(Arc 6-2) Four brilliant stars shine as..four? NO TEAM UP?!?

[Anastasia]

GM note: This was a set of solo adventures that went various places. I'm pasting them in order of seeing them, they all loosely connect.

> After breakfast and morning preparations, Seira goes to meet Commander Oberuth. An achingly typical day, the Commander in the practice yard. He's watching a few teenagers in trainee uniforms going at it, fighting with wood swords and shields. His arms are crossed, nodding a few times at the occasinal well placed blow. Amid the clashes of wood he turns to Seira, head so inclinded. "Bring back any memories," he asks, gaze going back to the trainees in red.
> "Bring back any memories," he asks, gaze going back to the trainees in red.
* Seira nods solemnly. "Yes. Of a time when I thought I knew how to use this." She indicates the bow that is always with her when she is on duty.
> "Mmm-hmm." The Commander grins at that, florid face lighting up. "Lord Salman's surely proud of you - your deeds have gotten attention." A long, thoughtful look at the trainees out there, "I'd have pegged Lyselle as promoting fast, but it seems the entire group of you is proving your worth well."
<Seira> "We're honored you think that, Commander," she says honestly.
> "At ease," The Commander says, as the sparring finishes, cadets done and wincing. "Anyway, I want you to run patrol today. Go to the guard station and get a pair of 2 guards to work with you. They'll have an assigned area there. Techincally," A pause here, "This is your first command. Make sure they don't manage to get hurt or fall into the sea, or what have you!"
* Seira salutes Oberuth. "I will not spend my first command wastefully in an unauthorized swimming excursion, Sir," she responds.
> "Nor shall any of your comrades," A chuckle from him, as he lightly, offhandedly returns the salute.
<Seira> Given her orders, Seira proceeds to the guard station!
> The main guard station is a largish building attached to the garrison. A main planning room with maps of the city on the walls and a single long, beaten up table. Guard assignments are put here on scraps of parchment, soldiers gathering around it. A few complain and moan, but most are business like or casually talking as they get going.  Back behind all this, there's an office for the Guard Captain.
<Seira> That is the man Seira is here to see!
> A few of the guardsman make salutes, privates and corprals and even a few seargeants. But most just get out of your way or stay out of it as you head into the office. Well, office isn't the best term. It's a table and chair, a stack of blank parchments and a few ink pots and quills. The Guard Captain is a man with a long, yawning face, clad in red clothes and a slightly unpolished, dingy breastplate. Yet his frame is wire taunt, almost snapping like a whip as he moves. "Hm?"
> almost snapping like a whip as he moves. "Hm?"
* Seira casts a brief glance to assure herself that her tunic is tucked in properly and her red jacket is without wrinkles, before saluting the captain. "Commander Oberuth entrusted me with command of a patrol, Sir," she informs him. "I am reporting here, as ordered."
> "Name and rank?" He asks, pausing. "Captain Johannes, by the by. Don't think I've met you - heard of you, I think, but go ahead and let me know if I'm wrong or right."
<Seira> "Seira, a lieutenant in the Guard," she elaborates. "I would have no idea what kind of rumors float around and involve me, Sir, and thus cannot either confirm or deny them."
> "The half elf wizard." A small little look at that, guarded. "Under the Commander's direct supervision as well. Well then." He pauses just a half moment, looking up to a map pinned to the wall - a map of the city, full of old inkmarks and circles.
* Seira nods at the man as he states dry facts, having expected something more scandalous and blown out of proportion. She advances, getting close enough to see the map in detail, listening intently.
> He's looking at a part of the northern areas, just a bit below the docks. "Go to the duty roster out ther eand find the two privates assigned to the Lower Dock District. They know the job as well as I do, and they're familiar with the area. They should be waiting in the last room - one has blonde hair, and the other has a scar over his left eye."
> "...oh, and of course, then ames. Private Dirk and Private Smoot."
<Seira> "Dirk, Smoot." Seira nods once more. "What is to be the duration of our patrol, Sir?"
> "Eight hours - 9 AM to 5 PM." He looks up at that, running a hand down his long face and yawning. "Dismissed."
* Seira salutes once more, and leaves the Captain's room, intent on using the duty roster to locate the two privates assigned to her.
> The duty roster rests on the beaten up table in the front room. As you go out, you note that a blonde haired private and a private with a scar on his eye are horsing around near a wall, laughing and killing tiem. Both are youngish, wearing normal uniforms and with spears resting on the wall. The duty roster lists all the people on duty - including those two, though no commander has been assigned to them yet.
* Seira makes it official, and then calls out, "Privates Dirk and Smooth?"
> "Hey..." The one with a scar turns, shaggy black hair and a bad mustache, mostly just showing a lack of shaving this morning, grins. "Smoot. Wait...you're our commander today?"
> "You wish you were smooth," the other cuckles a bit, but quickly firms up and salutes, grabbing his spear. "Ma'am?"
<Seira> "Yes," she affirms, dipping her head briefly for good measure, before returning the salute. "We are to patrol the Lower Dock District. I trust things will go well, as both of you are familiar with the area in question." She pauses, and then asks, "Are you ready to depart?"
> "Hey," Smoot salutes, but frowns. "Hey are those..." he begins, before snapping back. "Yes, Ma'am," he nods, "Is this your first time?"
<Seira> "I have been both on patrol and to the area in question, but not at once," Seira responds. "And since we shall be working together for today, I wish to tell you two something. While in the presence of civillians and higher authority, we are to carry on with professionalism, as is expected of us and to protect the Guard's good name. I trust this is understood?"
> Smoot starts to scowl a half moment, then half sighs - but both are defeated, before he salutes. "Ma'am," he says, as Dirk merely repeats his comment of "Ma'am," and then, "Shall we lead you to our patrol route now, Ma'am?"
<Seira> "Yes, Private," she tells him curtly. "Please do."
> It's a four block radius - two streets connected each, the outer sides connecting into circular loop arounds. So in essense it's just a big circle. Just as well - the things are relatively mundane. A mix of houses and businesses as you begin to walk, "That's the local butcher, that's a fish drier and seller," Dirk goes on, as citizens nod and smile your ways, going about. "Most of these have been here awhile on Ostragem Loop. 'cept for all the new stuff down at the eastern end."
> 'cept for all the new stuff down at the eastern end. That has a bakery opening as well as a storage facility."
<Seira> "A bakery?" she asks curiously. "Would you know when it will admit customers?"
> "Now. They have great stuff." Smoot grins, "They've been great to us so far."
> "Ahem. What Private Smoot means is that the proprieters are polite and kind to us, showing dutiful respect to the city guardsmen, Ma'am."
> Dirk takes the lead, spear held but down, respectable but not warlike. "We  mostly just walk patrols and make sure none of the shopkeeps have had any disturbances."
<Seira> "We can stop there along the way," Seira muses. "And there is no need to be formal with me like this."
> "Oh good." Smoot sighs in relief, "How formal o you want to be then?"
<Seira> "When we are alone, it does not matter as long as the conversation doesn't cross the boundaries of decency," she responds, thinking about the question. "Of course, in the immediate presence of superiors and civillians, a proper chain of command must be maintained. Whether they know it consciously or not, the citizens of the city trust in the Guard to protect their property, their lives and the lives of their loved ones. As its most visible
<Seira> As its most visible representatives, we cannot give the Guard as a whole a sloppy visage that would give them cause to doubt its effectiveness."
> "Yeah." Dirk clears his throat at that, "Well then, shall we go on, Lieutenant?"
<Seira> "Let's."
> So on you walk. The people of the streets often smile and wave, a few staring. One even stops and calls, with a raised fist, "Hey, thanks! There's no undead in town thanks to you!"
* Seira nods politely at people as she walks, keeping a watch for anything untowards -- a fight, a theft.
> OOC - Spot checks.
> roll 1d20
> roll 1d20
* Hatbot --> "Kotono rolls 1d20 and gets 3." [1d20=3]
* Hatbot --> "Kotono rolls 1d20 and gets 17." [1d20=17]
<Seira> roll 1d20+5
* Hatbot --> "Seira rolls 1d20+5 and gets 6." [1d20=1]
> You do a logn walk of the block, coming to the eastern side, where it curves up and back around. Halfway past a first circuit. Here are a few buildings - a new, large bakery called the Sunrise, and a few doors down, another large, new building. "Parsifal Storage and Space." The bakery has a few people around it, the storage none. There are a few other shops here - a tailor, a greengrocer and so on. The smell of fresh bread and fruit fills the air.
> The smell of fresh bread and fruit fills the air. Up the loop you can see a few houses, and just past that, what looks to be a parchment and paper shop. The sea breeze is also strong, seagulls in air above you.
* Seira leads her charges to the bakery, deciding to take the time and find out whether that unfortunate family found a new place for their business here. "We can make a brief stop and get some bread to tide us over till lunch," she tells them. "If there is anything else you would like to purchase in a different shop, please let me know."
> "I can't afford that much," Smoot laments, "The pay sucks..."
<Seira> "I will cover the costs," she offers. "Recently, I experienced some windfall, in a sense."
> "The bread will be fine. Ah, the owners are very polite to the city guard - they've been very, very, very generous to us."  Dirk says as you head along inside. Inside are rows and rows of glass cases, full of fresh breads. Large ovens run here, food taken in and out. "There's no need, Lieutenant."
* Seira shrugs at that. "The offer stands if you two change your minds."
> Behind the counters several workers work - hired laborers, wearing simple white clothes as a uinform. Running the ovens are three people - familiar people. Roald n particular, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm as they work.
* Seira waits until her turn to approach the counter where Roald works, greeting him with a hello.
> "Seira!" Roald grins at seeing you, nearly dropping a tray of rolls. "It's good tos ee you again!"
> His mother turns, a moment of pause before she smiles gently and nods her head towards Seira. "Good day," she calls.
* Seira greets the mother as well, before returning her attention to Roald. "I have been meaning to see where your new bakery was. Luckily, it happened to be along my patrol route." She gives the boy a smile. "I had no doubt you would reopen the store."
> "We have to have something to do. Hold on a minute." He stops, going to one case and getting some bread. "You never tried that Elven bread, did you? So how are things? I heard your name when all those rumors about a necromancer swept town."
<Seira> "Really?" Seira asks in surprise. "So there were rumors after all," she muses to herself, quieter.
> "Well, yeah," Roald agrees, "Depending on who you listened to, a vampire was beseiging the city or a necromancer was going to turn us all into zombies. Heh, if Dad was here, he'd have gone and gotten them all, but at least you and your friends are. When I heard someone mention a half elf with the city military was invovled..."
> "Wooow," Smoot marvels, "Damn, I saw one of those things after the fact. Scary."
* Seira coughs, looking mildly uncomfortable. "Ah, yes, I believe you know Privates Dirk and Smoot?"
> "They're the guardsman that walk this street," Roald agrees, passing over a few loaves of bread. OOC - Listening check, Seira.
<Seira> roll 1d20+5
* Hatbot --> "Seira rolls 1d20+5 and gets 6." [1d20=1]
<Seira> roll 1d20+3 it was actually +3, turns out, and I'll take my reroll now
* Hatbot --> "Seira rolls 1d20+3 it was actually +3, turns out, and I'll take my reroll now and gets 16." [1d20=13]
> Seira can hear a ruckus outside - someone's screaming from far away, but it's carrying.
<Seira> "We shall have to return," she tells Roald. "My apologies, but duty calls." Signaling to the privates, she heads outside with haste, following the source of the scream.
> "Woah," Roald blinks as you head out! Int he streets, you can see and hear the problem. Running down the street is a man in ink stained trousers and a black shirt, middle aged adn bald as a ball. "Thief! Thief! Guaaaaards!" he screams, irate. "Guards!"
* Seira draws her bow smoothly with one hand, the other reaching for her quiver. In a practiced motion, a pair of arrows are notched, and the bow levelled at the running man's forehead. "Stop at once!" she commands, letting the privates do the job they are accustomed to without distracting them with her instructions at this point in time.
> The guards cautiously draw spears - and the man stops. Cold. He sees the bow and arrow pointed at him, and like a sane person, raises his hands up. "Guard! I'm not the thief! I'm a victim!"
<Seira> "Where is the thief, then?" she asks him, lowering the bow.
> "Gone! Ran out of my shop with my prize attraction!" He waves his hand back and forth, "Gone with the wind!"
<Seira> "His description, the direction he went, what he stole... please tell us that."
> "Tall woman, probably about six feet tall. Didn't speak much - just grunted and started looking - and lingered to me. I think she was going to ask a question, but she hit me with a sap instead! When I pulled myself together, my treasure was gone!"
<Seira> Regretting not being strong enough to cast a spell of flight, Seira asks the man again, "What was taken?"
> "I run the paper and parchment store down there," He remarks, as the two privates look about a bit, but otherwise maintain posture and look official. "I had an mage who was nice enough to come to my shop for paper supplies a few times, and I talked him into a signature item. A signed, real, actual magic scroll! The plaque under it says that 'If even a wizard shops here, the paper's good enough for anyone!'"
<Seira> "Right," she decides. "Private Smoot, please take this man's statement and examine the scene of the crime. Private Dirk and I will look for a woman matching the description given to us." She gives the shopkeeper a pointed look. "If she had any other particular traits, this is a good time to mention them, Sir."
> "She was wearing a plain dress. Like a brown dress you'd see on some peasant girl. I think it might've been made of burlap or sack cloth." He nods at that, "She had...brown hair, wasn't it?""
> Smoot nods once, "Yes ma'am. Sir, if you would," he says, starting to walk towards the side of the street.
<Seira> "Have you and your partner handled such cases before, Dirk?" she asks the private once they're left alone.
> "Theft? Sure. Pickpockets, muggings, that sort of thing. A drunken sailor or someone with less money than brains is usually it. It's not very common around here." As you start to go, you see that a few people are heading along. One woman, but she's fat and dumpy. A few men, some tall, some around six foot, one taller. A few are heading for the paper store, and one's even going for the new storage facility.
<Seira> "I see." Seira nods to herself. "Very well. Please ask the people here whether they have seen anything. I will look further down the street."
> "Very well," Dirk nods, staring to go to people as Seira goes along. To the papershop and beyond, a loooong stretch of road ahead. OOC - Spot check, I reckon.
<Seira> roll 1d20+3
* Hatbot --> "Seira rolls 1d20+3 and gets 18." [1d20=15]
> You see a few people about and then a few more. They're all normal sorts, wearing normal clothes. A few woman wear dresses like that, but none or tall or have brown hair. Nothing really remarkable here at all.
* Seira goes further, focusing her search on tall people. If it was not a disguise, magical or otherwise, that should narrow things down considerably. She also examines those dressed as men as she goes.
> You find only one tall woman. She's close to six feet, but she wears a dress of gray and carries a soapy tub out of a house, going to dump it in an alley. She looks in her 30s, tired and bedraggled, and her hair's blonde going on gray.
> The men are mostly normal - none of them really wear a dress. One is six foot and has short brown hair, though - he looks about in his mid twenties and is carrying a few apples in his arms, as well as a loaf of bread.
* Seira catches up to him, and says, "Hello, Sir. Do you have a moment?"
> "Guard? Sure." He stops and looks at you, "Wooow...hey, you aren't THAT half elf, are you?" he asks plainly.
<Seira> "I would not know," she says, before pressing on, "Sir, I would like to ask you a few questions. Did you, by any chance, pass by the paper shop down the street a short time ago?"
> "Yeah, I pass by there every day." He nods once, shifting his burden in his arms.
<Seira> "There had been a disturbance at the shop, Sir," Seira says next. "Have you witnessed anything strange or unusual? A person fleeing the scene, or ditching something in an alley?"
> "I saw a man come out of an alley, but that's it." He shrugs his shoulders, "Pretty average guy."
<Seira> "Can I get a description, please?" she asks him, taking out a notebook.
> "Um...black hair, maybe five and a half feet tall? Wearing a tunic and pants?" He shrugs at that, "He looked really normal. Had a few pounces on his belt for money or something, had a dirty pair of boots on. Walked quick."
<Seira> "I see." Seira notes it all down quickly. "May I have your name and address, Sir, in case we have further questions, or would need for you to come and testify?"
> "John Iron. I live on Dolphin Street." He answers matter of factly.
* Seira thanks the man and travels further down the street, all the way till it flows into the next one, and takes a look for tall women or men with pounches and dirty boots down each direction.
> OOC - Spot.
<Seira> OOC: I'll take my 20 for 23?
> You don't really see anyone that fitst hat description at all. Just a lot of people, but no real matches.
<Seira> Though somewhat disappointed, Seira quickly schools her features and returns to the scene of the crime.
> The two privates are there, waiting. They salute as you approach, "Nothing," Dirk reports crisply.
<Seira> "None of the people here saw anything? That woman, anyone else carrying on suspiciously?" she seeks to clarify.
> "No, not a person. A few people going to the shops, but that's it beyond passersby," Smoot remarks.
<Seira> "Well, I certainly started on the wrong foot," Seira states sourly. "Very well, then." She pulls herself together. "We shall finish our route, and report to the headquarters. Perhaps we could find more reports of a thief fitting a similar description or method of operation."
> "Yes Ma'am," Dirk agrees and starts to go. OOC - Doing to be doing anything of note on the rest of thew alk?
* Seira follows, observing the area for anyone fitting the descriptions she had gotten, or otherwise acting suspiciously or in a criminal fashion.
> OOC - Make another spot check?
<Seira> roll 1d20+3 I guess, and they should spot too!
* Hatbot --> "Seira rolls 1d20+3 I guess, and they should spot too! and gets 18." [1d20=15]
> roll 1d20
* Hatbot --> "Kotono rolls 1d20 and gets 17." [1d20=17]
> roll 1d20
* Hatbot --> "Kotono rolls 1d20 and gets 16." [1d20=16]
> The rest of the walk is quiet. You get a lot of looks and interest, and af ew short conversations, but nothing of note occurs. Life goes on like any other day, really.
<Seira> "I apologize for temporarily lowering your success rate," Seira tells the pair of privates as they come to the end of their route.
> "Huh?" Smoot blinks, "Oh, come on. We don't catch every pickpocket, no one's going to get them all. We'll just pay more attention to his shop and hope it doesn't happen again, or that it gets stopped cleanly."
<Seira> "I suppose that if nothing turns up in a few days, I could offer the shopkeep a fresh scroll," Seira muses. "He did not seem overly concerned by the contents of the scroll itself, only in its presence."
> "Oh yeah," Dirk wiggles his fingers, "Alakazam...you're a wizard?"
<Seira> "A witch, technically, I suppose." The corners of her mouth twitch. "I've certainly been called that a few times."
> "Oh really?" Smoot says without missing a beat, dry. "I suppose that makes sense."
> "...let's just go back and report," Dirk quickly interjects.
* Seira nods in agreement, leading the way.
> The trip back is without incident. On arriving, "Go report to the captain," Dirk informs you. "We can't get off duty until you do." A few people are starting to mill around, soldiers returning.
* Seira does so, relying on their knowledge of procedure as the Captain previously instructed.
> This takes a few - a couple of other seargeants and cadets are ahead of you. But once you get in, you see Captain Johannes waiting. "Anything of note happen," he asks, a book out in front of him.
<Seira> "A theft," she reports, handing over a copy of their collated notes. "We were unable to apprehend the suspect, but a perusal of the information available to the Guard at large about similar thefts or people matching the description of the woman in question might provide us with a clue, Sir."
> "Alright. Thank you - anything else?" he asks, "Do you know if you'll be assigned this again tomorrow?"
<Seira> "No, Sir," she responds honestly. "I will check in with the Commander once I take my leave. If you would like, I could inform you once I know for certain."
> "Alright." A nod to that, "Good day, Lieutenant Seira."

[Anastasia]

> The morning is disrupted! A page brings you a printed scroll on your day off, just after breakfast. He bows and doesn't even ask for a tip, just presenting to to Lyselle and fleeing.
* Lyselle blinks, a little flabergasted at the out of the blue communication. Especially the hurry that page was in... Lyselle frowns a little but doesn't call out, instead unrolling the scroll to discern its contents.
> "To the most splended, renowned, fabled, courted, serene, blessed, magnificent, perceptive, wise, intelligent, vitality-filled, divine, heavenly, Godtouched, favored, beautiful, enchanting, powerful and mystic Countess of Armasea," You note that the following took up most of the scroll, only leaving a few lines for the following in tiny print, "Could you meet me in an hour's time Lady Stronger's Magical Emporium? I hear you know her - Khardon."
<Lyselle> "..." Lyselle simply sighs, rolling the scroll back up and tapping it against her nose. Khardon was certainly taking this niece effort seriously, wasn't he? Witha  bemusedly pained expression managing to at the same time be on the verge of laughter, she tucks the scroll away, finishing on with breakfast before making her preparations and heading to her once-time employer's magic shop to meet one of her many superior officers.
> Khardon waits outside - well, with a few people. Most look like normal people gawkign and peering in when the doors open. Khardon looks confident, arms crossed as he leans on the wall of the shop. Utterly unconcerned, grinning as Lyselle approachs, "Hail, Most Splendid, renowned, fabled...."
<Lyselle> "I'm off duty, I could throw mud to plug that..." Lyseele warned, griping as she came closer to Khardon, a mock glare thrown at him. "Anda fabled niece would never be above splattering her paternal figures," she added, dressed in a casual sort of uniform that displayed Armasea's arms a little more prominently, sword worn but without armor or shield, and her hair left long for the moment.
<Lyselle> "Though I must return salutations, most legendary, virile, kingly, resounding, lordly Sir Khardon," she addressed back, a flourishing sort of curtsy bestowed.
> "Virile? I told you, no," Khardon chuckles, stretching out as he rises. "You know Stronger, don't you? I'd like to take a look, and it couldn't hurt to have someone she knows with me."
<Lyselle> "I seem to remember enchanting and beautiful in your own speech," Lyselle shot back, making a small hmph sound. "And I worked for Stronger recently," Lyselle nodsabsently toying with her magical ring. "And bought a thing or two from her already."
<Lyselle> *nods, absently
> "Close enough," Khardon nods, starting to head inside. "How are they?"
<Lyselle> "Good, she seems very talented," Lyselle nods, looking around the relatively familiar shop. "I haven't had real chance to test some of it, since I haven't been back into any fights yet, but it all looks excellent so far..." she offers, nodding. "Dire bears are expensive prey to take down for the sake of enchantment, though," she adds, shuddering a bit at the memory.
> "Oh, I've battled something like that. It was a white northern ice bear instead." Khardon smiles as he remembers, "I've never seen solid steel cut through that cleanly." As you look around, you see Countess Stronger talking to a man - he has dark hair and wears crisp clothes and a cloak. Looks noble, but the two are in deep discussion over one of the display cases.
<Lyselle> "The sword Shamal made did well enough," Lyselle allows, nodding to the familiar woman. "That'd be Stronger, she's rather fiery," she notes, smiling lightly and taking her time to look around, though she's already seen it all.
> Nothing seems to have really changed yet. The two aer in deep discussion, Countess Stronger only giving you the barest of glances. They speak for a few minutse as Khardon walks around, viewing the items, stopping at a few.
* Lyselle leaves Stronger to her bargaining, and remains somewhat near Khardon, doing her own window shopping. "Anything interesting happening in the upper echelons that us lowly lieutenants are allowed to know about?"
> "Mmm-hmm." He stops at the Almighty Bracers, pondering over them. "We conclusively decided that Malmuth is up to no good, foul and probably stinks." From there he goes towards the gems, viewing them a moment.
<Lyselle> "Shocking," Lyselle notes with a mock tone of awe, eyeing the gems. She'd vaguely copnsidered trying to talk the group into something with the one to detect magic, since they seemed to use it a lot, but hm.
> "Yes, the war was worth it to affirm our natural rite to bathe and not be as the Malmuthian bastards are," Khardon chuckles, as Stronger and friend continue to talk. They look really into it.
* Lyselle snickers faintly, shaking her head and glancing back at Stronger. "Fiery indeed," she murmurs at the manner of her discussion, just shrugging to herself. "Do you know where her landholds are?" she suddenly asks Khardon, curiously glancing over to the older man.
> "As I recall...I think the Countess thing is self styled, but who's going to argue with a wizard?" That gets Khardon to grin and shrug, as Stronger at last finishes. "Dear heavens, sweet Lyselle, arguing with a wizard who is also a woman? Insanity!"
> The gentleman nods and heads out the door, a perfunctory glance shot at Lyselle and Khardon.
<Lyselle> Lyselle cast an icey and withering look at Khardon, snorting and shrugging. "Dearest uncle, it couldst hardly be all that more challenging than traveling with a wizard half-elf for weeks on end. Or a former Malmuthian historian."
> "I suppose, unless one fancies siring a quarter elf or a smelly half Malmuthian?" Khardon doesn't stop grinning as Stronger approaches, her eyes on Khardon. "Welcome! A friend of yours, Lyselle?"
<Lyselle> "A family friend and superior officer," Lyselle agrees, stepping back a little to present Khardon. "Lord Khardon of the Crimson Guard."
> Khardon bows deeply, "Khardon is fine, ma'dam. I'm here purely as a potential customer - it's rare to see such a magic shop, let alone in the wilds of the Border City of Balmuria! Also," Khardon flicks his wrist, a beautiful dagger falling into hand, "I wish to get an official estimation of the price of this relic. Purely for curiosity's sake, mind."
> "It's magic?" Countess Stronger inquires, "Certainly, 100 gold is the standard price."
* Lyselle smiles a little, standing slightly back from her superior and Stronger, toyig with her signet ring. Why she'd been wearing it recently she wasn't entirely sure, but it gave her something to do with her hands, and it'd been in her family for ages, so it still jsut felt nice to wear.
> "Go on," Khardon smiles, "Could you do that while we browse?"
> The Countess smiles and takesthe dagger, "Back in a few," she agrees cheerfully. "Just don't think about stealing. Ash and bone fragments are just difficult to clean up!"
> "...charming," Khardon keeps his smile fixed in place. "My."
* Lyselle snickers a little, nodding as the countess leaves. "Quite, isn't she?" Lyselle agrees, her own smile firmly set. "This is why I let Seira talk with her most of the time."
> "Two halves of the whole?" Khardon speculates aloud, his smile tugging up well onto his face.
<Lyselle> "Hmmm?" Lyselle blinked, her smile flickering in confusion as she looked up at him. "I don't think I'd like to see Seira and Stronger 'united'..." she coughed.
> Khardon blinks a moment, before he throws back his head and laughs! Laughs hard, slapping his side and roaring for a good half minute. When he recovers, wiping at his eyes, "Lyselle. Your parents would weep if they heard you talking about such course, sinful things.
> "
<Lyselle> "..." Lyselle stared clear up at Khardon, her cheeks burning and followed by a solid punch into his arms. "I did not mean THAT!" she insisted, voice sharp and shocked, choking nearly. "I think my parents would weep if they saw me listening to men with such minds!"
> "Oh, I see. Then what did you mean, dearest one?" Khardon grins likehis face is about to explode, reaching out to pat Lyselle's cheek. "By the way, blushing like that will make you get wrinkles earlier in life."
<Lyselle> Lyselle grumbles, thinking about push-ups to push the burning in her cheeks down. "I meant if they became the same person through some magical...thing," she grumbled, casting a violet eyed glower at her 'uncle'. "Nothing so...so..." she just choked on it, throwing her arms up.
> "Like the magic of looooooove," Khardon croons, stepping well away from Lyselle. He rests, hands supporting his head as he just GRINS. "Ah well, I suppose."
<Lyselle> Lyselle just grumbled, taking a swipe but not really reaching for Khardon as she leans into a wall with a faint muttering. "What, you hoped for a strange niece or something?" she asked dryly, raising an eyebrow.
> "Gods no. Such perversion would be a waste!" Khardon continues to grin, as you hear a little, dignified, shocked and energetic, "Oh my MYSTRA!" from Countess Stronger, loud enough to be heard out  here.
<Lyselle> "I was waiting for that," Lyselle snorts, pointing towards the backroom. "Now hope that she doesn't steal it."
> "I doubt it," Khardon smiles a little bit, idly pondering a moment. "I'm not terribly worried about a wizard in any event."
* Lyselle just mutters to herself a moment, twisting her ring and sighing. "That would jsut be so weird..." she murmurs, making a face.
> But soon enough, Stronger returns. She hands the dagger back, face pale. She clears her throat, "You can as much put value on that as you can value the sky or the sun." she announces, "I've never seen anything remotely like that. Call it one million gold coins, call it a kingdom, and regardless, tell me where you got it and where I can find one."
* Lyselle snickers a little, though her eyes have widened a bit. Given the tale from the golem, that's not terribly surprising, she admits. "About what could be expected..."
> "Yes,"  Khardon takes the dagger adn it vanishes up his wrist, away. "As to where I found it, such a tale is best left to scholars for now. Some places men aren't meant to tread." He smiles at that, "Aaah, but if you insist, we can discuss it another time. I wish to shop for now."
> "Yes, of course," Countess Stronger hangs back a bit, eyes distant.
* Lyselle just shakes her head, smiling softly. "Such is the league of wandering out into the wilds looking for things," she murmurs, shrugging and going back to window shopping.
> For his part, Khardon just looks around, quiet as he shops...OOC - Doing anything, 'taru?
<Lyselle> OOC - Raping Khardon. Not really, no, can't buy anything (sadness), and I won't reveal our SHOCKING DISCOVERIES unless the group says so, so...
> Khardon ends up not buying anything, and with a wave, goes out. Once Lyselle is out with him, "Well then. A lovely place, but nothing that suits my needs now, unless I wish to be able to see magic on demand."
<Lyselle> "Essentially my thoughts the fiurst time I was in," Lyselle agrees, nodding and hugging herself as they go back outside, looking up at the sun to judge the time. "That belt would've been useful mayhaps, or the gauntlets, but far too expensive to manage."
> "Indeed. Many of the things would be useful, but are expensive or only debatably worth the price. Ah well, nothing earth shattering, I've seen things as such by and large."
> Khardon looks to the sun as well - it's getting ontowards 11 AM or so.
<Lyselle> "Mmmm, for those people with far too much money and far too dangerous lives?" Lyselle hazards, giving a small snort. "Mmmm...the morning's getting on."
> "Yes, people that eat gems for magic and slay golems for daggers have far too much money," Khardon just smiles at that, "Shall I take my leave of you now?"
<Lyselle> "If you wish," Lyselle answers wryly, snickering. "It's my day off, I have some purchases to make, and then embroidery to resume, and I'm sure men find embroidery just Fascinating," she noted dryly, leveling a look at Khardon. "Maybe I could teach you?"
> "Well then," Khardon chuckles, heading away without further comment.
* Lyselle waves to her superior, departing off on her way to resume her normal life. Another day ived, and another closer to home.

[Anastasia]

> Commander Oberuth glowers. This isn't quite like him, large, ruddy face framed with blonde hair unusually unhappy. It's just past noon, the Commander sitting in the meeting room as Berlioz enters. "Sit down," he waves, short.
* Berlioz nods blankly, sitting down without much of anything to say.
> "You're from Malmuth, aren't you - well, moreso than most of us in the Baronies are?" His question comes quickly, without pause at all.
* Berlioz raises an eyebrow and nods, an aloof smile sliding through his expression. "Yes, you could say so."
> "Good. We have a visiting noble from Malmuth passing through on business to the capital. We need an officer to play nice and keep him out of trouble for the day he's in the city."
* Berlioz coughs. "And, for that, no one better than the Malmuthian southern boy, I believe. Anything in particular I should know about such an illustrious visitor?"
> "Count Almant is his name, Captain Lord of the Southern Reaches. He's distantly related to the current ruler, King Ferdi. He's supposed to be intelligent and engaging, a diplomat."
> The Commander pauses at this a moment, "So watch your tongue, just in case."
* Berlioz sighs and folds his arms calmly, lowering his eyebrows for a moment before a short, muffled snicker goes through. "I see. I'll sheathe my tongue if such's the case."
> "Excellent. He should be arriving at the city gates within an hour. Get going," Commander Oberuth's smile still isn't showing, but his irritating is fading. "He'll have a few attendants and soldiers with him, as befitting a nobleman."
* Berlioz nods and raises from his chair, as if ready to take leave. "Sounds par for the course. I'll be at the gates, then."
> With that Berlioz heads along! OOC - Anything you want to do or get before then?
<Berlioz> OOC - Nothing in particular.
> As you reach the gate, Biggs and Wedge turn. They both salute, "Lieutenant Berlioz!" the older of the two calls. "Good afternoon, sir."
<Berlioz> "Afternoon", the bard replies with a nonchalant voice, glancing at the dynamic duo. "Seems like this morning was fairly leisurely as far as gate guarding."
> ----
> > With that Berlioz heads along! OOC - Anything you want to do or get before then?
> <Berlioz> OOC - Nothing in particular.
> > As you reach the gate, Biggs and Wedge turn. They both salute, "Lieutenant Berlioz!" the older of the two calls. "Good afternoon, sir."
> <Berlioz> "Afternoon", the bard replies with a nonchalant voice, glancing at the dynamic duo. "Seems like this morning was fairly leisurely as far as gate guarding."
> "Three caravans of cows, pigs and sheep for slaughter, a small travelling caravan from the Desert Fiefdoms and a few straggers and adventurers, sir," The older reports back crisply.
* Berlioz nods and rubs his chin pensively. "Desert Fiefdoms... that's quite a ways. Wonder if the Malmuthian caravan is coming around soon enough. I can easily lose track of time..."
> "Yes, sir. A man in a great big hat made of wrapped bandages?" The younger snickers a bit, "Well, gate duty is boring!"
> "Ahem." The way the older man's throat is cleared leaves little room for doubt. "It's called a turban, and don't be so slack in from of a superior officer!"
* Berlioz sighs and snickers, dusting off his shirt as a small tick. "Don't mind that, I'm not sure I'd act all this crisp if I was in his place. Although not knowing what a turban is might be worth some correctional disciplining."
> "Sir..." Both sigh at the same time, up and down they go. But the time begins to tick away, it's a slow afternoon. Until, about 45 minutes later, you begin to see dust on the horizon, signs of several horse riders coming.
* Berlioz raises his eyebrows and looks up, standing straight. "Here they come. About time, too."
> Both guards get ready. They stand up straight, ready and able. As you stand there, you can see them approach. Three riders at front, riding white stallions. They wear gleaming plate armor and carry shields, a fine defensive line. They slow down to a trot, and behind them, you can see a horse drawn carraige.
* Berlioz glances at the commitive brought to Balmuria, a bit of condescension sparking on his thoughts. They must be thriving as usual to deploy such a pompous force, but then, nobility has always been like that. At least, from what he remembered back at home.
> The riding warriors look around quickly, sizing up the gates. They wear open faced helmets, all pushing middle age and grizzled. One is missing an eye, another a lean face with several tiny, numerous battle scars. The carraige ahead is solid but not grand, but spacious enough to sit at least half a dozen. A rider atop the carraige whips at the horses, another older man. "Yah! Hold!"
* Berlioz stands ready in position, waiting for the carriage to approach further. While an active reception commitee is nice, not being trampled by horses is even better.
> They come to a stop at the front of the gates. You note the horse riders are all sizing you up, one snorting. "Count Almand comes to this city of a mission of diplomacy in the name of His Royal Highness, Kind Ferdi. Boy, are you the one to handle this task?"
* Berlioz kindly swallows a condescending sigh, slightly bowing. "Lieutenant Berlioz Finley at your service, assigned to be an escort to the dignified Count."
> The coach driver gets out, going to open the door to the coach. The door is put open and out he comes. He wears a very simple robe of plain blue, covering his body. He wears simple golden earrings, studs. His eyes are sharp and his brown hair is tipped with gray at the temples as he looks about. "Aaaah. Lieutenant?"
* Berlioz politely bows down as the count appears. "At your service, Count Alman. I hope I may serve as an appropriate escort during your stay in Balmuria."
> "Almand," He corrects with a slight tsk, walking now. You can glimpse heavy boots under his robe, sturdy looking.
* Berlioz follows behind, trying his best to not let one of his usual demeaning behavioral ticks show. This would be a -fun- day.
> Biggs and Wedge salute as you head into the city, Count Almand following a step behind. "My, it wouldn't be right for me to take the lead into Balmuria, would it?" He smirks at Berlioz, "Are you all right? I daresay that the sun has addled your brain today?"
* Berlioz sighs and takes the lead. "If you say so. Pardon my ineptitude to handle the heat, sir."
> "Then pardon my snippiness," he smiles a bit as that as you head inside, into the busy frontend of the city. "Then, Lieutenant, what do you do in this gem of a fortress city?"
<Berlioz> "This is actually a fairly strategic position for me as an aspiring historian. This is a young country, with many different possibilities to unfold. It's a promising sight, and one that I may actually witness before I die."
> "History!" That gets Almand to perk up, "Tell me, then, to make history or merely watch it unfold?"
* Berlioz sagaciously smiles at that, and ponders for a moment. "Quite frankly? Watching it unfold and write it is the initial objective. But, in fairness, the way things developed in here simply meant that I now can take a more active role, and have done so to an extent. I am not a maker of history myself, but I am turning cogs here and there as it grows - and this is an excellent start."
> "Good..." Almand smiles as you walk along, pace quickening. Down to the city, down towards the Temple and rich inns near where Waukeen holds reverence. "I find this city displeasing as it is now. But yet history will move, and those who have the will to move it will turn it into what they wish it to be.
> "
<Berlioz> "It is but a cocoon, really. No place that barely has been born started out as a true haven. Sticking around to the growing pains of a living society is an often grueling task, and most would prefer to simply stay where a higher degree of organization applies."
> "But in those places only atrophy comes, finished and forgotten, like jewels set in gold that invaribily eats away at their splendor.  Here, here on the cusp? Life blooms!" Almand's eyes are sharp pools of brown, focused as he turns to you, arms spread. "Look at Malmuth - an ancient kingdom vs a small kingdom, but one filled with life.  The war was lost by the old."
<Berlioz> "That's a way to look at it, yes. This split was generated by the need to change, the cycle never really ends. I am not one to say Malmuth is past their prime, but that even such a childling kingdom as Balmuria manages to prosper in spite of Malmuth's disapproval is quite an interesting sign."
> "It is. With the amputation of it's northernmost holdings, perhaps a new root will grow?" Almand smiles as you come to the inn - one of several that is rich and kept by mostly Malmuthian merchants, the Silver Starfall.
* Berlioz nods pensively. "The mere possibility alone justifies my stay here. And, truth be told, in the few years I've spent in Balmuria, I could tell more tales than the ones I have from eighteen years back in the south. Anyhow", the bard interrupts as he finds himself basically in front of the counter of the inn, with a slight wave of surprise. This passed... quickly.
> "Indeed, indeed." Almand smiles as he goes to the desk. He only has to say a few words, a few quick nods from the clerk. Inside it's very clean and quiet, peaceful. Just a nice front room for an inn, but sunny. "You come from Malmuth proper?"
<Berlioz> "You could say so. I come from a family of somewhat well-known, at least at the time, merchants, which morally supported what would become Balmuria. Which means that they actually didn't do much of anything to contribute to its creation. Ever since I was a kid, I've had interest in Balmuria. It's part of the reason why I have studied all these years", the bard leaning to a wall calmly.
> "Aaah. So you had parents who did little but talk, but you're learning how futile that is," Almand settles next to you, "The military is a fine place to learn that. Away from a life of total study and atrophy?"
<Berlioz> "Indeed, although sometimes it also makes me wonder if I could study more nowadays. Just got used to a rather sheltered academic life, I guess. Even joining the military was kind of an accident - I doubt a more established country would take a somewhat meek scholarly youngster into their ranks, but sometimes history works to our favor in such situations", Berlioz remarks with a slight smirk. "It is definitely interesting, regardless."
> "Yes, yes. Hmmm...interesting indeed." Almand nods, "I'm going to rest in my room a little while. I told the clerk to get you a meal if you're supposed to keep watch on me the entire time."
* Berlioz nods, slightly rubbing the forehead with the tip of his fingers. "Thank you for your kindness, sir. I'll be just outside the room, anyhow."
> "Thank you," he nods, going off and away. OOC - Doing much besides waiting, Berli?
<Berlioz> OOC - Not really, outside of twiddling thumbs. I have this vague feeling that things will go awry if I prance around. >_>
> An hour and a half passes. Nothing of note occurs during this time, the minutes slowly ticking by.
* Berlioz sighs slightly. "The passing of time is but a burden..."
> Finally, the door opens. Almand comes out, thoughtful as he begins to walk. "I won't be here much longer, no intention of making you follow me around the entire day."
<Berlioz> "Not fond of being mindlessly followed by dogs wagging their tails, sir?", Berlioz deadpans with a slight smirk. Not that the bard himself wasn't in the duty of a mongrel, regardless.
> "We have no illusions." He deadpans as well, the Count chuckling.
<Berlioz> "Indeed. Regardless, I'd rather at least finish my escorting duty. I am realistic enough to know that I'd have my head chewed off by superiors if I went back and told them you went for a walk unsupervised. Military quirk."
> "Naturally," he smirks at that, pace picking up. "Patience and trust is not a virtue any military possesses."
* Berlioz snerks, folding his arms in an unnaturally relaxed manner. "So, I guess you'll be stuck with me a little bit longer. It's simply business, and I promise I won't be a creepy stalker."
> "Well then," With that he takes to downstairs, making good time. His pace is quick, heading a few doors down. It's an unmarked, slightly plainer building, but he knocks on it's normal wooden door thrice.
* Berlioz follows Count Almand nonchalantly, vaguely smirking to himself as they go. His eyes stare blankly at the wooden door, as if a thought was still to form in his mind as Almand follows through this almost ritualistic procedure.
> The door opens later - you see a merchant inside, a bit pudgy. "There you are, Count," he smiles widely, a blonde handlebar mustache on his face. "We'd been waiting."
> "Aaah, Licern." A clasp of his shoulders, "Excuse the company, but diplomacy's natural checks follow me." A glance to Berlioz, pointed, and thent to him, "We maintain an unofficial gathering house for Malmuthian merchants here, for simple coordination purposes. It's no secret, but we don't advertise it, either."
* Berlioz rubs his temples. "I... see. Sounds like this is slightly out of my radius."
> Inside are tables and a nice den. It looks comfortable in here, smelling faintly like smoke and good food.
* Berlioz looks around, trying his best to make himself somewhat of a non-factor - almost like an abajour, really - inside the room, faintly saluting the people as he sees them.
> There are a few people in here, all merchants. They talk quietly amid themselves, just keeping out of polite range from Berlioz, words soft. They go and sit, a few looks shot at him, but voices mostly kept quiet.
* Berlioz leans to a wall from a safe distance, quietly observing the surroundings. Seems like the kind of places his father would go to on shady nights - well, either that or brothels, but that's not in his jurisdiction, anyhow.
> They're just keeping quiet, talking amid each other. Looks quite civilzed, really.
* Berlioz remains conveniently quiet. Fairly pleasant meeting, if somewhat cumbersome to the bard. However, it's all in a day's work.
> It passes without incident, Berlioz keeping back and quiet. So it passes, a few hours gone. When it ends, Almand stands and goes, passing Berlioz. "Well then, my time here is done."
* Berlioz nods calmly. "I see. Let us go, then."
> Indeed, outside Almand's procession waits. His carraige and horse riders, the sharp eyed older men still looking at Berlioz. "Well then, do you wish to ride or walk with us to the gates?"
<Berlioz> "I went all this way. Quite frankly, might as well finish what I started. I'll walk with you. And, quite frankly, it's been a while since I had such pleasant company", the bard finishes with a smile.
> "Very well then," THe carraige takes a slow pace to the front gates, the walk pleasant in the air. But it's indeed a short walk, soon enough Biggs and Wedge seen again, antsy and checking the sun. Once you get there Almand stops and gets out a moment. "Indeed. Well then, if my business takes me here again, we shall meet again," he offers, extending a hand.
* Berlioz extends his own, grasping Almand's hand in a hearty shake. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Count Almand. May the named and nameless gods watch over you in your travels."
> "Oh, they will," he says as he finishes the handshake, getting into the coach as it takes off. Off and away, towards the west and what lies ahead.
* Berlioz watches the carriage take away, with a fairly heavy sigh, yet oddly satisfied. Surprisingly fun day, that was. With that, he turns back, glancing at Biggs and Wedge. "Well, that's a day."

[Anastasia]

> A few days have passed. They've been unremarkable, training, solidying experience into power and resting up. Yet on this morning day, you have your houseguest bring something up over breakfast. "You mentioned a tour of the city?" Quapeth inquires.
<Shamal> "Oh, yes," Shamal looks slightly embarrassed, "Sorry, I've just been rather distracted with getting everyone settled, it slipped my mind." Nodding as she begins to clean up after the meal, "Yes, let's do that today."
> "As have I," Quapeth admits, a small sigh as well. "I find your house strangely alluring, but the den of a Forest Protector should be just so, I assume."
<Shamal> "I'm rather proud of it," the witch admits, running a hand over the perfectly smooth wooden wall. "I only recently learned the magic that let me shape wood like this, but I did some extensive renovations immediately afterwards. It used to be rather drafty and damp in Winter, but now I don't have to worry about that!"
> "How pleasing," Quapeth agrees, marvelling as he stares. "But with all due respect - I must admit I'm most curious about the human city now."
<Shamal> "Of course," Shamal nods, going to put on her jacket and opening the door. "Is there anything in particular you want to see first or shall we just wander?"
> "You know the city, so lead me on," he smiles once, following.
<Shamal> With probably needless instructions for her dogs to be good while she's gone, Shamal leads Quapeth out of her residence and towards the city gates!
> The city gates are full of business! A caravan of mooing cows is being lead in by a few dirty looking farmers, gabbing with the guards - Biggs and Wedge.  Quapeth sniffs the air as you approach, face wrinkling. "By the Blade, what is that stentch from those animals?" Indeed, the olfactory assault of cow droppings does assault Shamal's nose.
<Shamal> "You don't have cows in the Elven Kingdoms?" Shamal blinks in surprise, not overly bothered by the smell - she's encountered far worse.
> "Not particularly. Then again, the meat the rangers eat is almost always deer or rabbit." Quapeth sucks in a breath, as one of the farmers stops and stares at the elf ranger.
<Shamal> "Yes, well the farms around Balmuria herd lots of cows for their meat and milk - these are probably being taken in to market," Shamal explains as she heads up to the gate, waving to Biggs and Wedge as she goes.
> Both guards salute at once as you enter in without obsticle. Inside you can see the road ahead, to the Liberty Inn and dwon the street, eventually to the Temple of Waukeen and the trading district. You notice a large caravan of Malmuth soldiers and traders are heading out, laden down with iron.
> "Different humans?" Quapeth asks, eyes moving all around, taking in the sights. "How...it's cramped, but everything's trying to use all the space it can. Like the forest."
<Shamal> "Those are traders from Malmuth," Shamal points the group out. "Balmuria used to be part of the Malmuth Empire, but we seceded a few years ago - things are a bit tense, but peaceful enough to allow trade," she explains helpfully.
> "Malmuth. Oh yes, I've heard of them a time or two. The largest human kingdom in the area?" OOC - Spot check.
<Shamal> roll 1d20+8
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d20+8 --> [ 1d20=16 ]{24}
> You note that at the end of the Caravan in Winston. His eyes are sharp and alert, riding a strong, young horse.
* Shamal never met Winston... at least not that he should know about. Therefore she does nothing to show recognition to the man as they pass!
> He doesn't even stop as you pass - but he does stop a moment at Quapeth. He nods to him, then with a single phrase of carefully spoken elven, "Good day to you," he says, passing along.
* Shamal looks faintly surprised, glancing at Quapeth. "What did he say?"
> Quapeth starts a moment, before saying something back in Elven. He then turns, getting a few glances from the passersby, long ones. "He wished me a good day."
<Shamal> "Hmm..." Shamal doesn't look like she buys it. "I suppose he was just happy for a chance to practice his Elven?" she posits.
> "...I suppose?" Quapeth considers, thinking a few moments. "He was an old human - aren't most of them eccentric?"
<Shamal> "Some are... it's hard to generalise, though," Shamal considers. "Anyway, we're fairly near the temple district from here, so I suppose I can show you around there first - sadly no temple to Mielikki or Correllon Latherion, however."
> "What temples are there?" Quapeth asks as you head along. A fair few humans stare at him, and for his part, he nods back.  But most see Shamal and tend to just nod, though a few smile at her, waving. Strangely, she's getting a fair bit of attention, too.
* Shamal smiles back at anyone who looks her way, assuming that they're just curious about the elf's companion. "The main two are the temples of Helm and Waukeen - there's a small temple to Tempus, but that's at the garrison."
> "Do all have blessed clerics?" As you head along, Waukeen's splendor looms - the great open hall of pillars and fountains, where money and trade flows as free as wine.
> OOC - Spot check if you like, Shamal.
<Shamal> roll 1d20+8
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d20+8 --> [ 1d20=4 ]{12}
> You can note a familiar acylote hanging out near the fountain, sitting on the edge. Mia is sighing, reading what looks to be a scroll.
<Shamal> "A few," Shamal nods, "I'm not familiar with all their abilities, but I know each temple has at least one spellcaster to call upon - that girl over there actually helped with the recent undead troubles," she points out Mia, before walking over to say hello. "Hello, Mia," she smiles in greeting.
> "How fortunate for your city," Quapeth murmurs discreetly, but keeps his voice low. Meanwhile, Mia looks up - "...oh. Um, Shamal? It's nice to see you here. Say, did you change your mind about some scrolls or a potion or two?" Her smile isn't quite on right, not reaching her eyes.
<Shamal> "I might actually be in the market for a scroll or two, depending on what's available," Shamal replies, before cocking her head a bit at the other woman. "Is something wrong? You look a bit troubled..." she trails off, remembering herself and blushing, "Ah, I shouldn't pry, sorry. Um, yes, do you have arcane scrolls available?"
> "No, it's fine. Funny...speaking of scrolls..." Mia looks downcast, biting her lip. "Just divine. Say, um...you know the law, right?"
> Quapeth stays quiet, hanging back a bit. Mia does glance at him once, but her attention seems elseware, distant.
<Shamal> "It is my job to enforce it, after all," Shamal nods, not wanting to leave Quapeth hanging but wanting to help Mia somehow. She seems like a nice person, after all.
> "If I say someone, well, let's say hypotetically I had to carry some magical scrolls in a bag to a customer. Let's say that I made a mistake and left the bag somewhere for a little while, and when I got back, the scrolls were gone. Can, just to speculate, my superior make me have to pay the scroll prices back?"
<Shamal> "Ah," Shamal looks a bit uncomfortable, tapping her index fingers together. "It sounds like more of an internal temple matter - it may be that by the tenets of Waukeen you would be obligated to pay for items lost in your care. As it sounds like a case of negligence, the law doesn't so much come into it... unless your superior accused you of stealing the scrolls." The blonde doesn't seem too keen to continue that line of thinking.
> "Well no, but it since it was a bundle of scrolls totall 525 gold...it'll take me a long time to pay it back." She sighs at this, deflating like a rubber toy that's been popped.
<Shamal> "Yes, I can see how that might be a problem..." Shamal nods sympathetically. "Hmm... where did you leave the bundle?" she asks, metaphorically putting her detective hat on.
> "I went out to get some food - there's a good grocer a few blocks to the west. I left my bag just outside by accident. I was inside for about 15 minutes, and when I remembered and came out, it was emptied." Mia sighs again, wincing. "Someone's sitting out there with a treasure trove."
<Shamal> "Most people wouldn't even know what to do with a magic scroll if they found one... How long ago did you lose them?" Shamal asks, pondering.
> "One day ago." Another, deeper sigh at that, meaningful.
<Shamal> "Hmmm..." Shamal draws out a long, thoughtful noise as she folds her arms below her chest. "How about you show me exactly where you lost it, Mia, and we'll work from there?" she asks, before turning to Quapeth. "I hope you don't mind a diversion from the tour, Quapeth, but this does fall under my purview as a member of the city guard. Besides, you'll still get to see the city," she smiles.
> "Very well," Quapeth smiles, and then with a bow to Mia, "M'lady, the Forest Guardian Shamal is a kind soul. I know she will help you."
> Mia smiles at that, "Is that supposed to be elven charm? You know, you could probably sell that for money if you wanted to. I almost started blushing!" Her expression still isn't right, words ab it distant. "But I'd really appreciate it. Follow me?"
<Shamal> "Don't worry, I have a few ideas," Shamal reassures, following along after Mia.
> Down a side street you go, out of the Temple district. It's almost all houses here, but a ways down, you come to a small neighborhood grocery. It sits at a corner, sleepy and sedate. Jachol's in particular, the name on a plain wooden sign. She points to the ground just besides the door, "Right there."
* Shamal nods, and begins to very carefully look about for any animals - preferably a birds' nest or something like that that would suggest said animal stays around this area all the time.
> OOC - Taking 20ish sort of search, I gather?
<Shamal> OOC: basically, yeah, taking my time
> On top of the building opposite the grocer, you do see a nest. It's bunched up on the roof, though it's empty right now. Looks like a seagull's nest, or perhaps common blackbirds or a dozen others it could be.
> As you search, Mia looks around and paces. "Do you think they're around here by any chance?" she asks. Quapeth mostly looks about, quiet.
<Shamal> "I'm looking for possible witnesses," Shamal explains, before realising that she might be thinking too obtusely. This being a residential street, she looks for any children playing - perhaps they might have seen something?
> There's a few around, a bit aways past the corner. Kids just running in the street, playing tag and annoying the grown ups trying to use the road.
<Shamal> "What time was it that you were here, Mia?" Shamal asks before going to speak to the children.
> "In the sky?" Mia blinks good at that, before you can almost hear the gears clink into place. "Oooooooh! That's right, you're one of those nature clerics!"
> "Just a little past 1 PM - lunch time."
* Shamal smiles and nods. "Yes, I'd considered asking animals, but it might be easier just to ask those children," she points them out before walking over. "Excuse me, children, can I talk to you for a moment?" she asks sweetly.
> The children - 5 in total, none older than 10 - come over and smile. One holds a red leather ball, ready to throw it. "Sure..oooh, red guard! Catch!" he calls, tossing the ball at Shamal.
* Shamal catches the ball easily enough, tossing it in her hand a few times before she gently lobs it to the nearest child. "Hello, my name's Shamal, and I was wondering if you could help me investigate something?" she asks pleasantly.
> "'kay,"  One of thie children pipes up, sniffling and wiping her nose with her hand.
<Shamal> "Do all of you live around here?" Shamal asks, starting off with the softball questions just to ease them into things.
> "Yep!" Another of the kids calls, scratching at his ear. "'cept Loria, but that's because her Mommy died."
<Shamal> "Oh... I'm sorry to hear that, Loria," Shamal looks sad, seeing if she can figure out which is Loria by the reaction when her name is mentioned. "I lost someone close to me recently as well."
> Loria is the one in the back, wiping her nose. "Oooh..." she looks down a bit, "Meanie!" she glares at the boy. "You said you wouldn't say that again!"
> "Well, it's because you're a crybaby!" the boy says, as the children start to watch.
<Shamal> "Now, that's not nice," Shamal lectures the boy, "It's perfectly natural to cry when you're sad - It shows that you care, and that's admirable. I cried when my friend died," she admits.
> "Ooooh, now you sound like my big sister. What do you want," the kid glares back at Shamal, not even flinching, his hands on his hips.
<Shamal> "Your big sister sounds very smart," the blonde replies with a knowing smile. "Anyway, I was wondering if any of you were playing out here yesterday around lunchtime?"
> "Uh huh," one of the kids nods to that.
<Shamal> "Good!" Shamal beams, "I know it might be hard to remember, but did you see anyone pick up a bag that had been left out in front of that shop?" she points at Jachol's. "It was filled with scrolls."
> "Okay..yeah, I saw aw bag. It was just before Mr. Rat came along!" One of the kiddies giggles, "That was so nice! There was a rat walking on it's hind legs in the alley! It was so interesting to watch! It just hopped around a bit and then was gone!"
<Shamal> "It sounds like a silly rat," Shamal smiles, humouring the children. "You didn't see who took what was in the bag though, did you?" she asks hopefully.
> "We just saw the rat," the children nod, "I wish it would come back! That alley right there!" They point at once a few  houses down, really, it's jut a little gap between houses.
<Shamal> "Hmm... maybe I'll have a look for this rat, then?" Shamal ponders. If it was around at the same time the bag was taken... "Thanks for your help, all of you," she smiles, straightening up to leave.
> The children nod and smile, as Quapeth and Mia wait behind you.
<Shamal> "Looks like I might need to speak to an animal after all," Shamal explains to the pair, before she heads over to the indicated alleyway.
> The alleyway is rather empty. There's a bit of grass growing it it and a bit of trash. Looks very plain.
<Shamal> Admittedly the rat might not be here, but... well, it's her best lead. Considering for a moment, however, Shamal backtracks and goes into the grocer's to buy a wedge of cheese, which she then deposits in the alley, waiting herself a respectable distance towards the entrance so as not to scare any potential diners.
> As you go, "Um, what are ou doing," Mia asks, as you set the cheese down.
<Shamal> "The children saw a rat lingering outsude the alley when your bag was set down," Shamal explains patiently. "I'm hoping to lure that same rat out so I can talk to it. You should hope I do, since finding those scrolls will become a lot more expensive if this doesn't work."
> roll 1d20
<Reiko-chan> Kotono rolled : 1d20 --> [ 1d20=20 ]{20}
> Within a few minutes a rodent comes out. It's a plain gray rat, sniffing and going for the cheese.
* Shamal lets the rat make a dent into that chunk before she slowly approaches, holding out another fragment of dairy produce and making soft tutting noises as she tries to get the animal's attention and trust.
<Shamal> roll 1d20+4 wild empathy
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d20+4 wild empathy --> [ 1d20=17 ]{21}
> The rat eats the cheese, seemingly indifferent to the approach of Shamal, but it's also not running.
* Shamal proceeds to cast a spell to allow her to converse with animals. "Enjoying your meal, Mr Rat?" she asks.
> You hear a mouthful of cheese around a squeak, and then, "Cheeeese. Good cheese. Good food."
<Shamal> "I could give you more cheese if you help me," the blonde offers nicely.
> "Okay!" The rat finishes his cheese, looking on expectantly/
<Shamal> "First, are there any other rats that live in this alley?" Shamal asks, not wanting to waste too much time if this one isn't a witness - her spell isn't indefinite.
> "Family." The rat nods, eyeing you and your hands. "Four rats."
<Shamal> "Did you or any of your family go out of the alley yesterday?" Shamal asks, gesturing to where Mia and Quapeth are. "Um... and walk around on just your hind legs?"
> "...you mean...THAT?" The rat sounds a little surprised, "You mean the...notrat?"
<Shamal> "The notrat?" Shamal repeats, her curiousity now definitely inflammed. "What do you mean by that?"
> "It looked one a rat, but it didn't smell like one and it went away after it stopped standing up." The rat sounds unsure, hissy.
> "You know, seeing someone talk to a rodent creeps me out," Mia observes from behind.
> "Shh. The Forest Guardian is performing her blessed magic!" Quapeth interjects.
<Shamal> "Where did it go? Do you know why it was here?" Shamal asks, frowning a bit and recalling the rat problems she encountered right after meeting Donald.
> "It was just gone." The rat sounds unhappy. "Poof."
<Shamal> "You mean if vanished or it went off somewhere?" Shamal asks, now definitely unsettled. "And what did it smell like if not a rat?"
> "It vanished. It smelled like nothing."
<Shamal> Perhaps an illusion? "This is important - did it cast a shadow? Or leave a trail where it walked?" Shamal asks, rather unsettled by all this.
> roll 1d20
<Reiko-chan> Kotono rolled : 1d20 --> [ 1d20=9 ]{9}
> The rat thinks and finally shakes it's head. "Nooo..."
* Shamal nods, now feeling very confused. "Thank you, you've been very helpful," she replies, handing over the rest of the cheese and rejoining Mia and Quapeth. "All I turned up were more questions, sadly. It appears that the rat the children saw may have been an illusion - for what purpose I cannot possibly imagine."
> "Oooooooh. If it's magic, then it this some mage thing and I was a victim?" Mia furrows her brow. "Can't you guys sense anything magical?"
> Quapeth raises an eyebrow, "I suppose there is mroe than what is obvious going on here? Interesting." He looks on at that, "Do you intent to investigate further, Forest Guardian?"
* Shamal nods to Quapeth. "I can detect magic, but only active effects - I wouldn't be able to tell if magic was performed here yesterday. But it is possible - that makes it more likely this was planned and not a crime of opportunity. Who else knew about the scrolls you were carrying, Mia?"
> "Well...a few people in the temple?" She shrugs at that, "...hey, you don't think it was done by someone inside the temple, do you?"
<Shamal> "I wouldn't care to speculate," Shamal hedges. "It's even possible that the illusory rat is entirely unrelated. However, the timing seems too convenient..." She blows out a long breath as she considers. "What scrolls were in the bundle, by the way?"
> "Hold on.." Mia thinks a moment, pulling out a scroll. "Let's see here...:
> Fire Trap 150 GP
> Gentle Repose 150 GP
> Chill Metal 150 GP
> Blessx2 50 GP
> Faerie Fire 25 GP
> "That's it," she fnishes after listing them and the gold prices. "That's also exactly how much I'm in debt now."
<Shamal> "Fire Trap?" Shamal repeats, frowning. "Who made that scroll? It's only in the second druidic circle, but arcane spellcasters can't access it until the fourth circle."
> "I don't know. We trade and sell somes crolls, so I'd have to ask. I was just the lowly acoylte given carrying duty." Mia sighs again at that, down.
<Shamal> "Well, it is certainly a rare one - as a rule, most druids never learn how to write spell scrolls. That might be what I need to search for..." Shamal hums thoughtfully. "I said the other way I had of locating the scrolls would be expensive, because it requires a second circle spell I don't have access to, but I might be able to get a scroll of it from Countess Stronger."
> "Would you?" Mia perks up at that, "Um, unless it's even more expensive than what I owe already!"
<Shamal> "It'll cost one hundred and fifty gold - I'll spot the cost for now, and we can work out repayment if I manage to locate your scrolls with it," Shamal offers. "Come on, let's go visit, uh... Grand Shop Luna de Stronger." Shamal looks faintly nonplussed as they head off. "What does that even mean?" she mutters.
> "I think Luna means Moon?" Mia says as she scratches her head...OOC - Move along?
<Shamal> OOC: by all means
> The shop itself is a grand place - a few people linger outside, staring in as people head in. Even Quapeth gets less looks her, perhaps closer tothe norm than a normal person coming nito a magic shop? Inside, Countess Stronger waits, lounging back on a chair and reading a scroll. "Hello-oh, Shamal. Ah..." she clears her throat, "Oh yes, come in, come in."
<Shamal> "Hello, Countess," Shamal smiles a bit weakly. "Er, apologies for the, ah, unseemliness, on my last visit," she manages, before drawing herself up as best she can, once more all business. "Anyway, I'm actually in the market for a scroll if you have one in stock - Locate Object?"
> "Greetings," Quapeth smiles politely, hanging back again. "Magic on display..."
> "It's not that impressive, relatively, but I see Waukeen's magic a lot." Mia sniffs, crossing her arms.
<Shamal> "Then be nice if you want to see Waukeen's magic scrolls again," Shamal mutters with a sidelong glance.
> "Pfft," Mia harumphs, but goes silent. Countess Stronger just smiles at that, turning away from Mia. "I do. 150 gold coins of I know where it is, I declare."
<Shamal> "I don't actually have that much money on me at the moment," Shamal admits, "But I can trade it for a scroll of either Bull's Strength or Soften Earth and Stone? Both are second circle as well, so it's a straightforward swap."
> "I'll take Soften Earth," Countess Stronger nods, "Since really, I'm sure that's good for softening little, unimportant things, like the ground worshippers of Waukeen stand on, hm?"
<Shamal> "Upsetting the Goddess of Commerce might not bode well for your shop, though," Shamal offers, trying to play peacemaker as she unfolds the requisite scroll from the bandolier on her belt and offers it to Stronger.
> Mia turns and glares, but Stronger just shakes her head, going to get the scroll. As Mia simmers, the return happens and the scroll is exchanged. "Good doing business with you," Stronger offers. "Lose something?"
<Shamal> "Mia did," Shamal nods, before looking thoughtful. "Actually, I don't suppose anyone's recently tried to sell you any scrolls of fire trap or gentle repose, by any chance?" she asks, thinking those two would probably stand out more than the others.
> "Oooooh. No, just Mihail came by to swap a few scrolls and grumble." A loud, happy laugh at that, "Heh, heh, heh, heh. He couldn't stay away when word of this wonderous shop reached him!"
<Shamal> "It certainly is nice," Shamal smiles pleasantly. "Anyway, we'd best be off before the trail goes even colder. Thanks for your help," she nods to Stronger before heading off.
> So the party heads out...OOC - Where are you going, Shamal?
<Shamal> OOC: Home to pick up a wolf!
> OOC - What are you going to do from there?
<Shamal> OOC: Then work out a route around the area the scrolls were lost from that I could cover in two minutes that would cover the largest spread with the range (480ft) of theh locate object spell.
<Shamal> OOC: two minutes riding a speed 50 wolf, that is
> OOC: Okay. There's a fair few alleyways and the like, enough to make cuthtroughs easy. You could do it well and quickly and covera  whole lot of ground.
<Shamal> OOC: So my plan is to plot a route, then cast Reduce Person followed by Locate Object (requires a DC 4 spellcraft check, so no worries on failing that) and ride my wolf on said route until Locate Object pings any sign of a scroll of Fire Trap, at which I make a beeline for its location.
<Shamal> OOC: wait, not spellcraft, caster level.
<Shamal> roll 1d20+3 DC 4 casting guidance first, laf
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d20+3 DC 4 casting guidance first, laf --> [ 1d20=1 ]{4}
<Shamal> OOC: Wow. So glad you can't critfail those.
> OOC: It's cast. So you're on the wolf and are casting Locate Object now, basically, and then using it for transportation? Are you going to angle in any particular direction in your searching?
<Shamal> OOC: just try and get as wide a circuit as I can around the scene of the crime unless I know of any spellcasters who live nearby, then I'll make it a point to catch their residences within the effect
> OOC: None on the latter. Okay.
> A shruken Shamal gets on a wolf! AS Mia says something about it being cute, Shamal gets to work! OOC - Make a caster level check.
> roll 1d20+3
<Reiko-chan> Kotono rolled : 1d20+3 --> [ 1d20=5 ]{8}
<Shamal> OOC: wizard or druid caster?
> OOC: Wizard, since it's a wizard spell.
<Shamal> roll 1d20+2
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d20+2 --> [ 1d20=18 ]{20}
> Shamal heads along! For the first minute the wolf runs along like a man animal, racking up distance. But as you head north and north, you eventually get a ping - it's something to the north and a bit to the east. It's a very weak signal, and you feel a pressure against your forehead as you sense it. It makes you rhead ache a bit, and the feeling is somehow submerged, woolly muffled.
<Shamal> It's still more than nothing! Shamal instructs her wolf in the direction to go, wanting to get as close as possible to definitively locate the target. Really, how many scrolls of that particular spell can be floating around? It's practically a done deal.
> It's strange. As you get closer your head aches further. Just a steady thump thumping, the feeling enough to make your eyes narrow. Head aches, dizzy dizzy dizzy. But you're getting closer - as the spell ends you think you  have a target. Down deeper into the town, near the walls, is a well kept is old house. It looks like it's been here quite a long time, fenced in. It's two stories and plain. The land around it is shops and a park, the house having plenty of space.
> The land around it is shops and a park, the house having plenty of space.
<Shamal> "Phew!" the diminuitive Shamal huffs cutely as she dismounts her wolf, looking something like a little girl playing dressup. "Okay, I think it's in there. Let's go get Mia and Quapeth before we investigate." Just in time, as she suddenly expands to fill her adult dimensions just after getting off her mount, starting to walk back to the others.
> While you get quite a few strange looks and a couple of children running away from  you, wolf and owner return to Mia and Quapeth. "Well?" Quapeth says calmly, while Mia paces.
<Shamal> "I think I've found it - I simply can't imagine scrolls of Fire Trap being at all common, so it's our best bet. Follow me and I'll show you where I detected it," she gestures for them to follow her back to the house.
> "Oooooooh! Thank you!" Mia beams as you walk along, heading back. The house is still there when you return, quiet and plain.
<Shamal> "Now," Shamal turns to both, "Whoever's in there knows their magic - I could feel like there was something dampening my divination, so it's not like some random person who just grabbed the scrolls, I think. Also, a 'locate object' spell isn't exactly solid evidence, so we're going to have to be careful with this," she cautions. "Just follow my lead, okay?"
> "Just get them back and I'll do whatever," Mia vows, nodding, "Even if I don't have a weapon...or, um, this is where it's good to tell you that I'm not trained to fight if something goes wrong and you start throwing magic around, right?"
<Shamal> "If it gets violent then run," Shamal replies plainly. "But it really really shouldn't. Anyway!" Taking a deep breath, she walks up to the door, asking the wolf to remain at the edge of the garden, and knocks.
> The knocks echo and echo. No reply immediately to your efforts to get attention.
* Shamal hums gently to herself as she patiently waits a minute or so.
> Finally you hear footsteps, then the door opens. A man opens the door - a bit scruffy, unshaven the last day or so, but his clothes are clean. "Yes?" he asks, a normal person in suitable trousers and tunic. Normal, black hair and brown eyes.
<Shamal> "Hello, there," Shamal smiles. "I'm lieutenant Shamal Velka of the Crimson Guard." Okay, she's not in uniform, but surely her commanding presence counts for something, right? "Might I come in, please?"
> "Um, no." he says flatly, "Why should I let someone claiming to be a guard in here?"
<Shamal> "I'm investigating some lost property," Shamal keeps her smile on, undaunted! "I wouldn't want to use the word 'stolen' or anything, not when a helpful citizen like yourself could surely help me get this property returned to its rightful owner, right?"
> "Right." The man looks out past, seeing the men behind you. "I see a strange woman, another woman and...Dear Tymora, is that an elf? I know what you don't look like, and that'sthe city guard." With that he steps back, closing the door.
* Shamal steps her foot in front of the door to hold it open like some pushy saleswoman! "Please sir, I could return with some guardsmen, but I'm sure we'd all be happier to settle this without going to all that fuss. I mean, if someone were to find something on the street, and then subsequently freely return it to the person who lost it, it's not as if a crime has occured, has it?"
> "Tell you what," he kicks your foot with his own, "You go do that. Get some guards. Then I'll believe you."
<Shamal> Shamal stops smiling. "Very well. I'll be right back." She steps away from the door, "Wait here," she tells Mia and Quapeth, promptly going to locate the nearest patrol of guardsmen.
> OOC - Roll a d6, I suppose. Best quick and dirty way to tell how many minutes it takes.
<Shamal> roll 1d6
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d6 --> [ 1d6=6 ]{6}
> "Just wait here? Right," Mia nods, watching the front door quite primly.
> Fortune isn't really with Shamal at all. IT takes her going down an entire block to find one and wave them down, then a little more to quickly assert who she is. But so she returns, three guards with spears and breastplates in tow!
* Shamal knocks on the door, backed up by her subordinates and no longer feeling nearly as charitable about this whole affair.
> About half a minute passes, no one coming to the door.
<Shamal> "He didn't leave, did he?" Shamal asks, glancing back at Mia and Quapeth.
> "Not out the front," Quapeth confirms with a quick nod. As you talk, you can hear footsteps finally coming.
* Shamal taps her foot as she waits, at least hearing footsteps to confirm that he's not ignoring her.
> The door finally opens. The man eyes the guards then steps back, door wide open. "Then if you wish," he allows graciously.
<Shamal> "Thank you," Shamal nods, stepping inside and gesturing for her goons to follow. "May I have your name please, citizen?" she asks, demeanour now entirely officious and showing none of her earlier friendliness.
> The goons follow! Inside is a large basic room, connected to a few others, and a stairway going up. "Hamand."
> Mia follows inside, glaring daggers at the man. Absolute daggers, fists balled up.
> Quapeth follows at a much more sedate rate, casual and silent.
<Shamal> "Hamand, is it?" Shamal asks, thinking of where she detected the scroll earlier and where it would correspond to within the house. Assuming he didn't move it after she tipped her hand earlier. "Can you tell me, where were you yesterday between midday and 2pm?"
> In the back somewhere, you think. It's hard to be that precise. "Here." he speaks this without any further comment, hands held behind his back.
<Shamal> "Do you live with anyone else?" Shamal asks, graviating towards the rear and as close as she can get to where she detected the scroll, watching the man's expression intently.
> "My wife." he says, blandly. "She's not here right now."
> You head towards the rear. There's a kitchen back here. Very ho hum.
<Shamal> "Would she be able to account for your whereabouts at the time in question?" Shamal asks.
> His expression is cool and calm, but quite flat. "If you like."
<Shamal> "I see," Shamal nods. "Hopefully it won't be necessary, but we can settle this quite easily right now." And with that, she proceeds to cast Detect Magic. That should ping up any magic scrolls within 60 feet, allowing her to basically cover the whole house now that she's in it.
> OOC - Going to search around while that's in effect?
<Shamal> OOC: yeah, I'll just look in every room - the magical aura will ping up even if I can't see exactly what's there and I can narrow it down from that.
> roll 1d6
<Reiko-chan> Kotono rolled : 1d6 --> [ 1d6=3 ]{3}
> There's a dim magical aura on the kitchen counter, besides the knives and a window to the back yard. It's sunny.
* Shamal attempts to discern the school!
<Shamal> roll 1d20+13
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d20+13 --> [ 1d20=3 ]{16}
<Shamal> Failing that, she goes over to take a proper look.
> Shamal can't quite pin it down. The aura's fading away even as Shamal gets there, dimming into nothingness. It's just a normal counter.
<Shamal> It vanished? How vexing. Stymied by this unfortunate development, Shamal continues her sweep of the other rooms.
> There's no magic in them at all. INcluding upstairs, a bedroom and storage therein.
<Shamal> "Tell me, Mr Hamand," Shamal asks as she returns downstairs. "Do you have an interest at all in the arcane?"
>  "You mean like hocus pocus?" He blinks at that, several long times. "Well, I suppose not. Only wizards can do that, and I'm no wizard."
<Shamal> "What about your wife, then?" Shamal asks, "I assume she was also here at the time in question, since she's able to vouch for your whereabouts?" As she probes, she goes over the layout of the house from her cursory inspection - were there any other exits?
> There is an exit in the back, nestled under the stairs. It's just a tiny door out. "She was," he says blandly.
<Shamal> "Of course," the blonde nods, unimpressed. "So of course neither of you would possess any sort of magical items, hmm? Especially not any of the dangerous exploding kind, right?"
> "If I did, we'd try selling them to that new magic shop and be rich," he answers, bland as can be. Totally calm, voice level and dead.
<Shamal> "Well, let's just see how true that is - men, search this house," Shamal orders the guards. "Look for any sort of metal containers."
> "Yes, ma'am!" The guards follow the command, starting to search. OOC - How hard and long do you want them to search?
<Shamal> OOC: they can take ten or roll for it, whichever they like. Taking 20 basically involves tearing the place apart, which I don't want to do.
> OOC: Their choice?
<Shamal> OOC: Actually, screw it, have the smartest/best searcher take 10 and the others all take 10 to aid another for him (or roll if they can't beat 10 by taking 10 due to sucky stats)
> OOC - They're typical guards with a +1 mod to search and need to roll take ten.
> roll 1d20+1 support 1
<Reiko-chan> Kotono rolled : 1d20+1 support 1 --> [ 1d20=4 ]{5}
> roll 1d20+1 support 2
<Reiko-chan> Kotono rolled : 1d20+1 support 2 --> [ 1d20=5 ]{6}
<Shamal> Seeing the clumsy ineptitude of the guardsmen, Shamal takes a cursory look herself.
<Shamal> roll 1d20+3
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d20+3 --> [ 1d20=7 ]{10}
> The guards search diligently, taking about twenty minutes. "Nothing of note, Ma'am," th elead one apologies after. Shamal also finds little of note.
> Meanwhile, Hamand just waits calmly, sitting in the kitchen.
<Shamal> "Hmph," Shamal looks considerably less than impressed, putting the pieces together with that lingering aura she detected vanishing just as she looked in the kitchen. If only she hadn't tipped her hand too soon... "My apologies, citizen, perhaps our information was incorrect." Her eyes show that she believes this to be anything but, fighting to keep from glaring at the man. "Good day to you."
> HAmand finally smiles the tiniest bit, waving as Shamal speaks. "Have a good day, officer."
* Shamal nods curtly and ushers her little troupe outside, relieving the guards to resume their previous duties.
> As the guards vanish, Mia sighs, "So nothing," she moans, "Was it a false lead? I thought magic didn't make mistakes!"
* Shamal shakes her head. "It's my fault, I tipped him off and then gave him time to do something while I was getting those guards," she laments.
<Shamal> "On the plus side, he won't be profiting from those scrolls, if nothing else - I detected a faint lingering aura in the kitchen right after we went inside. I'd bet good money he cast all those scrolls to destroy the evidence once he knew I was serious - I'd have detected those scrolls anywhere within sixty feet of the house unless they were sealed inside a metal container."
> "...oooh. Well, um, that's something. Thanks." Mia wilts like a flower, "Just at least make sure he doesn't steal from any other now dirt poor acolytes?"
* Shamal feels sorry for the poor girl. She's not a charity, but... "I'll tell you what, Mia, since it was my fault I tipped him off, how about I replace some of those scrolls for you? I can scribe three of those spells that were stolen, so I could sell them to you at cost and consider it a loan if you can't pay back right away?"
> "That's very generous," Quapeth comments, hanging back as he looks around, at the closed house and surroundings.
> "...thank you!" MIa lights up, "I mean, I'm almost considering taking up adventuring if I can't think of a good way to make some money!"
<Shamal> "I can't help but feel partly to blame," Shamal briefly casts a glare back at the house before turning back to Mia, "Really, it's not a career with long term health benefits," she cautions. "Anyway, I can get you scrolls of Fire Trap, Chill Metal, and Faerie Fire by tomorrow and we can work out some repayment plan that doesn't involve risking life and limb in some sunless pit."
> "Thank you," Mia beams, rubbing at her eyes, "I'll pay you back, somehow! Even if...is adventuring reallyt hat bad, though? I mean, since you're a druid, you know a bit about it?"
<Shamal> "Well..." Shamal looks marginally embarrassed. "It is really really profitable. I mean, I just got back from a few weeks in the barbarian lands and made more money than I'd get in a year on a lieutenant's salary, but I also lost a close friend." She shakes her head, sighing, "It's not what I'd call a fair trade."
> "Wellll..." Mia considers that, "It's deadly, and I don't really know how to fight, but..."
* Shamal clamps a hand firmly on Mia's shoulder. "Stick with what's safe, trust me. You can always earn more money, but you can't ever replace lost lives," she declares, locking her gaze with the other woman's.
> "Very well, I will," Mia smiles at that, "Thank you very much, Shamal. I'll..you'll come to the temple tomorrow?"
* Shamal nods. "I will, say around dinnertime. I'll pick up a few supplies I'll need today and get started on the scrolls tonight," she promises.
> "Thank you so much!" Mia beams, hugging you before she turns and runs off. "Thank you!"
* Shamal accepts the hug with good grace, smiling and waving to the young acolyte as she departs. Patting the mostly silent wolf she took along for this excursion and starting to slowly head off herself, she turns to Quapeth, "Apologies for getting sidetracked. Getting a taste of crime in Balmuria was not how I'd wish this tour to go."
> "I'm...impressed." The elf follows as you walk the streets, "You are a truly generous person. The gods will watch for you, I am certain of it."
* Shamal blushes. "It's nothing really - I mean, if I'm selling her the scrolls at cost, it's not like I'm losing anything, I'm just not making any profit either. A more generous person with as much money as I have might have just paid off her debt for her, but doing that would only teach her to be dependent. This way she at least has a chance to stand on her own," the blonde explains her reasoning.
> "Yes, but you're doing it in a time where you could just say she was out of luck." Quapeth continues his wakl along, away from this damned building and to the main streets again. The wolf is getting a few looks again,b ut it's staying low and quiet.
<Shamal> Scratching Ringo around the scruff of the neck as they walk along, starting to head towards the docks so she can show Quapeth the bay, Shamal considers her response. "I suppose... it's a cold way to think like that, though. Since I got involved so far, I'd feel bad if I just left things at that."
> The bay's wind is blowing in, the scent of sea and sea elves in the air - or perhaps the last part is mere fancy? "True, it's still good," Quapeth murmurs "Still very good indeed-hm? The smell isg etting stronger, are we near the ocean?"
<Shamal> "That's right," Shamal smiles, "The docks are just down this way, and past them the bay - I don't know if you've seen the sea where you live, but the Bay of Sparkling Stars is a most unusually vibrant green colour. I'll bet you've never seen anything like it."
> "All the ocean we see is what flows into the swamps - since we have to chase trolls there on occasion." So you head along - the sea is busy and vibrant! The green waters ripple and stir, ships coming and going. Business is all over here, noise as deckhands haul around valuable cargo.
* Shamal walks along the edge of the water, idly glancing down. "I doubt we're likely to see Tynave, sadly - it's forbidden for Sea Elves to come this close to land, I think, and they live much farther out into the bay," she goes on conversationally.
> "A shame," he murmurs, looking down at the green, emerald water. "Could you go and meet her yourself, Forest Guardian? I remember tales of those that can turn water to air, or even grow gills."
* Shamal shakes her head. "Such magic is currently beyond me," she laments, before adding, "And what did I tell you before? Just call me Shamal."
> "Sorry, Shamal. Just..." He looks out to the ships, tall browed and expansive. Going to faraway lands, or returning with cargo. Smaller ships, city ships and merchant liners that keep to the coasts. Seamen with tans and pouches of pay, golden coins stamped in lands away from any comprehension.
<Shamal> "Are Forest Guardians common in Elven lands?" the blonde asks curiously, moving on from there as they stroll along the harbour.
> "Magic...regretfully, no." Quapeth shakes his head as Quapeth continues to look down into the deep green sea. "Magic is rarified. You won a fortune when you were born with the gift."
* Shamal chuckles slightly. "Rather, my parents did," she replies, though not overly bothered. Her distressing youth is far enough behind her for it to lack any sting. "It's funny, though, since most people think of the Elven Kingdoms as being home to the most powerful and rarest high magic, with wonders beyond human comprehension. It's actually reassuring to hear it isn't so different from our own existence."
> "Legends often can distort things. I had heard of a city of rough barbarians, the gate to a land of complete distaste." Quapeth now just chuckles to himself. People pass by you, a few sailors and common men. WHile you're getting looks, it's not that bad right now.
* Shamal smiles a bit at that description. "I suppose it's only natural when all you have is rumour to go on." Heading towards the road out of the docks, Shamal starts to head towards Lord Salman's Academy. "I'll show you the Academy next. It's where my friends and I trained before we joined the Crimson Guard."
> Quapeth slows and stops, "Aaah, I would rather stay here a time." He looks back out at the sea, "The wind, the feeling of the breeze, the moving sea. I find it strangely appealing."
<Shamal> "Oh, that's fine, too," Shamal stops. "We can walk around the edge of the harbour wall, if you like - the air's fresher there, and it's more peaceful as well."
> "Please," Quapeth says, as you begin to walk. OOC - Spot check.
<Shamal> roll 1d20+8
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d20+8 --> [ 1d20=6 ]{14}
> roll 1d20+5
<Reiko-chan> Kotono rolled : 1d20+5 --> [ 1d20=10 ]{15}
> So you walk down the harbor wall. The breeze is bracing and flecked with sea foam, the sunshine above meeting it on your faces. Quapeth walks to the very end and sits, "It's...strange," he murmurs.
<Shamal> "What is?" Shamal asks, primly sitting down herself.
> Quapeth looks forward, silent. "I don't know. I just like it here. The sea, that is. It's not like the marshes on the rims of the forest lands. Something about this place..."
<Shamal> "It's nicer than the swamp," Shamal admits, "Although I prefer the deep forest over the sea, as relaxing as it can be at times."
> "Mmm. Sea elves..." Quapeth's voice is low, looking down to the sea. "It is relaxing." Quapeth murmurs, "I wonder how far I could swim..."
<Shamal> "The sea isn't like a river or a lake," Shamal cautions, even if she feels like she's being a bit condescending, she really doesn't know the extent of Quapeth's aquatic experiences. "Leaving aside the waves on the surface, there are powerful currents and undertows that can toss you around like a ragdoll if caught unaware."
> "..yes of course." Quapeth suddenly turns to you, eyes clear. "That's true."
<Shamal> "I make it sound perhaps worse than it is," Shamal admits with a small shrug, "But the sea deserves respect, regardless."
> "Yes...yes." Quapeth suddenly stands, "Such a strange, alluring thing."
* Shamal glances up, "Ready to move on?" she asks curiously.
> "Y...yes," Quapeth smiles, but then just shakes his head. "...If you would, may I take my leave of you here? I can find my way back to your hut."
<Shamal> "Yes..." Shamal slowly stands up, eyeing Quapeth a bit oddly. "Are you alright? You seem a bit... distracted," she observes.
> "...I suppose I am," he says, looking back out at the sea.
* Shamal follows his gaze for a moment herself. "Nothing you want to talk about?" she asks, rather puzzled at his change in demeanour.
> "...Forest Guardian..." he murmurs, "Shamal. I feel pulled."
<Shamal> "Pulled where? To the sea?" the blonde asks, blinking. Is this some strange elf thing?
> "It's strange," Quapeth licks his lips. "Just that the sea is...the sea."
<Shamal> "Um... yes, it is," Shamal nods, not comprehending all that well. "If you'll pardon me saying, you're acting almost like you've been enchanted."
> "I don't know." Quapeth finally gets up, "I think I'm alright, just that this sea is...strange. The deep green sea."
<Shamal> "Yes, well, I'd feel terrible if you drowned while my guest... or at all, even," the blonde looks a bit sheepish as she has to add that last part. "Perhaps we should move on?"
> "...Mmm. I think I'll stay," Quapeth smiles, "I promise not to drown."
<Shamal> "I suppose I'm not your keeper," Shamal relents, getting up herself and patting Ringo to follow her. "Please don't do anything reckless, however."
> "I will not. Thank you," he murmurs, transfixed as he stares out at the ocean.
* Shamal departs to do her shopping so she can have those scrolls ready for Mia tomorrow, before heading home.