The Shattered City: Chapter One

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"I am but an interested dabbler, monsieur De Castaigne," Lia says with a small, courtly gesture. "But who knows what the future may bring?"

[lostboy]

"Who knows indeed Mlle Mourneswaithe? But I shall look forward to it nonetheless" Nicolas returns the gesture with a smile and a short bow.

[Kaitou Kage]

Oh, he was one of those.

"I see," Cyrus said. His demeanor changed from cool to downright frosty in a split second.

Cyrus was good at mentally cataloguing different types of criminals into different classifications. You had the physical kind: murderers, thieves, and vandals. Then the mercantile kind: smugglers, drug lords (only outside Hazlan!) and counterfeiters.

Finally, you had the criminals like those. The so-called "free thinkers" who perceived their only purpose in life was to spread Myttri and cause chaos. They contributed nothing to society and often encouraged its breakdown. They acted like they had something to prove against the beauty of order, but they made themselves look ridiculous.

Furthermore, they were dangerous. Myttri was a siren call and in a place like Port-a-Lucine, where most people neither knew nor accepted their place, Myttri's voice was irresistible.

Cyrus managed to not curl his lip in disgust, but it took some effort. Instead, he fixed a frigid stare on this newly-paroled criminal as he and Lia continued their exchange.

We'll have to keep an eye on you, won't we?

[DocBeard]

"Poetry." Tomas says as though the newcomer was guilty of aggressive and wonton littering, crossing his arms and frowning a bit. "It's good to know that crime is at such a lull that der prison needs to have poets thrown into it just to use up the extra space."

"If that's all." Tomas turns, not offering to help Nicolas to his room, "We've got to get going. Long day ahead."

[lostboy]

"It's good to know that crime is at such a lull that der prison needs to have poets thrown into it just to use up the extra space."

"Funnily enough Herr Eisenwald, I do believe I almost agree with you, poetry is a poor excuse to sentence a man. Still having seen the rather overcrowded nature of the Montmort prison, Id suggest that crime is being found everywhere at the moment, whether warranted or not."

"Ah now is not the time for politics, I need a drink. Anyway where are such a crowd as yourselves heading, I assumed you werent an impromtue welcoming commmitte..." He gives Cyrus a beaming smile probabley just for kicks.

[Cronax]

Mr. Agale strode in from the foyer, absentmindedly studying a handful of documents. He looks up and scans the room impassively, allowing only momentary smirk at the yellow receipt in the newcomer's grasp.

"Gentlemen, Ladies." He says with a perfunctory bow. "Schedules are meant to be kept. If Mr. Mauganson can be located, we should head out post haste. Have any of you perchance seen him yet today?"

[yalenusveler]

As if on cue, Kerrian made his way down in to the room. "Sorry if I'm late...figured it would be a good idea to clean up after work. Even considering who I'm going to speaking with most likely..wanted to make a good impression." Even though he was still wearing what could be considered work clothes, they were still a fresh set, and Kerrian had made the effort towards cleaning up. Just shy of presentable, if not necessarily fashionable.

"And I haven't questioned the plant yet...Having a hard time thinking of ways to ask it questions that make sense, so I'm open to suggestion."

[Cronax]

"Excellent. Now, before we meet with him, I feel it wise to relate the results of my cursory investigations regarding Jacques Pelay." Mr. Agale says with a conspiratorial air. "Contrary to Mr. Mauganson's assumptions, and to my own, Mr. Pelay makes no pretensions to being a 'man of the people'. Rather, his writings advocate nothing short of the dissolution of the Council of Brilliance and a return to a more authoritarian and nationalist means of governance. We should tread carefully when dealing with him."

[yalenusveler]

Kerrian winced at that particular statement. "Then maybe I should put on my good clothes. I don't know how much of an impression it'll make, but it can't hurt, can it?"

[Kaitou Kage]

Cyrus raised a snake-eyed brow at Agale's explanation of the revolutionary, but otherwise said nothing.

[The Whistler]

"...Celeste Mirielle Viardot. A pleasure to meet you, sir!"

Of course, by this point, de Castaigne was several rooms away. Either Celeste had found the prospect of two men transparently denigrating each other too novel to interrupt, or she had somehow become fascinated by the grand hall's tastefully done window treatments in the middle of a conversation. Possibly both.

Kerrian winced at that particular statement. "Then maybe I should put on my good clothes. I don't know how much of an impression it'll make, but it can't hurt, can it?"

This comment, however, brought her back to herself with all speed. "Attention to one's wardrobe cannot fail to help one's prospects when a social encounter is involved, M. Mauganson! Why, this morning, I was quite certain to tailor my current attire specifically for the task of interrogation."

It remained to be seen how a pale green dress with gold trim could be construed as an "interrogation outfit." Then again, if such a thing existed, Celeste probably owned one of them.

[NeoTiamat]

The Chateau Malchance, Quartier-Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 3:16 PM
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"Excellent. Now, before we meet with him, I feel it wise to relate the results of my cursory investigations regarding Jacques Pelay." Mr. Agale says with a conspiratorial air. "Contrary to Mr. Mauganson's assumptions, and to my own, Mr. Pelay makes no pretensions to being a 'man of the people'. Rather, his writings advocate nothing short of the dissolution of the Council of Brilliance and a return to a more authoritarian and nationalist means of governance. We should tread carefully when dealing with him."

"I'm certain you will find yourselves up to the task," Thierri said disinterestedly as he came down the stairs. It was hard to tell if he was being ironic or sincere. He shot one look back at the group going to speak to the rabid nationalist - the pair of delicately dressed excitable noblewomen, the shy and nervous workman, the strange black clad mage, the polite professor, and the Borcan lawyer - before simply raising an eyebrow and walking past them. The magician sidled over to Tomas, placing his arm casually around the Lamordian's shoulders while taking a drag of his cigarette with his other hand. "A most sensible suggestion, M. Eisenwald. Let us go."

A less generous person might have suggested Thierri was attempting to get Tomas out the door whle Cyrus was busy talking with other people, thus ditching the Lawgiver priest entirely. However, if he was trying, he didn't do a good enough job of it. He wasn't willing to push Tomas, which was probably the only way he could have accomplished his goal, assuming he could even match the Lamordian in strength. There was also another problem, in that Katja had come and stood between him and the doorway.

"Lead on," she told him, sheathing her sword in her belt sheath. When Thierri simply folded his arms, she added, "I am coming with you. You might run into trouble."

"Doubless we would have less trouble if we didn't look like an Invidian mercenary band," Thierri replied, archly, "but unless Dommer Ishafani deigns to keep his alliegence discreet, there will be no might about it!"


The Apothecary of Sevgi Canderli, Quartier-Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 4:09 PM
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Thierri proved as good as his word when it came to directing you to the Hazlani district of Port-a-Lucine. It was a small, out of the way part of town, away from all the main thoroughfares of the bustling city. It was a quiet, residential area, one where the people of far-off Hazlan could live in peace, a haven from the maddened mobs of Dementlieu's strife-torn capital.

It took you a moment to realize you had even entered a neighborhood different from the rest. Here, the names of streets were written in Vaasi, and shopkeepers put banners before their stores, not carved signs of wood. The biggest change was that of the people. Rather than the fine-featured Dementlieuse, here the streets were thronged with stocky, broad-shouldered Rashemani, interspersed here and there with tattooed, aristocratic Mulan. Most wore the suits and dresses of Dementlieu, though some few wore zarongs and other traditional clothing, like Cyrus.

The shop of Sevgi Canderli was located the corner of the two largest streets in the district. The shop itself was not very large, just a two-story house that was nestled between a tailor's and a chandler's, the windows of the top floor discreetly shuttered, the windows of the first floor shop bedecked with banners and curtains of gold and red cloth. Some Rashemani youths were playing cards on the doorstep of the tailor's.

Thierri opened the door with a flourish and an ironic bow. "After you," he said. He didn't follow you inside, simply leaned against the wall outside, lighting another cigarette.

Inside, you were greeted with semi-darkness and the sickly-sweet scent of spices. Only a little sunlight managed to filter through the narrow streets and curtained windows to illuminate the apothecary, reflecting off hundreds of glass bottles. Thousands of glass bottles, even, and jars as well, each with a strip of paper pasted onto it, with words in Mordentish, Vaasi, and Draconic upon each one. There were books, old, thick, leather-bound texts on herbs and beasts and obscure minerals.



A little bell on the door tinkled as you entered, and from somewhere in the depths of the building you heard movement. "One minute." Came a rich, husky voice, with just a trace of a Vaasi accent.

"Greetings, stranger, and welcome. My name is Sevgi Canderli, and I stock spices, incense, and..." The sales-pitch, rehearsed so many times as to become rote, died on Canderli's lips as she passed through the door into the shop proper. The much-mentioned Canderli was a Mulani woman in her mid-forties, a tall, elegant woman with the shaven head and elaborate tattoos of the Mulan. She was dressed in a very workman-like blouse and skirt, both of which were spattered with unknown stains and the occasional scorch-marks. There was a red, silk cloth wrapped around her left forearm, and an iron pendant hung from her neck, a circle of bound iron, like Cyrus's spear-symbol but twisted into a ring. Rich, brown eyes rested on the Lawgiver priest. "Out. Out. You have no authority here. Get out of my shop."

History or Arcana DC 17 to identify significance of the red armband
Religion DC 22 to identify significance of the circular pendant.


Pelay Residence, Quartier-Savant, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 4:09 PM
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The home of M. Jacques Pelay was a handsome-looking house of indeterminate age, but well kept up and in one of the nicer, old-money neighborhoods of the Quartier Savant. There was a carriagehouse off to the side, and small gardens behind the building. The place positively reeked of wealth and aristocratic heritage.

"This is going to be massively enjoyable. Let's hope Pelay's home and we can do this quickly, otherwise we'll have to spend all afternoon hunting him down at the University." Prof. Lessard said with a small sigh, pulling the door-knocker back and letting it drop with a resounding CLANG! This he did twice more, until steps could be heard from inside. He glanced at the rest of you. "If in need of a distraction, ask to hear poetry. We can make our escape while Pelay is occupied."

"This is so exciting." Cerise said perkily, grinning broadly. She craned her head to look at the roof of the house. "If we needed to, we could probably sneak in over the trees and get into an upstairs window. This feels so cloak-and-dagger."

"More tea-and-biscuits, I'd say." Lessard said dryly. "Do we have a cover story?"

"We're political enthusiasts? Adoring fans of his poetry?" Cerise offered, eyes sparkling. She glanced side-long at Lia. "Maybe we're hoping to make his poems into a theater production?"

"That'll do until a better idea comes along." Lessard said, musingly. "Or failing that, we can ask Pelay's housekeeper for a tour of his estate. My parents' butler sometimes ran tours, though we'd have to hope to meet Pelay himself. Ah, someone's coming."

"Hello, sirs, madams." The person who opened the door was a young maid, perhaps in her late twenties, with sharp cheekbones and what must have been once piercing and vibrant eyes, though she looked at the ground and not at you.

"Is. M. Pelay in?" Lessard asked politely.

"Yes sir." The maid nodded. "Who shall I tell him is here to see him?"

[DocBeard]

"Try not to flirt so severely with Mme. Zweibach while we're in public, Boucher." Tomas admonishes with a saucy uncle sort of a wink, "I've got to trust you two crazy kids while I go with young Cyrus here to mop up some business, nicht war?"

Pulling his pipe out, Tomas stumbles mid-tobacco stuff, fumbling with the pipe in shock at the forcefulness of their greeting. "Golly!" Tomas puts an arm around Cyrus's shoulders in his bear-like manner, patting the left shoulder a few times while looking the model of wounded innocence. "You'd think we were here to bust the place up or something!"

"Please do not be getting us wrong, ma'am." Tomas carefully keeps his face blank, figuring that the woman doesn't want anyone confirming what she happens to be, and that Cyrus shouldn't have an excuse to get violent if he doesn't need one. "We are not here in any of the official capacity! I mean." Tomas looks like he wants to clap his knee but decides to keep his spare hand unmoving, palm open so as to indicate that he is not hiding a weapon. "That'd be crazy! My friend here just got recommended your shop for something from Hazlan that he misses, that's all!"

(Readying an action.)

[Kaitou Kage]

Cyrus spent a lot of time trying to flirt with Katja on the way down, even competing directly with Boucher for the woman's attentions. Unfortunately all good things had to come to an end and before he could invite Katja inside, he found himself swept in by Tomas.

The Lawgiver priest stiffened reflexively when the Lamordian pulled out his pipe and slung his arm around him. He did relax some when Tomas babbled on, though. This was workable, he felt. He actually surprised himself by feeling like he could run with whatever absurdity this fool Lamordian was doing.

He mentally chastised himself for that thought. This man was a heretic, and it would be difficult to maintain a long association with him.

"Is there something the matter?" Cyrus asked coyly. He grinned, and the fanged viper on the man's scalp seemed to grin, too, as its eyes bored into Sevgi. The priest adjusted his glasses and then patiently let his hands fall to his sides in a non-threatening manner. "You act like I should be here to try and exert authority over you, Canderli. Is there something I should know?"

Insight 25

[Cronax]

Clearing his throat, Mr. Agale answers "You may tell him we are representatives from the University. As I'm sure you are aware, your master has recently published a new book and we are very interested in speaking with him."

(OOC: Bluff 31)