Café de Nuit

"He's got the shield too," Darius notes. "In the picture." Turning, he looks to see if anything shield-like is displayed in the vicinity...just in case.



History 21, Insight on Petrik 16, on Blackwood 19, Perception 24. Amusingly enough, the untrained skill gets the best result.

Tomas shrugs his psuedo-approval, crossing his arms and frowning deeply in the great tradition of his ancestors for a thousand years.

Hands still clasped behind his back, Cyrus walked up beside his brother. He knew Darius's studies in the Academy had more to do with foreign history than his own work. Cyrus's training had been more physical and religious than academic.

"You have studied Kartakan history in particular at the Academy, right?" he murmured, hoping to evoke some memory in his brother's mind, "I remember you mentioning something since it borders our estate. Does this bring anything to mind?"

Successful History assist on Darius, bringing his total to 23. Insight 28 on Petrik. Insight 16 on Richard. Perception 16.

Museum, University of Dementlieu, Port-a-Lucine; Evening of March 24th, 770
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Lia wrote:"This sword is not Kartakan," Lia notes, looking at a different exhibit than the one that Celeste is viewing. According to the tag next to the wood carving is a tag that claims the item is at least one hundred years old. "A longsword and belladonna ... Two of the three elements of the Ezran escutcheon. Interesting. The Ezran faith has never made great inroads in Kartakas, as best I know. Puzzling."

Richard walked over to the exhibit Lia was examining, noticeably stooping in order to get a good look at it. "It's, it's Invidian," he said, with slightly raised eyebrows. "The date isn't, isn't far from the occupation era. I'm surprised that it wasn't, wasn't altered later on to, to erase any sign of Invidia. This is, is very rare." He gave a quasi-uncomfortable look at Professor Mourneswaithe before continuing. "The nightshade, the nightshade seems stranger, but Kartakass does boarder the Forlorn Forest..." He cast a questioning look at Professor Petrik.

"It is not unheard of," Petrik sniffed. She glared at the lute protraying Brand, before singing in an eerie voice, soft and beautiful:

• "When vision dies and strength doth fly, when arms grow weak and frail,
  When wolves come to collect their due, when mighty Brand doth fail,
  When bones are dust, when family hath forgot, what shalle remain?
  The tale, spake Brand, and brought his flashing blade forth once again.

"This is wrong," Professor Petrik sneered at the lute, seemingly contradicting her own words from moments before.

The Mutinied Sailor, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; Evening of March 24th, 770
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Nicolas wrote:"Evening mate" he says jovially "I'll have a large shot of whatever rotgut you've got and ummm well probabley a couple of pitchers or beer." He says glancing across at the others in the group speculatively. "Oh and better draw me another one for my friend over there" he says lighting a cigarette and waving it in Latour's direction.

"Right-o." The bartender was a slender, whip-thin fellow of a man who would've looked completely out of place were it not for his interesting collection of facial scars. He drew some pitchers of what you fervently hoped was beer, then, before Nicolas could do much to stop him, slid one of the tall steins down the bar towards a serving maid. The serving girl had more muscles than Tomas. She picked up the beer stein, and at a peremptory gesture first to you and then towards Latour from the bartender, made her way over to the yellow-haired lout by the tarred corpse.

Latour and the barmaid had their own brief conversation, and in short order the tall, gold-toothed sailor was giving you a dull-eyed glare of surprising suspiciousness. Lumbering to his feet, he strode over to the bar, and sat on a stool just between you and the wall, a polished scimitar hanging just behind him.

"Who." Latour's gravelly voice enunciated in the manner of the very drunk. "Are." Distantly, some more attention came your way, including a few catcalls directed at Nerit and Alice. If looks could kill, Alice would've had a better record than Madame Guillotine. Latour paused, then finished of his, for want of a better word, thought. "You?"

"It has been altered," Darius says quietly. "To add the belladonna. If you look from the right angle you can see that the wood is less weathered around it...just there, yes, Professor Petrik? Whoever added it seems to have aged it somehow. Using chemicals, I would guess, I don't know very much about that sort of thing."

"Interesting," Lia says, nodding slightly to Darius. "And well-spotted. But as always, the most interesting question is: why was this done? A hidden message of some sort, or a rather artistic defacement?"

THUMP.

Tomas looks up from his fist, which had just smashed into the bar as though some sort of meat comet. "Sorry." Eisenwald says, innocently, turning to look around him. "Thought I saw a spider. Can't abide spiders."

(OOC: Intimidate roll versus catcallers: 1d20+13 18+13 = 31)

It was likely a rather good thing that Tomas had his disdain for spiders, because the attention that was being directed Nerit and Alice's way was starting to impart in Kerrian a disdain for people in general. He was trying to keep a growl from leaving his lips, but it was becoming more difficult by the moment, so if his companions had a plan...it would be good to put them into play soon.

Nicholas was just about to say he looks already so soused it probably won’t matter in response to Agale's question, when fate intervened and delivered a drunk sailor right in front of him. Instead he shrugs to the Borcan, pours some drinks and hands them around, pushing a rather full tankard towards their new friend.

With a friendly grin affixed to his face he slaps the man jocularly on the arm, the in a very authentic Mordentish accent exclaims; "Damn your deep in the barrel Etienne, mind you so was I that night as I recall, so I'll let you off on the hazy memory. Cigarette?" He pulls the case from his pocket and offers one to the sailor, also taking the opportunity to knock back whatever the hell that was the bartender had served him, but which tasted suspiciously like something used to strip paint from ship hulls.

Grimacing slightly Nicholas pours himself an ale and seats himself on the stool in front of the sailor. " Still don’t remember? Jonathan? Jonathan Foxe?” He asks indicating himself, then with a sigh elaborates. “I’d just stepped off the boat from Mordent and was down on my luck, you were kind enough to buy me a few and we had a skin full that night, my lucks turned and thought I’d return the favour.” He clinks his tankard against Latour’s “Your very good health my friend, so how’s things with you?”

Slowly, slowly Nicholas thinks , trying to visibly relax into character despite the surroundings and the impatience building up behind him.

Bluff 27 with Friendly Deception anyone want to chip in a bit of aid another with some more bad acting? However if this misses I'll use a re-roll on it.

"Oy, Johnny," the Tollere tries his best to adopt a more boorish mannerism. He claps one of his hands on Mr. de Castigne's back and makes an uncultured show of practically hanging off of the other man's shoulder as he raises one of the pints with a grin. "Seems I was right and he was too pissed to recollect ya." He leans over in Latour's direction conspiratorially "That means that this round is on him!"

Bluff 33 to assist Nicolas

The Mutinied Sailor, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; Evening of March 24th, 770
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Tomas wrote:Tomas looks up from his fist, which had just smashed into the bar as though some sort of meat comet. "Sorry." Eisenwald says, innocently, turning to look around him. "Thought I saw a spider. Can't abide spiders."

The room was filled with a sudden, sharp silence. After a few seconds, the stillness was broken by a flurry of coughing, mumbles, and shifting of chairs as conversation gradually resumed. One might almost imagine that nothing had happened if not for the degree to which the different sailors went out of their way to avoid looking at Tomas.

"You don't like spiders, M. Eisenwald? Not even the little bitty ones? You must be very handy around the house," Alice said with a small smile. "I shall have to find some way to thank you for your gallantry."

Nicolas wrote:"Still don’t remember? Jonathan? Jonathan Foxe?” He asks indicating himself, then with a sigh elaborates. “I’d just stepped off the boat from Mordent and was down on my luck, you were kind enough to buy me a few and we had a skin full that night, my lucks turned and thought I’d return the favour.” He clinks his tankard against Latour’s “Your very good health my friend, so how’s things with you?”

Mr. Agale wrote:"Oy, Johnny," the Tollere tries his best to adopt a more boorish mannerism. He claps one of his hands on Mr. de Castigne's back and makes an uncultured show of practically hanging off of the other man's shoulder as he raises one of the pints with a grin. "Seems I was right and he was too pissed to recollect ya." He leans over in Latour's direction conspiratorially "That means that this round is on him!"

"Johnny...?" Somewhere in the depths of Latour's drink-sodden brain, a few wheels began to turn despite the rust and grime. With visible effort, they started to make a revolution, ready to prevail against all odds... then ground to a halt without getting anywhere. He took the cigarette from Nicolas. "Johnny... life is good. Real good... Bartender... round on me."

Latour reached a hand into his shirt and rustled around in there, withdrawing at length a handful of bright, silver coins. They were odd-looking coins, triangular bits of silver with a bead of colored glass in the center, red, green, blue, without any rhyme or reason. Latour counted them off with painful slowness, and passed some to the bartender. The drunken sailor's voice was largely unslurred, and his movements steady despite the palpable reek of rum off him, but he moved and spoke slowly.

"Good times... Johnny. Can buy drinks for the whole... bar. Not that I... will." Latour looked around suspiciously. He refocused his eyes on Nicolas, and then grinned horribly, his two golden teeth sparkling. "Being blind... best thing that ever happened to me."

Museum, University of Dementlieu, Port-a-Lucine; Evening of March 24th, 770
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Nathan of the FoS wrote:"It has been altered," Darius says quietly. "To add the belladonna. If you look from the right angle you can see that the wood is less weathered around it...just there, yes, Professor Petrik? Whoever added it seems to have aged it somehow. Using chemicals, I would guess, I don't know very much about that sort of thing."

Proffessor Petrik snapped her head up at Darius, then leaned in to look at where Darius had pointed it out. Her eyes widened again, and her sneer transformed into a rather brutal snarl.

"It's very, very cleverly done, I wouldn't have seen it if you hadn't, hadn't pointed it out. It, it could have been altered by a Kartakan after the Occupation era, but I, I, I can't think of any reason why," Richard said, scruitinizing the two exhibits. His brow furrowed with slight distress. "But then, if an individual artist had done it, we, we wouldn't know any reason. Sometimes the curators, the curator would note who or why on the label, but..." he trailed off, perhaps out of compassion for the poor woman who had been talking to Petrik before. With the expression on Professor Petrik's face, it seemed possible that another mislabeled exhibit would drive her to bloody murder.

"They, they don't always do it," he finally continued, a bit weakly. He frowned again. "Even, even so, it does seem a very big coincidence, if that's, if that's really all it is. Everything seems to have a, a convenient explanation for it, to, to me at least, but I can't put it aside."

Darius nods absently. "It doesn't really add up to anything, does it?" he says conversationally. "An Invidian piece by way of Kartakass, altered to make the subject appear Ezran. Was it done to remove some sign of Invidian origin? Or to create some kind of connection to the worship of Ezra? And who would possibly benefit from showing an Ezran knight on a Kartakan antique?"

"There is always someone who benefits from changing history," Professor Petrik growled.

"Yes, but who? A Kartakan who wishes to neutralize an unwanted reference to his country's past?...Of course, why an artist of that notoriously irreligious nation would choose to make the hero an Ezran is, shall we say, not clear. Or could it be an Ezran attempting some sort of sleight-of-hand to show the influence of his church where it did not, in fact, exist? And if that were the case...what's the profit in it? Is there some sort of movement to seek for past signs of Ezran presence throughout the civilizations of the Mists?"

This last is asked in Richard's general direction, apparently on the theory that as an Ezran priest-in-training he will know if anyone here does.

Religion 22 to see if Darius can recall any such movement himself.

"Oh?" Mr. Agale asked taking a gander at Latour's treasure. "There's a tale behind those beauties as sure as the sea is moist. Next few rounds are on me if you'll indulge us with a telling."

The coinage is Hazlani, he thought, and a contemporary minting too. Perhaps Warden Lecanu's finances are more exotic than previously believed.