Fantasy Main Thread: Streets of Mage

[Jodyguru]

Once a gleaming beacon of hope for humanity, the religious city-state of Dominion has been superseded by the order of mages known as The Circle, changing the city in both name and function. Grand Nocturne serves as a trading focal point for the realm of Paladina, as well as a place of refuge for peasants, asylum seekers, and notorious criminals. The sun worshiping clerics of Dominion still retain a modicum of power in this city, functioning as a force for control and maintaining rule of order. The relationships between wizards and clerics are strained to say the least. While clerics focus on the needs of the soul, wizards believe the needs of the cosmos should take priority. The two groups wage an invisible war, while the rest of the city toils beneath them. Those who have sworn loyalty to Hamlet Delucco believe the leader of the largest gang in the city cares more about them than the government.

Map of the city

Spoiler

______________________
Monday, August 12th Year of the Boar ~2:00am

"A man wearing a full suit of armor is strolling out of an alleyway in Hamlet's Quarter. Before he's able to draw his sword, he is mobbed by a group of thugs who strip him of his armor, plunge daggers into his body, and hang his corpse from a two-story building. Before finishing the deed, one of the attackers carved a runic circle into the victim's chest and activated the spell with a spirit crystal. The glowing red circle stayed on the man's chest well until morning, and would remain as long as the body remained in place."

This was the initial report compiled by Nocturne police. They insisted the body remain where it was tied up, as moving it at all would cause the spell to trigger. They decided the best course of action would be to let decay set in to destroy the spell circle without activation.
______________________

Wednesday, August 14th ~10:00am

You receive a letter from the Office of Internal Affairs. In it, a man by the name of Howard Pembroke politely asks you to interview with him about an important job. He says that his office is willing to pay a large sum of money in exchange for services rendered. The letter is rather vague and doesn't specify what the work entails, but stressed that your field of expertise is necessary for the greater good of Grand Nocturne.

The Internal Affairs office is a tall building located near the old castle where Dominion operates, just off the main road. Mr. Pembroke's office is located on the third floor. The door is unlocked when you arrive. Inside is a dark room with nothing but a few simple chairs and a mahogany desk. The back wall of the office was a dimly lit blue pane of glass.

Sitting behind the desk was an Elf man with a black goatee, short hair, and dressed in a tan pleated suit with white shirt and dark brown tie. He sat rather bored looking with a leg up on the table. He was playing with an unlit cigar in his hands, wishing to light it but was lacking a match.

 

[Ace Cream]

Martel

Martel stepped into The Internal Affairs building by himself, not even his familiar Filo accompanied him inside. He stated his business towards the receptionist and showed his invitation letter, which he then redirected towards one of the roon on the third floor of the building. He thanked the receptionist and climbed up the stairs. Upon entering the room he took a brief glanced around the dark room, getting himself a bit more familiar with the client's place before confidently introduced himself.

"Good morning Mr. Pembroke. I am Martel, Dominion's representative and investigator. Pleased to meet you."

 

[Jodyguru]

The Elf made a face like he was about to say something, but stopped himself. He smiled at Martel and stood up to shake his hand.
“Likewise. Does Dominion know you’re representing them or are you from the Office of Inquisition? Can’t say I’ve worked with that lot before.”

Martel had heard of that mysterious organization before. Rumors surrounding the Office of Inquisition included them snatching people out of their beds under cover of night. Usually people who were looking too closely into the church’s affairs. They specialized in forced confessions and harsh punishment. Martel was definitely not associated with them, and knew of nobody connected to the Inquisition.

“You could say I’m a sort of information broker. I love stories, the more outlandish the better. You might have seen me around Val’s Tavern in the north end. They have a stool with my name branded on it.” He gave Martel a toothy smile and pointed the cigar at him.

“Wouldn’t happen to have a light, would ye?”

 

[Ace Cream]

Martel

"Office of inquisition? Of course not." Martel let out a brief chuckle, as if he thought Mr. Pembroke was joking about the question.

"I am just a priest whose The Holy See deemed capable to help the goverment uphold the stability of Grand Nocturne. Methu'soleil." Martel pulled his rosary and briefly hold it up in front of his face while closing his eyes. It's a brief prayer to praise his deity, more of a habit of him rather than something mandatory. When the elf asked about a lighter, Martel shook his head slowly.

"Pardon but I don't have any."

 

[Jodyguru]

The man known as Pembroke chuckled. "It's not as if you'd tell me if you were. Oh well, I'll have to pick up a box of Lucky Strikes after today. So a cleric with interest in this investigation... could it be you're trying to impress the Inquisitorium, or has your god chosen this path for you?" The way he inflected the word god made it seem like he's asking if a deity spoke directly to Martel, by way of mental delusion.

Many Elves in this land did not worship the holy pantheon, but instead built shrines to ancient spirits of earth, sea, and fire. It was quite common for an Elf's house to have a mud totem warding the doors and windows for evil spirits. In this man's case, he was simply prodding at Martel to see where he stood. What kind of man he was, and his level of delusion for the holy light.

 

[TeenyTinyElephants]

Elysandre
Outside of the Office of Internal Affairs
With: only her thoughts​

Elysandre would be lying if she were to say she felt completely confident and cool in her current situation. The letter that brought her here had been delivered early in the morning by the post. She didn't even need to open and read the contents to be nervous - the emblem on the front had frightened her enough. Her trembling fingers opened the seal and she doubted for a moment whether or not she would be able to read from the spots that blocked her vision. She chided herself, she had seen many more stressful situations than this, including life-threatening traps, enraged gang leaders, and worse. But this letter - what did it mean? It had been a long time since Elysandre had any connections with any official government bodies. And to put it simply, her last interaction was anything but cordial. She had ended up running into an old squadron whilst she was in process of stealing an enchanted goblet from a high ranking official. Luckily for her, she was able to throw most of the group off of her scent, but Rowan, the squadron leader, could see right through her lies. There was a cool back and forth of questioning that she thought would end up in her arrest, but he surprised her by telling her to get out of there quickly. She chalked up his allowing her to leave to their complicated past and camaraderie, but she knew as she fled into the night that his grace would only ever be afforded to her once.

With a slow and steady breath, her body stilled and her beating heart slowed. She opened the letter and as her eyes drifted over the words on the page her brow furrowed. It was a summons of sorts, but one she wasn't exactly expecting. At the end of the letter she paused, her mind buzzing with warning lights and flags. The request was too odd - could it be real? The warning bells quieted as she read over a line again '... a large sum of money to be paid...' . Cursing under her breath she raked her fingers across her scalp, tousling her auburn locks. She was a sucker for a nice payment. She also knew, even as her better instincts said not to, that she was going to this meeting to find out more.

And that was how she found herself outside of the Office of Internal affairs. She had made her journey towards the Dominion Castle - her living quarters could be found just southeast of Hamlet's Quarter. She kept her clientele close, but far enough away that she didn't have to worry, too much. As she passed the Dominion castle, a sense of foreboding had wracked her body. She had brought a cloak to hide under, of which she pulled the hood further over her face as she passed through the crowd. In general she preferred to keep a low profile - while people may know her name, they often did not know what she looked like. She often stayed away from meeting client's face-to-face and when she did, it was often with face covering. She figured with this meeting a full ace covering was superfluous, as clearly, they already had her location and information.

When she had arrived to the tall building, she stopped at the corner. Leaning nonchalantly against the building she took a moment to look around. She still had a small concern that this was somehow a trap. 'If they wanted me arrested they would have just sent guards to my house, not just a letter.' She tried reasoning with herself rather than panic. She felt as if she were stone, unable to move. A vendor called out an advertisement for a local eatery and broke Elysandre from her musings. With a straightening of her back she put a foot forward and began her march to the buildings doors. Upon entry her eyes scanned the surroundings and found a receptionists desk. She was met with odd glances as she kept her hood up, but she marched confidently ahead.

"I have an appointment with Internal Affairs." Elysandre's voice as warm but firm - exhibiting a confidence that she often relied on in her usual work. In her element she could be cool, calm, collected, and charming. Working with people was a skill she contained, as well as a few others. She smiled kindly at the receptionist as they gave directions and told where to find the office. She offered her thanks and followed the exact directions, climbing stairs to the third floor. She eventually found herself in front of a door with a plaque that read 'H. Pembroke'. She noted that the door was left slightly ajar, two voices echoing from the dark space. With a pause she allowed herself a moment to listen, there were two male voices inside, she did not recognize either. Through the muffling of the door she couldn't hear much, but could work out that they were making introductions. She positioned herself to look inside before entering, feeling like a little girl trying to watch her mother wrap her birthday gifts. She could see a man, standing behind a desk and another positioned opposite. The dress and demeanor of the man opposite the desk caused Elysandre to pause - he looked to be a priest, him pulling out a rosary confirmed her suspicions. Memories of services as a young girl, reprimands from holy teachers, and even priests visiting her home after the death of her eldest brother caused a shiver to run down her spine. Her relationship with the church was complicated and distant at best, and seeing the man in the room she almost felt guilty about the bad taste in her mouth.

A thought ran through her mind - was this supposed to be a group interview? Or was she early? Or late? She found herself frozen at the door unsure if she was supposed to intrude or wait. She looked around for someone who could give that direction, but instead remained frozen like a deer caught in the crosshairs of a hunter.

 

[_Line 213]

Oromet Seph
Office of Internal Affairs
Interacting with: Elysandre ( TeenyTinyElephants )​

"Oromet. Oromet."

The Night Watchman scrunched his face together, fighting back against consciousness, the sound of his name, and heavy footsteps retreating from the bed. The battle was lost once the rush of parting curtains let fly a beam of light and dust toward his eyes, prompting the man to lean upward and open his eyes.

The low, gravelly voice and thudding gait--which now moved toward the wood stove near the middle of the room--were those of Kavasta, one of his many housemates, and one who had been with him since he was a young child. The aging, flabby woman pulled several iron skillets from the floor, each letting forth a loud clang as they reached the top of the stove. "You told me to wake you early, Oromet," she said, going about her preparations for breakfast, "you said you had a meeting."

The guard slowly swung his legs around to the edge of the bed, leaning forward as he rubbed at his face and eyes. He had only gained just under two and a half hours of rest, and mind spun with lack of sleep. As he forced himself upward and paced the window, he realized that he had fallen asleep in everything but his coat. Leaning against the wall, he took note of the sounds of the city, squinting through the day toward the church clocktower several blocks away. "Where is mother?" he asked quietly.

Kavasta produced a slab of meat from a wicker basket by her feet, and pulled a knife from a table to her side, her voice punctuated by the rhythmic sounds of the tool hitting the stovetop. "She left for work with everyone else, shortly after you fell asleep," came the simple answer, the woman's voice held down by the same sense of fatigue that permeated Oromet's ever movement, "she took the seven o'clock omnibus. You will miss the eight-thirty soon."

Oromet stayed where he was despite her warning. He heard the sounds of the children at play below, and the chirping of daybirds. They were strange things to hear with a waking mind; for so long now they had been mere white noise for his daily sleep, white noise that carried his already-tired mind the rest of the way to his dreams. Kavasta looked toward the man, pausing in her preparations in order to stare. "What is it, Oromet? Have you gone so long without daylight that it scares you now?"

Oromet did not answer. After a continued pause, he pulled himself away from the window, walking back to his bed as he pulled his coat and belt from the floor, throwing his arms into the former, buttoning it closed, and then carefully encircling his waist with the latter. He reached down again for his weapons, securing sword and dagger to his belt before looping his crossbow over his shoulder. With a sigh, he looked to his lantern in contemplation, weighing whether it would be needed as it sat upon its more dignified position on his bedside table. The man checked his coat pockets for two important tins, and, upon running his hands along each, reached for the lantern and clasped the handle to a latch on his belt. The final item creaked lightly as Oromet turned to go, swinging lightly from his waist as the floorboards beneath him creaked in the direction of the stairs at the far end of the room. "Tell the others I may not return until the following morning."

Kavasta, who had since returned her attention to her cooking, glanced up once more as the man made for the exit, only to look back down again. "Best of luck, Oromet."

The watchman quickly made his way down the creaky wooden stairs, falling in line with several other men who were only just leaving for work. Their collective paces were brisk, none of them having time to spare other than a round of greetings to Oromet and each other. They spilled out into the street and spread in their own respective directions in short order; Oromet himself turned, walking down the broadest street away from the wall, his mind automatically steering him toward the carriage stop. "Oromet!" called a child from the sidelines, surrounded by a group of his fellows as they played in the dust, "where are you going?"

Oromet turned, and smiled. "It's boring--a meeting," he said, the mention of drudgery shaking the children off of his tail for the time being. Though it took time, his smile had faded by the time he reached the omnibus waiting at the carriage stop.

There were few advantages to living on the outskirts of the city, but one of them was that there was always sitting space on the omnibus. "Morning, Oromet," said the driver, prompting a nod from the watchman as he handed over a bronze piece and stepped aboard, taking a seat with two others in the interior as the public carriage began to rattle along. He took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly as he reached for his pocket and produced his smoking tin. Taking a sheet of paper, he carefully portioned a set of leaves upon it, rolling and licking it closed before sticking it in his mouth. A bell sounded as the vehicle came to a stop, letting on several more passengers as Oromet glanced to the window.

"Salut, Oromet," came a familiar voice, prompting the night watchman to look to his side. He was greeted by a dirty grin surrounded by a coarse, dark beard and flushed skin. Oromet did not need to glance at the man's telltale lazy eye to tell which friend this was.

A slight smile reached his face as he touched his finger to the tip of his rolled smoke, charring the end and prompting the creation of embers as he pulled inward. "Salut, Nicholas," he returned in his usual flat tone, having taken his smoke in his hand.

Nicholas glanced down at the man's lantern, grinning as he looked up again. "A Night Watchman only belongs on the street at night, no?"

Oromet looked back toward the glassless window, sending a trail of smoke into the open air as they passed throngs of pedestrians on their way to the city center. "I suppose I am a normal Watchman today."

Nicholas nodded, his nose wrinkling slightly as the scent of Kunzen reached him. "How is your hand today, my friend?"

The guard took another pull of his smoke, letting it out slowly. "How is your eye?"

A snort came from the rougher fellow, another grin and a chuckle exposing his long-yellowed teeth. "Fair enough my friend, fair enough." Oromet grinned, too.

---​

The streets were swarmed with pedestrians and other carts and carriages as the omnibus reached the grand square in the center of town. A grand flurry of other public vessels approached from the five main roads, each packed up to the rooftops as Oromet's was. The castle jutted upward upon the hill not too far away, simultaneously anchoring the city and visibly defying it. As the carriage came to a rough stop on the southern end of the mess of people and cobblestone, signaling its arrival with a bell, Oromet pushed his way out of the crowded insides. His seat was quickly taken, and those who attempted to clamor onto the omnibus's brimming exterior were met with the continuous cry of "no room!" from the overwhelmed driver. The Night Watchman tugged briefly at his lamp, ensuring the clasp still properly held, and dutifully paced his way up the nearby slope as the nearby belltower began to ring in the tenth hour.

Here, he was just another face. Even his appearance at an odd time of day was excused; with the Dominion castle so close by, it was far from uncommon to see even the odd Night Watchman appearing outside of their official hours, coming in for the refurbishment of equipment, the filing of papers, or the reception of pay. He kept his strides broad on the incline, brushing through people with minimal contact despite his dangling equipment hitting the odd waist or leg--and those of others hitting his.

Oromet peeled into a side-street in short order, taking the remains of his smoke and snuffing it against the brickwork as he let the end and ashes fall where they may. He coughed lightly, the scent of his herbs still hanging around him as he pushed through the door and into the comparatively dim foyer. The older man at the desk glanced upward, then blinked. "Oh. Oromet. Why are you here? You should be sleeping."

He offered a smile to his fellow civic worker, stepping just over half-way into the foyer. "I'm here for a meeting."

"Pembroke's meeting?" he asked. When Oromet returned a nod, he pointed around at the staircase arching upward at the side of the hall, making a face of caution as he did. "Third floor, his office. Same hallway as Plans and Records."

The guard offered another nod. "Good day Eliott," he said in parting, moving for the stairway without additional delay. His lantern clinked lightly against the rest of his gear as he made the same repeated motion up the length of the climb, its sway increasing yet its sound quieting as he returned to a normal pace upon reaching the hallway. By then, he was a few minutes late, yet between the omnibus and the crowds that was perhaps to be expected. More than the door, however, he saw another figure standing in front of it, peeking in as if she weren't sure whether or not she was supposed to be there. Oromet studied her as he approached, his tired face remaining mostly emotionless. She wasn't a clerk, judging by her state of dress, yet she was no guard or knight or even an inquisitor either, judging by her manner.

He eventually came to a stop, remaining silent for several moments as the woman seemingly remained either enraptured with the conversation within the room or stuck inside her own thoughts. Finally, he moved to speak, keeping his tone neutral and slightly soft. "Pardon me; I'm due inside."

 

[TeenyTinyElephants]

Elysandre
At the door of H. Pembroke
With: tall stranger ( _Line 213 )​

Elysandre was just about to back away slowly and leave when a voice behind her made her jump. With a gasp she quickly turned on her heel, nearly losing balance, having to grip onto the frame of the door to keep from falling. She had not realized how deeply she was lost in her own arguments of whether or not to go in. In this small hallway she should have had the intuition to hear the man approach, but he had caught her unprepared. A gloved hand shot to her throat a defensive stance she learned from play fighting with her brothers to protect from a choke hold of the occasional cheating throat punch. With a flush she quickly lowered the hand back to her side and righted herself to address the man before her.

"Oh, I also have been sent for a meeting, but there is a man inside..." She felt like a child being caught with a hand in the sugar jar.

Shaking her head she collected her thoughts and reminded herself that she was an adult, and had been called to an important meeting. "I suppose I wasn't sure if this was supposed to be a group or individual meeting... but by the looks of it, I'm guessing we're all meant to meet together."

She gave herself a moment to eye the man, taking in what details she could. He looked worn, a man who had put his time in and was still being asked to give more - his decor suggesting he was no stranger to combat or the usual trouble that often could be found in the streets of Grand Nocturne. He lacked an air of arrogance and structure that often came with the likes of clergy or royal guard, although she considered for a moment, that his posture and presence alluded to a formal background of some sort.

She cleared her throat, realizing for a moment that if there were to be several people to be meeting, she could be exposed. Uncertain of the types of characters that would be showing up, she knew that even if she did decide to put on her mask, the man in front of her would still know her face. Still, she decided that to stand for much longer without speaking would go against the etiquette training her mother had put her through. Her mother's voice echoed in her mind '... don't stare, Elysandre...' . She scrunched up her nose at the thought of her mother but corrected quickly and smiled.

"I suppose we should go in." She turned her head to look towards the door. She knew that her mother would have pinched her arm at her lack of introduction or general polite demeanor, but she wasn't sure how much she wanted the man to know, just yet - she was still unsure if this wasn't a trap.

With a glance over her shoulder at the man she lightly rapped her knuckles against the door and then grasped the handle, pushing lightly. The callouses on her hand rubbed against the inside of her glove. She wore gloves most of the time for many reasons - the foremost being to hide the scars that ran from her palm up her forearm from her first failed job. The scar that laid in her palm was so deeply etched that the original design of the pendant could be clearly seen, a flowered circular design in angry red. The chain that had wrapped around and up her arm left its marks like tentacles lashing out to destroy whatever they touch. The searing pain had long ago left, but every once in a while, there would be a dull burn or a painful pulsation - Elysandre often wondered if that meant the cursed object was nearby. Otherwise the scar was simply a reminder to not be a fool.

 

[Ace Cream]

Martel

"For my case, it's neither of both. When I was a kid I used to be a troublemaker so now I want to be the one who solve problems instead." Martel answered the question with a casual tone. He wasn't lying, though he avoided mentioning the deeper reason of his involvement in the church's public investigation division. He just wanted to be away from the Theresia family.

Martel heard a tap on the door behind him and then itncreaked open, revealing two other people that would soon entered the room. He wasn't surprised that Mr. Pembroke called for another individual to solve the problem and Martel wasn't a stranger to teaming up with other people. He gave the other two a smile as he sidestepped and gave the other two some room to position themself in front of Mr. Pembroke's desk.

 

[Jodyguru]

"Whats wrong with being a troublemaker? I make trouble for a living." The Elf chuckled. He noticed the other people entering the room. "Ah, good. The others have arrived. Now maybe we can get down to business?"

As the other two made way in and took seats, the blue pane of glass behind Pembroke’s desk began to change color. A hue of red took an oval shape in the glass and started slowly moving left and right. It grew more intense as a shape started to appear as well. A massive body with three glowing red eyes extending from the top of its head became visible. The creature resembled a deep sea fish but with multiple long green tentacles.

Spoiler

"Aquiloith Vezz...Thank you for warming up the guests, Saxon. I will take the meeting from here." A voice heard by everyone but with no discernible direction was coming from the alien looking fish swimming behind glass.

"Apologies for the late arrival" The strange fish continued in its deep, monstrous voice. "I had business back home to deal with, and portal spells are quite taxing. Vzriimoth... I don't wish to take up your time. I know mortals are quite concerned with time. I am who they call Pembroke. Srriith... I called you here about a murder that took place in Hamlet's Quarter... Saxon, care to elaborate?"

The elf cleared his throat, and tried to avoid eye contact with Martel. "Yes, uh... A knight from Dominion was found dead strung up like a festival wreath. Mages are suspected to be involved because of the spell circle carved into his chest. This happened a couple nights ago and the body is still hung up. My boss spoke to fish boy here and wants us to find out who killed him and why, and bring them in dead or alive."

"Internal Affairs wants the guilty alive so they can stand trial. Hamlet's men are more concerned with swift justice than the courts." Pembroke interjected. "Zzinzith, I cannot stress enough that they must remain alive. Whoever these criminals are, they've caused a lot of strife in Grand Nocturne, and their corpses will only cause further outrage."

 

[_Line 213]

Oromet Seph
Pembroke's Office
Interacting with: Everyone​

The woman turned abruptly, and quickly covered her throat; Oromet wasn't certain whether she was attempting to guard herself, or merely suppress her own vocalization of surprise. He himself made not a sound nor a motion, only taking a slight step back once it was clear that the woman had managed to collect herself to some degree.

The Night Watchman's features subtly shifted as his encounter began to speak, though given how muted his display was, it was difficult to parse the emotion driving it distinctly; the expression that briefly passed through his face seemed closest to either curiosity or concern, yet it wasn't both, and staunchly refused to be either. He leaned to the side slightly as she stated her case, doing what he could to glance through the slight peepshaft she had created for herself and glimpse the two she had indicated. There was no doubt in his mind, at that point, that this was due to be a group meeting--though the mention of such in their letter would have been preferable.

An awkward yet understandable silence fell over the duo outside the door; Oromet did not move to introduce himself, and neither did the woman before him, a natural buffer of distrust settling in between them instead. Near the end of it, Oromet considered voicing an apology; yet, just as his lips moved to part, the woman cleared her throat and broke the silence herself.

"I suppose we should go in."

Oromet instead twisted his lips into a slight, apologetic smile, accepting the idea of delaying the unsaid for some indefinite future. "Yes, I suppose we should."

He remained some distance behind her as she moved to open the door, doing his best to grant her whatever sense of space she could gain in the small hallway. When the two finally stepped inside, he shifted to a position at her side rather than behind, clearing the door as he shut it behind himself. A clear path to the door should ease her skittishness, he reasoned.

It was then that his attention fell upon their supposed third, brow furrowed slightly as he immediately noticed where the man's allegiances lay. He did not even need to glimpse the rosary to tell their third was staunchly in the graces of the Dominion, his sparkling cloak and equally lavish robes instantly distancing himself from the other two summoned parties, to say nothing of his voice and poise. Oromet felt a twinge of distrust within him, the natural resulting instincts of his upbringing at the edge of the city telling him to either stay wary or stay away. A polite nod, yet no words, were offered to this second stranger, before the watchman's attention turned to the elf; a vague sense of familiarity washed over him, yet not enough to place the last figure properly. Perhaps they had passed each other briefly on the nearby streets or in some administrative hall whilst Oromet was on his way to check a dossier or receive his pay.

He took his seat slowly, pressing his gloved hands into his lap as he settled in. He hadn't been on his feet for all that long, yet sighed anyway, as if grateful for another chance to rest, stifling a cough as his form grew still. Though he initially looked to whom he presumed was Mister Pembroke, the shifting hue of the glass behind the elf could not help but peel his attention away with due speed. Oromet took in a sharp yet silent inhale as something appeared in the murk of what now clearly seemed to be water, the voice of whatever was within reverberating into the room, deep and echoing, as he had imagined the descriptions whalers had given him of their quarry. Rumors of the Dominion's dealings with entities far different from the races of the world had long abounded amongst the knighthood and even within the armories of the guard, but until that moment they were only ever that--tall tales, strange ways of mystifying and heightening their employers that often became little more than tidbits used to entertain the children in one's life.

Oromet himself had to struggle to keep his mind upon the information provided, much of it attempting to understand just what it was he was seeing and hearing. Some small, secondary portion of his thoughts could not help but latch onto the imagined reactions of the street children he had passed this morning. Even if he told them of this strange new Pembroke in detail, they would never believe him.

It took time for him to work up the heart to ask the being a question. "Respectfully sirs, is there a more specific reason than that given in the letter as to why we three in particular were chosen for this investigation?" he asked, keeping his gaze level with the large, door-sized stare of the otherworldly body despite the question presumably being asked of the elf as well.

 

[TeenyTinyElephants]

Elysandre
In the office of H. Pembroke
With: everyone​

The dark office reminded her of a small room in her childhood home. The room was decidedly smaller than this one, but the only light to be found crept through a small stained glass window. The window itself was a pattern of mainly blues and greens except for a central red flower. This room was tucked away behind the main staircase in the foyer. Elysandre's mother used it to store her sewing and mending supplies, but to Ely it was a magical escape. Often, Ely would pick the lock on father's "secret" bookcase and pull out the most wonderful stories, stories of adventure and danger and the great unknowns and read them in her secret place. The sunlight causing the colors to dance across her face and the book pages, she would be transported to different worlds. Her parents had locked away the books after Ely had questions about sea monsters and how one could hunt them down. Her mother's face, a new shade of white quickly turning to red inquired heavily to how she knew about such nonsense. Ely, realizing her mistakes too late tried to back out of it, but it was of no use. She never really understood why her mother was always so harsh with her about these things. Her brothers were always allowed to talk about future adventures of being knights or eventually working for the Dominion. Anytime she tried to talk about anything other than mending or caring for the house, she was practically punished.

She blinked a couple times, realizing she was traveling down memory lane while the man behind her shut the door and entered the room. She cast a quick glance at the men around her - the palms of her hand felt itchy and and felt like she didn't know where to put her hands. She resorted to crossing them in front of her chest, a defensive stance, but one of comfort, at least. She eyed the Elf up and down, she didn't recognize him, she supposed they probably wouldn't have run in the same circles - and she was almost positive he wouldn't be able to afford her services. Still, even with the odd unease in the air, the thought that this was a trap of some sort was melting away. The man next to her and the other seemed just as out of place and unsure of the purpose of this meeting of the minds.

As they were asked to sit, Elysandre moved towards a chair next to the man she had met outside. She felt an unspoken and very fragile sense of camaraderie with him, both having arrived to this strange function around the same time. She wondered if the clergyman had any more sense of what was happening than she did. She had no more time to wonder because as she settled herself in, a booted leg crossing delicately over the other, the room began to shift. The change in hue was jarring to her senses and caused a disbelief in what she witnessed before her.

The voice echoed through the room, for a moment, she considered that she had finally lost her mind and was hearing things. But with a quick glance at her compatriots, she know she wasn't the only one hearing things, the other two appeared just as baffled with their host. As the fish, creature...being addressed the Elf, who she was now putting together was not Pembroke but rather Saxon, Elysandre could not help the smirk that played on her lips at the ridiculousness of this situation. She wondered if the fish was the Elf's boss, an amused giggle held as she bit her cheek to appear from being rude.

Her thoughts quickly sobered as Pembroke explained why they were each called to this meeting. She jerked her head in a curt nod when Saxon mentioned the murdered knight. She had already heard the news - the circle spell had caused whispers to erupt from the underbelly of the city as it wasn't every day that a display of such obvious magic was committed. Saxon calling Pembroke a "fishboy" caused the giggle to finally erupt from Elysandre's lips, her cheeks a tinge of pink as she lowered her eyes in apology.

Finally, the mention of Hamlet and his men caused her to still, she listened to the man next to her question the reason why they were all called and shook her head gently.

"It's sounds like they want us to be the scapegoats for when we piss Hamlet off." Her leg bounced against her knee, her foot swinging gently. "Why else call in a bunch like us... no offense, boys." She lifted a hand lazily with a side glance to the men in the room, a feign of an apologetic smile gracing her features. "Surely, we all realize that going against Hamlet's wishes, especially in this matter, is as good a death warrant as any." She had spent far too much time to get in the good graces of Hamlet and his associates to think this was a good idea. She had witnessed firsthand what could happen when you turned against them."Why waste the danger on their own men?" She was a bit irritated, but still she stayed. The echo of a large sum to be paid ringing in her mind.

 

[Ace Cream]

Martel

Martel took a seat next to the other two and tried to made himself more comfortable, he expected the meeting would proceed to the briefing immediately but he was baffled when a strange fish-like creature appeared and introduced itself as the Pembroke.

"O, The Unveiler of Mystery. It's an Ancient One." Martel muttered towards himself in disbelief. He heard about the existence of otherworldy creatures all over the world and even heard rumour about an Ancient One helping the Sisters of The Spring in making holy water, but this was his first time seeing one with his own eyes.

Martel was sweating as he listened very carefully to the explanation of their mission. Now that an Ancient One was involved he felts like he might just involved in something too big for someone like him. However this was a duty for him and he didn't want to abandon a duty just because he didn't feels confident.

Their mission apparentlt was about the murder of the knight that occured several nights ago. Martel remembered when the news arrived everyone was enraged, some of the knights even almost rushed to the scene but fortunately the bishop was able to handle the situation there and prevented further blood shed. He thought one of his senior would be the one to be assigned to this case. Actually, the woman next to him provided a quite sound reason as to why the three of them were send on this case. Disposable scapegoat, and if the Theresia family bothered they can use his death as justification to force a thorough investigation towards the Hamlet.

"Anything more we need to know, sir?" Martel askes with a much quieter tone than his regular demeanor.

 

[Jodyguru]

The Aboleth turned its massive body around and started drifting left while it listened to the group's questions. Saxon was growing irritated at the suggestion that Hamlet was responsible for the killing.
"Listen here, gal. Mister Delucco was just as surprised by the news as anybody. He didn't order the hit, and if any of his boys did the killing he's not going to protect them. Believe it or not, but Hamlet Delucco is a man of principles. Furthermore-"

Pembroke's eyes started flaring up, and Saxon fell into a disoriented stupor to make him stop talking. "That's enough Rakshath... yes, I understand how one would feel in your position. I chose you three because you each represent different groups that reside in Grand Nocturne. The faith, the guard, and the underground. I did this so no political group could claim the investigation was compromised by allegiance. Zzinzith, There is a fourth who will be meeting you at the gates into Hamlet's Quarter. A man by the name Ilkvalta who represents the mafia's interests. I cannot guarantee your safety, which is why the Internal Affairs office is prepared to reward handsomely... Saxon, get the coin."

Saxon seemed to snap out of his delirium and lean forward. He opened a drawer and retrieved three coin purses brimming full of shiny gold pieces.
"This is just an advance. Fifty gold now, two-hundred when the job is complete."

The amount in one of these pouches was enough to cover rent in a luxurious apartment overlooking the city. It was more than Oromet's monthly salary. It was more than Ely made on her last couple jobs. Martel had never held that much coin at once. It felt almost sacrilegious to hold it in his palm. The office wouldn't hand over this much scratch if they were just going to dispose of their investigators, that's for sure.

 

[Ace Cream]

Martel

"I appreciate the fund, and it ease my mind that a representative from the Hamlet would also join our group." Martel bowed slightly towards his employers and took a deep breath as he received the advance payment from the elf. He wasn't much of a money seeker, but this amount was just hard to decline. He could imagine several things that he would be able to do once the full payment was in his hand.

"O Generous Radiant, guide our way through the glitter." Martel whispered a brief prayer for himself as he touched his forehead, then his chest. A reminder to not get his heart and mind blinded by the gleaming coins.

"Should we get going?" He asked the other two.

 

[TeenyTinyElephants]

Elysandre
In the office of H. Pembroke
With: everyone​

Elysandre's eyes narrowed towards the Elf as he addressed her concerns. Before he had finished she was interjecting, "I'm not accusing Hamlet, but running under the, assuredly correct, assumption that he has put a task force of his own on the job. What happens when he hears about a group of unknowns going after the man?" She crossed her arms in front of he chest once more, leaning back a bit to scrutinize Saxon a bit further. He seemed a bit touchy when the topic of Hamlet came up, causing her curiosity to buzz. In what ways was he connected to Hamlet. In Grand Nocturne almost everyone was, whether it be ally or foe. With a quick shift of her eyes, she recognized that Pembroke was reigning some sort of control over the elf, and for a moment she wondered if the fish could do the same to her.

Any concern was broken quickly as Saxon opened his drawer and pulled out the purses of gold. Any other dissension was caught in her throat, having to gulp loudly as she leaned a little forward to peak at the contents. It would take her 6 months of hard work to pull that much of a profit and this was only to be a portion for this job. It felt too good to be true and Ely realized there were still many things to be established. She was certain that this amount of money was not being handed out for light work - the weight of what this job would entail was bounds heavier than the golden bags. She took a moment to cast a sideward glance at her hallway companion wondering if this was a familiar situation to him. She wanted to gauge his interest, but before anyone had a chance to speak, the clergyman had spoken.

He spoke of being glad that one of Hamlet's men would be meeting that and this time Ely allowed herself to open guffaw at his words.

"I'm sorry - but I believe this may be the first time I've heard a holy man glad to work with an associate of Hamlet's." To emphasize her amusement she slapped her knee and leaned forward, both feet planted on the ground, her elbows supported on her knees. "You'll have to excuse my mirth at the moment - I seem to be one of the few that is a bit lost here." She took a deep breath and surveyed the rest of the party for a moment. "So... we have a knight that was murdered and strung up in the square to make an example. We have several parties who seem to be both pissed off and mystified, and so you're relying on a holy man, dark knight, and glorified jewelry thief to take care of the situation?" As she she mentioned the other parties she gestured towards them with an up and down motion. "Count me as honored to be considered but also count me as suspicious."

She wouldn't admit it out loud, but the job intrigued her. She had no idea where to even start, but the idea of trying to hunt down murderers caused a jolt of excited electricity to jolt up and down her spine. It all felt so ridiculous, but her mind already was abuzz with potential places to start searching, people she could rely on to give a bit more information. She knew that if she were to asking the right questions, she would eventually find some answers. Grand Nocturne held a lot of secrets, secrets held by individuals with loose lips when buttered up enough.

With a leveled look at the fish, she shrugged her shoulders. "What direction do we have here? You want us to investigate... do you have any leads for us? Or are we going in completely blind?"

 

[_Line 213]

Oromet Seph
Pembroke's Office
Interacting with: Everyone​

Though Oromet could feel the weight of the small purse long before he moved to open it, he had fully expected the satchel to be filled with a mixture of lesser coins, perhaps a full bag of silvers at best. It wasn't until he pulled at the string and carefully shifted the bag open with two fingers that the glimmer of gold reached his eyes, prompting them to widen in cautious wonder. With such gravity of pay surely came a far greater gravity of task and expectations; tie that to the fact that they were a few steps away from delving into the city's underworld, and things began to feel strange in the pit of the man's stomach.

And yet, this was merely the beginning. It was more than he had ever held in his hand. It was more than he had ever seen in one place. The full two-hundred and fifty gold could carry him out of the city and into the countryside; it could set him down on a piece of land, grant him everything he needed to build a small cottage, and perhaps even grant him the seeds he would need to start his first harvest--and a new way of life. He might even have enough left over to begin permanently treating his hand.

He pulled the bag closed again, steadying himself with several deep breaths before attempting to tune back in to the conversations happening around him. By the time he had brought himself back to reality, the woman he had begun speaking again; if he had at all registered the Priest's suggestion that they depart, he failed to make such clear. Indeed, his legs might not have been ready for such an effort just yet.

"...So you're relying on a holy man, dark knight, and glorified jewelry thief to take care of the situation?" he caught her state, prompting him to look up at her properly with his same blank, worn expression.

"...Not a knight," he stated calmly, slowly attempting to ease his earlier shock out of his voice, "just a Hamlet's Quarter watchman."

 

[Jodyguru]

Pembroke's eyes seemed to focus on Elysandre. Once Oromet corrected her, the Aboleth's eyes started flaring up again. For one moment, everything was fine for Elys, but the next everything she was seeing completely changed. She saw a dark, blood stained alleyway. Then her vision caught a look at an apartment building. Shady Oaks. Then a mailbox that said R4 on it. The name plate on the mailbox said "Sir Edward Rothchild". She was fed information directly from the creature and not only knew exactly where the crime scene was, but the home address of the victim. The hallucination ended, and she was back where she was in Pembroke's office.

"I have spoken with each faction, and they have come to a temporary truce. Vzitch... the investigation will not be impeded by anyone except perhaps the guilty party. Elysandre knows the victim's place of residence. I would learn about him to learn who his enemies might be. That is all I have for you."

 

[Ace Cream]

Martel

Martel only let out a small smile as the response to the woman's remark. She wasn't wrong, a priest working with anyone from Grand Nocturne's underground was indeed unusual, but he wasn't a regular priest either. His line of work as an investigator teached him that having the help from a local would significantly boost his investigation progress as people would be less hesitant to answer his inquiries.

"I have spoken with each faction, and they have come to a temporary truce. Vzitch... the investigation will not be impeded by anyone except perhaps the guilty party. Elysandre knows the victim's place of residence. I would learn about him to learn who his enemies might be. That is all I have for you."

"Thank you for the information, sir. We will head out now." Martel clasped his hands as a small show of gratitude. The investigation will not be impended by anyone except the guilty party... Martel had a doubt about it, but he didn't voice it out since it might be just him being a little paranoid from some of his experiences.

He then beckoned the other two to follow him outside, they got their information, they got their advance payment. Now they really should start their investigation.

"We should check the crime site first. I want to see it with my own eyes." He suggested. The site should had been left untouched since the no one wanted to disturb the rune so they might be clues left. They also should pick up the fourth person while they're at it.

 

[TeenyTinyElephants]

Elysandre
In the office of H. Pembroke
With: everyone​

Curling her lips into a smirk and ready to make a smart remark to the man next to her, Elysandre was ill-prepared for the rush of images that were to flood her mind. Have you ever exerted yourself so far or been scared enough that the world around you melts away? Sometimes the only sense you have is to hear the thud of your own heartbeat in your ears, eyes losing focus on what's in front of you. Sucking in breath with a sharp hiss, her eyes glassed over and her expression became blank. Ely tried to focus on her own heartbeat, but the images that flashed before her eyes were distracting and jarring. To those around her, the girl quickly sat up straight, her form rigid against the back of the chair. Her hands jolted to her knees, gloved fingers digging into her knees, the only tense part of her body.

Inside her mind things were a bit more tumultuous, the bloodied alleyway flickered a bit, her own imagination interjecting an image of her deceased brother. It was a scene she often would see in her nightmares. Her brother's death was a violent one and even though she herself had never seen where he died, she often imagine it looked similarly. She cried out to no one, but before she could properly process the scene changed. She stood before an apartment complex, Shady Oaks, and the images shifted to R4. Sir Edward Rothchild echoed in her mind as she slowly came to. She could hear Pembroke telling the others about what she had seen.

Her fingers and back went slack and she leaned back into the chair, looking up to the ceiling for a moment to try and process what had happened. It was enough to think about the things that she saw, but she really was trying to process the fact that the fish had hijacked her mind. It was unsettling and if she were honest it caused her fear of the creature to heighten. Slowly her eyes shifted to look at the other men in the room, curious if she had done or said anything weird. But, they seemed to be preoccupied with the mission and getting started.

Ely didn't immediately get up as the priest got up and beckoned the other two to move. Instead she turned her head to address the Elf and Pembroke. "I don't think I liked that..." She said with a bit of accusation in her voice. She was careful not to insult any further as she stood and pulled her cloak closer around her frame. She stepped away from the desk and righted her frame, holding her head higher. She had a feeling that she was stepping into something big, something bigger than she planned on when she woke up this morning.

 

[Jodyguru]

"Apologies R'leigh... images say more than words. Good luck to you all. I will call on you in a few days for an update." The Aboleth spoke as the group was headed out the door.

"So long, friends" Saxon said. "Maybe I'll see you again?"


The hazy sunlight shone through the gap in the buildings like ribbons as the group started the trek towards Hamlet's Quarter. It would take some time, so the team would have plenty of chances to discuss their thoughts and ideas. As they got further from the Office of Internal Affairs, they saw fewer clerics and government workers and more day laborers. Brick layers, cart carriers, and the kind of work you couldn't trust a mule or slave to do without error. In the distance was a shopping district with open doors and windows, and lots of people speaking over each other trying to make sales in the streets. Everything from groceries and pleasure purchases to camping, tradesman, and military tools, to a couple alleys where gamblers could be found throwing dice against the walls.

Naturally, the thought of spending time here comes to mind, but with a more important task ahead, it would be wiser to examine the crime scene first, then return here if the need arises.

Eventually the group would reach the entrance to Hamlet's Quarter. An old archway was covered in graffiti and old wanted posters. Standing under the archway was a tall man with hair like slick coal and part of his right ear missing. He had a look about him like he was expecting them.

(( Chuckles ))

 

[Chuckles]

Ilkivalta leaned against the wall of the archway, arms crossed, one foot lifted up and set back against the stonework. He had been browsing the wanted posters that plastered the walls. A few of them were related to him, ”Wanted: information on the Fey Touched thief.“ they said with a blacked out silhouette where the targets face normally went. One or two of them were actually for him specifically, though none were for both aliases.

He smiled, reminiscing about various misadventures and jobs. He had been doing this work for a long time, it was really amazing that he had been able to carve out such a neat little niche for himself between the various incarnations of ’government’ within Grand Nocturne. It helped that he did view each side as legitimate, in his mind the Mafia, The Circle, and Dominion were all the same. They were all clients.

Apparently Hamlet had some stake in the current situation involving a knight getting murdered and strung up in the street. It had certainly been out of the ordinary, even in Hamlets Quarter. Ilkivalta had taken note at the time but was more than content to leave it to other, more invested, parties. That was until a Mafia contact got word to him that Hamlet wanted him to look into it.

Considering his reputation, and with it how much Hamlet paid him to do what he did, it was exceedingly rare for him to call Ilkivalta for a job in which he didn’t need to retrieve something physical. There were information brokers littered throughout the city who could get almost anything someone needed to know, and there were plenty of thieves and treasure hunters around the city to get things people wanted to have. Hamlet, much less anyone else, didn’t call Ilkivalta unless they needed to have something. Hamlet had never called Ilkivalta because he needed to know something.

Needless to say it peaked the thief’s interest. He knew that part of the reason must have been that he, despite being a part of the Mafia, didn’t have any loyalties to anyone in particular in the Mafia, outside of Hamlet himself. Whatever the reasoning for putting him on the job, Ilkivalta didn’t care, he assumed it was a good one. Regardless he was here now, waiting on a group from the ministry of internal affairs.

TeenyTinyElephants Ace Cream _Line 213

 

[Ace Cream]

Martel

Martel walked silently as the trio made their way towards their destination. The gold coins in his pocket feels much heavier than it should be. He would like to store it in his room but that would require him to backtrack for quite some distance. For now, there's a job to be done.

Fortunately there's only one person currently standing under the entrance so he can quickly conclude that he was the person they're looking for. With a sure steps Martel approached the man with chipped right ear. He extended his hand to offer a handshake as he greeted him with a smile.

"Greetings. We're the newly formed team of investigators formed by the Internal Affair. Hope we can finish this task smoothly, may the Ray of Truth guides our path."

 

[_Line 213]

Oromet Seph
Pembroke's Office --> Hamlet's Quarter
Interacting with: Everyone​

Oromet briskly stood once they had everything they needed, briefly swiping twice at the edges of his eyes with both his index and forefinger, as if attempting to refresh his vision after all he had seen and heard thusfar. He, as far as he knew, had experienced nothing like what the woman next to him had, and without a clear picture in his mind it would be up to her to guide them both. He carefully secured the pouch of coin within one of his coat's interior pockets, pursing his lips tightly as he considered the day before him. Despite the newfound levity that the fresh weight in his coat caused him, he could not help but suffer from dire feelings, as if there was more to this than they were being told. His lack of sleep certainly did not do him any further favors; he had hoped that they would have a day or two of preparation, or could perhaps at least wait until the evening, that he may receive something resembling his usual amount of rest.

He was not, however, about to argue with the sum he had just been given, or with the sum that was promised if they managed to make it to the end of their journey. Oromet relieved his lips of their tension just long enough for him to speak. "...We'll do our best, sirs," he said, caution throughout his tones, before looking to the two companions at his sides. He only moved to leave once they did, though once they had exited to the hallway and made their way down the stairs, ultimately took his place behind them and silently followed along. As far as he was considered, there wouldn't be all that much to talk about until there was more to the case. If they shared his hesitations, then there was no point in discussing them. If they did not, then there was no purpose in burdening them.

Thus, the guardsman kept his tongue tied all the way to the other end of the city, opening his mouth solely after the preparation of another smoke, the telltale sent of Kunzen wafting into the noses of his fellows whenever the wind aligned in the proper direction.

It was only once the surroundings became more familiar and the markers of the Hamlet's Quarter returned that Oromet found his voice once again. "...The eastern side of the city doesn't take well to people it doesn't know," he said, briefly checking the status of his lantern and ensuring it was secure, "be careful when talking with others, and don't press them too harshly if they don't want to talk. Word travels quickly, here." With that, he returned to his silence as they encroached upon the archway, his eyes lingering upon the sole, waiting figure beneath it. Despite what he had just said, he seemed to leave the business of hailing the man to one of the others.