The Maison Soloumbre: Afternoon of April 9

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Post by Pamela »

Gertrude listened in supposedly mild interest but complete amusement to Crow’s dismissal of the tarokka, while still being careful not to dismiss their earlier discussion. At least he’s found his footing once more, she thought, as she ignored the comments on the Geas game. She’d never been particularly interested in card games or the ridiculous betting which generally ensued.

Her amusement began to shimmer around the images at the bard’s flattery of Larner. She was looking forward to the lecture but was fully aware that most Brothers wouldn’t give a damn about what happened off the Core; if anything, some would be relieved that van Rijn was choosing such a remote island rather than their precious mainland. Whether Crow was sincere in his own interest, she didn’t know, but Larner had begun to broach the topic.

She listened to her compatriot’s quiet approach, and the evasion- so far- of Ray and his suspicions. That will probably arise during the coming meetings... She nodded unconsciously at the quiet reference to the doppelgangers. That had become an additional reason for her own excursions and sabbaticals.

She turned to Crow and quietly remarked, “I mentioned that you might be interested and well-suited to the task. But I was unsure whether you would have the time to dedicate to such a project…” She’d given him a polite and plausible way out; she was well aware of how much of an imposition it might be. And despite her suspicions, she was still foolish enough to hope that he’d accept.
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
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Post by alhoon »

Draxton leaves the room and goes back to his room. He takes his time going there, looking for Buchvold in the corridors he passes through. Not finding him there, he opens the window to let some fresh air come through (and let him look out in the garden). Spotting the graveyard in the distance Draxton smiles. So much to learn, so much power to harvest.
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Post by Rotipher of the FoS »

Nathan of the FoS wrote:"You're too kind, Brother Crow," Larner replies, in a tone of voice that implies both that Crow's praise is slightly overwrought and that he's sure Crow is aware of its being so--a slightly skeptical amusement.
The bard winks. :wink:

Nathan of the FoS wrote:"We've made some progress, but...well, our home city is not a place quick to relinquish all its secrets. In fact, I've been considering asking Fraternity members from outside our own, ah, home-grown membership to participate--both to spread our net more widely and to overcome certain local suspicions. We are, to my knowledge, almost unique among the people of the Mists in giving our confidence more quickly to those not native to our own land."
The VRS spy's pose of attentiveness, initially a work of artiface, becomes genuine at Larner's veiled reference to the shapechangers which plague his home city, and the curious impact which their presence has had upon Zherisian society. An imposter by profession himself, Crow can't help but take an interest in monsters' own strategies of mimickry -- to steal techniques from such aberrant creatures' repertoires, in his view, is yet another tactic by which to turn the tables on the evils he opposes -- though his opportunities to observe such in doppelgangers have been few: as chance would have it, his missions for the Society haven't previously taken him to Paridon, save as a temporary bolthole, or in passing through the vagaries of Mist-travel.

Since Nevuchar Springs, however, the bard has made an effort to pick up the rudiments of Zherisian speech and culture. Handy, wouldn't it be, both to better my language-skills and to pick up any tricks the locals -- human or otherwise -- have to offer? And there are other considerations....

A shame, in truth, that his duty to his mission (and alleged "service" to Buchvold) has to come first.

Llana wrote:She turned to Crow and quietly remarked, “I mentioned that you might be interested and well-suited to the task. But I was unsure whether you would have the time to dedicate to such a project…”
If only I could, he sighs internally. The bard senses that Kingsley's doubts have been reignited by the incident with the Tarokka cards, and he sincerely wishes he could assist these Paridoners' work, if only to prove "Brother Crow" useful in her eyes! But so long as the search for Van Rijn has priority over all else, he can't allow himself such indulgences or side-treks.

Still, the spy is curious, if only because Larner's planned researches seem singularly ill-timed: the midst of a civil war is hardly a fitting context for composing travelogues! Unless, that is, the Esteemed Brother has some ulterior motive ... or some need to deflect the Fraternity leaders' attentions or suspicion.

Hoping to learn more, he probes for further details.

"'Well-suited?' Me?," the bard blinks in surprise. "Goodness, I'd not dare to deem myself 'well-suited' to anything so practical, Madam! But if you really think my humble efforts could be of some use -- especially if you've gone sufficiently out on a limb, as to vouch for my capabilities -- and if, as you mention, time permits, I would surely do my best to meet your expectations, Professor." Half in jest, half in thanks for her confidence in him, Crow stands at attention like a soldier, executes a surprisingly true-to-form military salute.

"Might I ask, sir," Crow queries, turning from Kingsley to her countryman, "just what manner of assistance your project might require...? Precisely what sorts of duties did you have in mind, for visiting Brethren to undertake toward its completion, and how great a time-commitment would those tasks entail...?"
"Who [u]cares[/u] what the Dark Powers are? They're [i]bastards![/i] That's all I need to know of them." -- Crow
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Rotipher wrote: "Might I ask, sir," Crow queries, turning from Kingsley to her countryman, "just what manner of assistance your project might require...? Precisely what sorts of duties did you have in mind, for visiting Brethren to undertake toward its completion, and how great a time-commitment would those tasks entail...?"
"We are attempting to...gather the threads, one might say," Larner says. "Information on local conditions--and how those local conditions might have changed in the recent past--is at a premium at present. Our own branch of the Fraternity has its roots largely in the alchemical and transmutational studies of the temple of the Divinity of Mankind."

He nods as comprehension begins to dawn in Brother Crow's face. "I, myself, was introduced to the Fraternity by Professor Hazan and Professor van Rijn, and van Rijn's work was always very highly thought of in our circles; so, you see, our corner of the Mists might have made a tempting bolt-hole with a little preparation. We are endeavoring to assure ourselves that this is has not actually occured. We need brothers to conduct interviews, to speak with prominent citizens of all sorts--high and low--and to search for any evidence of van Rijn. Any time you could spare would be of value, although I suppose Mist-travel means a stay of less than two weeks or so would hardly be worthwhile."
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Post by Pamela »

Rotipher wrote:"'Well-suited?' Me?," the bard blinks in surprise. "Goodness, I'd not dare to deem myself 'well-suited' to anything so practical, Madam! But if you really think my humble efforts could be of some use -- especially if you've gone sufficiently out on a limb, as to vouch for my capabilities -- and if, as you mention, time permits, I would surely do my best to meet your expectations, Professor." Half in jest, half in thanks for her confidence in him, Crow stands at attention like a soldier, executes a surprisingly true-to-form military salute.
“Now, Crow, I did say well-suited, not useful,” Gertrude retorted, a small smile tickling at the corner of her lips at his absurd salute. She was pleased despite herself that he seemed willing to consider the idea. She began to tell herself that she would use the opportunity to satisfy her personal fears and suspicions, but wasn’t blind to the hope that underpinned it. I wonder what Rupert and Crow will make of each other…?

She listened to Larner’s discrete answer to Crow’s question, nodding as if in answer to Crow’s realization. She began to consider her own plans to speak to her colleagues in the University, Temple, and the Paridon Responsible Parents programme. The charity was always throwing teas in connection with their lectures. Many of the Blackchapel women who attended were servants in the better boroughs, and willing to expound on their employers’ eccentricities and dirty laundry. Elaboration of course often required a small price or favour, but it had certainly proved useful in the past. They also had a small branch in Southshore, but she was unsure how talkative its supporters or applicants would be. Perhaps it’s time I better acquaint myself with it…

The professor quietly remarked, “I plan to return home after this visit. If you are interested, I can send you various language primers or any other books that would be of aid.”
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
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Post by Rotipher of the FoS »

Listening intently to what Larner says -- and, tellingly, does not say -- the bard lets the light of understanding express itself on his features. Crow'd known of Zherisian researchers' vogue for alchemy, of course -- the twins' debut as original authors had addressed this very topic through a Zherisia-born spokeswoman, and some of Kingsley's theological papers likewise touched upon the subject -- but he'd not yet been aware that Paridon's resident FoS cell had focused so strongly upon that particular branch of arcane science.

Not exactly in keeping with the Fraternity's anti-materialist prejudices, he muses, thinking back to his deception of Taroyan's sigil-ring this morning, and to Van Rijn's rantings of five months ago. The VRS spy isn't convinced the organization's bias against transmutation makes much sense, even within the boundaries of its own philosophy -- if all things of material substance were branded as "Shadow", the manifested products of their "Watchers'" conscious will, then how could anything of this world legitimately be dismissed as "irrelevant to study of the mind"...? -- but he can certainly see how entrenched disdain for such pursuits might draw dissenting minorities together, within the ranks, much as Quiret had approached a perceived fellow "fringe dilettante".

Yes, Crow can definitely see how the Paridoners would be well-motivated to screen themselves for renegades, and their land for the fugitive lich ... just as he discerns it's not solely they, who would require such assurances! If the Zherisian cell is as marginalized (and young) as Larner suggests, it would no doubt be a convenient sacrificial lamb or scapegoat, should the Umbra feel the need to make an example of treachery's price; it's also a more-plausible destination for Van Rijn than the bard had initially suspected, if the local alchemists (Fraternity or otherwise) indeed held the turncoat's past work in such high esteem.

A respect that might be ill-rewarded, indeed, he realizes, as the high population-density and industrial capabilities of the fog-enshrouded city come to mind. Prior to Darkest Night, both he and Buchvold had operated under the working assumption that the mad-thing of Il Aluk would insist that the infernal mechanism's construction take place in Darkon: its own apocalyptic mythology demanded no less. But having failed to uncover any evidence of components gathered or life-energies harvested, Crow now accepts that the Device's assembly is surely taking place elsewhere. If Larner's words are true, the secret "allies'" current expectation that a new Requiem would be situated in the Core, and near enough to Darkon to provide a sure route for unliving invasion, is perhaps also in need of revision.

(Of course, this presumes that Van Rijn would retreat to a place where his affinities are respected, rather than shunning such potential destinations as too obvious. If the lich's behavior mirrors that of his former St. Ronges associates, he's more likely to seek refuge in lands where magics anathema to his own are lauded! But even if this is so, the possibility that the renegade maintains covert ties with Paridon's alchemists -- as well he might, if the Device's fabricated components are to be acquired in secret -- is a lead which Crow can't ignore.)

All these permutations and possibilities race through the VRS spy's mind, even as "Brother Crow" boyishly scratches his curly head, pondering the Paridon cell-leader's invitation. At Kingsley's oblique mention of possible language-barriers, he nods in grateful acknowledgement; while he's done his best, primers on Zherisian are doubtless more easily-acquired in her homeland than the Core, where few Paridoners save merchants or an occasional roving landscape-artist are ever met with. When he looks to Larner again, the bard's expression grows more serious for a time.

"To be honest," he begins, slowly and thoughtfully, "I've gotten badly out of the habit of writing for publication: given my profession, I've seldom lingered in one place long enough to build scholastic ties with a particular branch of Brethren, and I'm far more interested in advancing my artistry than my rank. But that's not to say I've no desire to contribute -- especially now, when all of us are in jeopardy and must do whatever we can -- nor that seeing my name associated with such a project wouldn't be a satisfying experience ... not least, because it'd give lie to certain criticisms leveled against my early efforts' chances." He exchanges a glance with Kingsley, and sees the flash of recognition in her eyes: she does recall how 'Tao' allegedly envied his proteges' writings, and how a far younger 'Brother Crow's' works were supposedly deemed unpublishable on account of their bard-oriented subject matter.

(The fact that the "criticisms" in question were Buchvold's, deriding Crow's forging of fake "rejected articles" to substantiate his backstory, made his remarks not quite a lie....)

The bard tilts his head speculatively, as if thinking out loud.

"Now, if it's talking and meeting people you need, I'm certainly keen for that -- as the Professor can surely confirm, I'll happily chat the ears off anyone -- though I'd like to think you'd not expect me to discourse on matters wholly outside my experience -- no alchemist I, for one -- and that language wouldn't pose too great an obstacle. If the folk whom I'm to interview know a smattering of Mordentish, it'd be of great help in avoiding misunderstandings.

"Clor vab Zherisho patrahl, you see," he adds, with the self-conscious smile and minor mispronounciation of one who, as he says, is only starting to learn Zherisian.

"But if you can pardon me that atrocious mangling of your tongue," Crow concludes, "and if you've a topic or three left to go around, on which my investigations and perspective might be helpful..."

The bard smiles at the Paridoners ... and not solely because of the link their project might uncover to Van Rijn.

Other considerations -- other words, stinging words he's long memorized, and has dreamed of someday turning back upon their source -- rise to the fore in the VRS spy's recollection, and make his grinning lips part just a little wider, showing just a smidgeon more teeth:

'...we ask that you do try to keep in touch with us. It does the soul of this old academic good to see you following in the footsteps of your uncles Weathermay and Van Richten. We are most eager to keep abreast of your investigations..."

Play me for a fool, it's my error, and I who take the consequences. Play the twins for fools, de Casteelle, and it's your error, and I who deliver them.

(To turn the tables is Crow's work, and humiliation is his chosen punishment for evil.)

"...why, given such a splendid opportunity," he finishes, beaming like an angel, "how could I possibly refuse...?"
Last edited by Rotipher of the FoS on Sun Aug 06, 2006 2:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Rotipher wrote:"Clor vab Zherisho patrahl, you see," he adds, with the self-conscious smile and minor mispronounciation of one who, as he says, is only starting to learn Zherisian.
OOC: :D We're actually using modern English for Zherisian in the Gazetteer, with the understanding that High Mordentish is essentially French (Low Mordentish is Middle English-esque).
"...why, given such a splendid opportunity," he finishes, beaming like an angel, "how could I possibly refuse...?"
"How, indeed?" Larner replies, half-smiling. "A good conversationalist is always useful when one wants a little help in getting information. Please, let me know when you wish to come, and I'll arrange lodgings and so forth. And thank you for your help."

Bowing slightly, he says, "If you'll excuse me, Professor Kingsley, Brother Crow? I should strike while the iron is hot and see if I can recruit a few more to the cause before the day is through."

He allows himself a clasped hand with Professor Kingsley, then recedes into the mass of Fraternity members in the great ballroom.
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Post by Rotipher of the FoS »

Nathan of the FoS wrote: OOC: :D We're actually using modern English for Zherisian in the Gazetteer, with the understanding that High Mordentish is essentially French (Low Mordentish is Middle English-esque).
OOC: I figured as much, but I didn't think writing in italicized English would convey the intended effect. :wink:
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

OOC: Maybe if you misspelled it? ;)
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Post by Pamela »

Gertrude smiled when the bard nodded at her offer of books; he’s going to accept, she thought, and tried to temper her enthusiasm with caution. She had few friends in Paridon, and those who lived abroad weren’t tempted to visit the city. It would be a rare pleasure- he’s not your friend, she reminded herself again, but the words didn’t carry much weight.

At the oblique reference to Tao, her suspicions finally made themselves heard once more. Crow’s letters had made subtle references to the issue being well in hand- but she still had no idea as to whether she believed the pair’s convoluted plot. She also realised that she dreaded asking about it. She would of course, but she was too aware that there was a layer of deceit around this silent partner in their acquaintance. I’m tired of all the lies, she suddenly realised, surprised, and chided her momentary naivete. You really have been gone from home too long; time to get away from the high-flown ideals of the Ezrites and back to reality…

She blinked at his atrocious attempt at Zherisian but replied with a light smile, “Kahnd ohn commahns parlai oon ohtre lang, say normalle…”* Her accent was heavily Zherisian, with no attempt to roll the r’s. “Mordentish is actually becoming very common in Zherisia; it’s easier to do trade if you can speak your clients’ tongue, after all.” Mordentish was also the language of the arts on the Core, and Zherisian writers and musicians were avid to be aware as to what their international rivals were up to while proclaiming their own superiority. The arts also were the most obvious choice of investigation for the bard, but she was unsure as to what topics had been claimed, if any, to date.

“Good luck, Master Larner,” the professor said, and after exchanging goodbyes, turned back to Crow. “I am glad to hear that you will be able to come, though I hope that our search proves to be a goose chase.” Her smile faded as she spoke, considering the alternative. How long would it take him to create this device? He’s been gone for five months now… She mentally shrugged it off and smiling again, added, “At the very least, it’ll give us a chance to talk, and for you to meet my husband.”


*quand on commence parler une autre langue, c’est normale. Excuse my French if it's off. :P
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Post by Rotipher of the FoS »

The bard chuckles at the professor's demonstration of what real Zherisian speech sounds like -- yes, any books she might recommend would definitely be an improvement on the wretched primer he's been making do with -- and tips his imaginary hat once again, bowing to Larner as the cell-leader excuses himself.

"A hope I shall emulate, for the sake of your homeland, Madam," Crow speaks in sympathy. "Save, I'll admit, in one respect: as we must track down this 'wild goose' -- and far better sooner than later -- I'll allow myself the hope of uncovering some clue to the betrayer's whereabouts. Not, mind you, amongst your colleagues within the brotherhood, but perhaps other Zherisians of an alchemical bent might afford some clue or link."

The professor's remark about meeting her husband brings a smile to his lips, in which he permits just a dash of wariness to show itself. The spy, in truth, has been hoping to meet the man -- Crow realizes that he'll need to deal with Rupert Kingsley, one way or another, if his lesser goal of disentangling Gertrude from the Fraternity's web is to be achieved -- but any future dealings with Lady Scalpel's spouse will require delicate handling. Jealous accusations have occasionally sidetracked his missions, as an unfortunate side-effect of his charismatic appeal ... even when he hasn't actually done a thing to incur such territorial enmity.

The VRS spy frowns, lowers his voice and glances conspiratorially at Kingsley. "In any case, it will afford me a chance to ensure that a... certain party... will not trouble you in future. My erstwhile mentor -- the one whom, you'll recall from my letters, I failed to find in Darkon, though I've passed the necessary words of caution to his other proteges -- may yet show himself one day. Best to ensure he'll not find the welcome he'd expected in Zherisia, should that ever come to pass; a few choice words in the right ears -- artistic ears -- and the old thespian would have to seek some other nest to hide away in."*

Crow looks pensive for a moment, then shakes it off, letting his bright smile and avid, twinkle-eyed curiosity reclaim his masqued features.

"But enough of my disreputable past, that I henceforth wash my hands of: it's your work I promised we would speak of, Professor, when next we met, and here we are! Please, if you'd spare me a few minutes, do tell me of your current research with the Ezrans in this soggy realm ... and also, if I might ask, precisely what is this 'Newsbill' you'd cited so many times, in your treatise on Paridon's theological development in the post-Upheaval era? It sounds quite remarkable...."




[* - Another evasion rather than a lie. The "mentor" Crow'd really looked for in Darkon is Van Richten, whose successors he's indeed spent the past ten years warning of one threat or another; 'Tao' really would have to find another bolthole than Paridon, if Crow spread the right nasty stories about him ... if, that is, the real Tao were actually coming to Zherisia! :wink: ]
"Who [u]cares[/u] what the Dark Powers are? They're [i]bastards![/i] That's all I need to know of them." -- Crow
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Post by Pamela »

“I do agree that I would also feel more comfortable if we could find some evidence as to van Rijn’s whereabouts.” She appreciated Crow’s hope that her Zherisian chapter wasn’t involved, but didn’t dare to speak aloud her fears on the matter. If van Rijn were in the country, it was highly unlikely that at least one brother wasn’t involved. Her thoughts suddenly turned to the Shadowcloak. Oh bollocks! Of all the times…

She listened attentively to the reference to Tao, her heart sinking further. Was this some game of cat and mouse? Was that bloody idiot going to try to track her down- and was Crow truly that innocent of his whereabouts? She mentally groaned at all the plot twists that had entered her life a few months ago. How anyone could relish a life like this is utterly beyond me… She nodded mutely in reply, unsure anymore as to what she could say about the whole matter without revealing her overwhelming vexation over the whole matter.

She was glad for the diversion to the much more pleasant topic of her academic research and that wonderfully horrible tabloid…. “Full or remarks, yes, but remarkable…?”
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Post by Rotipher of the FoS »

The bard's spirits rise to see her irritation and suspicion yield to pride in her work ... and to the guilty pleasure of scandalmongery. (YES! At last, a topic of mutual amusement!) Letting the tensions of the past moments drain away, Crow throws himself fully into the patter and word-play of his lighthearted role, content -- now that he has leads to follow in future -- to set the harshest rigors of his work aside for the dwindling remainder of the afternoon:

"Remarkable remarks, nevertheless, to Core-bound ears... not least remarkably, in that remarking thusly of church or state, in any other realm, might mark one for marking with the lash! In truth, how is it that words of criticism which would likely find their utterers pyre-toasted in Tepest, beheaded in Barovia, or 'disappeared' in Darkon should be openly published in Paridon? That your countrymen take such liberties with speech that mainlanders needs must keep close and secret suggests an astonishing degree of civil leniency on your government's part ... either that, or that libels juicier-still are yet held in reserve, hostage to their keepers' confidence! Which is more likely, if I might ask your opinion as to...."

And thus, the conversation runs.
"Who [u]cares[/u] what the Dark Powers are? They're [i]bastards![/i] That's all I need to know of them." -- Crow
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