casting her mind back through her classes and training, and bits overheard from her colleagues' conversations, as her illusioned eyes flick around the room, checking once more for listening ears, before returning to Asra, as she leans closer still and lowers her voice to a discreet hush.

"First, we need to get some people talking about the Lady of Mists near where we know he's going to be, so that he can just happen to overhear. Which can be you in another illusion, of course. Or a series of illusions, or allies placed strategically to talk where he can hear, if you'd like to drop a few hints over the course of a day," she offers. "Each one with a different piece of information about the Lady of Mists, and each corroborating what the others have said. Then," she continues, moving on to the next item on her list, neatly counting each one out with a precise tap of her finger on the table, "we can drop hints that the Lady of Mists might be nearby. Objects that he would associate with her. Or that he's just heard those people talking about - again, matching the information that we've just given him about the Lady of Mists, so to him, it will feel like this is corroborating the evidence that he's just heard. Perhaps we could even give the Lady a distinctive scent. Scents are always good for creating atmosphere, and for getting people to feel that something is going on without being exactly certain what." A quick grin tilts up the corners of her lips at that thought, before she finishes triumphantly, "And then, you appear as the Lady of Mists. And he'll be unsettled and off-balance, and he'll believe whatever you've told him about the Lady of Mists, and you can ask him what you like."

Nodding along with Iana's plan, Asra's own conspiratorial smile grows with each step. This sounded fun, and not only that, sounded like the kind of hi-jinx some of the characters in her favorite books might get up to.

"I think we can make that work," she agrees, quietly but emphatically. "If we can get a hold of Jules, the man Sa'ablo hired to assist us yesterday, we may be able to use his knowledge of Chavon and the Canals in general to pinpoint some prime spots. He might even be able to give us some insider knowledge of how things work in that part of the underworld."

Her gaze turns to Saneq, a wickedness finding her way into the grin. "If you're up for it, Saneq, we might even be able to use your influence as well. I painted the Lady as a seeress of sorts, able to see and know things she had no business knowing. Even having you drop a few hints here and there that could reach Chavon's ear could lend legitimacy to this little con," she conspires gleefully.

"As far as scents, I was already wearing a perfume yesterday for... reasons." She's glad for her illusory face, as the redness in her cheeks would be impossible to hide otherwise. Finch, however, would likely have a good idea why. "But anyway... it's a distinctive scent only produced in Hara. I brought it with me as a keepsake, so it'll be pretty damn distinctive. We could use that," she claims.

"As far as questions, though, other than prodding further into exactly who his master is and trying to confirm other suspicions, I'm not really sure where to go," she admits, deflating slightly. "I'm not exactly well versed in interrogation tactics."

Anyway," he says with a slow shake of his head. "I do need to speak with them, so I'd better get in there. Shout if you need anything." He gives Jaipha's hand a pat, then makes his way to the kinship entrance. As he steps in, it feels as though the weight of the community's grief settles over him like a shroud, and he steps just to the side of the entrance so that he can catch his breath without blocking it, waiting for a chance to discreetly catch Eldarin's attention, for all that his presence is impossible to hide.

Jaipha can't reach Georg's cheek, so she settles for touching his upper arm. She says nothing, though the notion of 'shouting' to get his attention brings a smile to her face that is maybe a little more reminiscent of the irreverent and forward woman Georg had met earlier.
Georg has been to the kinship before, so he's prepared himself -- subconsciously perhaps -- for the unsettling quiet of a group of people who rarely speak aloud amongst themselves. As he steps inside, though, he quickly realizes this is not the same kinship he's visited before. It's the same building of course and all the same residents. Same paintings on the walls, same eclectic furniture in the front common room. For a moment, it's hard to pin down what's different that would be so noticeable.

There's singing.

It's quiet, but any noise would be noticeable against the background silence of the kinship. Wordless music -- some humming, some vocalized -- floats through the air. It's not constant, not any sort of organized chorus: one voice will pick up the melody and add some personal touch to it, to be carried and modified by those nearby, a collaboration sent through the entire kinship as each is able to contribute. A willowy woman nearby in a loose black dress and a rainbow-hued shawl about her shoulders adds a breathy alto note to the melody that turns it to a minor key, then lets her contribution fade into the distance. She turns toward Georg and gestures further into the dwelling, toward the sitting room behind the entry. She gives him a melancholy sort of smile and speaks aloud. "Eldarin is in there. They're waiting for you."

Indeed, it would be hard to miss them. Though Eldarin is surrounded by a knot of a dozen of their kin, there's a presence about them that draws the eye. Eldarin turns from one of their kin, who receives a nod and an encouraging smile, to the next in the rough circle around them.

Come in. I've just got one more story to hear and then I can take a break. I'd love to spend it with you.

Eldarin's telepathic contact with Georg is strong and assured. The flavor of the last sentence is somewhere between statement and question, some of that assuredness fading just a little.

"As far as questions, though, other than prodding further into exactly who his master is and trying to confirm other suspicions, I'm not really sure where to go," she admits, deflating slightly. "I'm not exactly well versed in interrogation tactics."

"Oh, that's okay. I am!"

The voice comes from behind Asra, at the next table over. It's bright and cheerful and utterly without awareness that it's butting in to a private conversation, as though it's been there all along.

Finch startles, her chair scraping against the floor as she pushes back to see who's speaking, and then her face falls as her eyes rise in search of some heavens-bestowed patience. "Oh, you have to be kidding me," she mutters darkly.

Indeed, the voice and its owner are familiar to many around the table. At Finch's words, Meribel Longstrider's broad features only broaden further into a cheerful grin. "Hello, Finch. It's lovely to see you again. And Asra too," she says. The fact that Asra and Finch should be in disguise and unrecognizable to the aggressively friendly halfling menace doesn't even seem to give her pause.

"And Iana! It's been a while. How long has it been? Was it the Water's Edge incident from last year? That was fun," continues Meribel. In fact, it was distinctly Not Fun. A combination of intimidation tactics from the Ferrymen, price gouging from a shady merchant, and a corrupt member of the Shining Guard, and while no one could ever manage to prove it, there were some threads of discontent that Meribel was involved somehow in the disappearance of key bits of evidence. When questioned, though, she had all the right answers and not a shred of incriminating evidence popped up.

In the sudden silence that ensues, Meribel looks around the table's occupants, then says, "Please, go ahead and keep talking. I'll keep listening in."

"Oh, that's okay. I am!"

The voice comes from behind Asra, at the next table over. It's bright and cheerful and utterly without awareness that it's butting in to a private conversation, as though it's been there all along.

Finch startles, her chair scraping against the floor as she pushes back to see who's speaking, and then her face falls as her eyes rise in search of some heavens-bestowed patience. "Oh, you have to be kidding me," she mutters darkly.

Indeed, the voice and its owner are familiar to many around the table. At Finch's words, Meribel Longstrider's broad features only broaden further into a cheerful grin. "Hello, Finch. It's lovely to see you again. And Asra too," she says. The fact that Asra and Finch should be in disguise and unrecognizable to the aggressively friendly halfling menace doesn't even seem to give her pause.

Asra's eyes close slowly, not wanting to believe her ears. It would only be too coincidental. Too easy. Too... much for it to be her. But at Finch's mutters of disbelief and the acknowledgement that she knew them, even through the disguises, Asra comes to terms with the fact that she can't simple will Meribel away. In fact, and she would never admit this aloud, but it is probably good that Meribel was here.

"And Iana! It's been a while. How long has it been? Was it the Water's Edge incident from last year? That was fun," continues Meribel. In fact, it was distinctly Not Fun. A combination of intimidation tactics from the Ferrymen, price gouging from a shady merchant, and a corrupt member of the Shining Guard, and while no one could ever manage to prove it, there were some threads of discontent that Meribel was involved somehow in the disappearance of key bits of evidence. When questioned, though, she had all the right answers and not a shred of incriminating evidence popped up.

Her eyes snap open at Iana's name, looking over to their new compatriot with surprise. That is, until it dawns on her that she and Meribel are in the same school, and thus it would make perfect sense that they would be acquainted.

She can't help but release the sigh building up in her chest, her shoulders slumping with something close to defeat before finally turning to actually face the halfling menace.

n the sudden silence that ensues, Meribel looks around the table's occupants, then says, "Please, go ahead and keep talking. I'll keep listening in."

"No," Asra blurts, her voice sounding nearly as impatient as Finch's had. "You're part of the conversation now, you might as well pull up a chair. Besides, we may need your insight on this..." She admits it begrudgingly, but this was Meribel's area of expertise. Though she didn't really expect the Lady of the Mists to chatter all of the info she needed out of Chavon.

"Before I forget," she interjects into her own inner dialogue. "Did you discover anything regarding the task I gave you yesterday?"

AftermathGM wrote: ↑Mon May 13, 2024 7:18 pmIt's quiet, but any noise would be noticeable against the background silence of the kinship. Wordless music -- some humming, some vocalized -- floats through the air. It's not constant, not any sort of organized chorus: one voice will pick up the melody and add some personal touch to it, to be carried and modified by those nearby, a collaboration sent through the entire kinship as each is able to contribute. A willowy woman nearby in a loose black dress and a rainbow-hued shawl about her shoulders adds a breathy alto note to the melody that turns it to a minor key, then lets her contribution fade into the distance. She turns toward Georg and gestures further into the dwelling, toward the sitting room behind the entry. She gives him a melancholy sort of smile and speaks aloud. "Eldarin is in there. They're waiting for you."

Indeed, it would be hard to miss them. Though Eldarin is surrounded by a knot of a dozen of their kin, there's a presence about them that draws the eye. Eldarin turns from one of their kin, who receives a nod and an encouraging smile, to the next in the rough circle around them.

Come in. I've just got one more story to hear and then I can take a break. I'd love to spend it with you.

Eldarin's telepathic contact with Georg is strong and assured. The flavor of the last sentence is somewhere between statement and question, some of that assuredness fading just a little.

As he begins to register the singing, Georg becomes transfixed, preoccupied with trying to follow the progression as it is tossed from one vocalist to another in a way that would be hard as all the black hells to rehearse and so he can only assume is coordinated telepathically. He wonders how much texture he's missing, if there are perhaps telepathic harmonies or resonances that wouldn't translate aurally.

He wonders if he could dance to it.

He's not going to try, especially not after Jaipha's cautionary statement about the potential mood in the kinship towards Unjoined. The last thing he wants to do is make waves or run the risk of behaving inappropriately towards an expression of grief and mourning. That doesn't stop him from trying to imagine something slow and balletic in his head. He feels a bit sheepish about it, like he's going to get caught, even though as far as he knows the only person who could peek into his head is Eldarin, who wouldn't do so without first asking permission.

Standing at the back of the sitting room, Georg receives Eldarin's sending as though thoughts of them had drawn their attention. He was only just holding himself back from letting out his raw feelings to Jaipha, so he hesitates before responding, but he wants to work past that, and that has to happen one olive branch at a time. I'd like that, he sends back, though I have to confess that I'm here on a mission. That can wait until you're finished, though.

“Before I forget," she interjects into her own inner dialogue. "Did you discover anything regarding the task I gave you yesterday?"

“Task? Did you give me a task?” Meribel asks, mildly puzzled.

“Task? Did you give me a task?” Meribel asks, mildly puzzled.

Asra's face darkens visibly in irritation as she stares down the infuriating halfling. She had no doubt in her mind that Meribel was fooling around, given all of the encounters she's had with her thus far. "I did," she informs her, her voice controlled so tightly it sounded as if it might crack from the strain. "If you recall, the result of this task determines your level of involvement in any of our future endeavors. As such, I hope the results are satisfactory."

Taking a deep, calming breath (one that does nothing to calm her features or piercing gaze), she adds, "For all our sake, please keep your humor to a minimum until we know what to do with you."

In any other circumstance, such as one where they were not knee-deep in a conspiracy to endanger the city by bringing down the wards, in which several people have already been attacked, misplaced or outright murdered, she might have found Meribel's antics amusing. She might even have pushed her towards even greater moments of tom-foolery for her own amusement. As such, these were the circumstances that left her feeling unamused, and as if she might break from the pressure and try to murder the halfling herself, if only to remove one more source of stress from her life.

"Oh, that task," Meribel says. If she's cowed by Asra's stare, it's a minor effect.

She shrugs. "I have some results. Can't say whether they're satisfactory or not. Mind you, it's only been a day. Some intelligence takes a while to gather, right Iana?" Meribel gives the elven woman one of those cheerful smiles, all camaraderie. "Can I squeeze in here?" she asks, shuffling her chair forward to get in between Asra and Finch without waiting for an answer. She climbs up on her knees -- she is quite short, even for a halfling -- and rests her elbows on the table.

"Okay, so. Macie. The mysterious halfling who sent hijackers after your carriage yesterday." Meribel looks around the table with eyes narrowed dramatically as she starts warming to her story. "First of all, I am not Macie. I feel it's important to remind certain grumpy people seated here of that important fact."

She pointedly does not look at Finch as she studies her audience.

"Second of all," she continues. "It's either a fake name or she's not a halfling. I asked around the family, and no one has a relative in Meriava by that name."

Halfling communities are notoriously intertwined and highly social. If there was a halfling named Macie, someone would know her.

"So that leaves us with indirect evidence," says Meribel, tapping one temple with a finger. "The only Macie I've been able to get wind of was a dockworker when the Wards went up, and may have spent some time working at the Triple R down in the Canal District recently. I've got a friend at the Triple R who's looking into it for me, but I haven't heard from her yet."

With that, she sits back on her heels, arms folded over her chest, and nods in satisfaction.

"Meribel."

Every Obsidian scholar goes through many rounds of training in concealing their emotions, schooling their face into neutrality, presenting a calm tranquil facade to the outside world.

Iana did all right in those classes. But there's a reason she's primarily an analyst.

At least she succeeds in swallowing back the sharp retorts that she could have given to her colleague - especially the ones relating to missing evidence - even if she doesn't entirely manage to keep her face and voice from betraying how very little she wants to collaborate with Meribel.

Of all the hundreds of scholars in Obsidian, did it have to be her?

"Good day," is what Iana says out loud, fixing the halfling with a steady gaze. "Yes, it has been nearly a year. I certainly didn't think I would see you here."

And why is she here? Who else knows that this group is here, that would have sent her? It could not be a coincidence...

Iana is only too happy to let Finch and Asra do some glowering and questioning for a moment, while she turns aside to request another round of coffee - until another familiar name calls her attention back:

"Macie," Iana sighs, on the same descending scale of notes that her voice took when she was greeting Meribel. This time, though, she makes no effort to conceal her exasperated disappointment. "That one is going to be tricky, I'm afraid. I've come across the name Macie half a dozen times in my investigations into…everything," she explains, "and from what I can tell, it seems to be an alias that's passed around among multiple people. I remember reading one report that had 'Macie' near the western edge of the city and also at the eastern edge, both at the same time.

"So, probably neither named Macie nor a halfling," she concludes. "But when I can get back to my desk, I'll be able to find some references to some other things that 'Macie' did, and perhaps that will lead to something more helpful."

"And Iana! It's been a while. How long has it been? Was it the Water's Edge incident from last year? That was fun," continues Meribel.

"Good day," is what Iana says out loud, fixing the halfling with a steady gaze. "Yes, it has been nearly a year. I certainly didn't think I would see you here."

Feeling mollified by the displeasure apparent on Iana's face at the sight of Meribel, Asra is willing to put aside her trepidation at Iana's Obsidian roots. Though now that the thought had taken root, she couldn't deny that her suspicions could rise again in the face of new evidence. However, her suspicions were fully focused on their intruder.

She shrugs. "I have some results. Can't say whether they're satisfactory or not. Mind you, it's only been a day. Some intelligence takes a while to gather, right Iana?" Meribel gives the elven woman one of those cheerful smiles, all camaraderie. "Can I squeeze in here?" she asks, shuffling her chair forward to get in between Asra and Finch without waiting for an answer. She climbs up on her knees -- she is quite short, even for a halfling -- and rests her elbows on the table.

She shifts over as much as she can, making sure there is plentiful room between them. Seeing as how Meribel's deft fingers could untie her own bindings without issue, and her propensity for going unnoticed, Asra wanted to ensure it would be more difficult for her personal belongings to go missing.

"Okay, so. Macie. The mysterious halfling who sent hijackers after your carriage yesterday." Meribel looks around the table with eyes narrowed dramatically as she starts warming to her story. "First of all, I am not Macie. I feel it's important to remind certain grumpy people seated here of that important fact."

Asra still wasn't convinced. "Without ample evidence, I'm afraid we can't rule it out," she informs Meribel stoically. "So, please continue."

"Second of all," she continues. "It's either a fake name or she's not a halfling. I asked around the family, and no one has a relative in Meriava by that name."

Halfling communities are notoriously intertwined and highly social. If there was a halfling named Macie, someone would know her.

"So that leaves us with indirect evidence," says Meribel, tapping one temple with a finger. "The only Macie I've been able to get wind of was a dockworker when the Wards went up, and may have spent some time working at the Triple R down in the Canal District recently. I've got a friend at the Triple R who's looking into it for me, but I haven't heard from her yet."

With that, she sits back on her heels, arms folded over her chest, and nods in satisfaction.

Her mind working through what she's been told, Asra simply watches Meribel for a few uncomfortable moments before Iana chimes in.

"Macie," Iana sighs, on the same descending scale of notes that her voice took when she was greeting Meribel. This time, though, she makes no effort to conceal her exasperated disappointment. "That one is going to be tricky, I'm afraid. I've come across the name Macie half a dozen times in my investigations into…everything," she explains, "and from what I can tell, it seems to be an alias that's passed around among multiple people. I remember reading one report that had 'Macie' near the western edge of the city and also at the eastern edge, both at the same time.

"So, probably neither named Macie nor a halfling," she concludes. "But when I can get back to my desk, I'll be able to find some references to some other things that 'Macie' did, and perhaps that will lead to something more helpful."

She sighs, heavily, at the additional information from Iana. This really didn't answer anything for them, but it did give them a few points to investigate. But was it worth investigating with everything else at their feet?

Regardless, there was one point that she should address. "I am willing to believe," she address Meribel, still sounding wary. "That you are not Macie, and furthermore that you are not involved in this in any malicious capacity." Eyeing the others at the table, she pulls them into her statement. "But while you have performed satisfactorily in the task I have given you, I cannot allow you to assist us further without input from the others. My safety is not the only one on the line." She looks to the others, offering them a chance to approve or deny Meribel's involvement, with a pointed look at Iana, given what she could surmise of their shared, possibly tumultuous past.

"That being said, we should, if we can spare the time between now and the Mayor's Ball, investigate Triple R for multiple reasons," her hand goes to the detection ring still on a chain around her neck, though the others cannot see it behind her illusory guise. "If we can discover more about Macie from Meribel's friend, then I would feel much safer in our endeavors. On top of that, Triple R was the location of our last encounter with Chavon, and could prove an ideal location to begin our rumor-mongering. Lastly... and I hesitate to say, but we need to investigate the possibility of the presence of a Black Box. I felt the presence of one as we were making a hasty retreat from that meeting, but there was little we could do at that point."