Prelude 4: Starring Alfred Hitchcock as Man Walking Dog

[Sierra]

Part A:

<El-Cideon> Monday, June the 1st. The climate is muggy and oppressive, the air still filled with vapor from the previous afternoon's rains. The ground squelches beneath the student trio's feet as they walk towards the Practice Field again.(more)
<El-Cideon> Instructor Ferryman waits for them this time, in plain sight. No obvious tricks or games at work, just amusing herself by creating fantastical, illusory machinery in the air. "Ah," she says, noticing Nemesio first, apparently. "Welcome back, I suppose?"
<Nemesio> "I suppose so," he returns. "How have you been, Ma'am?"
<Derrick> Derrick is following close behind Nemesio, and nods his greeting as well, "Good morning, Instructor."
<Pilfer> "Howdy," Pilfer comments. "So what's on the docket today? Someone egg your house and we gotta find out who?"
<El-Cideon> Justine smiles. "I have survived another week of internecine squabbling and office politics. I count that as an accomplishment, as always." She nods to Derrick, and then to Pilfer: "Evaded the Grays for another weekend, I see? Good man."
<Pilfer> "Pfft. They couldn't catch fire if you threw a match on 'em."
<El-Cideon> An odd look crosses her face before she smirks again. "I suspect you'd lose that wager. Nevertheless, the flammability of guardsmen has little to do with today's chore, I'm afraid. You all rested well over the weekend, I hope?"
<Derrick> With a slight chuckle, Derrick nods, "Suprisingly, yes. Though I suspect that rest will be driven right out of my by the time today is through."
* Pilfer shrugs ambivalently, toying with something in his pocket.
* Nemesio listens intently to Ferryman's words, or looks like it, anyway.
<El-Cideon> Justine looks at Derrick. "Well, you needn't worry about directly incurring the ire of professors today, that much I can say in the test's favor. Now, your fellow students, on the other hand..."
<Pilfer> "A day when the other profs aren't actually chasing me is a pretty good day for me."
<Derrick> "Well, so long as they don't break out the torches and pitchforks, I suppose I can deal with irking the other students. So exactly how will we be earning this potential animosity today, anyway?"
<El-Cideon> "Well...in sum, a group of younger students has taken to engaging in...extracurricular activities we do not approve of. Staging mock fights against one another, the bystanders likely wagering on the outcome, or so I'd assume. From the accounts we have, the level of violence witnessed is not exceptional, but this sort of undisciplined behavior runs counter to the reason we are all here."
<El-Cideon> "I ask you three, one way or another, to disperse this group."
* Pilfer considers for a moment.
<Nemesio> "By any means necessary, I suppose?" Nemesio asks.
<Pilfer> "Can we borrow the university porters?"
<Pilfer> "Or at least their little badges and nightsticks..."
* Derrick sighs and shakes his head. He seems to do that alot lately...
<El-Cideon> Justine looks at Nemesio. "Once again, we leave the means entirely in your hands." To Pilfer: "You may experience some difficulty in persuading the staff to do your work for you this time. Nevertheless, try what you wish."
<Pilfer> "Hunh." Pilfer's brow furrows.
<Nemesio> "Who are the students in question? Where do these fights take place?" Nemesio spreads his arms, looking at the instructor. "Our task would proceed much more smoothly if we had all the proper information."
<Pilfer> "Ten circa says she tells us nothing," Pilfer puts in unnecessarily.
<Nemesio> "I'll take that bet."
* Derrick mutters, "I'll pass on taking that bet, thank you."
* Nemesio raises an eyebrow. "What's life without a little gambling?"
<Derrick> "Frankly, I wouldn't feel comfortable taking his money. Who knows where, or who, it came from."
<El-Cideon> "Good of you to ask, Nemesio." She spares a blank look at Pilfer before continuing. "We know they meet sometimes in a pub outside the city walls, the Lock of the Maiden. The festivities apparently take place elsewhere, in variable locations. We do not know the identify of a particular ringleader, if there is such."
<Pilfer> "Crap."
* Pilfer digs a handful of copper out of his pocket and hands it to Nemesio.
* Nemesio pockets them with a smile of satisfaction. "Are there mages in their midst, Ma'am?" he asks to follow up on that.
<Pilfer> "Otherwise the duels would be broken up by the Grays, yeah?"
<El-Cideon> "Well-trained mages, like yourselves? Not as such, I suspect. Which is not to say they are no danger--undisciplined power is the most unstable kind." She nods to Pilfer. "Correct. The Watch can handle some rumble staged in a tavern's basement. But this is not their concern."
<Derrick> "Please tell me this is normal physical duelling and not magic students running off to have mage duels."
<Pilfer> "It's really hard to get that set up," Pilfer adds, with a note of admiration. "They watch you like hawks around here."
<El-Cideon> "Derrick, I very much suspect their focus is in fact the latter case. Elsewise we would be less concerned. A simple brawl can only do so much damage."(more)
<El-Cideon> "You may or may not be aware that *formal* duelling is still technically legal among University staff, though recourse to such methods of solving disputes is certainly frowned upon. The last incident I know of was certainly before your time here. At any rate, these youths are not engaging in lawful training and must be stopped for their own safety."
* Derrick is all too familiar with the harm magic can inflict if used wrecklessly, and nods solemnly, "That's for certain."
* Nemesio nods at her words. "Anything else we need to know, Ma'am? Would you have any ideas on around which time they tend to gather, whether they accept any new members, or how any of them looks like, no matter how insignificant in the group itself?"
<El-Cideon> Justine looks slightly pained as she turns to Nemesio. "Of course you know, as before, that I cannot give you all the answers, or it is no sort of test. However, they are likely to be in the habit of gathering in the afternoon and conducting their activities around evening or nightfall."(more)
<Pilfer> "Can't fault the man for trying."
<El-Cideon> "I cannot single out a specific individual among them, though...we have posted guards at the gates of the University and the city itself. However they get out into the sprawl, it's certain they have someone among them who can move undected, or through walls and space."
<Pilfer> "It worked last time," Pilfer mutters, shooting Nemesio's coinpurse a dirty look.
* Pilfer blinks.
<Pilfer> "Hey! I didn't do it!"
<El-Cideon> Justine laughs. "Pilfer, of course, has been watched sufficiently to remove him from suspicion. Mostly."
* Pilfer nods.
<Pilfer> "Wait..."
<Pilfer> "I'm not saying I *couldn't* have done it..."
<Pilfer> "I mean, I've got my pride."
* Derrick snorts, "No one said you did. Two people can have similar magic. Nemesio and I both have healing talents, for example. Mine is simply much stronger." Looking over to Nemesio, he adds, "At least I would assume, as you said you only had minor healing magic."
<Nemesio> "It is minor, yes," Nemesio confirms with a nod.
<El-Cideon> Justine moves on without responding to Pilfer. "Now...again, the means I leave to you three. You have some time to plan before the combatants begin gathering. Use it well. Stake out the tavern, if you wish, or someplace on the grounds, or whatever."
<Pilfer> "Well, finding them is only a matter of time and patience," Pilfer says as Justine leaves. "What we gotta figure out is how we're gonna stop 'em. They're obviously not scared of the University rules, or of getting hurt, or they wouldn't be doing this stupid crap in the first place."
<Pilfer> "I mean, we can break up a meeting, but that's not gonna stop 'em when we're NOT around, y'know?"
<Nemesio> "Let's join their little circle," Nemesio proposes. "Take it over, and make our words count."
<Pilfer> "So once we have their respect, won by fighting idiot duels, we use that to make them stop fighting idiot duels?"
* Pilfer shakes his head slowly.
<Pilfer> "I don't think they'll buy that."
<Pilfer> "Now, just removing the ringleaders..."
<Nemesio> "We could turn them in, yes, or use some other means... but some may not be the idiots we believe them to be. Given a proper outlet for their talents, a proper goal other than the petty fights...."
* Derrick nods, "That...sounds like it might work. We'll likely need to combine the plans, of course. The ringleaders will most certainly not wish to stop. This is what gives them power, afterall."
<Pilfer> "Once again, I really need to learn how to turn invisible," Pilfer mutters. "It would make life so much easier."
<Pilfer> "Well, they're never going to believe ME wanting to duel," Pilfer says, spreading his arms so that his toast-rack build is clearly visible.
<Nemesio> "Also," Nemesio muses, a thoughtful look on his face, "our mission is not quite to stop the fights, but the unseemly behavior. Perhaps, this could be resolved by something as simple as teaching our wayward underclassmen some discretion."
<Pilfer> "I dunno. Hard to hide a magic duel, no matter where you put it."
<Nemesio> "In that case, why doesn't the University know where the duels are being held?" Nemesio challenges.
<Derrick> "I...would rather we at least attempt to break up the fights. It's not just about unseemly behaviour, but also about safety. They could seriously hurt themseleves doing this, which is just what the Academy is trying to teach them not to do."
<Pilfer> "Yeah. I'm with Derrick on this one. I'd rather not see untrained sproglings setting the city on fire in their spare time."
<Nemesio> "Alright," Nemesio agrees, not really pushing for any particular course of action. "Let's try visiting this Lock of the Maiden and see who turns up?"
<Pilfer> "All of us?" Pilfer says doubtfully.
<Pilfer> "I mean, Derrick's a total goody-two-shoes, and like I said, I don't really look the part."
<Pilfer> "I usually try to avoid being stabbed. It's kind of a hobby."
<Nemesio> "I was thinking we should split up into two groups, but did not want to voice that myself," Nemesio admits.
<Pilfer> "Well, I'm up for trailing people home. I'm pretty good at staying out of sight."
* Derrick considers, "Hmm. They...may approach me, actually. it's not hard for anyone to find out what I can do as I'm rather open about it, and they may attempt to recruit me into healing for them. That would be just as valuable as fighting, I should think. That might give us an in."
<Pilfer> "Yeah, but if I were trying to run anything illegal, you'd be pretty much the last guy I'd ask to run support. Unless NONE of these twits knows you..."
<Derrick> "How well did you know me before Friday?"
<Derrick> "While what I can do isn't hard to learn, I don't exactly spend much time socializing with my peers here."
<Pilfer> "Well, if you think you can swing it..."
* Pilfer continues to look dubious at Derrick's ability to play "bad apple."
* Derrick shrugs, "It's just a thought. And I'll be, at least temporarily, helping to protect them from themselves. I'll admit I have no real ideas on this one, so I'll follow your leads."
<Pilfer> "Well, we need at least one of us on the inside," Pilfer points out.
<Nemesio> "Let's get to the pub a bit before afternoon hits and play it by ear from there," Nemesio proposes to Derrick. "What we know of these people suggest they would be recognizable."
<Pilfer> "Bruises, contusions, lacerations..."
<Nemesio> "Arrogance and blatant abuse of magic, superiority towards the less-talented...."
<Pilfer> "Well, so, what? All three of us? Or am I playing sneak-thief and hiding in the shadows?"
<Derrick> "Also, we may have seen some of them before around here. Let's not rule that out. And agreed, let's go ahead and go. Though Pilfer keeping out of sight might not be a bad idea. An ace in the hole, of sorts."
<Pilfer> "Also less chance of being stabbed," Pilfer adds, sotto voce.
<El-Cideon> The Lock of the Maid proves to be some ways to the southwest of the University; through Lotus district, and another twenty to thirty minutes walk through the sprawl outside the walls. The city gates are wide open at this time of day.(more)
<El-Cideon> The tavern itself is not in a particularly estimable slice of Avontyne--most of the neighborhoods beyond the walls lag behind the inner circle districts economically. The Lock of the Maid itself is a sturdy structure despite this, two floors tall and showing signs of moderate prosperity. there are few windows, though, and the place does not look well-lit.(more)
<El-Cideon> This, then, is where the *respectable* scum hang out.
* Nemesio has dressed down for the occasion, but might still stand up to close scrutiny. Despite that, he glances at Derrick as they approach the premises. "Well, shall we?"
<Derrick> As they approach the building, Derrick grimaces just a bit and stops, "Hmm. Just a moment. I think I'd like to be a bit better protected before walking in there. Pilfer, do you see anyone watching us at the moment?"
* Pilfer checks briefly.
<Pilfer> "Nope, coast is clear. Why, you gotta sacrifice a puppy for this or something?"
* Derrick shakes his head, "No, it's just a bit obvious that I'm casting a spell when I do this, so I'd rather it not be noted by the locals just yet. I don't want to seem to be expecting trouble, after all. At least that's what I thought the idea was."
<Pilfer> "Avoiding trouble is good," Pilfer agrees genially.
<Derrick> Holding out his left hand, Derrick digs his right thumbnail into an oft cut open grove on his palm. Taking a bit of blood onto his thumb, he then smears it in a line along the back of his left arm while muttering what sounds like a small verse of scripture (mainly used to focus his mind). As the spell settles in, the blood sinks into his skin, and he opens his eyes again. "There, now I feel a bit safer."
* Pilfer eyes Derrick with a mixture of repugnance and newfound respect.
<Pilfer> "Yyyyeah. Yeah, sure, I can see that."
* Derrick half grins, "As I said, my Prima is flesh. All my spells require blood, be it my own or someone elses. This is a spell to harden my skin, so that I should have little to fear from getting knifed."
<Pilfer> "Well, that's handy."
<Derrick> "It has proven to be useful upon occasion, yes. I try to avoid needing to use it, but better safe then stabbed, hmm?"
<Nemesio> "It is," Nemesio agrees. "Let's not be forced to rely on your gift just yet, though, shall we?"
<Derrick> "Of course. Well, Pilfer, I suppose that if we see you come in we can assume somethig has gone wrong?"
<Pilfer> "Prob'ly. You guys are the ones likelier to get knifed, though, so..."
<Pilfer> "I'll be nearby, trying to keep tabs on what's going on. If I see a mob of Grays coming to bust the whole place, I'll let you know."
<Derrick> "Knifing is far from the only thing, or even the worst thing, that can go wrong here, I'm afraid."
* Derrick follows Nemesio into the tavern then. (assuming he's already going)
* Pilfer smirks, and with a faint pop of inrushing air, disappears to an out-of-the-way perch.
<El-Cideon> The interior of the pub is more or less what one would expect, given the nieghborhood. A second home for loafing carters, oddjob-men without work, and menial laborers on break. The floor and tables are a tad grimy, but a few ancient and surprisingly tasteful woodcuts and paintings on the walls make for a decent attempt at class. (more)
<El-Cideon> At this time, the inhabitants look to be local folk, mostly too old to be students. The bartender is a balding man with a grotesque potbelly and seems uncertain about leaving the safety of his bar. Behind him, rickety steps lead to a second floor. There a re plenty of empty tables, but the locals have claimed those in dark corners.
* Nemesio takes a seat at a table in the center of the room, moving openly.
* Derrick also makes no attempt to be sneaky or even especially discrete and moves along with Nemesio, taking a seat at the table.
<El-Cideon> The locals seem disinterested in the newcomers--a few curious glances, and that's all. The bartender takes notice of them almost immediately. "Oy, you two! You ordering something or not? Not taking up space in my bar without paying for it."
<Nemesio> "I'll take that Something," Nemesio responds with an amused smirk. "How about you, friend? Up for quality Something, too?"
* Derrick lets out an amused snort, "Hmm, I'm not sure. I hear that the Something can get a bit strong sometimes. I think I'll stick with simple ale, myself."
<Nemesio> "Ale it is, then," Nemesio announces, tossing the coins he won over from Pilfer onto the table. "Would this be enough?"
<El-Cideon> The bartender levels a disapproving glare in their direction--guess he prefers quiet drinkers--then motions to someone in a dark corner. "'Ey, Madda! Deal with the lads, strumpet! I don't pay you just to be groped." A blonde girl, probably somewhere in her late teens, detaches herself from an unseen man and slinks over to the students' table.(more)
<El-Cideon> "What can I get you?" she says, eyes gleaming as she picks up the coin right off. She'd be more attractive if it appeared she'd bathed in recent memory.
* Pilfer considers how best to track duelists who can move unseen. (Flour on the floor? Some sort of persistent mist or fog? Or were they using a hidden tunnel or disguises rather than true invisibility? Illusion powers such as Professor Ferryman possessed could easily be used to conceal a group of escapees, or even a hidden exit.)
* Nemesio shrugs. "Ale would do, unless you have a better idea?"
<El-Cideon> Outside, the foot traffic is mostly local folk. Few, if any, glance up Pilfer's way; those that head for the tavern have the stolid and determined look of the beaten and tired looking to get deadeningly drunk.
* Derrick seems uninterested in any potentialy 'better ideas' and just orders, "Just an ale for me."
<El-Cideon> The girl pouts, but nods and disappears around the corner by the staircase. A moment later she returns with a pair of chipped clay mugs--which do not seem to have been washed in quite some time--and plops them down on the table, sloshing suds onto the stained wood. She bites her lip. "Anything else I can get you for now?"
* Nemesio is curious enough to take a glance at what exactly she's offering.
<El-Cideon> The girl is slim, and clearly malnourished, but certainly not ugly. With some cleaning up, her hair would shine, and she *does* have a good smile for someone who's likely never had any visits to a dentist.
<Nemesio> "Would you like to join us?" he offers, indicating the coins on the table. "I'm sure I could afford another mug of ale, if that's your favored poison."
* Derrick raises an eyebrow, but figures that Nemesio knows what he is about and says nothing.
<El-Cideon> The girl--Madda, apparently--glances over at the bartender, who simply glances away and out the window, apparently not objecting to anything that results in more coins being left in his establishment. Madda nods, rushes back to fill a mug of her own, and then sits down again, almost seeming excited.
* Nemesio raises his mug in salute, tasting the ale. He mentally prepares himself to drink it with apparent ease, however it may actually taste.
<El-Cideon> * Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 11." [2d8=3, 8]
* Derrick sips at his ale, not really minding even if it is horrid as he's likely had worse, and just leans back in his chair, looking somewhat tired.
<El-Cideon> A scrabbling on a neighboring rooftop attracts Pilfer's attention. A glance aside and he can see a crow alighting on the rooftop, and very obviously peering in his direction once settled.
* Pilfer subtly shifts his weight, preparatory to action, in case the bird proves to be a familiar, or even a shapeshifted would-be duelist.
<El-Cideon> The ale is...well, probably as much water as booze, really. The barkeep stretches his stock of drink as far as he can, most like, or keeps the good stuff for regulars. Madda peers at her new drinking buddies, seeming interested in the better-dressed Nemesio. "Don't live around here, do you?" she says awkwardly.
* Pilfer watches the bird closely.
<Nemesio> "Not really," Nemesio responds, taking another swig. "My friend and I, we felt like a change, you know?"
<El-Cideon> The bird blinks, bobs its head twice, and then caws loudly at Pilfer.
<Pilfer> 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 13." [2d8=8, 5]
<Derrick> Derrick nods in absent agreement, paying about as much attention to the girl as she's paying to him, then sips his ale again. "Hmm. Not bad, I suppose. A bit watery, but I'm not going to complain."
<El-Cideon> A few bystanders passing by glance up at the noise, but none seem to take note of the thief-turned-student above them. The bird flaps its wings, as if irritated, then starts scanning the streets instead.
* Pilfer ducks down quickly, and shoots a vicious glare at the bird. (Chase it away or grab it, in case it's just an illusion or a spy or something?) he wonders.
<El-Cideon> "Change from what?" Madda asks, leaning forward. "Where d'you hail from, then?" She also nods to Derrick. "Oh, Skinny Bill stretches his coin as far as he can, true." She spares the barkeep a glance, in case he overhears this heresy, but he does not.
<El-Cideon> The bird ignores Pilfer's glare, seeming to have lost interest in him now. It glances this way and that, as if watching the locals for something.
<Nemesio> "Community service," Nemesio says with a snort. "Do this, help that, nag nag nag. Sometimes that school seems more like a prison than, well... a school," he finishes lamely, hiding his face in the mug.
* Pilfer eases back from the edge of the rooftop, so as to be further from potentially straying eyes.
<Derrick> "And let's not forget all that is on top of the classes. Makes it so we have rather little free time, which is likely what they intended the whole time. So much blasted busty work, papers, practise, practise, practise."
<Pilfer> 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 13." [2d8=5, 8]
<Derrick> With a half snort/half chuckle, he raises his cup slightly, "Why I'm drinking the weak stuff. Doubt they'd give us a break on account of hangover, and I don't relish the thought of working through one."
<Nemesio> "Some busty recreation was clearly much needed for you," Nemesio tells Derrick, raising his mug in a toast. "Ah, the troubles we've gone through, the hardships just to get away from it all!"
<Derrick> Derrick lets his head hit the table, "Geh. So damned tired I can't even talk straight."
<El-Cideon> The girl's eyes are wide at this. "You lot are from the Universty, then?" She glances around, as though she shouldn't say something, and then decides not to. "What are ya studying for?" She sounds honestly fascinated.
<Nemesio> "Evasive maneuvers, at the moment," Nemesio supplies. "The minders haven't caught up with us yet, so I'd say we're doing pretty damn fine, eh?"
<Derrick> "Let's hope it lasts, hmm?""
<El-Cideon> She spares another look at the barkeep, who is busily chewing his nails. "You one of them, then? This is their night, usually."
* Nemesio smirks arrogantly, and drinks his ale, neither denying nor confirming.
* Derrick drains the last of his cup by way of answer. Looking at the empty mug, he shrugs and pushes it towards the girl along with a couple of coppers from his own pocket, "Another of the same, if you please."
<El-Cideon> Madda leans over the table, strands of hair fails into pools of ale and goddess-knows-what-else on the table. "What can you do?" she wonders, breath hushed. "A cousin'a mine, he could make sounds out of the air, but he didn't use 'em for naught but embarassing people with farting noises. Your other fellows that come 'round here, they won't show me a thing. Can you do some magic?" She snatches Derrick's mug, runs to the back, refills, and then plops down into her chair again.
<Nemesio> "Show you?" Nemesio asks, leaning conspiratorially over as he mimics her actions. "Okay. Watch carefully, and whatever you do, don't scream."
* Derrick sits back and cracks a smile, looking like he's seen what's coming a dozen times already.
* Nemesio makes eye contact with Derrick, before drawing a knife and slashing quickly at his companion's wrist.
<El-Cideon> The girl lets out a tiny yelp, and puts her hands to her mouth in embarassment. She peers around the tavern, trying to see if this aroused anyone's attention; only the barkeep glances over, and he's missed seeing the event itself--missed seeing the knife practically ricochet off Derrick's arm.
<El-Cideon> Madda leans out over the table towards Derrick. "That's amazing!" she says in a hused but excited voice. "You must be the toughest lad at the school."
<Nemesio> "Not bad, hmm?"
* Derrick just shrugs, "It's handy, certainly."
<Pilfer> 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 7." [2d8=1, 6]
<Nemesio> "Oh, don't be modest." Nemesio claps him on the back. "No one can take you!"
<Derrick> "Oh, no one can beat me, certainly. But I can't beat anyone back either. My magic is all defensive. Hardening skin, repairing wounds, that kind of thing."
<El-Cideon> She shakes her head. "It's incredible. I wish I could do something like that. What can your friends do? They won't show me anything. That girl with the green hair--she just looks through me like I'm nobody." She blushes a little, caught speaking ill of Nem/Derrick's "friends."
<El-Cideon> Below Pilfer, a figure stands out amongst the rabble. A tall man, wearing black clothes that look beaten and weathered from what must be years spent in the out-of-doors. A floppy, wide-brimmed black hat conceals his face.
<Nemesio> "So when the other guy tires himself out and is unable to continue, you don't consider it a proper win?" Nemesio raises an eyebrow, before shrugging. "I wouldn't call them our friends, quite. Me and this guy, here -- we're med students. It's a whole different clique."
<El-Cideon> Her eyes are wider still. "Is that what they do when they leave here? They go fight?"
<El-Cideon> The black-clad man is, very obviously, heading towards the tavern's front door.
* Nemesio winks at the barmaid. "Fighting is quite illegal. There is no way we would be involved in something like that, right?"
* Derrick quirks a grin and nods, "Of course not."
<El-Cideon> Madda sighs. "Wish I coulda gone there so much. How did you lot get in?"
<Nemesio> "An amusing story better left for another time, I think," Nemesio tells her. "Why don't you tell us more about yourself, now?"
<El-Cideon> The door to the pub opens, and the man in black strides in. It's hard to tell his age, but it's clear from his weathered skin that he's spent a large portion of his life exposed to the elements. He has the look of an Outlander. He pauses just a moment to scan the crowd, then heads right for the barkeep.
<El-Cideon> Madda sips more ale; a foam-mustache lingers on her lip. "Not much to tell. I grew up right around here. Figure that's where I'm gonna stay." She looks down, and then back up at Derrick and Nemesio. "You're not...in any place to get me into the Universty, are you? That'd be good, I think."
<El-Cideon> The stranger slips something to the bartender, then ascends the staircase without a word. The stairs creak loudly, either from disrepair, the man's weight, or both.
<Nemesio> "We might be," Nemesio says vaguely. "Do you have anything you want to study?"
<El-Cideon> Madda blinks, as though she hadn't thought things that far out. "Well...I can cook, kinda. That's something, right?" She flashes a fragile smile.
<Nemesio> "If you want to work there, instead of attending," Nemesio muses out loud.
<El-Cideon> Another surprised blink, then: "Can I?" But an annoyed grunt from the corner interrupts the conversation, and the barkeep hollers at the girl. "Oy, Madda! Cobber's dry, give him another flaggon!" Madda nods to Derrick and Nem, and then bustles away, leaving the students alone for now.
<Nemesio> "The man in black," Nemesio says quietly to Derrick, leaning over. "Quite ominous, that one, would you not say?"
<Derrick> Nodding slowly, Derrick leans in at well, "Without question."
<Nemesio> "I propose waiting a bit longer to see if this green-haired woman shows up, and seeking a way upstairs if there is no luck on that front," Nemesio tells him. "Our new friend should be able to help with that, if only by providing a handy distraction."
<El-Cideon> The man in question comes back down the stairs in short order, not obviously any different than he was before. He surveys the room for a moment, and then heads back to the front door, not sparing time to make chatter with anyone. As he passes by the students' table, they can get enough of a look to see he has black hair down to his shoulders, and brown eyes.
<Nemesio> As the man is leaving outside, Nemesio leaves the decision of whether to tail him to Pilfer, and waits for either anyone in their target age to appear, or for Madda to return.
* Derrick looked as if he were about to say something, but was cut off by the man reappearing, and quickly turns his comment into a yawn.
<El-Cideon> Nameless exits back out the front door, leaving the room as it was. The locals don't comment on his passing. After a moment, Madda's able to wander back to the table, though more consciously acting the waitress now.
<El-Cideon> Out in the street, the man pauses for a moment, then tilts his hat and peers upwards directly at Pilfer's perch. He grins, seems to shake his head in amusement, and then turns to walk back down the street.
<Nemesio> "Back on the clock?" Nemesio asks her, the corner of his mouth quirking. "There's a mug waiting to be finished here, I believe."
<El-Cideon> Madda frowns, takes the mug but remains standing--apparently some sort of compromise with retaining the appearance of being semi-dutiful. "It would be nice if you could get me in, though, she says quietly.
* Pilfer fights a terrible battle inside his head.
<El-Cideon> The crow *caws*, quirking its head to one side and peering at Pilfer again.
<Nemesio> "I could," he says. "It wouldn't be easy, but I could."
* Derrick wonders what the hell Nemesio is doing, but assumes that he knows what he's about and just sips his ale quietly
* Pilfer grits his teeth and marks the man's face in his mind, but remains dutifully at his post.
<El-Cideon> The front door opens again--this time the newcomers are closer to the age bracket sought after here. Two teenage boys--maybe sixteen or seventeen, both brown-haired, and dressed in what look like fashionable, but secondhand clothes. Madda looks up at them. "Hm? Oh, your friends are here..."
<El-Cideon> Outside, the crow observes Pilfer for a long moment, then ruffles its feathers and prepares to take off.
<Nemesio> "Friends?" Nemesio asks her, catching her eyes with his. "We are not friends. There is no way we would even know each other. We are only here by coincidence, aren't we?"
<Derrick> Nodding again, likely seeming more and more like a yes man, Derrick agrees, "Most certainly."
<Nemesio> "Working at the University, one must be discreet when needed," Nemesio adds, as a seeming non-sequitur.
<El-Cideon> Madda looks baffled for a moment, but eventually manages a slight nod. "S-sure."
<Pilfer> 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 5." [2d8=1, 4]
<El-Cideon> The barkeep speaks up as the two youths settle down in a newly vacant corner table: "Madda! Get the boys somewhat already!" She glances down at Derrick and Nemesio. "Gotta go," then she bustles off.
* Pilfer raises himself like a cat about to pounce - although without as much waggling of the rear end - and with a soft pop-rush, Jumps to the opposite roof, snatching the eerily prescient bird and tucking it in close to his body before it can flap its wings. He keeps its beak held shut with one hand, wrapping the other around it as though it were a football.
* Nemesio leans back in his seat, and nurses his ale, while seeming to just relax with Derrick. His eyes follow Madda as she leaves, but seem to lose interest pretty quickly as she busies herself at the table of the new arrivals.
<Pilfer> "Oh, no you don't, you little devil. You're up to something," Pilfer hisses. "Nobody spies on me, you damned bird!"
<El-Cideon> The bird squirms around in Pilfer's arms, making what tiny noises it can with its beak clamped, but then settles down. Calmer than a pinned animal has any right to be, really.
<Pilfer> "That's right, you little feathery punter. You're goin' nowhere."
* Derrick casually looks over the two newcomers, trying to see if he can place them from the University at all
<El-Cideon> Madda's strictly business with the two youngsters--and they with her. They seem intent on their own hushed conversation. They could very well be fellow students--they seem to be drawing from the same fashion trends--but they're young enough that they wouldn't have been in the same classes as Derrick.
<El-Cideon> The bird seems agreeable with the situatation, somehow. It coos softly and just sits there.
<Pilfer> 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 9." [2d8=6, 3]
<El-Cideon> A *plork* sounds behind Pilfer--he can hear another bird approaching.
* Pilfer spins around, keeping his captive held tightly.
* Derrick gives Nemesio a questioning glance, to see if he recognizes the pair.
* Nemesio seems quite relaxed and even enjoying himself moderately, while paying no attention to the pair of students. At Derrick's glance, he shakes his head almost imperceptibly.
* Derrick then shrugs and follows Nemesio's lead, and starts paying attention to...really, nothing. Just seeming content to sit there and sip his ale.
<El-Cideon> With a rustling of its feathers, the second crow makes an attempt to divebomb Pilfer!
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for Avian ATTACK!
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for Avian ATTACK! and gets 3." [2d8=2, 1]
* Nemesio keeps them and the front door in his peripheral vision, but mainly just waits for a change in the situation.
<Pilfer> 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 8." [2d8=2, 6]
<El-Cideon> The newcomer digs its talons into Pilfer's hair, scratching at him, flapping its wings and generally being an in-your-face nuisance.
<Pilfer> "Ow! Quit it!"
* Pilfer attempts to shake the creature off.
<Pilfer> "Rutting pox-sucking birds. Gerroff!"
<Pilfer> 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 4." [2d8=2, 2]
<El-Cideon> Inside, the two youths relax somewhat in the presence of drink. One--the shorter of the two--mutters something about it affecting concentration and performance and shouldn't his buddy be the one worried about that? But takes a swig anyway.
<El-Cideon> Pilfer's writhing successfully dislodges the crow. It flutters down, towards the street, before regaining control and crash-landing on the tavern's roof. It struggles to its feet and *caws* in an annoyed manner from across the street.
* Pilfer leaps back, brandishing the crow in his hands like a religious talisman.
<Pilfer> "Take that, you feathery menace!"
* Pilfer looks at the bird in his hands.
<El-Cideon> Another caw, this one from up the roof behind him. Down the street, voices sound. One male, one female.
<Pilfer> "Was that you? Did you call for help?"
* Pilfer spins to face the new, presumably belligerent, bird.
<El-Cideon> The new bird flaps its wings, thrusts its head forward in a threatening manner, and *caws* again.
<El-Cideon> Inside, the two young men sound like they're talking politics now. General rabble-rousing stuff--screeds against East Riding and the like.
* Pilfer 'ports across the street and sticks his tongue out at his (now distant) avian nemesis.
* Nemesio has the time to waste while waiting for more of their friends to arrive, or for those two to leave elsewhere.
<El-Cideon> Below Pilfer, the two voices enter the tavern unseen.
<El-Cideon> Two more teenagers walk into the main room of the tavern. A girl, slight of build, with hair that looks the green of sea-foam in the dim light of the pub, and a boy, slightly taller, and blond. The blond walks immediately to the young men in the corner. The girl stops and scans the room for a moment.
* Nemesio raises a mug to greet her, smiling cockily.
* Derrick looks up, looks to see who Nemesio took notice of, then nods at her politely and goes back to his drink.
<El-Cideon> Meanwhile, Pilfer's winged nemeses make an attempt to follow him. One hops along the roof of the tavern, the other flies to the building next to Pilfer's.
<Pilfer> "Back off! I've got a hostage!"
* Pilfer backs away, glancing around for another option.
<El-Cideon> The girl raises an eyebrow at Nemesio--there's no look of recognition there, and this seems to bother her. She turns back to her friends after a moment, though, immediately growing livid. "What are you doing?" she hisses to the elder, pushing between them and confiscating the mugs. "He should not be drinking. Do you want to die?"
<El-Cideon> Pilfer notes that the roof offers no convenient weaponry for his use. He could try prying lose a weathered board from the roof, but he'd have to release his captive.
<Nemesio> Nemesio's amusement seems to visibly grow as the girl appears troubled, and he visibly shifts his attention towards her, even as he continues making small talk with Derrick.
<El-Cideon> Over the protestations of her comrades, the girl turns, looks over the room again, then walks directly over to Derrick and Nemesio's table.
<El-Cideon> Outside, the birds on either side go eerily quiet.
<Nemesio> "Hi there," he tells her, and nods at an empty seat Madda occupied previously. "Care to join us?"
* Pilfer pricks his ears, alert to some new beaked treachery.
<Derrick> Derrick continues in the small talk as well, but breaks off as the girl approaches, "Hello."
<El-Cideon> The girl slams the half-full mugs down on the table. She doesn't respond to any greetings, just looks over the two of them for a long moment, then says, all imperious seriousness, "On the house," she says before turning back to her friends.
<El-Cideon> 2d8
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 and gets 12." [2d8=5, 7]
<El-Cideon> Something whistles through the air several feet away from Pilfer.
* Derrick looks over at Nemesio and tries not to crack up laughing
<Pilfer> "Yow!"
* Pilfer dodges away from the missile and glances upwards.
* Nemesio touches his own mug to the half-empty ones, before drinking more of the watered-down ale.
<El-Cideon> The green-haired girl tosses a coin to the (now surprisingly alert) barkeep, who catches it easily. Then, Miss Sea-Foam addresses her friends in the same tone with which she'd addressed Derrick and Nemesio. "We've sent everyone else on already, so stop wasting time." They prepare to move out. Heading for the door, the girl seems to make a point of not looking at Derrick and Nem.
* Nemesio makes sure he has left plenty of cash behind to account for a nice tip to Madda, and stands up to follow. He also makes sure to look directly at the green-haired girl, not concealing the fact.
<El-Cideon> Outside, Pilfer spots Crow #4 some ways above him, apparently having just made a failed bombing raid. Those on either side of Pilfer take advantage of the distraction and take off, headed straight for him!
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for Death Bird A!
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for Death Bird A! and gets 11." [2d8=8, 3]
* Derrick adds a coin to Nemesio's batch, and stands as well
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for Death Bird B!
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for Death Bird B! and gets 15." [2d8=8, 7]
<El-Cideon> But both of the birds veer wide of their target and miss the lucky thief!
<El-Cideon> The group of teenagers shuffles outside, back into the street, and immediately turn westwards as one.
* Pilfer 'ports backwards another rooftop, keeping all three Damned Birds in his field of vision, and listening for any more behind him.
* Nemesio tails them, once again being entirely obvious about it.
* Derrick once again follows along, generally looking like a lacky.
<El-Cideon> The crows settle on the rooftop just vacated by Pilfer, and set up an annoyed chorus. Meanwhile, green-hair and her friends move on determinedly and without glancing back--though the occasional gesture from the girl or the blond man would suggest the others need reminding not to be so obvious.
* Pilfer narrows his eyes at his opponents and tucks his captive securely under one arm.
* Nemesio continues from a close enough distance that should they try to evade pursuit, running up to them would allow he and Derrick to keep their targets within sight.
* Pilfer follows Nemesio and Derrick, at a further remove, and with considerable reliance on 'porting from rooftop to rooftop, his progress slowed by his need to keep an eye on the Damned Birds.
<El-Cideon> The youngsters set a course out of this neighborhood and follow it without deviation, moving dead west. Every now and then one glances this way or that, only to be nudged back into cooperation by the blond or the girl. Every now and then she peers up at the roofline, where a raucous collection of avians seems to be tailing the group.
<El-Cideon> The birds themselves take no further action in regards to Pilfer, save following and keeping an eye on him.
* Pilfer casts a speculative eye at his captive.
<El-Cideon> The captive bird merely blinks back at Pilfer, docile and seemingly curious.
<El-Cideon> Trailing the group on foot has led Nemesio and Derrick into a nearly-ruined district on the very edge of the city proper. Abandoned warehouses and the like slump all around them, remants of businesses that were unable to adapt when trade turned outward towards Kalbemarle and Corentin twenty years ago.
<Nemesio> "So, this is either our destination, or we have been led into a trap," Nemesio comments to Derrick quietly.
<Pilfer> "Damned birds," Pilfer mutters.
<Derrick> "I'm going to assume it's the former, but be ready for the latter."
<El-Cideon> The four stop in front of one particular warehouse, this one in somewhat better shape than the others. Oh, there are certainly signs of disrepair, weathered boards, peeling paint and the like, but it's one of the few structures around that doesn't need to be condemned. A wide double-door stands strong at the front. (more)
<El-Cideon> The shortest of the group steps up to this door, concentrates for a moment, then places his hands against it. Then, he spreads them apart, and a circle of empty space seems to spiral into existence within the matter of the door. He steps through the newly-made opening, as do his companions behind him. The girl stops, turns, looks straight at Nemesio and offers him a pointed smirk before enterting. The door snaps back to normal behind her.
* Nemesio frowns. "Well, let's see about that door," he says, before going and trying to open it.
* Derrick eyes Nemesio and then shrugs, "Perhaps we should try, oh, knocking?"
<El-Cideon> The wood may be old and weatherbeaten, but the door itself is quite thick. A heavy lock has been fitted around the handles, rendering them immobile.
<Nemesio> "Go for it."
* Derrick walks up and knocks on the door
* Nemesio explores the outside of the building, circling it and looking for a window.
<El-Cideon> Knocking on the door produces a heavy, booming echo, but no response otherwise. All the windows are high up near the roof of the building, but there is a smaller door to one side--normal-sized, as opposed to the cart-sized main entrance.
* Pilfer appears abruptly behind Derrick.
* Nemesio tries that door.
<Pilfer> "Hey, I've got a bird. Got a net? Or some rocks?"
<El-Cideon> The handle rattles some, but this door too is securely locked.
* Derrick nearly jumps out of his skin as Pilfer just appears behind him
<Derrick> "GAH!"
<El-Cideon> The crow *caws* softly.
<Pilfer> "See? Damned bird won't shut up."
<Derrick> Spinning, he gives Pilfer a nearly withering glare, "Don't DO that!"
<El-Cideon> Its companions, meanwhile, have settled on the flat roof of the warehouse.
<Nemesio> "This is pointless," Nemesio murmurs as he returns towards Derrick. "Hello there," he tells Pilfer, upon seeing him there. "Got bored on your lonesome?"
<Pilfer> "Look, up there! They're following me!"
* Pilfer leans in close.
<Pilfer> "I think they were with that creepy guy. The one in black."
* Pilfer rubs at the faint claw marks on his forehead.
<Nemesio> "There is a door between us and our goal," Nemesio tells Pilfer, ignoring the crazy talk of birds. "Mind taking a look inside?"
<El-Cideon> The other crows, as if on cue, scatter and vanish as Pilfer exclaims and points them out to his friends.
<Pilfer> "What, go into the duel? Alone?"
<Pilfer> "And use what, harsh language?"
<Derrick> "It's not like you can't get back out again."
<Nemesio> "Your cutting wit would surely wound them deeply."
<Pilfer> "Well, fine, but someone has to hold the Damned Bird. I got scratched for that little feathery bastard."
<Pilfer> "He was *spying* on us."
* Nemesio shrugs. "In any case, if they are inside, kindly ask the princess to step outside for a moment. If they aren't... well, tonight's a bust."
<Pilfer> "Is the princess the one with green hair? I couldn't see very well, 'cause, y'know. Birds."
* Derrick takes the bird from Pilfer, "If you insist."
* Pilfer hands over his bundle of joy.
<Nemesio> "It's not one of the boys," Nemesio says dryly.
* Pilfer sizes up the door.
<El-Cideon> The bird accepts this transfer calmly, even turning its head and cawing obnoxiously at Pilfer as it leaves his company.
<Pilfer> "Any idea how thick it is? Or what's on the other side?"
<Pilfer> "Jumping somewhere I haven't seen is... well, tricky."
<Nemesio> "None, though there is a thinner door around the building," Nemesio says, indicating the position.
<Pilfer> "Doesn't matter how thick it is, except so I can know how far to go..."
<Nemesio> "Try a foot?"
* Pilfer sighs.
* Nemesio turns his attention to the bird now safely in Derrick's hands. "So you were spying on us?" he mentions curiously.
<Pilfer> "If I end up smeared across six dimensions, tell Professor Ferryman that my vengeful ghost will haunt her forever, 'k?"
<El-Cideon> The crow blinks at Nemesio. It seems to favor this sort of response.
* Pilfer concentrates and attempts to jump about three feet forward, hopefully ending up on the far side of the door before him.
<Pilfer> 2d8   ?
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 ? and gets 10." [2d8=7, 3]
<El-Cideon> Success! If someone considers a blatantly empty warehouse success, that is. Well, the structure isn't *entirely* empty. Large piles of dirt mar the bare concrete floor here and there, but that's all the warehouse contains. There's a small office at the far end of the building, but that's the only obvious thing of note.
* Pilfer scans quickly for signs of threatening duelists.
<El-Cideon> If there are any human beings aside from Pilfer himself in this structure, they are either hiding in the office, or buried under a pile of dirt.
* Pilfer 'ports back outside for a moment.
<Pilfer> "I'll go check the back door, see if you two can get in that way. Where was it, exactly? It's kinda dark in there."
* Nemesio gives the directions again.
<Nemesio> "Any chance of the princess listening on the other side, and be willing to grace us with her presence?" Nemesio asks the crow to pass the time while Pilfer explores further.
<El-Cideon> The crow offers no response, but merely ruffles its feathers at Pilfer's reappearance.
* Pilfer ports back inside and carefully explores the building, seeking the approximate location of the rear entry.
<Nemesio> "We'll do this the hard way, then," Nemesio says, sounding mildly disappointed.
<El-Cideon> The side door is actually near the front of the building, on the side to Nemesio and Derrick's left.
<El-Cideon> From the inside, it's just a matter of turning a switch on the inside of the door--obviously some kind of safety in case some fool worker got himself locked in. It's rusty, but should still work.
<Pilfer> "There. Y'know, we coulda just picked the lock on the front..." Pilfer says, hauling the door open.
<El-Cideon> The door opens with the loud creak of heavily oxidized hinges, but lets in a good amount of light once fully open.

[Sierra]

Nemesio's evening:

<El-Cideon> It is early evening by the time Nemesio arrives back on the grounds of Margranth. The sun is still up, but beginning to wane and the ocher hue of sunset starts to tint the sky. The three students part ways on the commons at the center of the grounds, deciding to meet again in the morning.(more)
<El-Cideon> At this hour, most students are likely off the grounds or in their dormitories. There may yet be a few lingering in the library--likely for private research or enlightenment, given how late in the term it is--and a few professors may still be found in their offices in the academic buildings.
* Nemesio racks his mind for any socially-active student in the age bracket the green-haired mage seemed to be. After a moment's thought, he decides to settle on a male staying at the dormitaries, since a man would surely be far more impressed with such a specimen.
<El-Cideon> Finding a male in the appropriate age bracket should not be difficult at the dorms; the doors are not closed this early in the evening and one could expect to find a number of individuals loitering just outside or in the lobby. Of the school's three dormitories, the Green and Blue are essentially interchangeable: filled with students who paid to get into the academy or those whose harmless but useful innate talents got them in.(more)
<El-Cideon> The West dorm is something different. Those more likely to be dangerous to themselves or others if not properly trained, and thus forced into the University, are housed here, usually in individual apartments. More than likely it will prove tougher to get them to cooperate.
<El-Cideon> Several possibilities present themselves: One Morris Toby, a student of the natural sciences of some marginally above average talent, resides in the Blue dorm to the northwest, somewhat introverted but of the proper age; Anthony Crimaen, reportedly living in the same building, is an outgoing sportsman who would seem to stand a good chance of being knowledgeable; and Yase Lavael, an artist and romantic living in the Green dorm.
<Nemesio> The romantic it is, Nemesio decides, heading off to pay Yase a visit.
<El-Cideon> It isn't a far walk from the main commons the south dorm. Younger students play games in the grass while the older ones tend to cluster in sitting areas discussing politics, philosophy, current events, and the best drinking dens in which to get really hammered with the lowest chance of accompanying thievery. Asking around makes it apparent that Yase is in his third floor apartment (his "studio," he calls it).
* Nemesio heads straight towards the studio, and knocks on the door, making himself appear mildly exasperated as he does so.
<El-Cideon> Yase opens the door without even asking who was knocking and leaves the door open as he motions Nemesio inside. He's a lanky lad with black hair and a face that is almost unnervingly animated as he speaks. "Nemesio," he says, clenching a fist. "Goddess, my debts have come to call at last, haven't they?" he laughs and sits on a beat-up chair amidst a veritable forest of easels. "What can I do for you?"
<Nemesio> "Nothing much," Nemesio responds. "I was in the area, and figured we could have a nice chat about nothing in particular. How are your studies?"
<El-Cideon> Yase rolls his eyes dramatically. "My studies...well, they proceed. My work, now..." He smacks an open palm on his thigh, and gestures to the cluttered room around him. "My work is in full bloom. But alas, you cannot have one without the other; education is something I simply must suffer for my art." He looks at Nemesio slyly. "I do thank you for helping me with it, of course."
<Nemesio> "Of course," Nemesio confirms, nodding. "Mind if I take a seat?" Without waiting for an answer, he finds a relatively clean area and follows his words. As he makes himself comfortable, Nemesio asks, "Education and art, tied together with a gordian knot. Inseparable, just as much as artists and models."
* Nemesio looks around the room to check for any paintings of women while he speaks.
<El-Cideon> Yase seems to paint all manner of subjects--landscapes, architectural studies, but also portraits. He's very good at capturing the human likeness even at this young age. Men and women are about equally represented in the portraits; there are a few representations of Fyrdaella as well and he seems to have an almost disturbingly erotic taste for the Goddess Above.(more)
<El-Cideon> Yase grins. "Now that is an insinuation if I've ever heard one. What's up, old man?" He manages a look of concern. "I didn't take one of yours, did I?"
<Nemesio> "I don't know," Nemesio drawls out, as his gaze seems to zero in on the most tasteful yet blatantly erotic painting of the Goddess that Yase has. "I wouldn't call her one of mine. She might take offense, perhaps. But this story, like all good ones, does indeed involve a girl."
<El-Cideon> Yase follows Nemesio's gaze and he actually seems to blush a little, on top of a clear Din't Mean To Leave That One Out expression. "Well, you're right enough on that last detail," he says, picking up a cloth as if to cover up the particular painting. "Carry on then, can't stop me from listening to the right sort of tale."
<Nemesio> "To make a painfully long story short, I met a girl in a bar, and she left me a challenge. I intend to be there to respond to it, of course." Nemesio details the girl to the best of his memory, which is indeed quite sharp. "First step, a surprise attack. It would not quite be a surprise if I looked for her all over campus, however."
<El-Cideon> Yase's expression is one of clear recognition not long into the description. "Oh, I've seen her around, yeah. Must be the same age as me, as I know she was in a couple general classes when I first got here, but haven't met her again since my studies have been more specialized." He shrugs. "Whatever she's studying here, it isn't art."(more)
<El-Cideon> "I gathered she spent a lot of time in the magic building. This challenge...it *is* the sort of conquest that ends in the bedroom, I hope. You don't want to pick a fight with another mage when you're this close to being finished, right? As for her name, I can't recall. I didn't know her; don't get me wrong, she's a striking lass but she has that look of being angry all the time. Not to my taste, that."
<Nemesio> "Ah, but did you not see her eyes? They beg someone brave enough to look past the palpable aura of keeping people away, and wipe that anger off her face."
<El-Cideon> Yase chuckles. "Well, if you think you're the fellow do it, Nemesio, I suspect you're a braver man than I."
<Nemesio> "She bought me a drink. Clearly, I am indebted to her gravely." Nemesio leans back in his seat. "I need to find her, and quick. How do I go about doing that, without letting her catch on?"
<El-Cideon> Yase inspects his handiwork wistfully before letting the cloth drop over the painting of Fyrdaella. "Where'd you meet her? Any chance she'd show again there? All else fails, ask around the West dorm. Someone spends as much time in the Magic building as I recall, she might be stabled there with the other troublemakers. Then again, I guess that might fall under 'too obvious.'"
<Nemesio> "About that favor," Nemesio mentions, crossing his legs. "Would you agree that someone entirely unrelated would get away with this far better than myself? Perhaps, if this someone insinuated sharing the same class?"
<El-Cideon> Yase looks stricken for a moment, before breaking out into another melodramatic gesture, hands to the sky. "Ah, so the hammer falls! I can try and talk her up next time I happen to see her, but that's not often these days. What would you have me do, exactly? March up and declare my undying love, hope she doesn't filet me on the spot?"
<Nemesio> "Name and schedule, perhaps a room number? This helpful someone would not even need to directly contact the beautiful if dangerous green-tressed creature."
<El-Cideon> Yase sighs. "Ho, well...I could chat up a lass I know, works as an understudy in the administrative building here sometimes, training to be a..." he shudders dramatically, "...file clerk. Waste of a wondrous being. Only...how soon do you want an answer on this?"
<Nemesio> "A waste, indeed," Nemesio agrees somberly, before responding to the question with one of his own. "How soon could you have it?"
<El-Cideon> Yase scratches his chin, and then rests his head on his palm. "Ah, well...would it trouble you overly much to wait until the morning? Some of the ladies, they get upset if you leave while they're alseep." He grins. "Caused me some trouble in the past..."
<Nemesio> "The morning it is, then," Nemesio agrees. "Just remember, the game's up if this tracks back to our mysterious friend." He stands up, and eyes the now-covered painting. "I would like to purchase this," Nemesio tells Yase, though his voice does not make it sound quite like the request his own words seem to phrase.
<El-Cideon> Yase looks blindsided by the sudden change in subject. "Well, that one," he says, waving his hands, "...I didn't really make it for sale."
<Nemesio> "It is very nice," Nemesio muses. "A gift, then?"
<El-Cideon> A frown, then a look of resignation. "In a few days? Let me make another sketch so I can reproduce it for myself."
<Nemesio> "You are the artist," Nemesio responds, looking at Yase with what one might recognize as amusement if they are particularly close to him. "Alright. I believe I've taken enough of your time this evening already." He sets a time and place for a meeting with Yase in the morning, and waits on either an affirmative response, or a better proposal.
<El-Cideon> Yase nods, then stands up and shakes Nemesio's hand to seal the deal. "Of course, tomorrow morning will be fine...a few days for the painting, of course. Thursday I think I can have it done. Fare thee well for now, Nemesio." He grins. "Wish me luck as well, of course."
* Nemesio raises an eyebrow. "You need it? Perhaps I came to the wrong person...."
<El-Cideon> A laugh. "No worries, Nemesio. I'll have what you need. My skill in this area is only exceeded by my total lack of modesty, I assure you."
* Nemesio snorts. "Nice to hear that." He stands up, brushing dust both real and imagined off his clothes. "Be nice to your friend."
<El-Cideon> Yase grins and shows Nemesio out. "Nemesio, I am always nice to my friends," he says before closing the door.
<Nemesio> Nemesio decides to go home for the time being, and regroup with the others tomorrow at a prearranged meeting point.
<El-Cideon> Day fades into night as Nemesio arrives back at the Kleosterr estate in East Riding. The lady and master of the house are nowhere to be seen, most likely retired to their room early, as is usual. One of the servant girls directs Nemesio to the greenhouse, where Ataraxis sits reading.
<Nemesio> "I hope that's not very interesting," Nemesio says by way of greeting, a nod of his head indicating Ataraxis's reading material, "because I was hoping to steal you away for a few minutes."
<El-Cideon> Ataraxis leans her head back in her chair, looking at Nemesio upside down. "It's horrid," she says, shaking her long mane of brown hair. She closes the book and gets up. "You have my eternal gratitude for the interruption. What's happening?"
<Nemesio> "Exam fatigue, perhaps," he muses, stepping closer to offer her a hand. "I can see no other reason for my folly."
<El-Cideon> Ataraxis takes the proferred hand, and wraps her fingers around it in a friendly fashion as she stands. "Oh?" she says. "What mischief have you got yourself into this time, then?"
<Nemesio> "I offered to help a complete stranger, with nothing in it for me to gain," Nemesio says, looking incredibly sad. "Your mother would have a stroke if she heard those words, I fear, so help me keep my shameful secret, my dear Ataraxis!"
<El-Cideon> A grin. "I will add it to the collection. So what, may I ask, has this shameful vice of indulging in basic human decency cost you, then?" She walks along, occasionally touching some imported Kalben flowers in full bloom.
<Nemesio> Nemesio's expression briefly changes as his gaze falls on the flowers, but he shakes his head and forces himself to step past them. "A job on campus," Nemesio says, keeping his eyes on Ataraxis's face. "Nothing too fancy. But nothing requiring too much expertise, either, unless it is in the field of domestic arts such as cooking."
<El-Cideon> Ataraxis looks serious. She sighs. "Not difficult, but you know I must ask what exactly you did that made you feel compelled to help this poor girl. It is a girl, I take it?"
<Nemesio> "Of course." He smirks. "My one weakness, damsels in distress." A bit more serious, now, Nemesio continues, "It was a spur of the moment. I did not like the way she was being treated, groped like property. A life without a future, and she was not far enough gone she couldn't realize it herself." He smiles whimsically. "Where would I be, if someone didn't do the same for me, once upon a time?"
<El-Cideon> Ataraxis nods, very seriously, at this last comment. "You know, Nemesio, there may be hope for you yet," she says, with a trace of humor. "Consider it done. Next time I am at the University, at least. I will let you know."
<Nemesio> "You were in doubt?" he asks, feigning hurt in his voice.
<El-Cideon> Ataraxia *tsks*. "Ah, I wounded with you that barb, didn't I? No worries, you will heal and become stronger for it, I am sure."
<Nemesio> "I might be beyond the point of recovery," he says sadly. "The grave wounds from my encounter with Sherise's sharp wit were still too fresh."
<El-Cideon> "But Nemesio," she says, grinning. "Do you not have the healing touch?"
* Nemesio raises both eyebrows at that, a grin finding its way onto his face as well.
<El-Cideon> Ataraxia laughs. "Don't worry, Nemesio. You'll outmaneuver me some day, I'm sure." She turns to look outside. "How went your day aside from random acts of charity, then?"
<Nemesio> "I sadly did not get a chance to practice my healing touch, but I might get a second chance tomorrow," he muses, the smile refusing to fade. "And yourself? We missed you at that dinner. Oh, how you were missed!"
<El-Cideon> "University business, Nemesio. You know how it is. Mother and father will not let anything stand in the way of my appointment, not even a Very Important dinner with our social betters. How did that go, I have to ask? One of the upper Bureau chiefs, wasn't he?"
<Nemesio> "Our social betters have a strange child," Nemesio responds, the smile fading, before a seeming non-sequitur follows his words. "What have you heard about living mechanical dolls? I believe they were made by...." Nemesio thinks back hard, before finally being able to provide a name.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, Brunell, isn't that it? Fellow who fixed the clock tower, I think? Yes, there are a few of those about...I can't say I know how he makes them. I'm not sure anyone does, actually. His name comes up once in a while among my University associates, and I gather the Registry is very strict about how many of these devices he can make, and who gets them."(more)
<El-Cideon> "Did they bring the device with them? I'd have liked to have seen that."
<Nemesio> "Now that is the question, my dear Ataraxis," Nemesio says, a ghost of a smile returning to his lips. "Did they bring the device with them?"
<El-Cideon> Ataraxis pauses, and turns to Nemesio. "You don't think they commissioned an artifical daughter, and they brought her here to have roast beef in our dining room? How positively scandalous that would be...Curious."
<Nemesio> "Oh, I know they commissioned an artificial daughter, Ataraxis," he responds. "The question is entirely whether she was the one I met."
<Nemesio> (more)
<Nemesio> "Girls of that age are strange, mysterious creatures, as I've told your parents," Nemesio continues. "As a decent member of... humanity, I suppose, I would normally have no reason to be around them long enough to map out all their quirks, nor do I hold any desire to. And thus, the question remains... did I meet a strange human daughter who spoke of a mechanical sister, or that sister?"
<El-Cideon> A frown, and a moment's thought. "Well, I can't say I've seen one of these constructions--or so I *assume* I haven't seen any--but I know the Registry people get all jittery about them looking *too* much like a normal person. And why shouldn't they? Can you imagine it, fake people running around?"
<Nemesio> "It would depend entirely on where they are running to, I suppose," Nemesio responds, shrugging. "I don't see much of a problem with them, but then again, even a modest mage like myself would have the contacts, if not the ability, to handle a doll if it went berserk."
<Nemesio> As he talks, he doesn't even think of making pointless mentions towards keeping this a secret. Such things are implied with Ataraxis, if not outright defining their bond. "Is this something you would like me to look into?" he offers.
<El-Cideon> "If you like. I must admit you've made me curious. Whatever you come across, do share it with me. And I of course will always be ready with the latest University gossip, fresh and steaming from the Star Chamber at Margranth's." She wrinkles her nose. "At least, I hope that's where it comes from."
<Nemesio> "In that case, do keep an eye and an ear out for any gossip about the recent string of qualification exams," Nemesio says, feigning nonchalance.
<El-Cideon> A nod. "Of course," she says, no sign that she sees anything unusual about this request.
<Nemesio> It might come somewhat close to lying, too close for his comfort, but Nemesio doesn't want to get Ataraxis too involved with this. If only he was certain he could get by any ambushes by the Chancelor without an insider on his side-- "It might be interesting," he says instead, to keep the conversation going. "The University, reimagined by you. I might just be tempted to stay behind a few years to see that for myself."
<El-Cideon> "Nemesio, the eternal student?" she asks dubiously. "Now, I'm sure you have greater ambitions than that." She doesn't really sound displeased about a scenario involving her running the University, though.
<Nemesio> "My ambitions are ever-shifting," he responds, spreading his arms in a gesture of helpelessness. "Striving to get into the history books for the most lasting education one could gain might well become my driving force!"
<El-Cideon> Another skeptical look. "If so, I am forced to wonder who you are and what you did with Nemesio." She leans forward, looking into Nemesio's eyes. "You're not one of our dreaded constructs, are you? If I step closer--" and she does so, "--will I hear the clicking of little gears in your head?"
* Nemesio freezes as Ataraxis steps in, for one eternal moment. And then, it's all business as usual, with Nemesio placing a hand over his chest. "Beaten at my own game," he says, though he can't make himself seem sad about that fact. "Don't worry, Ataraxis. My ambitions, whatever those pesky things might be, won't take a step without taking you under consideration."
<El-Cideon> A smile, and then she steps back again. "Well," she says, "at the least, it's good to know you're thinking about me. Now...I must sleep in the very near future, if you don't mind my leaving you for the night. Do be sure to tell me any frightening dreams you have about mechanical adolescents in the morning?" She heads for the door.
<Nemesio> "The very idea sends such terror through my being that I shall doubtlessly suppress the evil memories," he calls after her, opting to stay behind amongst the flowers.
<El-Cideon> Ataraxis leaves with a grin and a chuckle, and then Nemesio is alone in the greenhouse.

[Sierra]

Derrick's evening:

<El-Cideon> Separating from his companions just before sunset, Derrick finds himself alone on the central commons of the University. Wracking his brain for an appropriate acquaintance to ask about his current task, one Chartress Stratford springs to mind. Training at the academy for magic and the sciences but also a devout member of the Faith, she can regularly be found on the practice field or in the library, working independantly to further her education.
* Derrick considers. With examinations time being upon us, she would likely be spending less time on the practice field, and as she usually stays up studying just as late as Derrick himself does, she would probably be at the library. Nodding to himself, he heads library-ward.
<El-Cideon> Just a short walk east from the green, the school's library is the most significant such collection of books in the city. Just within the entryway is the front desk, followed by a wide open room filled with tables free for use by students and staff. This open study area extends up two floors, with skylights letting in ample brightness. Racks of books line every wall. Doors to the north and south lead to more specialized collections.(more)
<El-Cideon> Chartress isn't immediately apparent, but the head librarian--a familiar if not exactly personable middle-aged redhead--tends the front desk for anyone with questions.
<Derrick> Walking up to the front desk, Derrick offers the librarian a smile and a nod as he asks in a low voice, "Excuse me ma'am, have you seen Chartress in here this evening?"
<El-Cideon> The woman presents a raised eyebrow and an expression which suggests the thought that only one thing could be going with a young man looking for a young woman, but manages something resembling a smile. "I am beginning to think she means to take up residence here." She points to her left. "She's in the south wing. It'd do her some good to get out a bit, if you can manage that."
<Derrick> Supressing a chuckle at the woman's obvious assumption, Derrick nods, "Thank you kindly. And I'll see what I can do, though I'm hardly one to talk about spending too much time in the library."
<Derrick> Turning towards the south wing, he goes in search of his freind.
<El-Cideon> The woman nods and goes back to her work. The south wing is much like the central area, though more closed-in and jam-packed with books. Much of the area is devoted to observational study of the natural world; books on the theory of magic and its use are also found here (a sometimes related subject).(more)
<El-Cideon> Derrick finds Chartress in one of the rooms devoted to biology and ecology, heaving a stack of books down onto a table. The only other inhabitant of the room is a lanky blond man vaguely recognizable as a researcher commonly seen about the magic/science buildings.(more)
<El-Cideon> Chartress is tall for a girl her age, with rather dull brown hair and a face which is plain but has a look of being open and honest about it. She coughs, brushes off dust, and then smiles on noticing Derrick. "Hey, who let you out?" she says in a comradely manner.
<Derrick> Chuckling, he shrugs, "Oh, it's not so much a 'letting me out' as a 'me dragging myself back in' today, I'm afraid. Don't know if you've heard about the new examinations yet, but they're rather exhausting."
<El-Cideon> Chartress shakes her head. "I haven't. That's not for junior students like me to worry about. That particular trouble is all yours, Derrick." She sits down, honestly looking somewhat bleary-eyed. "Though feel free to tell me," she says conspiratorialy. "It'll be good to know in a couple years."
<Derrick> Raising an eyebrow at her obvious tiredness, he holds out his hand, "Alright then, walk and talk. You look like you've been in here all day, and you'll turn into a mushroom if you stay here much longer. Don't worry though, the vile ball of brightness is setting even as we speak, so it's safe out there."
<Derrick> With someone else, he might have been a little less sarcastic, but he figures that Chartress is used to his deadpan style of humor by now.
<El-Cideon> "But I like mushrooms," she says, glancing back at the books and then deciding Someone Else can pick them up. "They're fascinating. They can grow up overnight, you know. And sometimes my mother says I did too...and now I'm rambling." She blinks at the dying sunlight as the two of them reach the outdoors.
* Derrick laughs, "A sure sign that you've had books as your only company for a little too long in one sitting. Trust me, I know all about it. Anyway, you first, what were you studying so in depth that you lost track of time in there?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, it was a catalogue of wasteland creatures," she says. "That blond fellow pointed it out to me. That one's not actually for my studies, but it *was* interesting to read. And the sketches!" She shakes her head. "Just dreadful. Hard to believe anything lives out there, much less, well, monsters, for lack of a better word."
<Derrick> "Hmm. Well, at least those monsters have the decency to look the part, from the sketches I've seen. Far preferable to the monsters we have running about parts of the city here that you can't pick out from the normal folks, I'd think."
<Derrick> Shaking his head, he turns towards some manner of garden/green area to walk about in for awhile, "Though even considering that I'd still much rather read about them in a book then be introduced to one in person. The Waste is one place I have no interest in visiting."
<El-Cideon> Chartress nods at that. "True enough, though it always seems hard to tell who those monsters are. Whoever you ask, you get a different answer. And you're right enough on that last point. If only I could fly, it'd make looking safer at least." There are a number of pleasant garden/sitting areas with stone walkways around the library and academic buildings. Steering south would give a better view of the sunset.
* Derrick does in fact steer south, he was only joking about being allergic to the sun, after all. "Flight would certainly be a fun magic to possess. Though no chance I could ever make mine do something like that. In fact...I can't think of anyone off of the top of my head who does. I'm sure someone can though. Shows how well I know the other students, I suppose."
<El-Cideon> She nods. "Truth be told, I know more of the other science students myself than those also studying magic. Sometimes I think to try myself," she says. She waves a hand at a scrap of paper left by some careless student and it whirls away as if caught in an updraft; this also causes Chartress's long dress to flap audibly. "Got to stop doing that," she mutters. "But I am not about to hop off a roof by way of experimentation, you know?"
<Derrick> Chuckling slightly and nodding as well, Derrick most certainly understands not just wanting to try out one's powers wildly, "Oh, certainly. After all, if you can manage to get the wind to pick you up, you can likely do it as well from a standing start as from a freefall. Experiment in controlled conditions and all that. About how much can you make the wind lift now anyway?"
<El-Cideon> "Enough to play pranks on unsuspecting teachers haughty enough to hand out exams in a class with me in it...but sadly I think I've run out of those." She thinks. "I caught a cat that had fallen off a roof once, but I had headache for some hours afterward. (I know tradition says the poor creature would've landed on its feet, but I can't leave something like that to chance, you know?)"(more)
<El-Cideon> "So not a great deal," she sighs. "I can keep it up for long enough, but I can't move much."
<Derrick> "Well, since coming here I've gone from fixing scratches taking effort to being able to fix a sword wound through the gut if I get to it fast enough, so keep at it and you will get better. But you know that, of course. And I suppose that would make it my turn to talk now, hmm? Oh, you'll just *love* these new exams, I'm sure." Looking around for a nice bench or the like, he stretches a bit and then sits down(more)
<Derrick> "Well, for starters, I'm being tested in thing I haven't studied. We're being given assignments and expected to carry them out with little to no information, though 'the methods are entirely up to us', which is as much of a pain as a boon, really. Just for the first one, we've been assigned what amounted to detective work and now we're doing more of that mixed with what I like to call Extreme Problem Solving. Sounds all kinds of fun, no?"
<Derrick> "Oh, yes, and it's a group effort now. From what I understand, all three of us pass, or all three of us fail. Encourages teamwork and all that."
<Derrick> Sighing, as he's well aware of how much it sounds like he's whining, Derrick looks over at Chartress with a slight shake of his head, "Don't get me wrong here, I have no objection to difficult tests. But being tested on things I haven't taken classes for is a little irritating, to say the least."
<El-Cideon> Chartress sits down next to Derrick and sighs. "So that's what I've got to look forward to in two years, I guess. City's going outright bonkers, isn't it? The Westborough lot says the Registry's obsolete, so the Registry lot makes a newspaper and calls them traitors. Then the Westborough lot makes a newspaper and calls the other newspaper a lot of traitors. It wasn't always like this, was it?"(more)
<El-Cideon> "So, your tests. Who's running them, anyway?"
<Derrick> "Well, I've got Instructor Ferryman, but if I'm right, every group will have someone different. Also no information about a test before you get it, and it could be anything. It's...I dont' know, it feels like we're being prepared for something a bit...different then simply joining normal society, and I don't think I like that."
* Derrick shrugs, "Doubtlessly you're right though. It has something to do with the state of politics in the city. I know the Chancellor tried to recruit me for the Registry already, before the testing. Something is going on, and it's only going to get worse before it gets better."
<Derrick> Leaning back, he stares up at the stars and adds in a low voice, almost a whisper, "I only hope the Faith remains untouched by whatever is going on."
<El-Cideon> Chartresse nods, and stares off into space for a moment. "I think you're right. There's something in the air lately, makes people mad...Is there anyone you can talk to about this? It certainly isn't normal."
* Derrick shakes his head, "No. The exams are a board decision. My only option of protest is to leave and allow the Faith to finish my training and education. You've got that option too, if you want to use it, you know. Even if you don't have my connections there, I'll use them for you if you want out of here. I'm not going to take that road, though. That would mean I failed here, and you know how I get about that."
<Derrick> "Lady Above, even Insturctor Ferryman doesn't like doing this. I'm not sure I trust her any more then any of the other magical instructors at the moment, but her dislike of the new exams is clear enough."
<El-Cideon> A nod, and a gentle pat on the arm. "I'll remember. I can't imagine they'd have much interest in me, really. I'm a scientist who knows a little magic, not a mage who knows a little science."
<Derrick> "Who can say who the Registry would be interested in, especially if they get more desperate. But enough speculation for one evening, I suppose. I still need to figure out who I'm trying to track down for my second test, after all. More detective work, oh joy of joys."
<El-Cideon> Chartresse shakes her head. "I still can't figure out why they've got you looking for total strangers, but what's this little quest about?"
<Derrick> Derrick pauses, "It...I'll tell you all about it when I pass this part? That okay? It's..." he drops his voice and leans in, "to be honest, what they've got us doing now is practically police work, so I'm not comfortable giving details until it's all said and done. Just right now I'm supposed to be looking for a mage student here, a green haired girl with an attitude problem is all I really know of her."
<El-Cideon> A wary look. "Green hair? Color of sea foam in the morning, about my age?"
<Derrick> Derrick raises an eyebrow, "Yes, that sounds about right. You know her?"
<Derrick> "Bit more poetic sounding then she deserves, from what I know of her, but that was the shade, yes."
<El-Cideon> "I know of her. If it's who I'm thinking of, she was under the same instructor as I was in a few magic training classes. Imelda...what was her last name? Something very imperious-sounding when said altogether. Brighttree? I can't recall. Something with a B." She shakes her head. "She's trouble, Derrick. I"m glad you explained why you were looking for her, or I'd've thought you were chasing the wrong kind of girl."(more)
<El-Cideon> And then, a suspicious look. "That isn't the case, I take it?" It's hard to tell if she's being serious or joking.
* Derrick laughs, "Oh, I assure you, I want only as much to do with her as it takes to pass my exam. Everything I know about her just makes me more and more glad I don't know her any better." He pauses, and gives Chartress a half-teasing grin, "I assure you, all the time I spend Dockside has not degraded my taste so much."
<El-Cideon> Derrick's companion responds with a laugh of her own. "Don't worry, I know you better than to think that. Well, I hope I helped somewhat. Seem to recall she said she's the daughter of some upstart trader in Westborough, but that's pretty much all I know about her. Other than that..." a chuckle. "Well, if you get in any trouble, I probably don't have to tell you of all people who to turn to."(more)
<El-Cideon> She looks up at the darkening horizon. "Think we've got enough sun for one day?"
<Derrick> Derrick stands, and offers her his hand again, "Oh, I've walked up and down a goodly portion of the city today, so I've have more then my share. You could probably stand some more, though. But in all seriousness, try not to spend quite so much time in there without taking a break. Even the librarian was worried about you when I came in."
<El-Cideon> Chartress stands, looking surprised. "Colleen's worried about someone? I am overdoing it." She sighs. "My bed is calling me, I'm sure. I must look dreadful right now."
* Derrick walks with her as far as the entrance of the girl's dorm, "Oh, you look tired and like you've had your nose stuck in a book all day, but I'd hardly call that dreadful."
<El-Cideon> She sighs. "I'd guess the best thing to call it is 'normal,' then. Oh well. Good night, Derrick." She crosses her arms across her chest, palms flat over her shoulders. "Providence."
* Derrick returns the gesture, "Providence. And sleep well. I'll be sure to let you know how this next batch of tests goes."
<El-Cideon> Chartress vanishes into her apartment, leaving Derrick alone in the evening starlight.
* Derrick thinks to go share what he's found out with Nemesio...but then realizes that he really has no idea how to go about finding him.
<Derrick> Shrugging, he heads back to his own room, "I'll see him over breakfast, I'm sure."

[Sierra]

Part B:

<El-Cideon> Yase meets Nemesio on the central commons of the University on the morning of Tuesday the 2nd. The youth looks rather haggard, as though the night's interrogation didn't go entirely as planned, and he approaches Nemesio with a rather sheepish expression.
<Nemesio> "Is it too early to say 'just as planned'?" Nemesio questions Yase.
<El-Cideon> Yase manages a rueful chuckle. "Aye, well, you know how women are. My friend, she got right suspicious when I started asking her about another girl...She knew just who I was talking about, though. *Before* she thought to slap me, she let slip that your girl's presently stabled in an apartment just outside the University."(more)
<El-Cideon> "Been some talk about forcing her back on-campus--used to live in the West dorm, I think my friend said, and letting her move out was a near thing given her record."
<Nemesio> "She has connections, then, to be able to get the move approved?" Nemesio muses out loud.
<El-Cideon> A shrug. "A big enough donation to the University, and they'll consider just about anything. If she has rich parents, well, that's it. Money only takes you so far, though--this girl's got a record of being a troublemaker; my friend said too much more and they'll force her back into the dorm to keep an eye on her. Sort of a trial run situation, I guess?"
<Nemesio> "And you have a name to go with the face and, perhaps, an address?"
<El-Cideon> "I gather the apartment's in a building just south of the University--there's a popular one used by a lot of students with better-off parents, or those who normally live out in the countryside. It's at the meeting of Songstress and Gable streets, on the corner."(more)
<El-Cideon> This is where Yase starts to look embarassed again. "I couldn't get you a name, though. Sorry about that...my girl up and took offense at me asking too much about another one, as I'm sure you can imagine. But it's a start, right? Can't be too many girls with green hair there, I'd imagine."
* Nemesio nods as Yase speaks, noting things down in a small black notebook of his. "You tried," he says, returning his eyes to the artist and placing his notes away. "I appreciate that. If this pans out, we're good."
<Derrick> Heading over to the practice feild after having grabbed an early bite of breakfast, Derrick nods to himself as he sees Nemesio and walks over in that direction, "Ah, good morning."
<El-Cideon> "You're welcome," Yase says. "And I'll have the painting for you...Thursday? If that suits you." He still sounds hesitant to part with it. He peers over at Derrick, now arriving. "Friend of yours?" he says to Nemesio.
<Nemesio> "It does," Nemesio agrees with a brief nod, before adding, "This is Derrick. We share a few classes on the medicinal arts."
* Derrick simply nods to the individual he doesn't know by way of greeting.
<El-Cideon> Yase nods. "Well, I'll be on my way, then. Good luck to you in your conquest, Nemesio."
<Derrick> At the word 'conquest' Derrick simply raises a questioning eyebrow at Nemesio.
* Nemesio looks nonchalant, and waves at Yase as he departs, waiting before they are alone to talk to Derrick.
<El-Cideon> Yase exits, leaving the pair to discuss matters themselves.
<Nemesio> "I believe I have a lead," Nemesio says without preamble. "I was just about to suggest we go and follow up on it."
<Derrick> "Excellent. Shall we wait for Pilfer to show up, or check things out ourselves?" Derrick adds a shrug, "And it's good you got a lead. I asked around abit about the girl myself but didn't manage to get much of anything."
<Nemesio> "She lives off campus," Nemesio mentions, as he begins to walk. "Since Pilfer could not make it, I will presume he hit upon a different lead. We will check back here at the secondary meeting time in a few hours, if that is alright with you?"
<El-Cideon> Suddenly, Pilfer makes his trademark entrance, popping into existence some ways across the green with the usual outrushing of air and making his way towards the other two as soon as he spots them. "Hey, you lot!"
* Derrick was about to speak up, but whatever words were forming simply turn into a half amused chuckle at Pilfer's entrance
<Derrick> "Right on cue. Good morning."
<Nemesio> "Right, then. I believe we should try the direct approach, this time around. Any objections?"
* Derrick looks impressed, "You got enough information to try a direct confrontation off of? Impressive. And no, no objections. Let's go see Miss Imelda and ask her a few questions, hmm?"
<El-Cideon> "Morning it is," he says. "As sharp as ever, I see. I stabled the Damned Bird on the roof of the dorm, if anyone wants to try to interrogate it later. Took some persuading of the groundskeeper, though. Would you believe some people consider crows bad omens?" He rolls his eyes. "Just hope the gent doesn't notice the coins I gave him came from his own pocket. What am I not objecting to?"
<Derrick> "After yesterday, I'm half surprised you don't consider them bad omens."
<El-Cideon> The apartment building specified by Yase is not difficult to find. Several minutes walk south of the University walls, it is a multi-story brick complex of a sort common before the war and still popular for cheap bulk housing. This is a reasonably prosperous part of the city, home to many distinguished professionals and academics.(more)
<El-Cideon> The front door is unlocked and open for visitors to come and go, there apparently being a laid-back and communal atmosphere about the building (no shock, if it's mostly populated by students). There is an open sitting area just inside, and a wall with mailslots for the residents.
<Nemesio> Imelda, was it? As good a place as any to start, Nemesio muses to himself, heading for the mailslots.
<El-Cideon> There is a mailslot for an I. Brightreef on the wall. The label appears to have been added recently, and Miss Brightreef seems to be living on the top floor (the fifth).
* Nemesio makes sure that no other mailslots with a first name starting with I are there.
* Derrick follows Nemesio over and also looks over the mailslots, looking for a name that is imperious looking that starts with a "B". Upon seeing that particular mailslot, he nods to Nemesio, figuring that he saw it as well. "I'll let you lead the way, of course."
<Nemesio> "Alright," Nemesio agrees. "Let's play a game with our new friend."
<El-Cideon> The apartment building is fairly quiet at this time of day--those students without exams today are most likely studying--and the trio ascends the stairs without meeting another soul. Imelda's apartment is at the end of the hallway--it seems she got a corner apartment with a nice view of the street outside.
<Nemesio> And wouldn't she hate to lose it all? Shaking off such thoughts, Nemesio knocks once on the door, then again.
<El-Cideon> There's no response to the first knock. The sound of someone shifting around, as if in bed, can be heard. Something solid and heavy strikes the door in response to the second knock, but no coherent response.
* Nemesio tempts fate by knocking again, even as he motions to the others to take a step back.
* Derrick does indeed take a step back.
<El-Cideon> Footsteps--dragging a bit, as though someone is tired or unsteady, then another thump against the door. "Bugger off, Cronin. It's too early for me to be up and conscious."
* Nemesio knocks a trendy tune against the door in response, seeming amused.
<El-Cideon> Grumbling, now, and someone inside steps back. "I'd give it a rest, unless you want to get those nice new boots of yours soaked through."
* Derrick is trying not to chuckle at Nemesio's antics, though he makes a note about the soaking and expects any trouble she produces to be water based...
<Nemesio> "I'm afraid I'm not wearing any boots, so this no doubt immense gift for soaking them would go to waste," Nemesio comments loudly enough to be heard on the other side of the door.
<El-Cideon> Silence for a moment, then a small whooshing sound and what sounds like water sloshing around. "Who is this?" the girl says eventually.
<Nemesio> "But a door separates us," Nemesio responds. "Open it and find out? What's life without a little mystery?"
<El-Cideon> No trace of humor in her voice. "Longer, usually. Who is this?"
<Nemesio> "Someone who is not leaving, even if their precious footwear get drenched." Nemesio pauses, before his tone loses some of the previous playfulness. "I'm not here for my health. Hear me out, face to face. I'll make it worth your while."
<Derrick> With the sloshing sounds going on in there, Derrick's subconciously folds his hands together as he always does when expecting trouble...
<El-Cideon> A pause, then the turning of a lock. The door opens inward and Imelda steps well back from it. Her green hair is tousled and unkempt, and she's only wearing a nightgown (a light blue tone that sets off her hair nicely). One hand, held away from her and back some as if ready to spring forward, is enveloped in a shifting mass of water. "Expected you to show up at the pub again," she says after a moment, still cautious. "What do you want?"
<Nemesio> "To ask you out. I clearly am incapable of doing that without extensive moral support," Nemesio deadpans, indicating his companions. "Can we talk inside, where I expect a greater deal of privacy rather than the hallway to what is in essence a student dorm?"
<El-Cideon> Nemesio's sense of humor is falling on deaf ears, to judge by Imelda's expression. She retains the same stern, unforgiving look. "Lemme put some damn clothes on first. I'll think about it for a minute." She nudges the door closed with her foot, still wary of any treachery from the outsiders.
<Derrick> Not even Derrick can stop himself from chuckling slightly at the the deadpanned line, though he doesn't say anything, continuing to cultivate the manner of a minion.
<Nemesio> "A shame," Nemesio voices while he waits.
<El-Cideon> The click of the lock again, and what sounds like someone rifling through drawers inside. The trio has a moment to themselves as Imelda presumably changes clothes.
<Nemesio> Figuring that he would merely find her again if she runs, Nemesio is content to merely wait for her to either decide to talk to them or flee.
* Derrick also merely waits, thinking that it's probably a bad idea to discuss anything important out here in the hallway
<El-Cideon> The *click* of the door unlocking again, and Imelda reopens the door. Her new attire is surprisingly fashionable and color-coordinated, if practical: slacks, buttoned shirt, and a vest-like overshirt on top of it. She's still visibly armed with that mass of water, though. "Right. You've earned a couple minutes by finding me. Make 'em worth my time."
* Nemesio is quite visibly unarmed, unless one looks too closely, perhaps. And even then, it'd just be a regular weapon, concealed in his clothing as is customary among quite a few of his contemporaries. He steps inside past the opening Imelda allows, and takes a look around her apartment, not seeming to be in any hurry to speak just yet.
* Derrick also steps in, staying rather close, but not uncomfortably so, to Nemesio, not wanting to get shut outside after he steps in.
<El-Cideon> Imelda steps inside, walks to the window and leans against it. "Inside the doorway's far enough," she says, almost lazily. She eyes the glob of water for a moment and it slithers up and around her arm. It seems to grow larger by the moment. "I don't like what you lot have to say, you get to try drinking Avon Bay, got it?"
<Nemesio> "Oh yes," Nemesio responds. "You are very scary." He takes another sweeping look around. "We don't even get to sit?"
<El-Cideon> "No," she says flatly. "You don't. Make your business apparent while I'm still in the mood to listen."
* Derrick looks rather unimpressed by her display, though he doesn't make any moves of his own just yet.
<Nemesio> "We want in," Nemesio says simply. "Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying you're being sloppy, that certain rumors float all over, ending up being heard in all the wrong ears... you probably figured as much yourself, when strangers began showing up wherever you're at. And while quitting ahead is an option, you don't strike me as the type, so you'll keep on going. In that case, why not let your upperclassmen help get some of the kinks out?"
<El-Cideon> Imelda remains suspicious. "How old are you three? You look like you should be graduating soon. Don't you have more important things to worry about?" She frowns. "You get to play the *real* power games when you're certified. What's your interest in us?"
* Nemesio snorts. "Get played as pawns in real power games, you mean? No thanks."
<El-Cideon> Imelda laughs. It is a short, sharp, and bitter sound. "More fun to lord it over the kiddies, huh? You're not impressing me here, you know."
<Nemesio> "I think something has been lost in the translation, here," Nemesio tells her evenly. "The proposal is for partnership, not a hostile takeover."
<El-Cideon> "Then why don't you explain to me what's in it for us, if you know what we're about?"
* Derrick looks over to Nemesio and raises an eyebrow, "Is this where I come in?"
* Nemesio shrugs. "As good a place as any, really. Be my guest."
<El-Cideon> Imelda looks mildly interested now. "So, what've you got?" she says to Derrick.
<Derrick> Taking a few steps away from Imelda, Derrick very obviously and very slowly pulls out a knife, "I'm keeping my distance here so you don't need to suspect anything funny. Feel free to lob your water at me if you're starting to feel threatened, hmm? Now, the only thing I personally am interested here is entertainment, and duels promise that in abundance. And I believe I have just the thing to...pay for my ticket, if you will." (more)
<Derrick> Drawing the knife out, he quickly slashes a gash down the back of his own arm, something he's done no few times in the past and doesn't even blink from the pain of it anymore, "Observe." Biting one finger slightly, he drips a bit of blood from his finger into the wound...and it begins to heal. Quickly, the drop of blood expands and attaches itself to the edges of the cut(more)
<Derrick> and pulling it back together, healing the whole thing to a faint scar within moments. Looking back up, he wipes off the knife and sheathes it, "I can heal any wound short of a limb being cut off entirely, so long as I reach them before death. Anything your people can do to each other, physically at least, I can make as if it never happened. One more way to dodge suspicions, as well as make things safer overall, hmm?"
<El-Cideon> Imelda nods, as if this is the kind of demonstration she understands. "Huh. Gruesome, but effective. Doesn't that hurt?"
<Derrick> "I'll be frank with you, it hurts like a bitch. But I'm used to it by now, myself. Others...may not be so quick to thank me after healing them, but they'll appreciate it in the long run, I'm sure."
<El-Cideon> Another nod. Imelda picks up a battered mug and fills it with water; with a wave of her arm, the rest of the summoned mass vanishes into the air. She takes a sip from the mug. "We try to avoid leaving too many obvious marks, but I can't say it hasn't happened."
<Nemesio> "An exciting example, but merely one of many where we could use each other's gifts," Nemesio comments. "Wouldn't you say?"
<El-Cideon> She still looks suspicious about Nemesio. "So how about you? And what does the coatrack in back do?" she says, pointing towards Pilfer.
* Nemesio looks amused, even as his eyes briefly lock with hers. "I'm mostly here for the knowledge I possess, I suppose," he drawls out, testing her mind with his. "A variety of semi-useful skills and contacts, and a modest analytical talent."
<El-Cideon> A frown again. "Still say there are better places for you to be using that sort of talent. So tell me, what do you know that we couldn't, and that would be of use to us?"
<Nemesio> "Alright," Nemesio agrees genially. "Using the same location to meet? Don't."
<El-Cideon> Imelda shakes her head. "We know that much. We only start at the pub. And there's nothing illegal about a few students meeting up after classes, is there? No one's going to find the real meet if we don't want them to."
* Derrick almost snorts, "Also, never ever use that phrase where anyone in any position of authority can hear you. Nothing, and I mean nothing, raises suspision like the phrase 'there's nothing illegal about.'"
<Nemesio> "That's hardly all," he continues, measuring his voice so that the more he talks, the more it sounds as if he is addressing a fellow classmate or colleague. "There is much to be said about overconfidence. Yes, there's nothing illegal about students meeting there, but this allows for others to trace you easily, as you admit." He glances at Pilfer, then. "You asked about my other friend, here? He just so happens to have a gift that would
<Nemesio> have allowed him to follow you, had we not been taken by surprise--" Here, Nemesio winces. "A measure of our own overconfidence, I suppose."
<El-Cideon> A smirk towards Derrick. "But you're not in a position of authority, are you?" A glance at Nemesio. "And you claim you're not interested in such. You'd rather not 'Get played as pawns in real power games,' remember? Huh." A nod towards Pilfer. "So what's he do, then?"
<El-Cideon> Pilfer shrugs. "Oh, nothing much." Without further warning, he vanishes and reappears immediately next to Imelda, taking the cup from her hand and then stepping away again (no need to freak her out by remaining in close proximity). "Drink, anyone?"
<El-Cideon> Imelda blinks in surprise, but composes herself quickly. "It's all yours, Mr. Overcoat."
<Nemesio> "We don't mind a free exchange of ideas," Nemesio tells her then, frowning lightly.  "The problem is that we're the ones doing all the talking, here, so far." He pauses. "Let's be frank, and not beat around the bush, here. We bring talents and knowledge you would find useful. You have something we clearly want, or we would be asleep right now, and not seeking out this audience. What needs to happen to move things along?"
<El-Cideon> Imelda crosses her arms over her chest. "You've got enough talent to get in. But if you want to have a hand in directing the group, you're going to have to earn it the hard way like everyone else did. You don't get anything without some sacrifice. That's life." A nod to Derrick "Course, he's probably already sorted that much out."(more)
<El-Cideon> "You show up tonight as usual. I'll make sure you can find us this time. If Cronin agrees, you're in."
* Nemesio glances at Derrick and Pilfer, before saying, "That's fine. Earning things, instead of having them handed down to you? We don't have a problem with that one."
<Derrick> Pausing, Derrick looks over to Imelda and says, "I'll be there to patch people up and watch the fights, not to fight myself. So long as that's clear, I'll be there."
<El-Cideon> A nod to Derrick. "Sure. As long as your comrades know what they're in for." She looks over the group. "Be best if I knew your names before you all showed up."
<Nemesio> "Nemesio, at your service," he tells her, smiling. There is no point in using a fake name, as far as he's concerned.
* Derrick nods, "Derrick."
<El-Cideon> Pilfer sketches an elaborate bow. "Pilfer."
<El-Cideon> A laugh from Imelda. "Great. You guys got last names? I can only assume you know mine by now."
<Nemesio> "But of course," Nemesio responds, the smile staying on even as he gives her his.
<Derrick> Shrugging, Derrick adds on, "Oaks."
<El-Cideon> Pilfer just shrugs at her. "How about Fer? Pil Fer. Yeah."
<El-Cideon> "I'd say that concludes our business for now, then," Imelda says. "If you lot have had your fill of disturbing girls at indecent hours, shuffle off already and wait at the pub at the same time as yesterday."
<Nemesio> "It has been quite pleasant," Nemesio affirms, "and moderately satisfying, especially after that stunt the other night. How about starting with a blank slate at the pub this evening?"
<El-Cideon> A smirk. "It's never that easy, Nemesio. First impressions last for a long time. Be seeing you, then."

[Sierra]

Interlude: Nemesio

<El-Cideon> It is still midmorning when the trio arrives back on the University grounds, soon splitting up to pursue their own interests. Nemesio finds himself in the entryway of the University's library, the largest collection of books in Avontyne. The central room is a grand, open study hall stretching up two floors and lit by skylights.(more)
<El-Cideon> Shelves of books line every visible wall, and to the north and south are other rooms devoted to specific subjects. A thin, middle-aged redhead--a familiar figure in the library, if not on a first-name basis with every student--tends the front desk, answering questions for any who have them and doing rote administrative work.
* Nemesio seeks her out with measured, assured steps. "It appears that I require some assistance," he says quietly enough not to bother people who come to the library to study. "A project has come up that requires me to go over the city's recent history, including any literary works and copies of the newspapers for--" Nemesio thinks back on how long ago that man whose mind he had read was still a respectable member of society.
<Nemesio> "Up to fifteen years, give or take a month," he finishes, shrugging apologetically.
<El-Cideon> The redhead raises an eyebrow. "That's a lot to parse through. Been a busy few years. Though the newspapers only started up eight or nine years ago, and to be honest we didn't immediately consider them worth preserving and only have maybe the past half decade as a result. It's still a lot of work, though. Any way I can help you narrow that search down?"
<Nemesio> "Anything related to our esteemed higher education establishment," Nemesio suggests. "Would that help?"
<El-Cideon> "Well, we do have a number of histories of the University. Most are concerned its founding, pre-war development--what we know of it, at least--and revitalization after the Year of the Long Winter, but there are a few kept moderately up-to-date. The official Chronicle authorized by the administration is dutifully updated whenever we have a new Chancellor, I know that. Peacetime volumes regularly detail campus happenings and staff changes."
<Nemesio> "I would like to start with the chronicles, then, if at all possible," he requests.
<El-Cideon> The librarian stands up. "Of course. This way." She heads across the wide central room to the northern door. It leads to a smaller, mustier hall lined with books and with several long tables running along its length. Small private rooms are spaced along the walls, and to the north there is another door which looks to be sturdily locked.(more)
<El-Cideon> She turns to the shelves at her left soon after entering the northern wing. "Most of our history texts are along this wall here. Sadly we lack much pre-war knowledge, and the few actual texts surviving from the old empire are securely locked away. Fortunately, that's not your concern today." She gestures to a shelf halfway up the wall, in the corner. "You'll find the Chronicle here. I think the last two volumes should encompass the span desired."
<Nemesio> "Thank you," Nemesio says courteously, and begins looking through the archives for any mentions of the now-ruined man.
<El-Cideon> The librarian nods and leaves, noting that she'll be at the front desk in case of further inquiries. The books are conveniently indexed and it is not at all difficult to find mention of one Corran Parrescu.(more)
<El-Cideon> Staff profiles are common in the Chronicle. The earlier entries state that Corran arrived at the University at thirteen, the son of established landowners from the country. He distinguished himself by excelling at his studies and joined the staff not long after graduation. Gregarious and sociable, he proved adept at representing the University ouside the grounds and at fund-raising, and was part of the academy's board of directors in his mid-twenties.
* Nemesio takes it there was no drop of magic in the man's blood, and reads on about his carreer.
<El-Cideon> Corran actually was a mage of noted talent; he simply did not make this the emphasis of his studies or his work. The last entry on the man is dated approximately eight years after the first contact with Kalbemarle. The Chronicle notes that he was on the losing end of a magical duel with one Audra Susannah Locrise.(more)
<El-Cideon> It is stated that this was the first such duel to take place on the University grounds in many decades and something of a scandal in the city. The cause of the conflict is not stated; nor is the fate of Corran himself, beyond the fact that he was "Unfit to continue serving the academy."
* Nemesio frowns, and tries to find out more about the specifics of Corran's magical talent, as well as material about Audra.
<El-Cideon> Corran is stated to have been a "basic elementalist" of high potency, but the Chronicle is more concerned with the man's contributions to the establishment than going on in detail about this. The index is rife with references to Audra Locrise, though they also cease without mention after the event of the duel.(more)
* Nemesio decides to narrow his search of the lady of masks.
<Nemesio> Her points of interaction with the school, specifically the school board, are his focus.
<El-Cideon> Born forty-nine years ago (M.E. 2106), Audra was also the scion of wealthy landowners, these ones long allied to the Registry cause, though it's noted that she herself took little interest in that particular organization or city administration in general.(more)
<El-Cideon> She established herself as a renowned scholar of the natural sciences at a young age and took up residence as a researcher and occasionally teacher of both magic and the physical sciences soon after graduation. She joined the board of directors at age thirty and even served a term as Chancellor (for one year--an exceptionally short tenure for the position) before standing down.
<El-Cideon> It's worth noting that she remained on the board after quitting as Chancellor.
<Nemesio> Interesting, Nemesio muses. The dates seem to suggest a connection between her 'lichdom', for lack of better word, and this duel. He decides to check into any scandals listed to Audra's name.
<El-Cideon> The text curiously makes no mention of Audra's notorious transformation. The woman's general profile does note, with something approaching a light touch, that her romantic entanglements were often the subject of popular gossip, including one with a student who was to become a future member of the staff (though this student is not named). Otherwise, the book seems curiously unconcerned with the details of Audra's life.
<Nemesio> With a bit of cross-referencing, Nemesio makes a list of all staff members who also had contact with Audra as students.
<El-Cideon> The book references the woman in a few other profiles as having been a mentor of sorts, but none who remain employed at the University now, at least to Nemesio's knowledge. Though given the book's lack of comprehensive information on Audra, it's possible personal details were omitted for others as well. One detail that does come to light is that present Registry chief Cyril Rulea was Chancellor at the time of the duel.
* Nemesio decides to see whether the woman has any current friends or political allies, going towards the more recent chronicles.
<El-Cideon> The more recent volume makes virtually no mention of the woman at all, occasionally noting her attendance at some annual University function and nothing more. It seems that if she had any involvement with the institution after the duel, it was minimal, and the book has little concern with what what on outside the walls.
<Nemesio> Curious and curiouser. Nemesio now focuses on any changes in the administration. Who took Corran's job? Who replaced Audra? Where there any other changes in the composition of the board, and what happened to those who left? Where did the new blood come from?
<El-Cideon> Information on the board is easy enough to find. The other members at the time of the duel are listed as Joran Bigod, Thomas Adamsen, Judit Melish, Katherine Velan, and Melnip Dernith. The latter is listed as having retired from the University a few years later, and Melish voluntarily left the board.(more)
<El-Cideon> The other three apparently remain in their positions to this day. The board, always a body with a variable number of members, has remained comparitively understaffed with only four or five members at most times since. Rulea occasionally takes part in its deliberations in addition to his Registry duties, and someone named Irena Kaur served for a couple years before leaving of her own accord.
* Nemesio decides to get a bit of background information on Misses Kaur and Dernith, before figuring that it might be worth it to try an aggressive approach. He decides to seek out Judit Melish.
<El-Cideon> Judit Melish's office is in the northeast corner of the science building, on the second floor. The building is mostly empty right now, but a light from beneath the door suggests the professor is in residence.
* Nemesio knocks on the door, inquiring whether the professor is free for the time being.
<El-Cideon> There's a sleepy "Hm?" before the creak of a chair is heard and Judit's voice says, "Who is it?"
<Nemesio> "Nemesio Lamperouge, Miss Melish," he returns. "May I come in?"
<El-Cideon> She sounds a little surprised. "I suppose," she says. The office is small and cramped, but cozy. Judit gestures to a comfy stuffed armchair in the corner. "Take a seat. Now...Nemesio, as I recall? Is this something to do with the business last week? Alethia giving you trouble?"
<Nemesio> "Not at all," he reassures her, waving her troubles away. "As a matter of fact, part of the reason I'm here is to thank you again for all your help during that incident."
<El-Cideon> A nod. "You're welcome, of course. I'm still wondering why the whole affair was necessary in the first place, but it's not really my business to ask. I hope your exams have been less eventful since?"
<Nemesio> "Quite," Nemesio reassures her. "In fact, with the extra pressure off, I have time for a little extra credit research project," he says, even as he opens his mind to her dominant thoughts. "It's on Miss Audra Locrise."
<El-Cideon> A wary look, and she's clearly feeling defensive. "Oh," she says eventually. She's not happy about this change of subject. "Gossip, is it?"
<Nemesio> "Hardly," Nemesio responds. "For that, I could go to the library." He leans a bit closer in eagerness, though not quite far enough not to invade her personal space. "I would like to provide an unbiased account of her achievements, without the usual superstitious nonsense."
<El-Cideon> "Who's going to listen?" she wonders to herself. Then, to Nemesio, "I have to wonder at what provoked your sudden interest in her, you realize."
<Nemesio> "A combination of events," Nemesio tells Judit, before elaborating, "I have always been curious, and I expect I am not alone there. However, the recent trouble showed that you were willing to go the extra mile to help a student, and after happening to read that you knew her personally I decided that it would not hurt to ask."
<El-Cideon> Continued skepticism, and even suspicion. "Read where, I ask? I'm always willing to help a student, yes--as long as they have good reason to need it. I'm not sure I see that here, Nemesio."
<Nemesio> "It's in the public domain," Nemesio tells her, sounding confused. "I've gone over most of the archives for anything regarding the school. I know it sounds excessive," he continues defensively, "but everyone has their hobbies."
<El-Cideon> She sighs. "I'll be blunt...and hopefully this will help explain myself more than it will further your curiosity...but I do not care to hear personal friends referred to as someone's hobby. I'm sure you can understand that, at least."
<Nemesio> "If I might be equally blunt," Nemesio says, frowning, "would Corran Parrescu be another friend, Ma'am?"
<El-Cideon> Judit offers a frown of her own, and rubs her forehead. "Not particularly. Though I did not especially dislike the man either, before you ask."
<Nemesio> "I happen to volunteer at the sanatorium, where I chanced upon the man. I noticed the name and the connection right away, naturally." Nemesio shrugs. "In fact, one could say it's yet another reason I wanted to know more about your friend. Even if there was quite a disagreement between the two, enough to warrant a duel, wouldn't consigning someone to a place like that for over a decade be a tad excessive? I felt that I was missing something, and wished to find out more about Miss Locrise. Do you fault me, Ma'am?"
<El-Cideon> The explanation seems to calm her a little, but she's still not very pleased with the basic line of inquiry. "Nothing excessive about it. If you saw him, I'm sure you can understand why he's there. If it had been within our means to cure him, we would have done so. Is that clear enough?"
* Nemesio nods slowly. "Then it was not a result of the duel?"
<El-Cideon> "It...was, as far as we could tell, caused by the duel. I just wished to make the distinction that he was placed at Honre Nathaline's on account of his condition rendering him unable to take care of himself, not as some form of punishment."
<Nemesio> "I believe it might be possible to help him," Nemesio says with the right amount of hope in his voice. "Are you by any chance still in contact with Miss Locrise, Ma'am? Could you pass on a request for an audience? I believe that if only I knew more, such a thing might be within reach...!"
<El-Cideon> A wary expression and, again, suspicion. "She would not help you," she says, leaving the other questions unanswered. "Of that I am absolutely certain." She sounds alsmot amused by the prospect of trying.
<Nemesio> "So there is still bad blood, even after all this time," he says sadly. "It's hard to imagine, at my age."
<El-Cideon> Judit shrugs. "It goes both ways, really. Those remaining on the board do not care for her. Most of them never did, even before she became...the object of myth that she is now."
<Nemesio> "I see." Nemesio sighs. "Yes, I see. Ma'am, before I go, may I ask what Corran did which was so horrible that a duel in our day and age was the only recourse?"
<El-Cideon> "Him? If I may be extremely blunt, he has nothing but his pride to blame for the incident. He volunteered to act on behalf of another. Audra's great offense in the minds of her detractors was merely the act of existing. Such is my perception, at least." She looks, sounds, and feels tired now. "That's really all I feel like saying now, if you don't mind."
<Nemesio> "Yes, of course." Nemesio looks quite apologetic. "I'm sorry for taking of your time, and for upsetting you with this topic, Ma'am. Please accept my sincerest apologies if I have at any point stepped out of line."
<El-Cideon> Judit accepts the apology graciously; she doesn't look irritated, but she's clearly glad to have the conversation over with. "You're not the first student to wonder about it, in fairness. Still, I would prefer that you not raise the matter again." A parting nod. "Good luck on the rest of your exams, at least."

[Sierra]

Part C

<El-Cideon> It is midafternoon when the three students gather again on the central commons of Margranth University, preparatory to meeting Imelda at the Lock of the Maid and heading to points unknown to encounter the duelling circle.
* Pilfer shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks slightly on his heels. "So is anyone else worried that we're being set up for something?"
<Nemesio> "I would be worried if we weren't," Nemesio responds casually. "So let's fall into this trap of theirs and see what we can find out then?"
* Pilfer considers.
* Derrick shrugs, nodding at Pilfer's concern, but not seeing much to do about it
<Pilfer> "That sounds like one of Jon-Jon's plans."
* Pilfer shrugs.
<Pilfer> "Sweet. Let's do it!"
<Nemesio> "I'm glad you agree," Nemesio says with a smile. "Let's head in together this time, all three of us."
<Pilfer> "Bearing in mind that when things do go south, I can only take one of you with me," Pilfer adds casually. "I hope the other one has one heck of a good backup plan."
<Nemesio> "Or a most detailed last will and testament?"
<Pilfer> "If that floats your boat, sure."
<Derrick> "Let's do what we can to avoid having to head south in the first place then, hmm?"
* Pilfer glances back and forth.
<Pilfer> "No one volunteering, huh? You guys are awfully cavalier about getting attacked with magic by crazed morons."
<El-Cideon> The walk to the tavern is uneventful, and the trio of students soon find themselves back inside the less than inspiring atmopshere of the bar's interior. Imelda, or any other students, are not yet in evidence.(more)
<Derrick> "Not cavalier, simply resigned to the possibility. I'm not seeing what else we can do about it besides for trying not to start a fight."
<Pilfer> "Well, telling me who to snag first would be a good start, I'd say. I'm leaning towards Nemmie here, since you've got that cool 'Iron Dragon Skin' technique or whatever."
<El-Cideon> The group hasn't been sitting long before a familiar and rather excited voice greets them. This is Madda, the waitress from the day before, looking ratty as ever in her cheap clothes but seeming to be in a good mood. "Hey again! What can I get you...three? Who's your new friend?" she says, nodding to Pilfer.
<Nemesio> "As with far too many things, just do what seems best in any such situation?" Nemesio proposes.
<Pilfer> "You guys would make terrible thieves," Pilfer says sadly, shaking his head.
<Pilfer> "Hi!" Pilfer waves at the waitress.
<Nemesio> "I think we were just complimented," Nemesio tells Derrick, before smiling at Madda. "A friend, just as you said. And you certainly seem to be in a good mood."
* Derrick nods politely to the waitress, "Evening."
<El-Cideon> The girl nods. "Well..." A rueful expression. "I wasn't sure you were going to come back." Without any pretense or subtlety, she slips back into the previous day's conversation. "Did you find anything out? About getting me into the University?"
<El-Cideon> She glances around, as though not wanting the proprietor to overhear.
* Pilfer's eyes widen slightly.
<Nemesio> "Chances are good," Nemesio affirms. "It might take a few days, but that is to be expected."
* Pilfer's eyes widen further.
<El-Cideon> Another nod, and she loses a little of that energy but remains cheerful. "Sure, thank you...well, I'd guess you're here waiting for your friends again. Buy something to keep you busy until they show up?" She points behind her, at the portly barkeep. "He'll yell at you if you don't."
<Nemesio> "Why not?" Nemesio agrees. "The same as last time for me."
<Pilfer> "Sure! I'll have a bowl of peanuts."
<El-Cideon> Madda curtsies, and scurries into the back for a moment to retrieve the requested order.
<Derrick> "Some of the watered down ale here, as well. And I suppose I'm buying this time, aren't I"
* Nemesio smiles widely. "You are now."
<Pilfer> "Suits me fine."
* Derrick pays for the drinks and peanuts (since he's sure they'll charge for even those here).
<El-Cideon> Madda returns momentarily with the ale, in the same old grimy mugs, and a bowl of something not exactly peanuts but probably related somehow. She takes the coins and then prepares to sidle away. "Well, I'll leave you three to your own discussions, 'less you want something more of me."
* Pilfer busies himself practicing his sleight of hand with the nuts, and tucking more than a few away in his pockets, on the grounds that you never knew what would come in handy.
<Nemesio> "Just let us know if our friends arrive," Nemesio requests, "in case we miss them as we talk."
<El-Cideon> Madda nods and retreats, leaving the three alone for a moment. The other drinkers present at this hour are mostly quiet, a few playing cards, others sitting sullenly in their chosen corner.
<El-Cideon> After an uneventful interlude, Imelda and a slightly taller blond man enter through the front door, the latter demonstrating total nonchalance, as though he really had stepped in just for a drink and maybe a round of darts. He's recognizable as one of the group from the day before.(more)
<El-Cideon> Imelda looks as tense and suspicious as always, and is dressed rather boyishly today. Her companion walks right over to the trio's table and nods respectfully, though a knowing grin seems to play about his features all the while. "Evening," he says. "Imelda's told me about you. She seems to be moderately impressed. With some of you, at least."
<Nemesio> "Of course." Nemesio offers him a hand. "Have a seat?"
* Derrick is always glad to let Nemesio do the talking, and simply nods his own greeting.
* Pilfer tosses a nut idly in one hand.
<El-Cideon> The blond teenager shakes his head. "I'd rather be on our way, actually. One can come to regret drinking too much before meetings such as this." His voice is rich and silky, and he seems to always be distracted brushing back an errant lock of hair. "If you don't mind, of course."
<Pilfer> "Heck, no! Let's go bludgeon each other senseless!" says Pilfer enthusiastically.
* Nemesio stands up at his words. "We can always have a celebratory drink later."
* Derrick stands as well, though he looks tempted to do as Pilfer says and bludgeon the thief senseless at his outburst.
<El-Cideon> He raises an eyebrow at Pilfer's attitude. "Quite the opposite. There is no sense in battering another beyond repair. We merely seek the training others are unwilling to provide us. But, that is for later." An approving nod at Nemesio. "This one, at least, seems to have the proper attitude. Well, shall we?" he gestures towards the door.
* Nemesio leaves another coin as a tip, and follows.
* Pilfer bounces after.
* Derrick follows as well, of course
<El-Cideon> Out in the street, the blonde pauses for a moment and calls "Evan?" to a nearby rooftop. Another youth, looking about the some age as the others, hops from a second-floor windowsill (a strange blur of red below his feet slowing his descent when he nears the ground) and joins the group.(more)
<El-Cideon> The blond teenager addresses Nemesio directly as the whole group starts westward. "You were close before, you know. Simply not curious enough." Imelda hangs back near Derrick for now, and the new kid watches Pilfer.
* Pilfer allows Nemesio to engage the leader.
<Nemesio> "We were curious, alright, but decided to take another path. One with more caution," Nemesio responds. "Although I'm interested in hearing what we've missed."
<El-Cideon> "Mm. That's better demonstrated. I wonder, could you tell me how you caught onto our little group in the first place?" he says curiously. Imelda falls into step next to Derrick. She leans in and speaks after stealing a glance at Pilfer. "I can already tell I like the coatrack better when he's not talking," she says, quietly enough for only Derrick to hear.
* Derrick can't help but chuckle quietly, and responds just as quietly, "He, ah, does have that effect on people, yes. You get used to him, though if that's a good thing or a bad thing I'm not sure."
<Nemesio> "You're too visible," Nemesio responds with a shrug. "And bored graduates with nothing better to do would go to quite some length to escape said boredom."
* Pilfer flashes Imelda a wide grin and drops further and further to the rear of the little caravan.
<El-Cideon> Imelda just responds to Pilfer with a blatantly fabricated smile and turns back to Derrick with a dry laugh. "Huh. I'd opt for the latter." Nemesio's counterpart merely shrugs at the older student's words. "Be that as it may, you should not consider us a mere diversion." (more)
<El-Cideon> The newcomer, gangly but attractive, with short black hair, sidles over to Pilfer. He offers a nod towards Imelda. "Trying to thaw the ice princess?" He seems friendly enough.
<Nemesio> "I am fully reserving my judgement until I see more," Nemesio allows, inclining his head.
* Pilfer regards the black-haired kid with a slightly unwelcoming gaze, Imelda's pockets still several yards away from his casual grasp.
* Pilfer sniffs. "She's not my type," he says stoically.
<El-Cideon> The kid--Evan?--is not put off by Pilfer being antisocial. "Good on you, then," he laughs. "Better for your health. Name's Evan. Yours?" By now the group has wandered into the crumbling district in which they lost track of their quarry the previous afternoon.
* Nemesio pays attention to their location, to see whether they're headed for the exact same warehouse.
<El-Cideon> The blonde just to nods at Nemesio's words, and maintains that same grin. "A sound policy."
<El-Cideon> The neighborhood is indeed recognizable as the same one traversed before. Eventually the same abandoned warehouse looms ahead.
* Pilfer gives an inward sigh.  "I'm Pilfer," he says, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. He fidgets a bit as they near their destination.
* Derrick just shrugs, "Oh, he's not all bad. His good moments are as amusing as his bad moments are irritating, really."
<El-Cideon> Another short laugh from Imelda. "Huh. Let me know when he has one?"
<Derrick> "I doubt I'll have to, they tend to be rather obvious when they occur."
<El-Cideon> Evan eyes Pilfer curiously. "Got an itch there, fella?"
* Pilfer palms the lizard scales in his pocket, and mimes scratching at his neck.  "Yeah. One of my opponents hit me with some kind of nasty whammy the other day, and ever since then..." he draws his hand away, revealing the lizard scales. "I think it might be contagious," he adds, with unnecessary cheerfulness.
<El-Cideon> The blonde slows down as the group reaches the street right in front of the warehouse. Two other youths lounge against that big, locked door, both with brown hair, one clearly older than the other. They can be recognized as the rest of yesterday's group.
<El-Cideon> Evan makes a show of looking conned for a moment, but quickly cracks a grin. He just shakes his head and chuckles then, going quiet as the blond youth addresses the two loiterers.(more)
<El-Cideon> "Why...are you outside?" He sighs dramatically. He addresses the taller boy directly, seeming to ignore the younger or find him absolved of guilt for some reason. The tall kid starts to speak, but is cut off: "Don't start with excuses. *Almost* no one comes here, but this is not the same as *none*." He shakes his head.
* Nemesio merely observes the proceedings with a raised eyebrow.
* Pilfer tsks reprovingly.
<El-Cideon> "Well, let's get on with it, then. Hopefully this will be the last embarassment to befall me this evening. Wenton? The door, please." The younger boy nods without a word, and turns around to the heavily-locked door. He holds his hand out for a moment and a circle of empty space grows in the center of the door, pushing back and distending the thick wood without apparently damaging it.
<El-Cideon> Then he looks to the others. "Well? Onwards." The other youths start to march inside at this.
* Pilfer hangs back, entering last.
* Nemesio enters after the blond leader, apparently named Cronin.
* Derrick just keeps in what passes for thier 'formation', though he does step aside to allow Imelda to enter before him
<El-Cideon> With everyone indoors, Wenton lets the entrance snap closed again. The warehouse looks just as it did before: mostly empty with large piles of dirt littering the floor here and there. "Well," the blond says. "Here we are." He looks over the three newcomers. "Your full names, please? I am Hugh Cronin, in case Imelda had not gifted you with that much information."
<Nemesio> "Nemesio Lamperouge. Also, in case Imelda did not pass it on."
<Derrick> "Derrick Oaks. And would you rather we call you Hugh, or Cronin?"
<Pilfer> "Pilfer."
* Pilfer shoves his hands back in his pockets and waits.
<Derrick> "As we've only heard your last name, so far."
<El-Cideon> Again that raised eyebrow at Pilfer, and a dubious expression. However, he simply says, "Hugh will be satisfactory. We see little need for formality; this is not the Watch, or the Registry. We do not stand on rank or some absurd pecking order."(more)
<El-Cideon> He turns to the others. "Imelda Brightreef you know, and no doubt you are as charmed with her as we all are. The lad with black hair is Evan Crossbill. Our gatekeeper is Wenton Myrson, and the tall lout in back is Graeme Blasingame."
* Pilfer looks around to see what the regulars are doing.
<Nemesio> "A pleasure," Nemesio voices. "What did we miss the last time, if you don't mind showing us?"
<El-Cideon> Hugh looks proud of himself here. "We're not *quite* there yet, you see. Wenton?" And again, the youngest boy steps forward without a word. This time he crouches down to a spot on the floor apparently no different from any other, and opens another of those doors. The concrete floor spirals open as easily as had the front door, revealing beneath it a sloping tunnel heading downwards.
* Pilfer raises an eyebrow.
<Pilfer> "You found this, then?"
* Derrick also raises an eyebrow, but just nods as if he expected something of the sort.
<El-Cideon> Once again, that look in Pilfer's direction, as though this one just isn't sizing up somehow. "One cannot rely purely on luck to get what he desires. We did not stumble upon it. We created it. Now, we'd best be moving on. Wenton can't maintain the opening indefinitely. We don't want him developing a headache." So saying, he begins to descend. "Come along, then."
* Nemesio descends after him, not mincing words.
* Pilfer frowns. (I hope to hell whoever built it was studying architecture...)
* Derrick decends, and takes note of the construction as he is a student of architechture himself
* Pilfer continually memorizes new jump-points, as they travel deeper into the territory, in case they end up beyond his normal range.
<El-Cideon> The tunnel slopes downwards for about twenty feet before levelling off and continuing straight on to the west. There are a few torches lit here, suggesting others are already present.(more)
<El-Cideon> "The tunnel itself is mostly Graeme's work," Hugh says as he moves forward. "One of his few talents. You needn't worry about collapse." He pounds a fist against one tunnel wall, producing a hearty thump but no visible impression. "The dirt is packed denser and tighter than possible for someone without an affinity for such crude matter."
* Pilfer shoots at glance at Graeme.
<El-Cideon> Graeme just offers Pilfer a sour grin for now, and continues bringing up the rear.
<Nemesio> "An interesting application of talent," Nemesio comments. "What did you use before this became available?"
<El-Cideon> Hugh shrugs. "More obvious locations," he says, disapprovingly. "Warehouses like the one above, barren fields in the dead of night on occasion--I believe one or two meetings took place in someone's attic while the parents were away. But that was before my time. It's not really relevant."
<Pilfer> "Don't you want to catalogue your history? What if this turns into a full-blown secret society someday? What good would it be without the moldering scroll of the Great Founder hanging on the wall?"
* Nemesio snorts at Pilfer's words, before voicing, "I would like to hear more of the changes you've introduced, if you don't mind."
* Derrick is ignoring Pilfer and studying the construction of the tunnel, "Hmm, actually does seem rather solid, despite the lack of supports." Looking over at Graeme, he asks, "You study this at all, or is it all raw talent?"
<El-Cideon> A sigh. "Again you misunderstand us. I suppose I should expect it by now." After a short couple moments--the tunnel apparently isn't all that long--the space ahead of Hugh widens into a long open space, perhaps thirty feet long and fifteen wide. Other tunnels branch off at the other end; there are benches of the same make as the walls lining the room.(more)
<El-Cideon> Graeme grins at Derrick. "This is all my own handiwork. Studying's not one of my strong points." A few other youths are loitering around the subterranean den; they look up at the new arrivals.
<El-Cideon> Hugh turns back to Nemesio. "Brought focus which was lacking, primarily," he says vaguely.
* Pilfer tugs his coat higher at the news that the D- student built the tunnel all on his own. He gazes nervously at the ceiling.
<Nemesio> "How about the core group?" Nemesio asks him. "Was it everyone here but you, or did any join along with you?"
<Derrick> Chuckling, as he was expecting that answer, Derrick half smiles, "Like anything else, studying does take a certain head for it to not hate the task, doesn't it? Well, we work with what we have, hmm?"
<El-Cideon> The ceiling here has more visible support than the tunnel leading to it--a few wooden beams prop it up and shore up the walls. Apparently this room at least was more work than Graeme could do on his own. There are patches that look more solid, as though he occasionally reinforces sections. "Oh, a few were here," he says. Again, vaguely.(more)
<El-Cideon> "We can thank Imelda for my involvement, at least. But beyond that, it really fails to matter. The group is not the simple rabble it once was. The beginnings are irrelevant, really."
<Pilfer> "All hail the Great Founder," he mutters under his breath.
<Nemesio> "Imelda scouted you, then?"
<El-Cideon> Hugh frowns. "Not quite the way I would describe it." He sits suddenly, on the raw sod bench lining the walls. There's something primal about the way he moves, something leonine. "Now, why you don't you tell us something about yourself, eh? Specifically, what you think you can offer us." He addresses Nemesio directly.
<Nemesio> "A few more changes that would place everyone even further below public notice would be a nice start, I think," Nemesio muses. "After all, two heads are better than one, and that is doubly so for anything having to do with planning ahead, wouldn't you say? But before we get into that, you have been talking about a misunderstanding we have about your group, here. If we did get it wrong, why don't you use this chance to set us straight?"
* Pilfer sighs and settles in for a sermon.
<El-Cideon> A disdainful gesture towards Pilfer. "This one seems to think we are here for the primal business of knocking skulls together. Entertaining that is, yes, but it cannot sustain any thinking individual for very long as a diversion." Imelda and the others wander to the far end of the room to mingle with the other students as Hugh speaks.(more)
* Pilfer briefly sticks his tongue out at Cronin when that notable turns his attention back to Nemesio.
<El-Cideon> "Although no doubt the discipline involved does many here some good, violence can only ever be a means to an end," he says, though with an odd grin about him.
<Nemesio> "With that end being...?" Nemesio wonders out loud. "I would guess at bettering one's control over their gifts, but is there more, here?"
* Derrick is watching Hugh wearily as he talks to Nemesio, though that is probably only to be expected as they ARE currently in the seat of his power, so to speak.
<El-Cideon> Hugh tilts his head, and leans it on a fist. "'Being prepared,' might describe our goal, broadly speaking. But if you wish to know more, I really must insist that you earn it. Many of the administrative bodies within this city would no doubt like to see our activities cease, for a variety of reasons. I would like to see you share the same risk we do, at least symbolically."
* Pilfer checks for anyone sneaking up behind him with a mace.
<El-Cideon> There is presently no one looming behind Pilfer with unpleasant blunt instruments, merely a distracted Graeme industriously evacuating lint from his pockets.
<Nemesio> "No doubt they would," Nemesio agrees calmly, before asking, "So it all comes down to us earning your trust by hitting other people, in a nutshell?"
* Pilfer nods emphatically, gazing at Nemesio with newfound respect.
<El-Cideon> Hugh's expression hardens instantly. "A crude way of putting it. I wish to see evidence that you have the talent to operate on the same level as the rest of us."
<Pilfer> (If he tells us that the test involves finding lost books) Pilfer thinks, (I am just leaving right NOW.)
<Nemesio> "Then you must provide us with the context I have been enquiring about," Nemesio responds. "I have no problem with earning the trust of your group, as I have told Imelda. However, I have no idea what earning this trust entails. So far, we have come to meet you in good faith as Imelda requested, even though it could have resulted in an ambush. Our attempts to learn more are rebuffed as too probing or too crude. Therefore, I'll ask directly: what is it you want us to do to prove ourselves?"
<El-Cideon> A shrug. "One of you would suffice, really. You know what the basis of our operation consists of. I wish to see if you can compete on the same terms." Most of the group is watching this exchange intently now, though a few kids look bored by all the talk (Evan in particular, and Wenton is intently studying the wall).
* Nemesio shrugs as well. "That is acceptable." He glances at Derrick and Pilfer. "Anyone particularly enthused to represent us, or shall I?"
* Derrick shakes his head, "I'll be more then glad to heal all wounds the battle causes, but I do not fight."
<Pilfer> "I'll sit this one out, I think," Pilfer says. "Unless I'm the best option we have left..." he adds unwillingly.
* Nemesio nods curtly. "Very well." He returns his attention to Hugh. "What are the rules?"
<El-Cideon> Hugh looks satisfied that Nemesio has risen to the task. "Simple enough: no weapons are allowed save those natural to you. If you a blade, discard it now. Here one thrives or falls according to his inborn talents. Use your fists and your wits as you will, but most of all exploit your magical focus to the utmost. Victory lies in subduing your opponent or forcing their surrender, but we do not fight to wound."
<Nemesio> "Interesting," Nemesio comments, swiftly retrieving his concealed weapon as he speaks and handing it over to Derrick. "No outside interference is allowed, I presume, or the other party loses by default?"
* Derrick takes the weapon and sets it next to him, but keeps a hand on it
<Pilfer> "Yeah, 'cause you never get interrupted in a real fight. That's why there's laws, right?" Pilfer mutters.
<El-Cideon> Hugh nods. "Quite," he says to Nemesio. "As for the matter of your opponent..." he glances over his comrades for a moment.(more)
<El-Cideon> "Fate can choose," he decides. "Wenton?" With that, the brown-haired youth produces a single die from a pocket, and rolls.
<El-Cideon> 1d6 for Here Comes Another Contestant
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d6 for Here Comes Another Contestant and gets 1." [1d6=1]
<El-Cideon> Hugh turns with a grin. "Imelda. Entertain us, will you?" Imelda gets up with an obvious sigh, but seems to be complying as she steps forward. "Don't hit me too hard, Mr. Healer," she deadpans. "Might break, and then you'd have to put me together again."
<Nemesio> "It would be my pleasure to demonstrate my healing touch to you, Miss Imelda," Nemesio returns with a bright smile.
* Pilfer watches anxiously, his hand held out and stiff, ready to slash forward in the broad gesture that would summon a deflection field, should it become necessary.
<El-Cideon> Imelda grimaces, as if this is not a reaction she appreciates.
* Nemesio bows formally to her, not taking his eyes off the girl. When he straightens up, he seems more assured of himself, somehow, though one would be challenged to spot the difference.
<Nemesio> roll 2d8+10
* Hatbot --> "Nemesio rolls 2d8+10 and gets 16." [2d8=2, 4]
<El-Cideon> 2d8+8
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8+8 and gets 15." [2d8=6, 1]
<El-Cideon> A few of the students cheer on their comrade; a few others look sullen about the whole affair. Hugh himself just grins like a jungle predator and slips out of the way, over beside Derrick and Pilfer. After a moment of eyeing the contestants, he simply barks out "Attack!"
<Nemesio> Without much preamble, Nemesio extends his left arm towards Imelda. Lightning gathers in his palm, but he doesn't let it linger, instead releasing it to seek out his opponent.
<Nemesio> roll 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Nemesio rolls 2d8 and gets 12." [2d8=4, 8]
<El-Cideon> The bolt goes wide, searing the air past Imelda's shoulder and blackening the wall behind her. A number of students sitting in the vicinity sidle towards the door.
* Nemesio looks amused by this.
<El-Cideon> Imelda herself steps back a couple meters, seeming to desire a bit of distance between herself and this apparent lightning-factory. "Best watch yourselves back there," she says to the students. A moment of obvious concentration and that familiar mass of water envelops her left arm, clearly larger this time than what she'd threatened with before.
<Nemesio> Seeing that she hasn't moved, Nemesio places a smirk on his lips, and seems to wait for her to come at him. Inwardly, however, he embraces his Contract and sends his will across to batter down Imelda's!
<Nemesio> roll 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Nemesio rolls 2d8 and gets 7." [2d8=3, 4]
<El-Cideon> roll 2d8 for vive le resistance
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for vive le resistance and gets 3." [2d8=2, 1]
<El-Cideon> Imelda shudders for a moment, looks confused, and then rallies looking unsure of what just happened. She doesn't waste any time wondering, though. She rears back, and the launches the mass of water across the room at Nemesio with incredible force!
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for SPLASH
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for SPLASH and gets 13." [2d8=5, 8]
<El-Cideon> The volley bypasses Nemesio, however, leaving him only moistened by passing droplets as the globe of water splashes against a wall and douses bystanders.
<Nemesio> "Not bad, I think that came closer than my attempt," Nemesio tells her with a smile, before he attempts to beat her mind down ruthlessly.
<Nemesio> roll 2d8-4
* Hatbot --> "Nemesio rolls 2d8-4 and gets 3." [2d8=4, 3]
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for VIVE LE RESISTANCE with caps this time
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for VIVE LE RESISTANCE with caps this time and gets 8." [2d8=3, 5]
<El-Cideon> Imelda pauses for a moment, the reason unclear, before...
<Nemesio> Still with that annoying smirk on his face, Nemesio beckons her towards him.
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for ???
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for ??? and gets 15." [2d8=8, 7]
<El-Cideon> ...the green-haired girl obliges, audibly growling as she launches herself forward to take a swing at her opponent's smarmy grin, but the attack goes wide and she finds herself staggering past him.
* Nemesio steps out of the way just she passes the spot he occupied, his clothing narrowly escaping being drenched or worse. His foot trips hers, and a hand placed between Imelda's shoulder blades ensures that she drops predictably to the ground, to smack her head and lay still as far as everyone in the audience is concerned.
<El-Cideon> There's silence for a moment, and then Hugh walks forward and nudges Imelda with his foot. She doesn't move. Then, a sigh from the tall blond man. "Well, that was...disappointing." He looks at Nemesio. "On our part, of course. She should know better than to engage in a fistfight if there's any choice in the matter." And now he seems amused: "What sort of things have you been saying to make her hate you that much?"
<Pilfer> "Oh, Nemesio doesn't ever need to SAY anything."
<Nemesio> "I woke her up at an ungodly hour and cheerfully proceeded to compliment her scantily-clad form when she answered the door. Would that do?" Nemesio responds, kneeling down next to Imelda, even as he uses his gift to inspire loyalty towards himself in her, and moderate reservations against any move to betray him. "Now, about that bruise," he murmurs, and his hand glows with the power to heal, illuminating the area with a bright, multicolored light, before he touches it to Imelda's face.
<El-Cideon> Hugh watches this display with interest, though he seems more curious about Nemesio's abilities than his inert friend. "Well," he says, "I am indeed sufficiently impressed with your resolve. You and your...accomplices," he eyes Derrick and (especially) Pilfer, seeming to still be skeptical about them, "May have a fair bit of talent after all."(more)
<El-Cideon> A wave of dizziness sweeps over Nemesio at this statement, though, and some nausea as the walls seem to whirl slowly around him.
* Nemesio opts to squat next to Imelda's inert form, ostensibly to look her over for injuries, and lets someone else respond to Hugh as he catches his bearings.
* Derrick just raises an eyebrow at Hugh's skeptical glance. Derrick was just as, if not more, unsure of him as he was of the two of them, after all.
<El-Cideon> "So," he says, sitting down again, not far from the prone girl, "You three had questions, then?" A number of the students have slipped away by now, and more are on their way out. Apparently there's a shared assumption that their presence is not needed or desired for this discussion. Only Graeme seems intent on sticking around to listen.
<Pilfer> "We did?"
<Nemesio> "All the vague answers and evasions from before," Nemesio says slowly, as if contemplating, even as he closes his eyes against the nauseating whirl of his surroundings. "Let's start from straightening those out."
<El-Cideon> Hugh eyes Nemesio for a moment, as if noting this fatigue, but does not comment on it. "Very well. You've no doubt noticed popular sentiment in the city can be somewhat contentious? As each of you possesses eyes, ears, and presumably a brain, I can't doubt that you've picked up on this."(more)
<El-Cideon> "The papers, for example? The Reveille publishes article after article attacking the alleged sloth and corruption of the landed class, and the decadence of the Registry elite; in turn, the Registry's paper slanders the upstart merchants and accuses them of giving over the city to foreign influence; and so on ad infinitum. It cannot escape your notice that a conflict is inevitable within this city."
<Nemesio> "And whose side... are you on?"
<Derrick> "I would presume his own."
<Pilfer> "The winning one?"
<El-Cideon> A dark laugh, and that grin again. "Bold words, Derrick, but nevertheless...I will say that I don't consider it relevant whether you sympathize with the Registry's opponents or believe in their cause. I for one do not. Instead I will frankly tell you that I've found it in any thinking man's material interest to serve them. I do indeed mean to be on the winning side when the troubles are over."
<Pilfer> "Oookaaaaaay..."
<Nemesio> "Everyone here knows and accepts this?" Nemesio asks, opening his eyes to glance at Imelda once more, and to test his sense of balance.
<Pilfer> "And the Sponge and her cheering squad are going to help you do that? How, by getting everyone damp and digging up their gardens?" Pilfer says, apropos of nothing.
<El-Cideon> Hugh spreads his hands in a show of innocence. "If they did not agree, well, they are free to leave at any time."
<Nemesio> "An easier question, then. Have you told them as you're telling us?"
<Pilfer> "... After they kicked someone's butt all over the floor?"
<El-Cideon> This time, he outright glares at Pilfer. "They know what they're being prepared for, have no doubt of that."
<Nemesio> "Good enough for me," Nemesio says, glancing up at Hugh. "Is there anyone else in this group we haven't met with, yet?"
* Derrick looks over at Pilfer, "Pilfer? If you don't have anything helpful to add, please do yourself, and everyone within earshot a favor and Shut. Up."
* Pilfer 's lips quirk, but he slumps against the wall, pouting and glaring at Cronin.
<Derrick> "Sorry about him. There seems to be nothing seperating his brain from his mouth. He can't seem to keep the latter shut when the former thinks of a pithy comment, no matter how unwanted it may be."
<El-Cideon> Hugh shrugs. "No one of consequence, but you've hardly had time to get a display of everyone's talents. So...you understand, then? I am, of course, in contact with certain elements of the opposition. We can, with mutual assistance, ensure that each one of us is in the right place, at the right time..." He trails off, as if imagining something, and doesn't notice Pilfer's latest outburst.
* Pilfer mumbles something incoherent, but the words "idiots" can be clearly heard.
<El-Cideon> A narrowing of the eyes, and Hugh's expression darkens. "If you have something to say, develop a spine and say it out loud. Elsewise, you are not *worth* hearing."
<Nemesio> "This sounds promising," Nemesio muses. "I suppose that is what our mutual friend was talking about, when she mentioned earning the right to get ahead. What if we were interested in contacting these elements of the opposition? Would you be able to arrange something, once your trust in us is sufficient?"
<El-Cideon> Hugh calms down again, and addresses Nemesio. "In time, yes. They would, of course, need visible reason to trust you."
<Nemesio> "That would come with time, yes," he agrees. "However, our usefulness should materialize fully even before that, perhaps enough to warrant the risk. When we get our new positions and become productive members of society, that is."
<El-Cideon> A nod, and that grin again. "We will see. In the meantime...I am glad at least one of you is able to see eye to eye on the present state of affairs in this city."
* Pilfer shiftyeyes.
<Pilfer> "So is anyone going to wake up Princess Water Bucket or is it New World Order policy to leave people lying on the floor after injuries?"
<Nemesio> "She is perfectly healed, I assure you," Nemesio voices. "At this point, it is really for the best to let her wake up on her own."
<El-Cideon> Hugh waves this off, though with the disdainful look towards Pilfer that is rapidly becoming the norm for his interactions with the the thief. "You needn't worry about her. I'll escort her home when our business is concluded here." Now he addresses Nemesio, pointedly ignoring Pilfer. "Do you suppose, Nemesio, that you could keep tighter rein on your associates in the future?"
* Pilfer muffles a snort and turns it into a coughing fit.
<Nemesio> "I believe we can come to an understanding," Nemesio says neutrally. "So, what's our next move?"
* Derrick raises an eyebrow, "Associates?" he asks, placing an emphasis on the last letter, "We're all aware that Pilfer annoys everyone he meets, but I was unaware that I had done anything to offend you, Hugh."
<Pilfer> "And really, it's all part of my charm. Imagine the havoc wreaked upon your enemies! [Viva la resistance!]"
<El-Cideon> Hugh nods at Derrick. "Of course, my mistake. The lad makes so much noise that one could believe there were five of him." To Nemesio: "For now, you go about your business as normal. We'll find you when needed, or when there is a meeting."
<Nemesio> "It would be nice to be an observer instead of a participant, next time," Nemesio tells him. "If only to see things from the other side."
<El-Cideon> Hugh nods. "Of course. As I said, you have proved yourself for the time being. Now...Wenton will let you out, if you go back the way you came."
<Nemesio> "Give my regards to the sleeping princess, if you will," Nemesio says, standing up.
<Pilfer> "No need, buddy," Pilfer waves in a grandiose fashion, and disappears.
* Derrick stands, nods by way of farewell, and follows Nemesio as soon as he starts to leave
<El-Cideon> It is evening by the time the three students are alone in the warehouse. Wenton goes back inside after letting them out, and no one else is in evidence.
<Pilfer> "Holy schlamoly, that guy is stone cold NUTS," Pilfer says, looking legitimately frightened.
<Pilfer> "We gotta tell the prof, and right NOW."
<Pilfer> *after we start home*
* Nemesio waits to hear Derrick's response, first.
<Derrick> "I think we need to talk, before we go making any decisions. While I do not sympathize with Cronin and his lot, I an mot happy with the Registry right now. I do NOT approve of being used to do thier dirty work as an 'examination'."
<Pilfer> "Wait... You think they knew about this beforehand?"
<Derrick> "You don't?"
<Nemesio> "And who here would like their third task to be eliminating this little group?" Nemesio ventures.
<Pilfer> "See, this, THIS is why I stay the hell out of politics! NOTHING good ever comes of trying to dig into the real story!"
* Pilfer storms around in a rather humorously ineffective tantrum.
<Pilfer> "That guy is crazy! Who wants to try and rule things? And STARTING the fight hoping you end up on top? Where's the sense in that?"
* Pilfer pauses.
<Pilfer> "Remind me again why I'm not running away right this very second and leaving the crazy behind?"
<Derrick> "Where would you go? Crazy or not, he's right about one thing. There is a conflict coming."
<Pilfer> "There's... boats and stuff, right?" Pilfer waves his hand vaguely, with the geographic assurance of someone who has never left his own little section of the city.
<Nemesio> "If you want to be the Registry's little tool, go ahead and dutifully report things. If you want to do the same for their opposition, that path has also been opened just now," Nemesio mentions calmly. "Let's keep on looking for a better, third alternative. This would require stalling our examiner, but I'm not in any particular rush to graduate just yet, myself."
* Pilfer goggles a bit at Nemesio's suggestion of attempting to go against the Registry which, to him, is akin to presenting "We could always cut our heads off with steak knives" as a viable alternative.
<Derrick> "Much as I dislike deception and the like, I am forced to agree. And I suppose I have the least to lose here, as I can always return to the Faith for certification."
* Pilfer glances at Derrick, then at Nemesio.
<Nemesio> "If they would let you go," Nemesio comments.
<Pilfer> "Wait, what are we agreeing to right now?"
<Derrick> Nodding to Nemesio, he adds, "So what do you suggest? I'm not to proud to admit that I'm over my head here. But you seem to know what you're doing."
<Nemesio> "We attend another meeting, perhaps two. Learn of their strengths and weaknesses, and more of their plans. At the same time, we could try and find out the real reasons behind this little 'test', and see if we could present things in a way our examiners would be happy with."
<Pilfer> "Look, this is a game of pass the buck. If you get caught, you end up responsible, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's DON'T GET CAUGHT. We hand this to the Prof, she does whatever she wants, and we don't have to worry about psychopathic freedom fighters taking potshots at us."
<Nemesio> "Oh, please. The assignment was to break up the fights, not come back to the teachers with information they said they already had, and chose not to give us from the onset."
<Pilfer> "Yeah? But if we hand them the info, then we're clean. They give us our certification and leave us alone, 'cause we're obviously too unsubtle to work with them in the Registry, and everyone's happy and, more importantly, not DEAD."
* Nemesio sighs. "I will ask you in a different way, then. How exactly does not doing our assignment lead to us getting our certification?"
<Pilfer> "What, you think they'd fail us BECAUSE we reported a just-born coup attempt?"
* Pilfer scratches his head.
<Nemesio> "Not because of it, but in spite of it, more like."
<Pilfer> "This is screwed up," Pilfer announces.
<Nemesio> "Oh yes!" Nemesio exclaims. "But this is the hand we've been dealt with, and panicking would not resolve a thing."
<Derrick> "Indeed. I also doubt they'll certify us until we've completed their dirty work for them, so we'd really gain nothing by reporting things in now."
<Nemesio> "If anything, they might decide this warrants more than merely 'stopping' the fights, and I believe we would all like to avoid this unpleasantness."
* Pilfer glances at Derrick.
<Pilfer> "You're really okay with this idea? We play along with Junior Freedom Fighter and his gang of brainwashed losers?"
* Derrick is silent for a moment. After a bit, he sighs and looks up at Pilfer, "I dont' have any better ideas. We're caught between the proverbial rock and hard place right now, and at least if I'm there I can stop too many people from getting hurt. Cronin...he seems as if he enjoys hurting people. That, more than anything else, I cannot stand."
<Pilfer> "Plus he's a nutter."
<Derrick> "So no, I'm not 'okay' with it. It just seems like the best we can do in a bad situation. It's not as if we're actually joining them, after all."
* Pilfer shoots a sideways squint at Nemesio at that last comment.
<Pilfer> "Well, what do we do when we DO have more information?"
<Pilfer> "I mean, we should know going into this which number we're betting on."
<Nemesio> "It depends on the information we get, largely," Nemesio suggests. "We need to find out just how much the fighters themselves understand of all this, whether they can really walk away if they so choose, and how much the Registry knows." He pauses. "It would also be helpful to know whether we are expected to succeed in our task."
* Pilfer looks as though he'd been stabbed in the gut.
<Pilfer> "That makes me feel SO much better."
<Pilfer> "What are you saying, though? If the Resistance is too powerful, we jump ship and ride with them? I don't want to be anywhere NEAR that nutter when things go down."
<Derrick> "And the Chancellor and his Registry are a better option? To be honest, I don't care for either side of this conflict. One's as bad as the other."
<Nemesio> "I'm saying that it's fine to get out from that hot zone in the middle of two strong forces, but we might as well rescue as many of those guys as we can while we're at it."
<Pilfer> "At least the Registry already made us cushy offers with decent paychecks," Pilfer mumbles. "Instead of making us beat people up to get into their weird little clubs."
<Nemesio> "I'm curious, how else would you describe the Registry's command to go break the fights up by any means necessary?"
<Derrick> "Oh really? Making us break up this whole situation sounds exactly like 'beating folks up to join thier club', being Certification in this case."
<Pilfer> "Well..." Pilfer frowns. "Who says any of those kooks is going to come away willingly, anyway? And who's this 'opposition'?"
<Nemesio> "Merchants, bankers and their fellow travelers, banded together for a common goal," Nemesio illuminates him. "I'll let you deduce what the goal is."
<Pilfer> "Don't particularly care," Pilfer snorts. "As long as it doesn't involve me. Which it does."  
<Pilfer> "Crap."
<Derrick> "As for how we'll get them away...well, for now, all I can think of is that we just need to show them a better option then Crazy Cronin, perhaps by exposing him for the nutcase he is. In time, of course. Can't rush these things, sadly."
<Nemesio> "I've been wondering," Nemesio tells Pilfer. "Do you think it worth it taking a look inside our examiner's office and seeing whether she has any information gathered about us or our little mission? Or, for that matter, whether the Chancelor does?"
* Pilfer perks up.
<Pilfer> "Hmmm.  Certainly could be worth a look-see. They're bound to have some killer defenses, though..."
<Nemesio> "Would they, really? I don't see how one could defend against your... what did you call them, jumps?"
<Pilfer> If Pilfer were a cat, his tail would be twitching furiously at the thought of breaking into secure areas.
<Pilfer> "Well, yeah, I can get in. But there's all KINDS of alarms you can set up, if you've got the mojo for it."
<Derrick> "Hmm. That...might not be the worst idea, sadly. What little trust I had left in them has been lost with this assignment. But be careful if you do, and don't let on what we're looking for."
<Pilfer> "Heat, motion, time-sensitive, even passwords."
<Pilfer> "Some of the really rich folks have all kinds of stuff on their valuables."
<Pilfer> "They won't catch me, of course, but they'll know it was me afterwards. There aren't a lot who can get IN to those places in the first place, and I *know* the Chancellor is worried about me."
<Nemesio> "Perhaps, if it were made to look like a prank..." Nemesio suggests.
<Pilfer> "Nah, used up the last of THAT well with those centipedes. That was a good one, though, wasn't it?"
<Nemesio> "It never hurts to have a cover, however flimsy."
<Pilfer> "If I get tossed out on my ear either way, I'm not seeing where this is MY best move," grumbles Pilfer.
<Nemesio> "In the worst case scenario, as long as you don't get caught with your hand in the metaphorical cookie jar, I might be able to do something," Nemesio says then.
<Pilfer> "The security at the University is pretty sad, overall. I could pull this off without even using a Jump."

[Sierra]

Derrick's morning:

<El-Cideon> The morning of Wednesday the 3rd finds Avontyne covered by a shroud of leaden gray clouds, the sun hidden from sight. There is a slight chill in the air despite the season, and it looks as though a light rain could start at any moment. The dorms are fairly quiet when Derrick wakes, this being the sort of morning ready-made for the lazing of students.(more)
<El-Cideon> Rousing himself and making his way towards the dining hall, near the front entrance of the campus, he hears one familiar voice raised in argument with another--by the edge of the main commons, Justine Ferryman is currently the object of Professor Rivers's scorn, the latter being out in the open for once.
<Derrick> Pausing for a second, Derrick pulls the oft used student trick of moving slower then is absolutely nessesary as he passes by to try and hear what's going on.
<El-Cideon> Alethia looks even less healthy than before, out in the light of day. Her skin is frightfully pale, and she almost looks to be sweating. Justine is bearing the torrent of abuse calmly enough, responding to any insults with calm and reasoned remarks. "I told you on numerous occasions that I wanted it returned, Alethia. It was a gesture of trust that you did not repay in kind."
* Derrick inwardly sighs, as he was afraid they would be talking about that incident. As he does so, he pauses again, as part of him wants to go apologize for disturbing her when he recovered the book, but he doesn't really know if that would be the best idea or how he would do it.
<El-Cideon> Alethia's tone goes cold and steely, and she stops with her grandiose gesturing for a moment so that the clicking of her frame is no longer heard. "I asked you if we could have a copy made. you said no. Beyond that, I don't see why you couldn't wait a while more. You know it won't be that long." This last remark is said in a harsh whisper that is missed by other bystanders. It also provokes a disgusted grimace from Justine. (more)
<El-Cideon> Before Derrick can hear Justine's response to this, a husky female voice speaks from behind him. "It's rude to eavesdrop, you know."
* Derrick half winces in embarresment and turns around.
<El-Cideon> The woman behind him chuckles softly. The voice and body don't seem to match up as one would expect. She's about five and half feet tall, with black hair cut short and sparkling green eyes. Naturally attractive, but she doesn't seem to make any effort to emphasize this fact. There are two thin parallel scars on the side of her neck, just below the jawline, which look quite old.(more)
<El-Cideon> "Don't worry about it," she says. "Alethia is a natural spectacle whenever she comes out. I wouldn't begrudge you your curiosity." Then, with a nod: "Though she might." The woman wears a long dress of such a dark green that it looks black when the light hits it right; there is a slight sheen to the fabric.
* Derrick shakes his head, "It's not idle curiosity, really. It's...well, complicated. You're right though, I was being rude. I'll go ahead onto breakfast now."
<El-Cideon> Another laugh. "With Alethia, it's always complicated." Then, before Derrick can turn to leave: "You needn't rush off just yet if you don't want to." She crosses her arms over her stomach. "You're one of Justine's students, aren't you? I'm Professor Cuesniet. Meredith, if you like." The name is vaguely familiar, one of the linguistics instructors?
* Derrick nods, "I don't have any of her classes currently, but she is overseeing my examination, yes."
<Derrick> Shaking his head, he adds, "Oh, I'm Derrick Oaks. Pardon my slow manners at the moment, I just woke up and was up rather late."
<El-Cideon> Meredith nods, leans against the wall of the nearby building for a moment. She seems laid-back, for a teacher. "Good to meet you, Derrick," she says with a grin. "No need to worry. Staying up late to celebrate the end of classes is the student's prerogative." She glances over at the ongoing argument. "I should probably stop this before it gets ugly."
* Derrick was about to note that he wasn't celebrating but in fact studying for a different class, but stops before he starts when she mentions stopping the argument. Not wishing to be the target of Professor Rivers' venom, he nods and steps back just a bit, "Good luck on the stopping it not getting ugly..."
<El-Cideon> Meredith shrugs, and pushes herself away from the wall with her rear end. "She'll listen to me," she says before turning towards the noisy duo. Alethia stops in mid-rant when she notices Meredith insinuating herself between the pair. She puts a hand on the short blonde's shoulder, says something quiet which is missed by Derrick, and Alethia subsides for a moment. With a last glare for Justine, Rivers turns and lets herself be led away by Meredith.(more)
<El-Cideon> Professor Ferryman lets out a loud sigh and just leans back against the wall for a long moment, eyes closed, looking like she wants to sink into the brickwork.
<Derrick> Shaking his head, Derrick walks over to Proffesor Ferryman, "That looked...unpleasant, to say the least."
<Derrick> "I'd say 'good morning' but it doesn't seem like you've had one so far, really. So I suppose a simple 'morning' will have to do."
<El-Cideon> Justine laughs bitterly. "'Morning,' will suffice. It is, at the least, accurate." She reaches into a pocket and takes out a tin of mints, tossing one in her mouth and sucking on it it for a second. "How much of that did you see?" she says, opening her eyes now. She sounds more curious than offended.
* Derrick shrugs, "Just a bit. Professor Cuesniet intervened shortly after I walked in. Though from the sound of what I did hear, things had already reached the 'repetition stage' most arguments lapsed into."
<El-Cideon> Another sigh, and Justine shakes her head. "That happened long before you got here. Alethia's version of discussion is to bludgeon you with the same argument until you submit. It's probably best she didn't see you. Don't ask me why Meredith can calm her down, though. I don't know, for one thing, and I've gossiped enough for one morning."
* Derrick chuckles, "Ah, I did refrain from marching boldly on towards breakfast for just that reason, yes. Part of me wants to apologize for disturbing her research as I did, but I'll have to admit that the rest of me is somewhat afraid of her."
<El-Cideon> Justine laughs at the first comment. "I can understand that. She's a sight to behold, that's for sure. Was surprised to see her out of the science hall, to be honest."
<Derrick> "It's not her appearance so much. I'm not one to get disturbed by the appearance of anything, no matter how awful. If you've ever seen me work my own magic, you'll know why. It's...well, I don't know how to explain it, really. She just seems like she, I don't know, hates everything, or something." Derrick shakes his head, "I can already tell this won't be my best day for conveying ideas clearly..."
<El-Cideon> With a sour grin, Justine says, "Perhaps it's a good thing I'm not giving you written exams?" She stands up straight, brushes herself off, and generally appears more professional. "I must ask you, on that note, what progress you've made."
* Derrick was afraid she was going to ask that, but merely shrugs, "Some, but not much. This...well, I haven't exactly studied things like detective work, Professor, and to my knowledge, neither have my parters. This feels much like being given a test for a class I haven't taken. So I'm not expecting things to move quickly on this. To answer the question though, we have a couple of names and that's all."
* Derrick didn't exactly like decieving Proffesor Ferryman like that, but...even if she was reluctant to give them these exams, she was still doing it, and he didn't know how much he could trust her.
<El-Cideon> Justine nods, still all professional. "Of course. I've been instructed that we'd like this stage of the exam resolved by the end of the week, so you know. We do want you three graduating alongside your contemporaries at the year's ceremonies. Too much delay makes that problematic." She looks conflicted for a moment. "Is there anything I can help you with, perhaps?"
* Derrick sighs and places his hand on his forhead as if he were getting a headache, "Lovely. One week to resolve a volatile situation that we have no training in how to handle. This probably won't end without someone getting hurt, will it? At least I'll be right there..."(more)
<Derrick> Shaking his head again (he seems to be doing a lot of that lately...), Derrick adds, "And no, we'll handle this ourselves. Last time we requested help from an instructor, she kind of took over, which wasn't the point, nor my intention in going to her. As annoyed as I am with these tests, they are ours to pass or fail."
<El-Cideon> Another nod. Justine's expression is hard to read. "Of course. I understand completely. Good luck, then." She turns, as if about to leave. "If there's nothing else, I have work to take care of myself now."
* Derrick shakes his head, "No, that was all. And I should eat before attempting any more thinking today anyway."
* Derrick makes a mental note to tell Nemesio and Pilfer that they have until the end of the week to resolve this. If that's what they decide to do...
<El-Cideon> The rest of the walk to the dining hall (near the front gate, in sight of the mammoth metal sculpture of the University's founder) is uneventful. Sitting inside at one of the long wooden tables, he is left alone with his thoughts for a moment. The hall is sparsely populated at this time.
* Derrick eats his breakfast slowly, using the time to ponder over the current test, and to speculate a bit on what may be next.
* Derrick sighs as he realizes that he doesn't really know what to do in this situation, though he is glad that Nemesio seems to have some idea. Though that individual's reaction to the End Of Week deadline will be interesting, to say the least. Subtle plans, especially those made by people who barely know what they're doing, take time after all. It's almost as if the maker of this exam wants them to solve it with force...
<Derrick> Leaning back, he snorts as he realizes how much sense that would make. What if the Registry is trying to make weapons out of them, just as their opposition is making weapons out of the little Duelling Club?
<Derrick> Or worse, what if they were given this assignment as a trap? If they succeed and are loyal little tools, then good. But if not, and if they have to bend or break some laws to succeed...what if the whole plan was to use that as something to hold over thier heads to force cooperation?
<Derrick> Blinking, Derrick then realizes just how paranoid he's getting and gets up to get another cup of coffee. Perhaps that might help him start thinking things through sensibly instead of seeing dark plots around every little detail...
<El-Cideon> Someone's waiting at Derrick's table when he gets back. He's recognizable as one of the students from the previous evening. The youth with black hair that joined up after the tavern...Evan Crossbill? He's got a plate full of eggs which he's busy pushing around in various abstract shapes. "Saw you across the room, though I should say 'Hiya,'" he says. "So, you know, hiya." He gives a little wave. There's a strong hint of Dockside origins in his speech.
* Derrick raises an eyebrow, but then nods indifferantly enough, "Hmm, Evan, was it? Morning."
<El-Cideon> He grins amiably. "Aye, morning it is. You don't mind me sitting here, do you? Oh, and it's Evan, yah. Evan Crossbill."
* Derrick shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee, "Not at all. How goes your morning?"
<El-Cideon> "Ah, well, I've had worse. No question about all my limbs being in the right place this morning, you know?"
<Derrick> "Rearanged limbs often a problem for you, then?"
<El-Cideon> Evan laughs. "Well, you never know with that lot, is the thing." He leans forward a little, speaks low. "You three sure about what you're getting into?"
<Derrick> With half a chuckle, Derrick nods, "Don't worry about those two, they can more then take care of themselves. And...as you heard, I don't actually get involved, so I should be fine, hmm?"
<Derrick> Lowering his voice so that only Evan (or anyone else REALLY CLOSE) could hear him, he adds, "With any luck, my presance will make things less dangerous for all involved."
<El-Cideon> A shrug, and Evan takes a bite from his eggs. "If you say so. Cronin, it's hard to say what he's going to do sometimes. You prove useful enough, though, he'll probably be careful with you." He nods at this last remark. "Aye, and that's something we could use. Wasn't always like this. Tho', there's a chance the man'll just push us harder, if he thinks it'll be easier to patch us up after."
<Derrick> "Cronin...he certainly seems, hmm, forceful I suppose would be the best word."
<El-Cideon> Evan sighs, and wipes his face with his wrist. "Aye, that's one way of putting it."
<Derrick> "Oh? And how would you put it?"
<El-Cideon> "I'd call him a right bastard if I knew it wouldn't get back to him." He looks sheepish. "Hoping you'll cooperate for that, of course."
<Derrick> That gets an outright laugh from even the normally reserved Derrick, "Oh, no worries about that here. I've always thought that a man should be able to speak his mind whenever to whoever, about whatever. But I suspect most of us born Dockside have similar thoughts, hmm?"
<Derrick> With another half chuckle he adds, "Those who aren't outright trying to be crime lords anyway."
<El-Cideon> Evan grins now. "You could tell too, eh? I gather your friend in the overcoat hails from good old Landry district as well, but he wasn't too interested in talking to me." A shrug. "You're right enough, though."
<Derrick> "Pilfer...he, ah, well, he either talks too much, or not enough. Can't seem to find the middle ground. Ever."
<El-Cideon> "Well, from what little muttering I heard, he had a few choice words about our fearless leader."
<Derrick> "That would be one of his 'too much' moments, yes. Anyone in any position of ANY authority tends to rub him the wrong way, so it's no suprise he didn't take to 'is nibs very well." As Derrick talks with Evan, the Dockside slur begins to slowly creep back into his voice, despite his usual efforts to speak more clearly, "Just hope it doesn't get him busted up too bad, even though he didn't pick the best person to get pissy with."
<El-Cideon> "What does your friend do, if you don't mind my askin'? Going to be able to take care of himself when things get rough?"
<Derrick> Derrick grins, "Oh, I don't mind you asking. He might though. Think he wants to keep his aces in the hole as long as he can, you know? But I will say this, ever try to actually hit a man who can dissapear in the blink of an eye?"
<El-Cideon> "Can't say I have, no. I'd reckon you want to hit that man in the back of the head before he knows you're there, but I know that's not addressing your point. I get your meaning, yah."
<Derrick> "So what about yourself? What's your ace?"
<El-Cideon> Evan peers off to one side for a moment, seeming to think about something. "Red," he says eventually, with a grin. "Don't know the best way to describe it. Figure you'll just have to wait and see tonight. Hope you don't mind."
<Derrick> "Nah. No problems. Should be interesting enough to see, I hope. That's part of why I'm in this, after all. It's fascinating to watch other people work, and to see how different even people with similar primas and abilities do things."
<El-Cideon> Evan nods. "It is interesting, yes. How we started out. Buncha kids showing off for each other, really. Those were good times." He wipes his face again, and glances around idly. "Well, I think I've gone and filled myself up here. Thanks for the talk, but I've got an exam to deal with come the afternoon. Be seeing you tonight, I guess?"
* Derrick nods, "Yeah, see you later. Hope I don't have to put you back together, right?"
<El-Cideon> A chuckle as he leaves. "Too true. You don't mind, that's a demonstration I'd see on someone else. G'bye for now, then." So saying, he turns and leaves, neglecting to remove his dishes.
<Derrick> Draining the last of his coffee, Derrick eyes Evan's plate, and then sighs as he picks it up and takes it over to wherever the dirty dishes go. That's just the kind of thing he does.

[Sierra]

Nemesio's morning:

<El-Cideon> Nemesio's dreams that night are chaotic and unsettling, a collection of nightmare images that evade full recollection in the morning but which he can recall involved Ataraxis suffering a variety of unpleasant fates. Thus it is some relief to find her well in the morning, having breakfast in the greenhouse as is her habit.
<Nemesio> "You are a sight for sore eyes," Nemesio greets Ataraxis with, as he approaches.
<El-Cideon> A raised eyebrow as Ataraxis chewes at the corner of a jelly pastry. "You look as though you haven't rested at all," she says after swallowing. "Don't tell me you were studying all night?" The sky outside is overcast, a dull, uniform sheet of gray blocking the sun from sight.
<Nemesio> "Ever pulled an all-nighter on adrenaline, even though you knew the price would have to be repaid with interest?" he chooses to say, tugging on his shoulders. "That's a fair approximation of my current state."
<El-Cideon> Ataraxis nudges aside another chair at the black, wrought-iron table on which her meal rests. "Well, sit down and have something to eat before you collapse, won't you? There's certainly more here than I'm likely to eat." She gestures to the overly-full dish of pastries in front of her. "And you know I have to hear all about what kept you so busy."
* Nemesio takes Ataraxis upon her offer, grabbing a similar pastry to the one she had just finished. "It might be best for you to maintain plausible deniability," he tells her honestly.
<El-Cideon> She sighs. "Well enough for now, but you must promise to tell me the real story once whatever scheme you're up to has been twisted by the newsrags. Now, that favor of yours from the night before last? I've managed to secure a position in the kitchens." She pushes a slip of paper across the table. "Tell your lady friend to show up with that at the administrative building on Friday morning. She should be hired, barring total incompetence."
<Nemesio> "I'll do it," Nemesio agrees. "Thanks. As long as she's not too nervous at the opportunity, it should work out."
<El-Cideon> A nod. "Don't mention it. Now...what else was it you wanted of me?"
<Nemesio> "Nothing as crass," Nemesio protests. "Merely a little side project we both maintain a casual interest in. Remember the odd Miss Greta and her purported mechanical sister?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh yes." She pauses for a sip of coffee. "I asked around about this Brunell fellow. A number of our science professors are quite interested in his work and only too glad to talk about it. Despite that, no one could tell me how these devices work, but the location of Brunell's workshop is apparently no secret if we want to talk to the man himself. Made any progress yourself?"
<Nemesio> "On a different avenue," he says evasively. "I left this matter in your most capable hands, though I'll be glad to pick up the slack and pay Brunell a visit."
<El-Cideon> "Of course. His workshop is in Chalcedony, like most artificers."
<Nemesio> "Makes sense," Nemesio agress curtly, and sneaks a glance at Ataraxis. "You really are alright," he mutters to himself, half-disbelieving.
<El-Cideon> Ataraxis doesn't catch the remark, but does seem to have noticed Nemesio talking to himself. "You really do need more rest, I think. Are these exams of yours truly so horrid?"
<Nemesio> "Truly, an abomination," he confirms. "I think the Chancelor likes me."
<El-Cideon> She laughs darkly. "Oh dear. My condolences then, truly. I don't look forward to dealing with the man on a regular basis, myself."
<Nemesio> "He's bad news, be constantly on your toes around him," Nemesio tells her firmly, tiredness forgotten as his tone become serious in an instant. "I think he's trying to--" He shakes his head, then. "Give me a week to find out more."
<El-Cideon> A curious look, followed by acquiescence. "Very well. But do tell me if you get in any real trouble?"
<Nemesio> "Of course," he assures her, having no intention whatsoever to get her involved.
<El-Cideon> She nods, and turns back to scanning a newspaper for a moment. It's a copy of yesterday's Clarion, the front page going on about the Governor stimying attempts to raise import duties and other dry matters.
<Nemesio> "You are involved in politics," Nemesio states, leaning back in his seat. "How much of the tension between the various factions is real, you think? Is there an actual chance of a clash some time down the road?"
<El-Cideon> Ataraxis looks up from the paper and thinks for a moment. "Clearly *some* of it is genuine. I know the lot over in Calia--Maddox, Gaukler and their lot--are always agitating for there to be wider representation in the two great agencies." A shrug. "Not to mention loosening restrictions on trade. There are always disagreements about how much of the new wealth goes where."(more)
<El-Cideon> "When you say 'clash,' though, I'm not sure what to make of it. They already do as much through legislative means and the papers, but I can't imagine any of them would be stupid enough to take to the streets."
<Nemesio> "I was thinking of just that, or subtler forms such as assassination," Nemesio muses out loud. "We had a similar hypothetical discussion on the matter recently, and while the agreement was that it is possible, I'm afraid none truly knew if there are enough true fanatics at either side to open hostilities for real."
<El-Cideon> "Assassination..." She looks genuinely surprised at the suggestion. "We've kept order for over two hundred years now. It hasn't always been pretty, but I like to think we've moved beyond such means since the post-war days. There *are* extremists, to be sure...whether any of them have enough power to start an open conflict is the real question, I suppose." She looks throughtful.
<Nemesio> "It doesn't even take a mage," Nemesio says with a shrug, before standing up. "For both our sakes, I hope that this remains in the realm of theory," he tells Ataraxis.
<El-Cideon> She blinks, as if feeling that something has been left unsaid in Nemesio's last comments, but simply nods. "I agree," she says simply.
<Nemesio> "I'll be sure to fill you in on anything strange I overhear in my pursuit of unsavory scemes," Nemesio says, feeling obligated to expand upon his earlier words, before adding teasingly, "And I don't suppose I need to tell someone in your position to pay attention to your surrounding?"
<El-Cideon> Ataraxis laughs and shakes her head. "Oh, no, I think not. For academics, the University staff is a contentious lot. I've already seen my fair share of infighting and backstabbing. I'll watch myself, don't you worry."
<El-Cideon> The morning proves to be just as dreary and somewhat chill as it looked once Nemesio is outside. Still, the streets are bustling with the usual morning traffic as Nemesio crosses the city from East Riding towards Lotus district. Halfway there, in the midst of the bustle of Bazaar, he's stopped by a vaguely familiar voice calling his name. "Nemesio, wasn't it?" the woman says. A turn, and Lily Sandstrom is evident nearby at a jewelry stall.
<Nemesio> "Madame Sandstrom," Nemesio greets her. "What a pleasant surprise. Out shopping?"
<El-Cideon> Lily pauses a moment to look back at the stall. The wares displayed are actually quite cheap and low-brow, certainly for someone of her station. "Just looking around. Remembering things. Never mind." She looks back at Nemesio. "Do you mind if I walk with you for a ways?"
<Nemesio> "Not at all," he assures her, observing the woman briefly for any bags she might be burdened with.
<El-Cideon> Lily carries only a small handbag for, presumably, the usual accoutrements of an upper-class housewife. She's wearing a dark blue dress--nearly black--which is fairly plain save for a slight sheen about it. She seems to fidget a little awkwardly trying to start up a conversation. "How are your classes?" she says eventually.
<Nemesio> "Tiring, but nothing a bit of diligence can't help with," Nemesio responds, deciding that an offer to carry the handbag would be taken the wrong way and abstaining from the gesture. "Yet I feel my education ultimately worth the effort." He pauses briefly, before continuing. "Would it be presumptious of me to ask whether Greta intends to pursue higher education in the not too distant future?"
<El-Cideon> She shakes her head. "No, not at all. Greta..." she sighs. "I'm sure she'll go. She's too intelligent to waste. And Bennett wouldn't hear of his children not going. I couldn't tell you what she'll be studying, though--her interests are many. Such a strange child."
<Nemesio> Such a strange thing to say about your own child, more like, he muses to himself. "Has she exhibited any of the more unique talents?" he asks, keeping the conversation going.
<El-Cideon> Lily pauses a moment to eye a succulent display of simmering meat before turning back to Nemesio. "If you mean magic? Not that I know of. But her father hadn't any inclination towards it before going, and won the chancellor's praise for his magical abilities before he left, so I'm sure Greta could learn if she wished."
* Nemesio is curious, but decides that grilling Lily about her private life would be the wrong approach to take if he wishes more information. "I'm almost done with my exams, after which I graduate," he informs Mrs. Sandstrom. "It would be my pleasure to tutor Greta or, at the very least, help her decide whether it was a talent she indeed wished to develop."
<El-Cideon> Lily smiles. It's a fragile-looking thing, but this seems normal for her. "That's very gracious of you. I'll mention the offer to Bennett."
* Nemesio inclines his head. "Where are you headed, Madame SandStrom?" he asks after a brief remission in the conversation.
<El-Cideon> Lily looks taken aback, as though she's forgotten something. "Oh, I just needed to be out and about for a bit. Get some fresh air, you know? Even on a day like this, it's nice to be outside and among other people. And I'll grab the papers for Bennett, as usual." She shrugs. "Sometimes you just need a walk."
* Nemesio can't argue with that. "I took you away from reminiscing, it seems," he mentions, referring to her words as she gazed upon the stand of cheap jewelry.
<El-Cideon> She shakes her head. "It's nothing," she says simply.
* Nemesio allows Lily to make the next move, the rest of the conversational topics coming to his mind too personal, perhaps to the point of being rude or offensive.
<El-Cideon> Lily seems at a loss to restart the conversation herself. Instead, she steps over to a newspaper-hawker and buys a copy of the morning's Clarion. "Well, I won't keep you from your business any further," she says to Nemesio, as if in apology. "I'll tell Bennett about your offer. Good luck on the rest of your tests."
<Nemesio> "You have kept me from nothing, I assure you," Nemesio tells her. "In fact, it was pleasant to have some company along the way. Would you like me to walk you home, now?"
<El-Cideon> Lily tucks the paper into her bag without looking at it; two others can be seen already inside, presumably The Reveille and the Morning Star. "That's very polite of you...It wouldn't be out of your way, would it? I wouldn't want to trouble you."
<Nemesio> "It is no trouble," Nemesio says. "As you have so aptly said, sometimes, it helps to get a bit of fresh air."
<El-Cideon> Another of those odd smiles. "Well, thank you," she says, offering Nemesio her arm. "We're headed right back the way you came, though." She turns to walk towards the northeast.
* Nemesio takes Lily's hand graciously, not minding the detour in the slightest.
<El-Cideon> "So what is it like, attending the University? I've never been, but for attending the occasional function with Bennett."
<Nemesio> "Like a clash of generations, at times," Nemesio responds. "The contrast between the teachers and the students can be quite sharp." He laughs, then. "A strange thing to name as one's strongest impression of the University, isn't it?"
<El-Cideon> She nods. "I suppose so. Shouldn't you come away with whatever it is you're supposed to be learning, instead?"
<Nemesio> "I get most of it from books," Nemesio admits. "To be honest, if you attend your classes without at least an understanding of the material, you shouldn't be surprised to find yourself behind, struggling to catch up."
<El-Cideon> Another nod, and silence for a moment. "I don't know if I could keep up with it. I was never much for reading, I have to admit."
<Nemesio> "I suppose one could rely on tutors," Nemesio muses in response to that. "There is more than one method of getting ahead in one's studies, after all."
<El-Cideon> "Well," Lily muses. "It doesn't seem right somehow, if you can't keep up yourself, to let someone do everything for you?" The couple has left Bazaar district by this point, heading northeast across the peaceful expanse of Morrister.
<Nemesio> "I don't think a more personal method of teaching is quite the same as not doing any work," Nemesio finally says, after considering the question. "One might look at it as hiring a nanny or personally taking care of one's children, versus an upbringing in an orphanage with one person looking out for dozens of kids, I believe."
<El-Cideon> This approach seems to make more sense to her. "I suppose I see what you mean," she says with a shrug. "And I guess it's not for me to say anyway. I never went."
<Nemesio> "It's never too late," Nemesio says with a smile.
<El-Cideon> "No," she shakes her head. "I have other things to worry about now." They've crossed most of Morrister by now, and are approaching the perimeter of East Riding district. The change is noticeable in the quality of housing around them.
* Nemesio makes an interested sound.
<El-Cideon> Lily doesn't seem overly interested in elaborating beyond shrugging and saying, "You know. Children." Then she laughs a little. "Well, I suppose you don't know, yet. But you might someday, right?"
<Nemesio> "The possibility exists," he agrees, laughing with her.
<El-Cideon> The Sandstroms' residence appears to be in the furthest northern corner of the district. The scent of the sea reaches the two as they draw closer and eventually even waves can be heard some ways away. "Did you have anyone in mind?" Lily says, remarkably casually for her.
<Nemesio> "I'm open to suggestions, actually," he responds just as casually.
<El-Cideon> "I was just curious," Lily says. Her house turns out to be on a slight rise above the surrounding area. The expansive estate commands a nice a view of the sea, and Avontyne's crumbling city wall is also visible in the distance behind the mansion. The estate itself is surrounded by a solid brick wall which permits little view of the grounds beyond, as is regular for the area. "Well, here we are."
<Nemesio> "Ah, yes. I'm afraid I really am not in any serious relationship at this time," Nemesio tells her, sounding mildly apologetic. He admires the estate, and finally takes a bow. "Till we meet again, then, Madame Sandstrom."
<El-Cideon> "Well, you are still young. I'm sure you'll manage something." She smiles. "Farewell for now." Lily curtsies and then enters through the front gate.
* Nemesio lingers for a moment as she enters, before proceeding back towards the Lotus district.

---

<El-Cideon> It is midmorning by the time Nemesio makes it to Imelda's apartment. The hallway is quiet, and there are no sounds that can be heard through the door--as before, she's either out or oversleeping.
* Nemesio decides to go out for some fresh apples, and return with his purchase to check up on Imelda once more.
<El-Cideon> There is some noise inside when Nemesio returns--some sloshing around, as though she were employing her talents for some end.
* Nemesio knocks on the door!
<El-Cideon> A pause, and then: "Who is it?" She sounds irritable, as usual. Footsteps approach the door.
<Nemesio> "Nemesio, and I come bearing fruit!" he announces. "You won't harm a man with a peace offering, would you?"
<El-Cideon> Another pause, then the sound of the door being unlocked. Imelda looks as though she slept poorly the previous evening, dark circles beneath her eyes, hair tousled. As before, Imelda's just wearing the blue nightgown. She doesn't seem to care much about being seen in this state. She turns around and waves Nemesio in. "Wondered when you'd show up."
* Nemesio raises an apple in his left hand, the other occupied with a paper bag holding several more of them, before tossing the green fruit over to Imelda as he steps inside her apartment. "I tried to adjust to your sleeping habits this time, thus my apologies if you expected me sooner."
<El-Cideon> Imelda fumbles the catch and then kneels down to pick up the apple, flopping down on the bed afterwards. "Very gracious of you," she says without feeling. She takes a bite from the apple and goes back to making water sculptures in the air as she talks. "So, state your business."
<Nemesio> "Alas, the peace offering failed to speak for itself?" He seems disappointed, biting into an apple of his own, while setting the rest on the floor. "Are you alright?" Nemesio asks suddenly, then. "I was strongly urged to leave while you were still unconscious, and even though there didn't seem to be nothing serious, I wanted to make sure."
<El-Cideon> The room itself is rather spartan: aside from the small bed there is a large chest, presumably full of clothes, a small table by the window, and a couple sturdy wood chairs. Imelda lounges on the bed as she chews and speaks. "Your concern is touching," she states flatly, though her expression is no longer blatantly antagonistic. "I'm well enough physically."
<Nemesio> "I'm certain you would have done the same for me," he responds, treating her words at their face value. Nemesio moves over to sit on one of the chairs, folding his arms over the chair's back and leaning his chin on them. "Only physically?"
<El-Cideon> A sour look. "I don't remember the end of it too well." She thinks for a moment. "I'm told I tried to *hit* you? That doesn't make any sense." The floating mass of water, formerly in the shape of a running bull, shudders and loses some of its charatcer.
<Nemesio> "Up to which point do you remember?" Nemesio asks, musing, "It might be a blessing in disguise if the mean nature I tend to exhibit in a duel would remain forgotten."
<El-Cideon> "Remember both of us missing. Not much, after that." A curious look. "What was that lightning trick of yours?"
* Nemesio answers that question with another. "Can you keep a secret?"
<El-Cideon> Imelda finishes her apple, tosses the core out the open window. She rests her chin on one palm, thoughtfully. "Depends on what it is," she says, rather lightly for her.
<Nemesio> "Close enough, I suppose," Nemesio says with a light laugh. "I can only use it once. That and my famed 'healing touch'. Having to resort to both of them in succession pretty much wiped me out for the evening. I'm told I was a sorry sight for hours after." He raises an eyebrow. "I would evidently not want this little bit to become public knowledge."
<El-Cideon> She nods, eventually. The mass of water slides up around her head, enveloping her hair and making it wave about as if defying gravity. "Right. Good to know." The impromptu rinse ceases after a moment and all the water goes back to her arm, leaving her hair fresh and dry. "You think it's safe to tell me and no one else, huh?"
<Nemesio> "I trained to overcome this handicap," Nemesio tells Imelda with a shrug. "I wouldn't quite consider myself an easy mark, though my ability to bluff and otherwise manipulate the battle would suffer, clearly. Besides, it doesn't quite seem to be your style to run off and tell. Am I wrong, here?" He takes another bite of his apple, eating it at a far slower pace than she had.
<El-Cideon> "No. You're not wrong. I just have to wonder, that's all. Your two little friends know all about this?"
* Nemesio snorts. "They might suspect, after that display, but you're the only one I've... confided in, I suppose one could say." He shrugs, and finally finishes the apple, standing up to pick a pair of new ones, one of which he offers to Imelda with a gesture. "Do you tell your friends everything?"
<El-Cideon> "Not if I can't help it," she says, accepting the apple. "Don't imagine you do, either. Which makes me wonder again why I'm singled out here."
<Nemesio> "I'll take a departure of my regular routine and be honest here." Nemesio doesn't sit back, and instead moves to lean against the wall, observing Imelda. "Your group has two leaders, and you happen to be one of them. If I had to choose, I know which one I'd like to strike a friendship with. There's plenty of benefits involved -- we could teach each other certain elements of our education we each neglected to work on.
<Nemesio> When I meet potential new friends, it is my habit to reveal as much as is necessary to gain their trust, and with you, I've decided to risk it and share more than usual." He looks thoughtful. "Manipulation could do more at a much lower cost, of course, but that only works short term. Friends -- or allies -- are supposed to be there to stay."
* Nemesio also decides that this is a great time to peek into Imelda's thoughts, and see whether she's going along with him here.
<El-Cideon> Something like a grim approximation of a smile steals across Imelda's face. One can almost hear her thinking Thought So. "Alright," she says eventually. "When do you plan on getting rid of him?"
<El-Cideon> Nemesio can tell from the dominant emotions within Imelda that she not only expected this, but it's an opportunity she's been looking forward to for some time.
<Nemesio> "Cronin comes off as deranged. While some of his ideas no doubt have worth, such as his methods for stealth, he is dangerous to you and yours. I don't suppose this is news to you, or objectionable in any way?"
<El-Cideon> "Not remotely." She sits up on her knees on the bed, clearly interested now. "You going to kill him? He'll just come back if you don't."
<Nemesio> "First, a question, if you will. It will become apparent in no time." Nemesio appears curious. "Why were our full names necessary? Did you run a background check on us?"
<El-Cideon> "Nothing so formal. Cronin asked around a bit, I gather--don't ask me where, I haven't a clue where he goes when he's not with us. Tells me you live over in East Riding? Can't say that makes me happy, but getting rid of him does so I'll overlook it. Anyway, would you go into a setup like this with a total stranger?"
<Nemesio> "I see," Nemesio says, nodding. "So how did he come to lead you all? He was quite evasive on the circumstances surrounding his arrival."
<El-Cideon> A shrug. "Someone made a mistake in inviting him. Rather not go into it, if it's all the same to you."
<Nemesio> "It's fine," Nemesio responds, shrugging as well. "All I really need to know who came along on _his_ invitation, and whom amongst the original group you think he might've gotten to. In short, a way to sort those trustworthy from the rest."
<El-Cideon> "Graeme's with him. We could push the bloke around if he wasn't with Cronin, but not both at once. Evan hates him, there's no question the boy wants him out. Wenton'll side with whoever yells at him the loudest, and the rest will probably wait for things to blow over and then make up their minds."
* Nemesio nods, absorbing all this, before asking her suddenly, "And if killing Cronin is the only way? Are you really fine with that?"
<El-Cideon> "You do what's necessary to get what you want, that's all," she says simply.
<Nemesio> "Why wait for someone like me to come along, then?" Nemesio looks curious again. "Your power appears formiddable, especially if wielded outside of a neat and orderly duel with pesky rules to observe."
<El-Cideon> "Not that easy. Would be ugly if things went wrong. Rather make sure the odds are on my side, is all. So...do we have definite plans, or is this just the overture?"
<Nemesio> "The latter." Nemesio takes a seat once more, this time turning the chair towards Imelda so he could sit properly. "Once I know Cronin and Graeme's full capacities, magical and otherwise, we could move to the planning stage. How about that?"
<El-Cideon> Imelda edges forward to the side of the bed, sitting close. The subject clearly has her full interest now. "Graeme...well, you saw the tunnel. But that took him a long time and a lot of work. He might threaten to bring it down on us, but I don't think he can. Dust storms are what you need to worry about. He usually goes light, with us, but I think he could take skin off your arm if he wanted to."(more)
<El-Cideon> "Cronin...you can't get a grip on him. I mean really, if you try you'll slip off. I'm not sure what he's doing, but he's fast. And he knows how to fight. I mean, he's from Dockside. You heard him talk, right? He tries to cover it up, but the Landry slang slips through once in a while."
<Nemesio> "So we'll have to be decisive, and aim to end this in the opening rounds," Nemesio muses thoughtfully. "I think we can dismiss actual wounds. Anything below lost limbs, and Derrick should be able to patch it up after. Unlike myself, he doesn't have a limit on his power."
<Nemesio> He pauses. "If by some chance I happen to miss, or a myriad of other things that can go wrong actually will, use the chance to prepare your own attack to follow up? It may no longer be necessary, but better safe than sorry, I'd say."
<El-Cideon> Imelda grins. It's actually a somewhat macabre sight. "Oh, I'll help. Don't need to worry about that."
<Nemesio> "I wasn't doubting your willingness to do so," Nemesio explains. "Would it be accurate to say that you need a moment to gather your water to strike from a distance effectively?"
<El-Cideon> "Can do it ahead of time if I know I'm going to be in a fight. If we're just going to go in fighting without warning, I may as well arm myself ahead of time. Of course, if we're by a river or something, I can use that."
* Nemesio nods. "We could plan around that. Do you have other means of attack? Myself, there is another power I hold, but I'd prefer to avoid relying on it if at all possible." He winces. "If you thought the price for my normal magic sounded nasty, this one...."
<El-Cideon> Imelda shakes her head, looking slightly abashed. "Sorry, all I got. Though I can always drown him if he stays still."
<Nemesio> "Heh. To plan a bit further ahead, I was serious about my offer of training. I can't quite believe I've reached the apex of my powers or control over them, and I doubt you do with your own magic, right?"
<El-Cideon> "I'd hope not."
* Nemesio nods. "You know when the next meeting is supposed to take place?"
<El-Cideon> "Some of us we're going to show tonight. Don't know the full tally, but I can get the word out today that something's up, make sure our targets know to be there."
<Nemesio> "Let's give it a day," Nemesio proposes. "I'd like to observe things some more, myself, and gaining his trust before striking can't hurt, amoral as that may sound. Besides, I don't like the idea of having only a few hours to convince my friends of the plan."
<El-Cideon> Imelda goes silent for a moment, looking disappointed, but accedes. "Alright. The lot of you stop by tomorrow morning and we'll hash things out. Not sure talking to Evan will do any good. He wouldn't agree to killing anyone, but I'm sure he'll help if he actually sees someone opposing Hugh."
<Nemesio> "Yes. The fewer that know, that better," Nemesio agrees.
<El-Cideon> "Good." She smiles, though it's still not a very friendly expression on her. "Then, go and convince your friends."
<Nemesio> "Yes, my lady," Nemesio returns, smiling himself as he dips into a bow, hand clasped to his heart. "I'll see you tonight, then."
<El-Cideon> "Sure," she says, looking thoughtful, then turns to look out the window as Nemesio exits. "And shut the door behind you."
<Nemesio> "No problem," he calls back, doing as she requests.

[Sierra]

Part D

<El-Cideon> Wednesday, June 3rd remains overcast and gloomy as the afternoon wears on, though the rain threatening to break out never has and hints of the sun finally break through the cloud cover. A cool breeze blows as the three students gather on the University grounds once again.
* Derrick walks up to the other two with a nod, "Morning."
* Nemesio returns the greeting, standing there while observing the cloudy sky.
* Pilfer yawns hugely.
* Pilfer blinks blearily.
<Pilfer> "Mmph."
<Derrick> Not wasting any time, Derrick shakes his head in a bit of annoyance and offers up a bit of news, "Well, I just bumped into our Instructor before breakfast, and it would seem that we have until the end of the week to complete this task."
<Pilfer> "We gotta time limit now? What gives?" Pilfer says, stifling another yawn.
<Pilfer> "All the profs around here have gone nuts."
<Nemesio> "I don't think we'll have too much trouble," Nemesio comments. "Imelda's on board, if we make a move against our mutual friend."
* Derrick raises an eyebrow, but nods, "Evan doesn't seem to like him much either. And by much, I mean at all."
<Pilfer> "Well, he's kind of an asshole," Pilfer points out.
<Derrick> "Only kind of? What raised your estimation of him?"
<Pilfer> "I'm surprised Princess Water Bucket warmed up to you, though. She seemed like the kind to hold a grudge."
<Nemesio> "From the information I have, it checks out. But it might be best to not rely on Evan or anyone else there we cannot expect to follow through," Nemesio agrees with Derrick, before shrugging. "I guess my healing touch works in miraculous ways?"
* Pilfer 's eyebrows almost disappear beneath his slightly-ragged hair.
<Nemesio> "I'm confident we could put the fights to an end if Cronin were no longer influencing the rest," Nemesio continues. "However, the matter remaining is how exactly we take him out of the picture."
<Derrick> "To be honest, it doesn't surprise me. She struck me as the type to respect someone more after they proved they could beat her."
<Pilfer> "What, NO one else is gonna take over leadership if Cronin is gone? If these kids are dumb enough to buy his spiel once, they're not gonna turn into goody-two-shoes just 'cause he's not shouting them down."
<Nemesio> "Who said anything about not taking leadership?" Nemesio asks, raising an eyebrow. "I merely said the fights would stop, thus fulfilling the conditions of our task."
<Derrick> "I think they may well have had enough of that kind of thing after they no longer need to fear him. As fear is what I strongly suspect he rules through."
<Pilfer> "If the dueling club is still around, the fights aren't gonna stop, at least not for long, is my point."
<Pilfer> "Shyeah. A ganger is a ganger."
* Nemesio considers. "Let's say you're right, Pilfer. Would it matter to you, once you had graduated? It is not as if we could stop all illegal fights between mages for all time."
<Pilfer> "They could pull us back in on a technicality, is what I'm saying."
<Nemesio> "I've never heard it happening," Nemesio muses. "Besides, we could be holding positions they would want to keep us at by that point."
<Derrick> "Being in a gang isn't a lifestyle many people choose to stay in of thier own free will. They might get involved that way, but it loses it's appeal before long. Once they think they have a way out, I'm sure a few at least, will take it."
<Pilfer> "You haven't known many gangers, have ya, Derrick?"
* Pilfer shakes his head.
* Derrick raises an eyebrow, "I was raised in Dockside. I've probably known as many as you have."
<Pilfer> "Then they musta been the smart ones. All the ones I ever knew just went right back in every time they tried to go straight."
<Pilfer> "And I knew a few that tried. Lillo even had an uncle in the stablery business, gave him a job and a cushy apartment and everything."
* Pilfer sighs.  "This whole situation sucks anyway. You guys wanna take out Cronin and hope that flies with Ferryman? Sure. I don't even care anymore."  Pilfer looks rather haggard, the bags under his eyes like bruises.
* Derrick shrugs, "And what would you suggest then?
<Pilfer> "If I had a suggestion, I'd be suggesting it, wouldn't I? Let's just get this over with."
* Derrick looks over to Nemesio, "So what exactly is the plan for dealing with Cronin?"
<Pilfer> "Well, what's his schtick? Do we know?"
<Nemesio> "As things stand, ganging up on him tomorrow at a gathering to forcibly take him out of the picture and his followers away from his influence is the preliminary plan. I am, however, open to other, perhaps better ideas." Nemesio then nods at Pilfer. "Yes. Apparently, he is impossible to contain, although whether he's very slippery or just with an ability similar to yours is difficult to say. He is also very gifted at fighting, and happens to be from Dockside himself. Thus, the element of surprise and the attempt to overwhelm him with our opening move is key."
<Pilfer> "I'm good at surprise," Pilfer says, an unusual note of hesitance and uncertainty in his voice.
<Nemesio> "But you disapprove of it, in this case?"
<Pilfer> "No, no. It should work. I don't think anyone in that crew would dare to fight someone who takes out Cronin, at least..."
<Nemesio> "There is one. Graeme. I don't think it would come as a surprise to either of you." Nemesio pauses. "He can summon sandstorms, apparently, but I believe we could ignore him and concentrate on Cronin."
<Pilfer> "Mmph. It's not a good idea to let someone take potshots at your backside. Any way we could take Graeme out beforehand?"
<Nemesio> "Not without giving out the plan, though one of us could call him away under some pretense just before the others attack."
<Derrick> "Hmm. I'd have an easy enough time calling him away from the others to talk about things. He seems very eager to talk about what he's good at, and I could go on about building things for hours. Also, once the fight does start, he'd have a hard time actually doing anythig to me."
<Pilfer> "Plus, if we're going for surprise, I can only carry one other person with me anyway, so someone running interference would be a better idea on the whole."
<Nemesio> "You don't think you'll be more useful in taking down Cronin?" Nemesio asks Derrick.
<Derrick> "Not particularly. I can only harden my own skin, and healing is more useful after a fight then during it."
* Nemesio nods. "Alright, then it's a plan, for now." He turns to nod at Pilfer. "This would be appreciated if we miss with our first strike, but I believe going to the meeting and then finding a place to attack would work better than using your power to appear in the middle of this gathering."
<Pilfer> "So here's a puzzler," Pilfer says slowly. "What are we doing with him afterwards? I mean, are we turning him over to the authorities? Chasing him out of town? *Killing* him?"
<Derrick> "I assumed the former, myself."
<Pilfer> "So all that jabber about how we're just playing into their hands and they planned all this and so on...?"
<Nemesio> "Let's play along for now, until we have sufficient reason to do otherwise?" Nemesio muses in response. "Once we're able to take a closer glance at the Chancellor's office, for example."
* Pilfer sighs.
<Pilfer> "He was in there all night. All night! You think he's chewing loa or something?"
<Derrick> "I don't have any better ideas than that either. Just keep our eyes peeled for anything off. Unfortunately, no matter how much we may dislike being used by them, we dont' have much other choice that I can see right now."
<Nemesio> "He could be seducing innocent, malleable students for all I know," Nemesio says with a shrug. "I'm glad we have time enough, then."
<Pilfer> "Shouldn't we get a little more specific than 'Get him!'? I mean, this guy's been running some kind of crazy subversive terrorist cult thing for months. He's not going to just fold like the Ice Queen."
<Nemesio> "By all means," Nemesio agrees, listening to Pilfer.
<Derrick> "Getting more specific would be lovely. But I'm not any more trained or experienced in this sort of thing then you are, Pilfer."
* Pilfer gives a sideways half-smile.
<Derrick> "In fact, I'm probably less."
<Pilfer> "Well, I can try to soften him up. It doesn't take long, but if he's got a strong stomach, it might just piss him off."
<Pilfer> "I can put up a defense, but if I do, then your lightning-thing won't be able to hit him either, Nemesio. It's a two-way thing."
<Nemesio> "From where I stand, if we are fighting him rather than ending things in a single blow, things aren't going according to plan."
<Pilfer> "So I'll just Jump behind him and give him a Ride, and when I drop him back out you blast him and we hope for the best?"
<Derrick> As the discussion turns to battle tactics, Derrick simply gets quiet.
<Nemesio> "Simplistic, but should work. Can someone resist being taken on this Ride of yours?"
<Pilfer> "Not that I've seen. Always a first time, I suppose."
<Nemesio> "Alright. And should there be undue excitement from the crowd, could you deal with that, perhaps by isolating them from us and Cronin?"
* Pilfer looks uncertain.
<Pilfer> "As long as they're all on one side, sure. I guess he likes to grandstand..."
* Nemesio nods. "That should do. Another matter we should discuss is whether it might just be simpler to lure him away elsewhere, and attack him there."
<Pilfer> "Better that they see him go down. He's got 'em whipped good right now."
<Nemesio> "I happen to agree that the benefits outweigh the risks. Alright," Nemesio repeats. "It sounds like we have a plan. There is a meeting planned for this evening, so we could go and see what usually happens at them, when there is no initiation in progress."
<El-Cideon> The plans decided for now, the trio make their way to the usual gathering place. The Lock of the Maid is sedate as usual, save for one noisy drunk mumbling to himself in the corner. Madda's waiting tables as usual, and is more than enthused to see the three students again. "Hi!" she greets them brightly.
* Nemesio returns the greeting, waving at her as he takes a seat at his favorite table.
<Pilfer> "Oh, hey, it's... it's the waitress... girl... person."
* Nemesio takes out a folded sheet of paper, and waits for Madda to approach them for an order.
* Derrick half snorts at Pilfer and orders his usual ale once she approached.
<El-Cideon> Madda walks right up to Nemesio, just giving the other two a friendly nod. "Do you have any news, or...?" she starts sheepishly before even addressing the matter of drinks. She spies the paper and takes it. "Oh, what's this?" She pauses a moment to read it, grins widely, and then stifles the expression. She steals a look at the proprietor, then quietly says. "Thank you. I'll be right back with your drinks."
<Nemesio> "Consider taking tomorrow off to have the time to prepare properly?" Nemesio suggests.
<El-Cideon> She nods as she walks away to the rear of the tavern, trying not to let her excitement show. Imelda shows up in short order, stalking through the door with her usual air of imperiousness. She pulls out the fourth chair at the table and sits down without even asking. Madda brings the drinks and is about to ask what Imelda wants before the student abruptly waves her away. "So we're all in?" she says, looking specifically at Derrick and Pilfer.
<Nemesio> "Derrick would run interference, while Pilfer has an idea about disorienting our friend," Nemesio tells her.
* Pilfer casts a sidelong glance at Nemesio.
<Pilfer> "Yyyeah. Yeah. 'S all good, right?"
* Derrick looks right back at Imelda. Despite Nemesio's seeming confidence in her willingness to betray Cronin, he himself still wasn't so certain of her, though he keeps his suspicions to himself.
<El-Cideon> Imelda nods. "Right. Well enough, then. You lot can get a better look at the place tonight, suss out where best to take him. And I want you to watch him, too. Doesn't usually fight, likes to watch the kiddies duke it out, but keep an eye on him anyhow. Finish your drinks and we'll move."
* Pilfer glances at Derrick, sharing his unspoken concerns but likewise unwilling to comment openly.
* Derrick finishes his watered down ale rather quickly, and nods his readiness to leave.
<El-Cideon> It's the same trip from the tavern to the warehouse, and the walk is mostly silent. Apparently Imelda doesn't want to discuss the plans out in the open, where anyone can hear. A knock on the heavy front door of the building, and Wenton opens the portal from the inside in his usual fashion, soon after letting them into the underground.(more)
<El-Cideon> The group present tonight is smaller than before, but all the key members seem to be around. Cronin can be heard yelling at someone with full-on belligerence as the new group arrives: "...told you not to let him in! He's on the staff, he can't be trusted!" The subject of his abuse responds with surprising fire: "Bloody well try to keep him out yourself then, none of us can."
* Pilfer bounds into the room with undue verve. "Hi, guys! Miss us?"
<El-Cideon> Some of the lounging students stare pointedly at the wall, not wanting to be subject to whatever wrath is directed Pilfer's way for his misplaced jollity; Cronin merely flashes him a clear I'll Deal With You Later look before turning to someone else, a gangly lad with long, straight blond hair vaguely recognizable as a young researcher from the University.
<Pilfer> "Psh. You guys need to lighten up. Seriously."
* Nemesio settles there to watch the show, next to Imelda and Derrick.
* Derrick just shakes his head, but sits down as well and says nothing
<El-Cideon> The blond fellow, probably in his mid-twenties somewhere, folds his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall and actually grinning as Cronin berates him. "There's nothing here that concerns you. It's a simple social gathering. Bugger on back to your masters before someone has to drag you back."(more)
<El-Cideon> The blond stranger chuckles and stands up straight. "If I was interested in reporting you all, I would've done it by now. I'm here in the interest of science. But if you're not interested in contributing..." A dramatic sigh. "I'll be on my way, then. And before you think of blackmailing me with my appearance here, you should know the board values my work too much to let anything happen to me."(more)
<El-Cideon> A knowing grin at Cronin. "Can't say the same for you, can we? So long, for now. I'll see myself out." He makes his way towards the tunnel to the warehouse, very obviously meaning to brush Cronin as he goes by, but the ringleader skitters away. The stranger laughs and disappears without a backward glance.
<Pilfer> "Nice guy," Pilfer comments, watching the retreating figure. "Friend of yours"
<El-Cideon> "A voyeur," Imelda says sourly. "Ignore him."
<Pilfer> "Really? He didn't look foreign."
<El-Cideon> A disgusted glance at Pilfer, and then Imelda shakes her head. "Let's get on with it."
<El-Cideon> "Yes, let's," Hugh says slowly, "First..." and he glares at Pilfer, "we see if you're worth my time, although I doubt this very much from your conduct thus far. Evan? It's your round, tonight." Evan Crossbill stands up lazily in the back of the room. "Yessir, boss," he drawls slowly.
* Derrick leans forward, now interested in the goings on, especially what Evan's Prima of "Red" would turn out to be like.
<Pilfer> "What, me? What, now?"
* Pilfer looks panicked.
* Nemesio looks mildly embarrassed.
<El-Cideon> Hugh laughs at Pilfer, now. "Would you like to take a rain check? Is the sixteen-year-old such a frightening sight for you graduating students to bear?"
<Pilfer> "Oh, no. I'm just... surprised, that's all."
* Pilfer stands up and tries to tremble, wondering if he's laying it on a little thick.
<El-Cideon> This just prompts more unsettling mirth from Cronin. "Surprised? What did he think we were here for, I wonder? Well enough, clear away, everyone." The students scramble back, out of the way, and Evan takes up position ten feet or so away from Pilfer, offering a sheepish I Don't Want to Be Here Either sort of grin before Cronin calls the start of the match.
* Pilfer readies himself, prepared to dodge out of the way.
<Pilfer> roll 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 9." [2d8=6, 3]
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for going first or not?
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for going first or not? and gets 7." [2d8=3, 4]
<Pilfer> roll 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 10." [2d8=5, 5]
<El-Cideon> To the surprise of all in the room, and no doubt Pilfer himself, a pile of rotten, frayed string appears in his hands. The string is attached to the end of a broken stick--maybe this was a fishing pole once?
* Pilfer struggles to get the last ends out of his pocket and regards the stick in confusion.
<El-Cideon> Someone in the audience calls foul, but Cronin, surprisingly, waves the objection away. "As long as he didn't have it when he came in, it's fair enough, for all the good it'll do him." Evan chuckles. "Interesting method." Then he readies his own attack, winding back one arm and then slashing forward, a crimson bolt of force flying forward.
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for Red Shift gogogo.
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for Red Shift gogogo. and gets 14." [2d8=7, 7]
<El-Cideon> But the bolt zips past the thief's head and impacts against the wall, raising a small puff of dust.
<Pilfer> roll 2d8 for Operation Sudden Drop
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 for Operation Sudden Drop and gets 13." [2d8=8, 5]
* Pilfer disappears and reappears directly behind Evan, sweeping out a kick at the youth's legs.
<El-Cideon> But the 'port is a hair too far to one side, and Pilfer misses the youth!
<El-Cideon> "Yipe!" Evan says in surprise, skittering away a couple meters. "Neat trick," he concedes with a grin. "Teach me how to do that sometime." Then he winds back to sling another of those shining forcebolts.
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for Red Shift failure again?
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for Red shift failure again? and gets 13." [2d8=5, 8]
<El-Cideon> But this shot too zings by the agile thief to strike the wall above his head.
<Pilfer> "The fox has a bag of tricks," Pilfer begins. He blinks out of sight once again, appearing briefly behind Evan to drop the former fishing pole with a clatter before appearing beside him and grabbing for a hold to pin his arms.
<Pilfer> roll 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 7." [2d8=6, 1]
<Pilfer> "The hedgehog has one very good one," he finishes.
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for great escape?
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for great escape? and gets 15." [2d8=8, 7]
<El-Cideon> Evan is pinned tightly by his adversary, and though he struggles, he can't seem to break free. "Shit," he mutters under his breath.
* Pilfer cements his hold, his hands finding pressure points and twisting the captured arm just shy of real pain.
<Pilfer> "Yield?" he asks, glancing at Cronin to see if this is even an option in his brutal games.
<El-Cideon> Evan grunts, but doesn't spend much time struggling. "Watch it back there, will ya? Alright, alright." Watching, Cronin chuckles. "Well...you have convinced me you are not wholly useless, at the least. You can let him go, I've seen enough for now. That trick with the fishing pole...what was that?" He sounds both curious and mocking now.
* Pilfer shrugs.
<Pilfer> "Sometimes I find useful things in my pockets. Don't you ever check yours?"
<El-Cideon> Then there's that arrogant grin again. "Mr...Pilfer? Heh. I know what is in my pockets at all times. To what other uses have you put your talents, I must wonder? I man who can leap through space could accomplish...all manner of tasks."
<Pilfer> "You can see some really pretty sunsets from up top the buildings," Pilfer posits innocently.
<El-Cideon> Evan laughs as he wanders back towards the crowd, though quietly, as though he doesn't want Cronin to overhear. Apparently the lad's not one to hold a grudge. Cronin seems less amused. If anything, he smirks more at the idea of someone actually saying this than the comment itself. "Of course," he says doubtfully.
* Pilfer says nothing further, not desiring to have Cronin start thinking of him as "useful."
<Derrick> Doing his best not to interrupt, Derrick moves over to sit next to to Evan. "Flashy trick, that. What's it do if it actually lands?"
<Derrick> "Or should I say, what's it do to when you fire it at people who aren't that stupidly fast?"
<El-Cideon> A grin. "Well, I'd guess it hurts a fair bit. Pushes people around, mostly. I didn't get to show off much, but I'll leave the rest for later." He goes quiet now. "Hugh wants me to try sharp spikes sometime, instead of the blunt bolts. Buggered if I'm doing that on account of him."
<El-Cideon> Cronin gestures to the crowd in general, ignoring the ex-contestants. "Any other volunteers care to show off tonight?"
<Pilfer> "Well, wasn't that just a pile of fun." Pilfer joins Derrick and Evan.
* Derrick nods, "Sensible, that." Whether he was replying to the comment about saving the rest for later, not trying for lethal force on account of Cronin, or both, was left for Evan to decide.
<Pilfer> "Does the Big Man himself ever get in on the act?" Pilfer asks quietly.
<El-Cideon> "Not often," Evan says, obliging Pilfer by keeping things low. "Sometimes he likes to show off for some newcomer, but I reckon he wanted to know what you lot could do before trying, what with there being three of you. And now I've gotta ask you, since I was right about your friend here--" he gestures to Derrick. "You hail from the streets of good old Landry district too?"
<Pilfer> "A little, yeah," Pilfer adjusts his jacket.
<El-Cideon> "A little?" Evan chuckles softly. "If you say so, mate."
<Pilfer> "You know as well as I do they don't let us out much," Pilfer says, a tinge of regret in his voice.
<Pilfer> "Doubt anyone even remembers me." This last was said with a solid note of personal pride.
<El-Cideon> "Aye, that's true enough. So, lemme ask you two something...Hugh's closer to your age than mine, I think, so I was wondering: either of you ever seen him in classes?"
* Pilfer shakes his head.
<Pilfer> "Mind you, I don't go to classes if I can possibly avoid it," Pilfer points out.
* Derrick also shakes his head, "No, I haven't. And I actually attend the large majority of mine."
<El-Cideon> "Hmm." He looks curious for a moment. "I can't remember seeing him around myself, but then, I'm not exactly in the most advanced classes. Guess maybe he just follows the Pilfer curriculum." He goes silent and looks off at Cronin, who has cajoled a couple fifteen-year-olds into facing off.
<Pilfer> "Best way to deal with school," Pilfer affirms.
<Nemesio> "So do all fights end with melee?" Nemesio asks Imelda from his place next to her.
<El-Cideon> The rest of the evening passes without serious incident, at least in regards to the trio of snooping students. Getting ready to leave, Imelda turns a sour expression Nemesio's way. "Hardly. Certainly none of mine should." She eyes the last two combatants for a moment, one a youth who seems to generate shockwaves by swearing at his opponent.
<Nemesio> "It might be nice to gain more proficiency in close quarters combat, then," he muses in response. "After all, unless you are Pilfer, your opponent can usually force melee upon you."
<El-Cideon> "Trying that's bad news with some of us." She raises her palm, and a collection of water spheres dance about her fingers. "Unless you think you can hold your breath longer than I can. Anyway..."
<El-Cideon> She glances at the crowd, which is starting to break up. "I need to leave with Cronin. It'll look strange if I don't. Catch me tomorrow morning if anything's changed."
* Nemesio nods. "Have fun?"
<El-Cideon> Imelda makes an unpleasant sound in the back of her throat, which can only be taken for dissent, and then leaves.

---

<El-Cideon> The next morning, Thursday the 4th, sees most of the previous day's cloudcover drift away to the east, though it's still somewhat cool for the season. Yase's dormitory is mostly dead at the early hour Nemesio chooses to visit, but the painter is up and active when Nemesio comes knocking. "Ah. Back to claim your bounty, eh?" he says sadly.
<Nemesio> "One man's loss is another's gain, or something along those lines," Nemesio tells him with a shrug. "Such is life."
<El-Cideon> "Ah, well. We must be sure to take turns from now on. Some day you will send such beauty my way, I insist." He walks over to the painting. "Here's the original for you, then." The painting, as striking in its eroticism as it was at first glance, shows the goddess Fyrdaella visiting one of her temples at dawn, draped in a green/blue cloth whose contours reveal nearly everything about the shape of the body beneath it.(more)
<El-Cideon> "The backdrop's one of the smaller shrines in Westborough, where I grew up."
<Nemesio> "Your talent and efforts may yet return many to the Faith," Nemesio comments, admiring the painting again.
<El-Cideon> Yase laughs. "Aye, well, be sure to spread the word yourself--for the Faith and for me. Much as I'm loath to part with this particular beauty, a man can always use more business, generally speaking." He hands over a heavy cloth in which to protect the painting from the elements.
<Nemesio> "Did you consider making it into a series along the same theme, and displaying the paintings in some gallery?" Nemesio wonders, curious.
<El-Cideon> Yase considers this for a moment. "Not a bad thought there, to be honest. Would give me an excuse to head out and see Honre Claudine's in the hills, as well."
<Nemesio> "Keep me in the loop, and I'll bring that business over, along with a few self-important art critics, if you'd like," Nemesio offers, inwardly pleased that Yase doesn't seem as upset as he had been earlier.
<El-Cideon> This offer does seem to lift the artist's spirits. "Heh. Very good, Nem. Do what you can, I'd appreciate the effort."
* Nemesio nods. "Consider it done. Contact me when you're ready."
<El-Cideon> "Of course." And, a final nod towards the painting. "Take care of her for me, then."

[Sierra]

Pilfer's infiltration:

<El-Cideon> It is the dead of night--or, rather, early morning on the 4th of June, after the meeting in which Pilfer was forced to duel for Cronin's amusement. Back on campus, Pilfer finds the grounds deserted, lifeless. There is a slight chill in the air from the cold front still passing through. (more)
<El-Cideon> The administrative building appears abandoned from the outside--no lights visible, no sounds the thief can hear from the road outside.
* Pilfer slinks quietly through the shadows, moving slowly but steadily so as not to attract attention.
<El-Cideon> Pilfer's progress is unimpeded as he makes his way up to the third floor. No one seems to be working late tonight. The heavy wooden door to Joran's office is locked in his absence.
* Pilfer considers for a moment, and then retrieves his lockpicks from a hidden pocket inside his jacket and goes to work on the lock.
<Pilfer> After a few minutes work - the lock is good, but burglary is always more about time and patience than anything else, and Pilfer has no fears of interruption - the door creaks open and Pilfer, pocketing his tools again, peers cautiously in, trying to spot any traps or security devices.
<El-Cideon> There appear to be no security devices set up around the door--nothing to halt unwanted intruders, nor alert others to their presence. It quickly becomes apparent, however, that the room is occupied despite the darkness. A young man--too short to be the chancellor--stands near the window, trying to read a slip of paper by the moonlight. It looks like the blond fellow ejected from the duelling meet by Cronin. He shows no reaction to Pilfer's intrusion yet.
<Pilfer> (Shite!) Pilfer thinks. He reacts as quickly as he can, before he's spotted, 'porting directly behind the man and grabbing him by the boot, where he won't feel fingers, before taking him on... a little Ride.
<Pilfer> Roll 1: 7, 5 = 12.
<El-Cideon> Pilfer doesn't quite catch the lad in time, though--given the darkness, he must have misjudged the exact distance. The other youth spins away from the barely audible whoosh of air behind him and steps to the other side of the room, where he can hopefully keep a safe eye on the intruder. "That's very rude, you know," he says testily. "You could just wait your turn."
* Pilfer stands up, brushing off his hands.
<Pilfer> "Well, I'd have come back another day, but I'm already running late as it is."
* Pilfer peers at the youth.
<Pilfer> "Weren't you the guy who was mouthing off to Cronin the other day? What, are you trying to find out if he has any demerits on his personal record?"
<El-Cideon> A grin is barely discernible in the gloom. "That makes two of us." Then he shakes his head. "Cronin's not really my concern. A minor irritant." He peers around the room for a moment. "Before we go any further, I think we can agree that is in no one's best interest to speak of the other's presence here? An unscheduled visit to the chancellor's office would look as bad for you as it would for me."
* Pilfer shrugs, endeavoring to communicate a careless disdain.
<Pilfer> "He can't possibly lower his opinion of me, but I don't rat on people unless they give me a reason."
* Pilfer gives the boy a hard look.
<El-Cideon> A shrug. "Fair enough. Though I would worry more about criminal prosecution than a blow to one's reputation, if this did get out. But perhaps you have other priorities." Another shrug. "I am essentially done here, at any rate. I see little harm in admitting I found little of worth. Perhaps you will have better luck."
<Pilfer> "Oh? What are you looking for? Might be as I know something that can help."  Pilfer straightens his jacket self-importantly. "I get around."
<El-Cideon> "I imagine I seek information much the same as you do. Merely curious to know what plans our mutual friend might have for me, the best to derail them if they are not in my best interest. Beyond that I see little reason to elaborate, unless you can share something about the man I don't know."
<Pilfer> "Oh, the things I know about the Chancellor. I stole his underpants once, you know. Put 'em on that big statue's head, the one out by the fountain? Good times. They suspended me for almost a month."
<El-Cideon> A raised eyebrow, and the suggestion of a laugh. "Really. I've been here quite some time, and I don't recall that happening. What year was this, I wonder?" He sounds more amused than annoyed at what he obviously thinks is a fabrication.
<Pilfer> "Eh, it was back when I first got in. Gotta make it clear to everyone where you stand, right? Must be six, seven years now..." Pilfer sighs nostalgically. "So he hasn't talked to you? Usually you can tell what they're planning, just from what they say in classes and stuff."
<El-Cideon> Another soft laugh. "I'm a ways past worrying about classes." He doesn't seem interested in explaining this remark though, and changes the subject. "How is it you came to fall in with Imelda and her lot?"
<Pilfer> "Oh, y'know," Pilfer waves a hand vaguely. "A pretty girl can lead you to all sorts of trouble if you're not careful."
<El-Cideon> The man nods. "Well, I have some experience with this phenomenon, I must say. Now...I believe I'll be on my way, if you've no objections." Though his tone makes it clear that any objections would be summarily ignored. He sidles towards the door. "I have no intention of reporting your presence here, so do take your time if you wish."(more)
<El-Cideon> "The locks on the desk were quite beyond my limited skills, I can say that much. And this," he lays the slip of paper on the desk, "was on the inside of his door when I entered. I'm afraid I dislodged it. Best for both of us that it be replaced, no?"
<Pilfer> "I suppose."
* Pilfer studiously ignores the Other Burglar.
<El-Cideon> The stranger slips out the door without another word, closing it behind him to presumably minimize any sign of there still being an intruder in the building. His footsteps can be heard heading for the steps, eventually becoming too far off to hear.
* Pilfer creeps to the door and cracks it open, listening for the sound of a distant door closing.
<El-Cideon> Listening to the hall, Pilfer can hear a few last footsteps retreating down the stairs, but is unlikely to hear the front door close from the third floor.
* Pilfer eases the door closed and gets to work, searching for the Chancellor's files and scanning them quickly for keywords like "dueling", "revolutionary", "Cronin", and anything related to himself or his teammates.
<El-Cideon> The files in the top drawer of the chancellor's desk are mostly typical administrative forms--requisition forms, financial reports from the chief accountant, and the like. There is little actual paperwork devoted to Ferryman's tests that can be found.(more)
<El-Cideon> There is a schedule for graduating students in general, showing when various professors are using the practice field, and for which students, but Ferryman's tests are alluded to only via a separate folder which is mostly empty. There is a very brief summary of the duelling club's activities which mentions only Evan and Imelda by name. Either the chancellor has minimal interest in the tests, or he took the most sensitive papers with him when he went home.(more)
<El-Cideon> One curious detail in the folder is a scribbled note stating: "Phase 4: Rivers/Cuesniet/Garderov?"
* Pilfer frowns and memorizes the names. Professor Rivers was a mystery, and getting more obscure by the second.
* Pilfer carefully replaces everything in the room and tidies up, including placing the sheet of paper back on the door, smiling at the crude practicality of such an "alarm" system.
<El-Cideon> There is a small spot of adhesive on the door which has just enough cling left to take the scrap of paper. In the dim moonlight, Pilfer can see an elegantly handrwitten phrase: "Greetings, bold traveler!"
* Pilfer frowns more deeply. The Chancellor was expecting him.
* Pilfer disappears from the room, moving in his inimitable fashion to the rooftop above.
<El-Cideon> The rooftop, as should be expected, is deserted at this late hour. A glance around the grounds shows no one obviously moving about at night.
* Pilfer blips back down for a moment and roots quickly through the piles of paper in search of the Chancellor's precise physical address.
<El-Cideon> There is very little in the way of personal correspondence among the papers in the chancellor's office. He doesn't seem to have left anything indicating his home address in the desk.
* Pilfer snorts in disgust, and moves in a series of quick hops to check the payroll records, over in the financial offices.
<El-Cideon> The accounting offices occupy much of the administrative building's second floor and contain a vast amount of documentation. The bulk of this is contained in a long narrow room lined with cabinets on one side and desks on the other, presumably workspace for the chief accountant's handful of flunkies. The chief's office is in a separate space at the eastern end of the room, the door presently closed.(more)
<El-Cideon> Digging through the cabinets takes a few moments--the files within appear to be alphabetized, but there are no helpful labels on the outside to let Pilfer know which letters are where, so it takes some actual time to determine that staff information is not kept in the same area as student info, the long room containing only the latter.
* Pilfer frowns, and looks for the room containing staff information. They might slow him down, but no one at this university could stop him.
<El-Cideon> A search of the long room proves fruitless; presumably such sensitive information is kept within the chief accountant's office itself, since nowhere else seems to have it. The door is locked, but this fact has already failed to stop Pilfer this night and this one is no exception.(more)
<El-Cideon> The office itself, perhaps unsurprisingly given the nature of it's owner's occupation, is obviously the domain of an obsessive neat freak: every piece of furniture is alligned absolutely perpendicular to each of the others and the walls, the desktop is bare and tidy, the wastecan empty, etc. Two large cabinets in the corner look promising.
* Pilfer moves cautiously, careful to disturb nothing of the impeccable order surrounding him.
<El-Cideon> Reading the files by the dim moonlight is not easy and strains Pilfer's eyes, taking more time than the thief would probably like (it must be nearing 3:30 AM by the time he finds what he's looking for), but this seems to be the desired information. The chancellor's file rather unhelpfully lists three separate residences at which he could be contacted if necessary: one the expected estate in East Riding, one a building in the southeast of Morrister, near the government buildings, and the third a country estate which can probably be written off for the purposes of this investigation.
* Pilfer frowns thoughtfully. (If I was a crucial document, where would I hide?) he wondered. (At home, tucked in bed next to him so he can keep an eye on it? Or in the high-sec government buildings?)
* Pilfer sighs, and stretches, yawning enormously.
<Pilfer> (I'll check the sites, but if I stay up all night again, I'm going to be worse than useless tomorrow, for the actual fight...) he thinks, with more than a little fear.

[Sierra]

Part E

<El-Cideon> Thursday, June 4th: And again the three students meet on central green at Margranth's. It is midafternoon as they prepare to set out one more time for the duelling circle's meeting place. Scattered clouds drift lazily above, and the temperature has warmed somewhat. Pilfer *pops* in, as usual, and Nemesio and Derrick walk in soon after.
<Pilfer> "This is the worst test ever."
<Nemesio> "Today is the day," Nemesio comments, upon greeting the others. He snorts at Pilfer's words. "This may well be true, law finals nonwithstanding."
<Derrick> "Nice to see we agree on something. And I was afraid of that. Here's hoping everything goes as planned."
<Nemesio> "Things rarely do, but it would be nice, wouldn't it?"
<Pilfer> "The Chancellor had jack all in his office. Gonna hit his house and other office next, but that had to wait 'cause it was getting early enough that there might be random passers-by."
* Pilfer 's voice lowers conspiratorially.
* Nemesio nods. "They know nothing of the fighting club, then? Not officially?"
<Pilfer> "And that blonde kid who was messing with Cronin the other night? He was there ahead of me."
* Pilfer glances at Nemesio.
<Derrick> "...huh. I wonder who that guy is?"
<Pilfer> "He had a file, but it was a total ruse. Nothing there, really. Couple of bits on Evan and so on. Not even a mention of Cronin."
<Nemesio> "Only Evan?" Nemesio seems surprised. "Yes, it must be a ruse after all, unless Evan is important to the school, somehow."
<Pilfer> "Him and Princess Waterbucket."
* Nemesio snorts. "Our princess would drown you if you tease her too much."
<Pilfer> "Eh, she can try." Pilfer looks distracted, his mind obviously not on Imelda or potential repercussions.
<Nemesio> "Before making a move, let's determine who our blonde friend is?" Nemesio proposes.
<Pilfer> "He said he was looking for info on himself, trying to find out if he was being routed into some nasty job after graduation," Pilfer says uncertainly. "I know how much *I* trust that kind of self-report."
<Derrick> "Hmm. That doesn't sound like a bad idea. He may end up being a factor in this, and I don't like unknowns."
<Nemesio> "I think a bit of truth would serve us well, here, if we were to come to the administrative wing and report a person too old to be a student, and too young for a teacher." Nemesio shrugs, then. "It is suspicious, having seen him on campus several times, wouldn't you agree?"
<Pilfer> "Isn't Cronin in the same boat, though? He's older than me, I know, and there's nothing on him, not even in the files about Evan and Imelda."
<Nemesio> "He would be a welcome surprise to the Chancelor once we deliver him, then." In a more serious voice, Nemesio adds, "I'm curious about him as well, but it would seem off if we were to report two people, especially related to this little club as they are."
* Derrick nods, "True."
* Pilfer lurks outside, with Derrick.
<El-Cideon> The front office in the administrative building could stand to be tidier. A small, balding man tends a desk haphazardly scattered with papers, scanning and signing them in seemingly random order. There are a couple cabinets behind him, and a row of mailslots for the staff near the entrance. A door across from the entrance leads to the rest of the admin building--a place familiar from the trio's meeting with the Chancellor.
* Nemesio approaches the man, mentally searching for his name, though a plaque at its desk might serve the same purpose as he comes closer.
<El-Cideon> The man glances up at Nemesio's approach, managing a friendly (if timid) smile. There's no plaque to indicate the functionary's name, but he saves Nemesio the trouble of an introduction by speaking himself: "Good afternoon. Can I help you with something?"
<Nemesio> "Why, yes," Nemesio responds, stopping just short of the desk. "I'm in a bit of a bind, you see. What should I do if I think I've seen someone who has no business being on campus?"
<El-Cideon> Two rapid blinks. "What do you mean, like a thief or some such character?"
<Nemesio> Nemesio decides to use the same phrasing he did with Pilfer and Derrick. "Too young to be a teacher, too old to be a student, hanging out around the science and magic buildings. Of course, I could be over-thinking it, but a couple of my friends have also noticed him around, when I asked." Nemesio takes this opportunity to describe the blonde man in question, hoping for a sign of recognition from the clerk.
<El-Cideon> The clerk thinks for a moment. Recognition dawns rather quickly with the description. "Long blond hair? Dresses about twenty years out of fashion?" Another of those quick double-blinks. "It sounds like you're talking about Simon Garderov. Has he done something wrong? I can write up an incident report."
* Nemesio seems taken aback. "Is he assosiated with the school? I wouldn't want to give him any trouble, then...."
<El-Cideon> "He's professor Adamsen's assistant, I believe? Or something along those lines. Graduated a few years ago and came right back for a researcher's position. I really must report it if he's done something, so if this is not mere suspicion on your part...?"
<Nemesio> "I see," Nemesio says, looking chastised. "I must have been overly worried for nothing. Thank you for your time."
<Pilfer> Outside, Pilfer yawns, though he seems less exhausted than yesterday. "Man, breaking and entering is a real chore. I forgot how much of a pain it is when you have a specific score to make, and not just taking a target of opportunity." Pilfer lounges against the wall, keeping out of obvious sight.
<El-Cideon> The clerk shakes his head. "It's no problem, really. It's good to see you all being concerned about the University." A slight lowering of his voice and a raised eyebrow: "And he is a strange fellow, so I don't blame you at all. Well, good day, then."
<Nemesio> "Good day." Nemesio inclines his head, and leaves the building to rejoin the others, letting them know about the strange professor and his likewise strange assistant.
<Derrick> "Hmm. Well, is knowing that enough? Or should we attempt to find out what he has to do with things before acting?"
<Pilfer> "He might just have stumbled across the duelling club. It's not like it's hard to dislike Cronin once you find these bozos."
<Nemesio> "You bonded over a common experience, didn't you?" Nemesio tells Pilfer, sounding amused. "What do you think, should we have a chat with Simon?"
<Pilfer> "I dunno. Right now he thinks I'm just digging up dirt on Cronin. If the three of us ambush him, he might start getting suspicious."
* Nemesio nods. "So how about ambushing him yourself?"
<Pilfer> "He already said he didn't know much about Cronin. I guess I could just pretend to be the annoying little kid and pester him, but I doubt it'd do much to actually, y'know, advance our cause."
<Nemesio> "Then we might as well go for our plan of dealing with Cronin."
* Derrick sighs, "I suppose so."
<Pilfer> "I'm just saying, it's either make him suspicious or leave him a mystery until we've got our diplomas."
* Pilfer breaks into a gentle stroll, in no apparent hurry.
<Pilfer> "So how are we actually running this? Just play it by ear?"
<Nemesio> "Try to incapacitate him by taking him by surprise if possible, and use force if not. It's still not too late to change the plan."
<Derrick> "Well, I'm going to talk to Graeme and try to lead him a small distance from the others. Then I'll just stand between him and the rest of you, which should keep him out of things long enough."
<Pilfer> "You places your bets, you takes your chances, I guess."
<Nemesio> "I'll try to stack the odds in our favor," Nemesio says, then. "Just play along, if it comes to that, please."
* Pilfer casts a sidelong glance.
<Pilfer> "What does that mean, exactly? I was just going to try and pick a fight with Cronin. He almost went for me himself last night. It shouldn't be too hard. Once we're "duelling", it should be pretty quick from there..."
<El-Cideon> Imelda is waiting outside the Lock of the Maid when the trio arrives, bearing what can only be described as a look of grim determination. Apparently not wanting to waste any time, she sets out for the warehouse immediately with the other students in tow. "Got anything flashy planned that I need to know about?" she asks eventually.
* Pilfer hunches his shoulders and keeps walking.
<Nemesio> "Derrick intends to distract Graeme, and provide cover for the rest of us if it's needed, and Pilfer will try to incapacitate Cronin. Then, it would be our turn." Nemesio smirks. "It should be quite flashy."
<Pilfer> "If he *IS* incapacitated, though, you probably shouldn't, y'know, open fire," Pilfer says grudgingly, glaring suspiciously at Imelda. "Looks bad on the guard reports."
<El-Cideon> The warehouse area is reached in short order. Imelda nods, tossing her green hair. "Sure enough, I bet it will be. Three of us should be enough to take him. Four if Evan joins in, but I wouldn't count on that." She peers at Pilfer with a wicked grin. "Who said anything about fire?"
<Nemesio> "Let's see how things go," Nemesio proposes. "No plan survives contact with the enemy, even a simple one like ours."
<Pilfer> "Open water, then, but that makes us sound like sailors. Are we sure that no one else is going to jump into the fray?" Pilfer is getting edgy again as the hour of conflict nears.
<El-Cideon> "We make a big show, no one'll want to interfere. Got a feeling most of the kids won't be sad to see him go. Just keep Graeme out of the way and Cronin's all ours." She quiets down as the group reaches the warehouse, knocking on the door so that Wenton can let them in.
<Derrick> As the time of the confrontation grows closer, Derrick gets more and more quiet and withdrawn. He knows that he may well be forced to fight Graeme, and that thought does not sit well with him.
<Pilfer> "Gonna look awfully stupid if we go down under twelve new assaults the second we knock him over," Pilfer mutters to himself.
<Derrick> As they get close to the warehouse but before they enter the sight of anyone else, Derrick takes a moment to cut his palm and smear a line of blood over the back of his arm, letting the blood sink in and the magical hardening of his skin take effect.
<El-Cideon> The three students can hear the sounds of the usual festivities on their way down the tunnel. Someone shouts in dismay and there's the thump of a body falling to the ground. The trio can see one youth sitting on the ground, holding his arm, with an opponent still standing across from him. Apparently a duel just ended.
<Pilfer> "Fun, fun, fun," Pilfer mutters.
<Nemesio> "That's the spirit," Nemesio agrees, smiling.
* Derrick immediately goes over to check the loser and see if that was a serious injury or just a minor one.
<El-Cideon> Cronin applauds the victor as Derrick attends to the other student. There's a nasty bruise on his arm, but nothing seems broken. Cronin ignores both of them as he spots Nemesio, and goes over to greet him. "Welcome back," he says, with that frightening smile of his.
<Pilfer> "Hail, Great Leader!" Pilfer says, with a smarmy grin.
* Derrick nods at the bruise and offers the kid a hand up before moving over to where Graeme is, "We miss much?"
<El-Cideon> Graeme just waves in dismissal. "Just a scuffle. Nothing interesting, really." He nods at Pilfer and Nemesio. "Your friends maybe going to entertain us again tonight?"
<El-Cideon> Cronin grimaces at Pilfer. "Will it be necessary for you to earn my approval all over again tonight?"
* Nemesio looks at Pilfer with interest.
* Derrick shrugs, "Possibly. Dunno yet, depends on their mood. Or if Pilfer manages to make enough of an ass of himself to get called out. One of the two. How about you, you on the program tonight? I admit, being someone who studies construction and such I've been wondering just how your gift works."
<Pilfer> "Aw, you approve? I'm touched, really." Pilfer returns Nemesio's glance and appears to lose interest in Cronin completely.
<El-Cideon> Graeme nods with a grin. "Might be you'll get a chance. Just hope there's someone worth my time. Hasn't been for a while," he boasts. "Know you don't fight, yourself, but I'm curious to see what you could do."
<El-Cideon> Cronin goes silent for a moment. Then he speaks to Nemesio. "No disrespect to you, but I do wonder what could drive you to tolerate the friendship of such a twit."
<El-Cideon> Imelda bides her time in a corner by the tunnel entrance throughout this display.
<Nemesio> "He grows on you." Then, Nemesio adds in contemplation, "Perhaps it is something one only understands after witnessing Pilfer's special skills first hand."
<Pilfer> "Welp, there went the approval. That didn't take long." Pilfer cracks his knuckles. "Probably for the best. I don't know if I could have labored beneath Hugh's good graces for much longer."
<El-Cideon> Cronin nods. "Aye, I've seen them. Enough to wish he had the sense to put them to better use," he says with a harsh edge in his voice.
* Pilfer shrugs and wanders off.
* Derrick shrugs, "Both less and more then I'd like all at once, I'm afraid. Well, if you don't think you'll be fighting until at least eveyone's had a chance to warm up, would you mind if I picked your brain about the tunnel and such? I had a few ideas about how things might be, hmm, altered, I suppose? So that you could open and close the place as easily as Wenton could, for example."
* Derrick is attempting to sound like, well, the nerd that he is when it comes to architecture. Despite his inner reservations about this whole thing.
<El-Cideon> "Sure," Graeme says. He leads Derrick across the length of the room to the far side, where a few other tunnels lead to small side rooms, and at least one just goes off into the darkness. "Doubt I could manage it like Wenton, though. Only if we made the exit outta packed dirt, like the walls. And the concrete floor up there is a nice blind, so no go there."
<El-Cideon> Cronin watches in disgust as Pilfer retreats. He seems almost disappointed. Then, back to Nemesio. "I do have to wonder how the two of you met, of course. You do not make for the most likely comrades. You, for one, are clearly better trained in the social graces."
<Nemesio> "A chance meeting," Nemesio responds. "Like far too many other partnerships."
<Derrick> "Hmm," Derrick muses for a bit as he walks down one of the tunnels a bit, looking things over, "So you can only effect dirt and not stone? Or is it just mixed things like concrete that block you?"
<El-Cideon> Cronin nods. "Of course. I know precisely what you mean." And he seems to eye Imelda a moment before going back to examine the other students.
* Nemesio expected as much, and is content to stay in the vicinity of Imelda while Pilfer and Derrick do their thing.
<El-Cideon> Graeme nods. "Well, looser the material is, the easier, you know? So dust and dirt and the like are best. Anything really rocky's out of my jurisdiction, you know?" He leans against the smooth dirt wall and smacks a hand against it. "This, I can manage."
<Pilfer> "Aw, that's sweet. You hear that, Princess? You're approved of, too, just like me. He's a giver, the Great Leader. That's what I like about him." Pilfer's tone is openly sarcastic.
<El-Cideon> Imelda doesn't seem up to contradicting Pilfer, for once. She just nods and grunts, seeming reluctant to voice actual agreement with the thief.
* Derrick nods as he examines things, then steps back past Graeme to put himself between the dirt worker and the main room as he examines one part of the wall in the spot he chose, "Hmm, packed tighter then a dock merchant's purse strings here. And yeah, that makes sense. Still, it seems like you're practically making stone out of dirt. Hmm..." He proceeds to examine things and make small inquiries and archetctural comments until somethinig happens or Grame tries to head back to the main room.
<El-Cideon> "Well, that's the idea," Graeme says. "But packing it in's one thing, moving it around afterwards is another. Not sure how to explain it, really. Anyway, say we had to up and move for some reason, and wipe this place out so no one found it? Dunno if I could manage." He doesn't pay much heed to Derrick's actual location; it's easily to move between him and the main room.
<Pilfer> "So who's on the chopping block tonight?" Pilfer wonders aloud.
<El-Cideon> Cronin laughs. "Well, that depends. We always like to give everyone interested a chance to volunteer before drawing lots." He's standing in the middle of the long room now, facing Pilfer, Nem and Imelda. Various students loiter in the other corners; Evan can be seen on the opposite end of the long hall.
* Pilfer looks around with faux interest.
<Pilfer> "Lots of enthusiasm, then?"
<El-Cideon> Cronin goes silent for a moment. Then he turns to Nemesio. "Maybe you would care to discipline your friend here. He might break if I try." He levels a glare at the thief. "I rather doubt I could persuade myself to hold back tonight."
<Pilfer> "I doubt you could persuade a cat to come in out of the rain, myself," Pilfer says, shaking his head. "Your welcoming demeanor needs work, frankly."
* Nemesio frowns. "Maybe that's just what is needed, here?"
<Pilfer> "What, a welcoming demeanor? Yeah. It wouldn't hurt to smile more, too," Pilfer advises Cronin earnestly.
<Pilfer> "Maybe some soft music, inspirational posters..."
<El-Cideon> Cronin nods to Nemesio, and gestures to the central floor area. "Yes, come on out and show your friend how to practice proper deference, won't you?" Next to Nemesio, Imelda mutters. "The coatrack really know what he's doing here?"
<Nemesio> "If he doesn't, he has a pretty foolproof get out of jail free card, and would use it at the first sign of trouble," Nemesio tells Imelda just as quietly.
<El-Cideon> "Going to take him once you're out there?" she says, just as quietly. "I need to be ready."
<Pilfer> "Eh, Nemesio's all flash and bang. I thought you wanted fights, not pretty light shows?"
<Pilfer> "I mean, heck, why don't YOU show us how it's done?"
<El-Cideon> This isn't an argument Hugh wants to hear, from the look of him. The whole group's watching intently now, though, and he seems unwilling to lose face in such a situation. "Very well," he says. "I take it you'll be the target dummy?"
<Pilfer> "If you think you can catch me." Pilfer waits a beat. "Slowpoke."
<El-Cideon> Cronin laughs, now, surprisingly. It's not a pleasant sound, though. "That will not a problem. Letting you live, perhaps, will be." He takes up a position across from Pilfer, pausing only a moment to divest himself of two knives, which he leaves on the bench by the wall.
* Pilfer vanishes from view, reappearing with a faint outrushing of air opposite Cronin, at an angle to his left hand.
<Pilfer> roll 2d8 + 7
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 + 7 and gets 9." [2d8=6, 3]
<El-Cideon> 2d8 + 10 + 5 for going first?
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 + 10 + 5 for going first? and gets 13." [2d8=7, 6]
<El-Cideon> Hugh wastes no time in taking the initiative, but he does start out simple. He turns towards the slight thief--seeming to pivot so smoothly that he might as well be floating--and lunges forward with a swift right hook.
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for smashy?
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for smashy? and gets 11." [2d8=7, 4]
<Pilfer> 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 7." [2d8=2, 5]
<El-Cideon> The nimble thief slips just out of the strikes range, though, and Cronin grunts in what sounds like amusement.
<Pilfer> 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 9." [2d8=1, 8]
* Pilfer flickers, his outlines growing vague, and abruptly disappears again, reappearing instantly a few feet behind Cronin and grabbing for the scruff of his neck.
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for great escape?
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for great escape? and gets 11." [2d8=6, 5]
<Pilfer> Though his eyes are barely level with the larger man's shoulder blades, Pilfer's light fingers come to rest on Cronin's upper back. Before the would-be revolutionary can do more than grunt and begin a spin, both men flicker and vanish. Or nearly...
<Pilfer> There is a brief moment of horrible uncertainty, as space seems to turn into taffy and contort itself in knots. Odd glimpses of both Pilfer and Cronin can be seen, the proportions out of tune and in some cases twisted beyond recognition.
<Pilfer> After only a second or two, the effect ceases, and Pilfer leaps back a few feet, panting heavily and sending Cronin reeling forward after a jaunt through sixteen and a half dimensions.
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for save?
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for save? and gets 11." [2d8=6, 5]
<El-Cideon> The gang leader pops out several feet from where he'd expected to be, and staggers over to the wall, though he seems to experience some difficulty finding just where it is. He manages to turn back towards Pilfer and send the standard glare in his direction, but he's clearly dizzy.
* Pilfer smirks. "Power isn't everything, you great lummox."
* Pilfer disappears and pops behind Cronin again, giving him a shove in the lower back.
<Pilfer> "You," says Pilfer, as Cronin topples, "are one nutty little fruitcake, you know that? Luckily, I'm the sort to be very forgiving of past transgressions."
* Pilfer reaches into his pockets...
<Pilfer> roll 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 16." [2d8=8, 8]
* Pilfer 's smug expression falters slightly...
<Pilfer> There is a brief moment of visual distortion, and Pilfer withdraws his hand from his pocket.
<Pilfer> There is a faint sound of cloth being put through horrendous torture.
<Pilfer> Pilfer seems abruptly smaller. His spindly arms are visible for the first time, beneath a quite dirty tunic. He stares at his hand. Somehow, he has pulled his coat out of his coat pocket.
<Pilfer> "Right." he says faintly.
* Pilfer dons his coat again, and gives Cronin a solid kick in the jimmies.
<El-Cideon> There's the distinctive *smack* of someone's palm against their forehead in the corner by Nemesio--Imelda, expressing dismay. Several students laugh loudly at this display, some are just confused, but the green-haired girl has started generating water in case it's needed.(more)
<Pilfer> "THAT's for making me tear my collar!"
<El-Cideon> Cronin groans and staggers along the wall--he manages to make his way to the knives left earlier, and takes them in clear violation of his own rules, but he's still dazed as he climbs to his feet.
<Pilfer> "Oi, Great Leader!"
<Nemesio> "How nice of him to break the rules first," Nemesio murmurs to Imelda. "Ready?"
<El-Cideon> "Quite," Imelda mutters. She seems to have a veritable wave at her back by now.
<Pilfer> "Well, he sure showed me how to run a duel," Pilfer comments. "LOOK OUT! HE'S GOT A WEAPON!" he shrieks, and dodges away.
<Nemesio> Lightning gathers in Nemesio's palm as he announces, quite loudly, "So rules only apply to the lesser beings, Cronin? He might be annoying at times, but I'm afraid I can't let you kill Pilfer for the crime of fighting honestly."
<Pilfer> "Who says he'd kill me?" says Pilfer, from behind Nemesio.
<Nemesio> roll 2d8 hatedice
* Hatbot --> "Nemesio rolls 2d8 hatedice and gets 10." [2d8=6, 4]
<Nemesio> The lightning flashes across the room, managing to miss Cronin by a wide margin, yet quite sufficient in convincing any of the spectators to give the disgraced man a wide berth, if they haven't already.
<Derrick> As he hears Nemesio's loud announcement echo through the tunnel, Derrick takes a deep breath and then moves to the direct center of the tunnel so that Graeme would have difficulty pushing past him, "Oh dear. I believe it would be in our best interests to simply remain here until this situation blows over, hmm? That way no matter who comes out ahead, we remain blameless and unharmed."
<El-Cideon> "Right," Imelda growls. "Waited too damn long to do this." She wheels around and a torrent flies at the lurching Cronin with what looks like the force of a waterfall.
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for SPLASH?
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for SPLASH? and gets 10." [2d8=4, 6]
<El-Cideon> But Imelda also misses, perhaps uncoordinated in the excitement of the moment. The jet of water tears across the room and douses a handful of students after sloshing off a wall.(more)
<El-Cideon> Amidst the noise, Evan can be heard trying to guide some younger students towards the exit; others skitter towards whatever isolated corner they can find, away from the sudden brawl that's developed. Graeme tries to peer past Derrick to see exactly what's happening, but is mostly blocked from view.
<El-Cideon> 2d8+8 for Imelda go go go?
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8+8 for Imelda go go go? and gets 21." [2d8=6, 7]
<Nemesio> roll 2d8+6 I will clearly go last
* Hatbot --> "Nemesio rolls 2d8+6 I will clearly go last and gets 11." [2d8=4, 1]
* Pilfer makes a lot of noise and bounces around, holding his arm stiff behind him, trying to make sure he has a clear line to cast his distortion-field.
<El-Cideon> Imelda winds up for another shot. "Right, let's try that again."
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for SPLASH with less bot-hate this time?
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for SPLASH with less bot-hate this time? and gets 10." [2d8=6, 4]
<El-Cideon> The girl snarls at her own clumsiness as this shot goes wide too, however.
<El-Cideon> Hugh manages to stand, though still obviously wobbly. He peers at Imelda. "You planned this, didn't you?" He snarls and tries to lunge at her, but his movement is clumsy and awkward.
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for stabby stabby.
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for stabby stabby. and gets 9." [2d8=7, 2]
<El-Cideon> Cronin barely manages to prevent himself from falling over, though, much less managing to land a blow on his target. Imelda laughs and backs away a couple feet. "Pathetic!"
<Nemesio> "Yes, it is all a conspiracy," Nemesio tells Cronin levelly. "The entire world is arrayed against you. Your own actions have nothing to do with it."
<Pilfer> "God hates a cheater," Pilfer adds solemnly.
* Pilfer Jumps behind Cronin and aims a kick at the back of his knee.
<Pilfer> roll 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Pilfer rolls 2d8 and gets 9." [2d8=6, 3]
<Pilfer> The lightly shod foot cracks into the knee joint, making the unsteady man unsteadier.
<Pilfer> "Never start a dirty fight with a street rat, Great Leader."
* Nemesio wished to avoid taking hold of another's mind in plain sight again, but it seems the best way to end this before Cronin shakes off his dizziness and actually uses those knives on someone. As Pilfer staggers Cronin, Nemesio tries to force the latter's eyes to roll back, as his body drops to the ground, already having lost consciousness.
<Nemesio> roll 2d8
* Hatbot --> "Nemesio rolls 2d8 and gets 12." [2d8=7, 5]
<El-Cideon> 2d8 for RESIST?
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d8 for RESIST? and gets 10." [2d8=6, 4]
<Nemesio> As Cronin topples over, Nemesio raises an eyebrow, breaking contact. "Would you mind postponing any future activities, and letting everyone know?" he asks Imelda. His head feels like cotton, and it's somewhat hard to form coherent sentences without pausing briefly for thought, but Nemesio overcomes the tiredness just as he ignores the feeling of needles in his eyes, intent on making sure their assignment is fulfilled.
<El-Cideon> Imelda looks disappointed, but nods. She glances at the now-inert Cronin, and then goes off in the direction of Derrick and Graeme (the latter of which is shouting to be let back into the room).
* Derrick had been continuing to try to calmly talk Graeme down while he blocked his way back, but so long as the man didn't get violent, he did no more. As Imelda approaches, he flicks his eyes to her while keeping Graeme well within view, "What's the score?"
<El-Cideon> "Hugh's down," she says. Then: "Give it up, Graeme, he's done with."
<El-Cideon> Hugh, unconscious as he is, puts up no resistance to Nemesio's intrusion. Meanwhile, the other students have mostly been cleared out and can be heard milling about in the warehouse overhead. Evan pokes his head in curiously, though.
<El-Cideon> The black-haired youths eyes flit from the sight of Nemesio by the fallen Cronin, and the sight of both Derrick and Imelda reasoning with Graeme. "Um. What exactly happened?" he asks Pilfer.
* Pilfer shrugs elaborately.
<Pilfer> "Cronin picked on the wrong mouthy runt."
<El-Cideon> Another long look at the fallen leader, then back to Pilfer. "So I see." He lets out a long breath, and leans against the wall. "About fucking time."
<Nemesio> "Mouthy brats must stick together?" Nemesio asks, rising from the now-tied up great leader's form.
<El-Cideon> Imelda strolls back into the room with Derrick and Graeme, the latter looking like nothing more than a dejected puppy. Imelda strolls over to the ex-leader and gives him a good kick in the ribs before plopping down on the bench.
<Pilfer> "So. Nice megalomaniacal madman you guys have there," Pilfer comments.
<Nemesio> "Had, emphasis on past tense," Nemesio comments, "unless there is another you're speaking of?"
<El-Cideon> "Yeah," Evan says. "So, I gotta wonder...what are we gonna do with him?"
<Pilfer> "He's nuts," says Pilfer flatly.
<Nemesio> "Would it surprise you to hear that the school is looking for those participating in illegal fights?" Nemesio asks curiously, though he looks at Imelda as he speaks.
<El-Cideon> "Too damn right," Evan agrees, letting out another sigh and running his hand through his hair.
<El-Cideon> Imelda does look genuinely surprised at this. "What?"
<Nemesio> "Throw them a bone, I say. It would just be his word against ours, naturally, and he might even decide it in his best interest to keep silent."
<Pilfer> "You think the professors aren't up on this? Take it from me, they're pretty sharp sometimes."
<Nemesio> "But hopefully not sharp enough. Or interested enough to dig to the very bottom of this." Nemesio shrugs. "Give them the psychotic leader who forced poor, nameless students into participating, put a stop on the fights for the foreseeable future, and it would all glide over."
<El-Cideon> Imelda shakes her head. "It doesn't surprise me much that someone would suspect, just didn't think they *knew* anything. How do you guys know they know, anyway?" She stands again. "We don't want to turn him over to anybody. Just get rid of him, we disband the group, no one says anything about it again."
<Nemesio> "One could say we've been to the Chancelor's office," Nemesio tells her with a smile.
* Pilfer glances around in an ostentatiously furtive manner.
<El-Cideon> She glances from Nemesio to Pilfer, and then back again. "Shit."
* Derrick shakes his head, "It wouldn't surprise me if Pilfer knew how the man sorted his sock drawer. You just can't stay out of places, can you?"
<Nemesio> "The problem with merely getting rid of our friend, aside from the obvious, is that they have a couple of names. The best way I can come up with for everyone walking away is to give the school a bigger fish."
<Pilfer> "He asks for it. He puts SIGNS up."
<Derrick> "Is there anyone in a position of authority you don't say that about?"
<Pilfer> "If they don't put up SIGNS," Pilfer mutters sulkily.
<El-Cideon> "I...," Imelda trails off. "I don't want to give him to the school." She gives Cronin another kick, this one hard. "Not sure they'd know what to do with him, to be honest...but if they already know everything, there's not much choice."
<Pilfer> "They had a file on you two. I checked," Pilfer says loyally.
<Nemesio> "Just stick to the story, if you're asked. He forced everyone into this. All Cronin, all the way."
<El-Cideon> Imelda almost looks to be grinding her teeth, but she eventually consents. "Yeah..." she says. "Guess he did."

[Sierra]

Intermission (Nemesio)

<El-Cideon> It is late at night by the time the bulk of the group has dispersed and headed home for much-needed sleep. Most of the students seem more than glad to be away from the place and apart from Hugh Cronin. Finally Nemesio is alone with the man, in the abandoned warehouse lit by stripes of moonlight pouring in through the high windows.
* Nemesio took the time to secure the other man, as well as rest and recover from his earlier use of powers, knowing that he would need his full concentration for the task ahead. And now is as good a time as any to delve into Hugh's mind to find out what he truly knows -- his mission here, his contacts, what he had told them.
<El-Cideon> Hugh has frighteningly little solid knowledge about the Registry's opposition, for one claiming to be working against them. However, it is clear that he *was* sent out into the city to collect talented young mages to be groomed as weapons in defense of anti-Registry interests.(more)
<El-Cideon> His actual employer stands out as a jovial, young black-haired man (the age is difficult to discern just from Hugh's visual impression--mid-twenties? Thirty?)
* Nemesio goes over any recent conversations Hugh had with the man, searching for a name, whether for a person or a place, or for a location.
<El-Cideon> Contact with the man was irregular, but a name that stands out in relation to the meetings is Dane Culathein. The sound of waves attached to one of the more vivid memories suggests a seaside location. Also vivid in Hugh's memories (a fact which should be unsurprising given the man's nature) is the fact that Dane was usually accompanied by two female bodyguards.
<Nemesio> Satisfied with that thread, Nemesio checks back to see how it all started. When was he contacted by Dane, how much time passed before he met with Imelda... how DID he get in touch with her?
* Nemesio has been disturbed by the lack of willingness on anyone's part to discuss that earlier, and takes this chance to find out the truth.
<El-Cideon> It's apparent that Hugh is a lifelong resident of Dockside--almost all his significant memories aside from the duelling circle are tied to the area. Hugh and Dane seem to go back for years--there are suggestions of petty crimes (and, later, some not so petty) committed for the man. Contact with Imelda came comparitively recently.(more)
<El-Cideon> It seems the two met by chance--Imelda accompanied her parents to the district to see some shipping operation, the family business in action, and took to wandering the area on her own. Hugh remained civil long enough to earn her trust and then, on Dane's recommendation, infiltrated the girl's social circle in order to subvert the group of (apparently) belligerent youngsters for future use.
* Nemesio blinks in surprise. Being taken in and made a fool by a manipulator of no small measure was what caused such burning rage in Imelda? To be certain, and to satisfy his own curiosity, Nemesio checks to see whether they were involved, however briefly.
<El-Cideon> The two were involved in something resembling a romantic relationship prior to Cronin's joining the duelling group (which looks to have been a much more fun-loving and sportsmanlike group before his arrival). Hugh maintained the appropriate mix of respect and haughty self-confidence that would impress Imelda long enough to get in her good graces, and then took over.(more)
<El-Cideon> Hugh's memories are rather disturbingly explicit in making it clear that he did indeed have sexual relations with the girl, rather extensively.
* Nemesio doesn't seem bothered, only satisfied that his suspicions happened to check out. He decides to see when the relationship went sour, Cronin revealing his true nature.
<El-Cideon> A series of victories, progressively more brutal, served to make an example of anyone standing up to him, until eventually he saw fit to challenge Evan and Imelda (apparently the two of them were responsible for starting the whole thing). He dropped all pretense with Imelda after taking over that day but continued sleeping with her. He seems to have been staggeringly ignorant in regards to her growing hatred for him.
<Nemesio> However did someone this stupid manage to keep control as long as he did? Nemesio holds no answers, instead combing Hugh's memories for any plans he had for the group in the near future, or whether any appointments with his handler were scheduled already.
<El-Cideon> Future plans are unclear--it really looks as if the group was actually intended to be used as Hugh claimed: as a wild card in the event of Registry mobilization against the reformists. No specific time for a meeting with Dane stands out, though it seems the two frequently met, for whatever reason, in a brothel.
* Nemesio makes sure he has a decent chance of recognizing the meeting place, in case he ever needs to locate it, before taking a break to rest and recover, as well as consider his next move. He wants Hugh to remember a few things that did not occur, adjust his role in others, as well as be strongly discouraged from talking on yet more subjects.
<Nemesio> OOC: Want specifics?
<El-Cideon> OOC: Sure.
<Nemesio> Specifically, Nemesio wishes Hugh to remember being tortured with electricity by him throughout the night, forced to answer again and again questions of varying personal degree, all related to Imelda. To add realism to this, when it is time to take Cronin in, Nemesio intends to release a low-level shock at him, commenting on the other man's budding resistance. (more)
<Nemesio> The adjustments would place more focus on Cronin's role in the formation of the group, having him remember being more forceful from the start and making his threats to keep the others in line seem more deadly, even to himself. (more)
<Nemesio> The discouragement would be to discuss Nemesio or his friends much, changing the topic whenever possible, or answering questions truthfully but without volunteering any information not specifically requested. Along with that would be a reluctance to name names, beyond Evan and Imelda, who constituted the core group.
<Nemesio> After all is said and done, Nemesio also wants to make certain that Hugh cannot be used as a pawn against him or those he decided were at his protection. This blatant overuse of his power, already uncomfortable enough just to summon, is not occuring because he wants to graduate. Nemesio also intends to shield the younger kids involved in this, not to mention Imelda and her friends. His stronger geas is reserved for Hugh having the strongest of aversions of messing with him and his, and coming directly for him if he manages to overcome that condition somehow.
<El-Cideon> The work is painstaking and exhausting--Nemesio is thoroughly drained of energy and stricken with nausea by the time he is done, but he senses that the alterations made to Cronin's mind will hold barring unforeseen interference by another telepath. For now, rest is desperately required before turning the man over in the morning.

[Sierra]

Part F (F for finale!)

<El-Cideon> Professor Ferryman's office is on the ground floor of the magic building. The instructor opens the door at Pilfer's knock and the interior can be seen to be a small but tidy affair, books lining shelves, papers neatly in order. Ferryman looks tired. "Good news, I hope?" she says to the thief. "And where are your compatriots?"
* Pilfer shrugs.
<Pilfer> "Y'know, out and about. We got a present for ya, but it's not gonna keep long."
* Pilfer meanders in, hands in pockets.
<Pilfer> "Like milk left in the sun. Anyway, if you want to get there quickly, they sent me to, y'know. Give you a lift."
<El-Cideon> "A present?" she raises an eyebrow. "Very well. This is an unorthodox approach...but so is the test itself. Lead on."
* Pilfer hedges.
<Pilfer> "Well, it's kinda... kinda *far*, see."
<Pilfer> "They sent me for a reason."
<El-Cideon> Justine nods, and grins a little. A miniature Pilfer appears in the air next to her head, gives a little wave, then *pops* out of existence and reappears on Justine's other side. "Of course, I see. How does this work, then? Do we hold hands?"
<Pilfer> "Physical contact, yeah. Not hands, necessarily, but I can't just grab things from far away. Um. The doc says I punch a small hole in space by sending out enough energy to compress two points in an infinite matrix or something. I didn't really follow, but I can't do it except around me, apparently."
<Pilfer> "I can usually keep people from getting sick, if I try," he adds helpfully.
<El-Cideon> "Yes, well, hands will do well enough, I think. I doubt anyone will think the two of us are paramours. At any rate, shall we go?" She reaches out her hand, waits for the student to act.
* Pilfer sighs and reached out to grasp Professor Ferryman... by the wrist.
<Pilfer> "Close your eyes. They say that helps a little," he advises.
<El-Cideon> Justine does as advised, for the moment.
* Pilfer closes his own eyes, to better visualize his target, and in a series of short trans-dimensional hops, he travels back with fair speed to his partners in crime.
<El-Cideon> The warehouse district is as dead in the morning as it was at night. The pair appears outside unobserved, except by those that were expecting them: Derrick and Nemesio.
* Nemesio gives Justine a tired wave. "I have it on good authority the fights have been stopped rather permanently," he tells her, and then kicks a tied up, unconscious Cronin. "Do we graduate?"
* Derrick winces almost unoticably at the unnecesary added kick Cronin recieves, but doesn't speak up, prefering to just stand there looking also rather tired, but at least unharmed.
<Nemesio> "He is scum," Nemesio blandly tells Justine, continuing. "Cronin, as his name happens to be, wormed himself into a circle of friends and forcibly took it over, making them fight each other for his pleasure under a threat of pain. Quite a lot of pain, some of which was returned to him recently."
* Pilfer looks ambivalent. On the one hand, asshole getting karmic retribution. On the other hand, beating up someone helpless...
<El-Cideon> Justine walks over to the bound and unconscious Cronin, just slightly woozy from her trip across the city. "Who.." she starts, before Nemesio answers her question for her. She crosses her arms, looking slowly back and forth between Hugh and the students. "Cronin, you say?" she asks with an odd tone.
<Derrick> "Hugh Cronin, to be exact."
* Nemesio nods. "Derrick is correct. Hugh Cronin, wannabe revolutionary. I take it he's not an unknown?"
<Pilfer> "He seems to be unknown to the college, at least," Pilfer puts in meaningfully.
<Pilfer> "Officially.
<El-Cideon> "I don't believe this man is a student, no." She taps a foot idly for a moment, clearly pondering how much to say. "A revolutionary, you call him?"
<Pilfer> "He said it, not me," Pilfer says, pointing to Cronin.
<Nemesio> "Talked about taking up arms against the Registry, that kind of thing." Nemesio shrugs, spreading out his arms. "How much of that is empty talk is up to you and the Registry's interrogators. I only wanted to make certain the fights would stop."
<Pilfer> "Anyone who WANTS to run the city before or after a collapse needs their head examined, if you ask me," Pilfer mutters, in one of his sotto voce asides.
<El-Cideon> "Did he?" Justine mutters, peering over at Cronin. Then, more professionally. "We will speak to some of the students known to be involved, see if they corroborate your story. Though you should know that I don't doubt your word."
<Nemesio> "They've been through enough," Nemesio says tiredly. "If there's a way to make this unofficial, rather then summoning them into the Chancellor's office...."
<Pilfer> "Didn't we kinda promise them not to-" Pilfer hesitates.
<El-Cideon> "They won't be subjected to that," she says sharply. "This is my responsibility."
<Nemesio> "How many would you need as witnesses?" Nemesio asks, at Pilfer's words.
<El-Cideon> She shrugs. "Just one or two, really. Unless your man here cares to implicate himself."
<Pilfer> "Maybe we should have had him write his speeches down and sign them?"
<Nemesio> Nemesio's eyes light up with sudden menace. "Would you like him to?"
<El-Cideon> Justine gives Nemesio a curious look. "...If it could be arranged without obvious violence."
<Pilfer> "Er.."
* Pilfer casts an odd look at Nemesio.
<Nemesio> "The threat of violence would do, in this case," he muses.
* Pilfer scratches his head.
<Derrick> "You think so? That'd be just typical of a bully though. Soon as someone stronger then him comes along, he caves."
<El-Cideon> A nod. "Wake him up, if you can. I want this done with perhaps more than you do."
<Pilfer> "I'm gonna go make sure no one's coming. He might have other lieutenants we don't know about." Pilfer stands back and prepares to leave.
* Derrick sighs and leans down, slapping Croning on the cheeks a couple of times to wake him up, "Wake up Cronin. We have someone here who would like to ask you some questions, and you are going to answer them. You will not attempt to escape or fight back...or I will have to stop you. (more)
<Derrick> "You may have seen the others fight, but you haven't seen me. If you'll recall, I said that I do not fight when we first met, not that I cannot. I do not fight because I have no choice but to kill if I do. Do you know what my prima is, Cronin? It's Flesh. Think about that for a moment, and I suggest you answer her questions. I'd rather not force it, if I can avoid it."
<Derrick> Derrick's tone as he makes these threats is flat, devoid of any emotion but a bit of tiredness.
* Pilfer disappears with a soft sighing motion behind the group.
<El-Cideon> Cronin mumbles a bit and slouches towards consciousness. When he's finally roused by Derrick, Cronin's eyes shoot open as though he's been woken from an unspeakable nightmare. "Wha...?" he starts groggily. It doesn't look like it'll take a lot to get him to cooperate.
<Derrick> "Ask away, Professor. He certanly doesn't look like he has any fight left in him."
<El-Cideon> Justine does so, stepping forward to loom over the fallen leader. She employs a bit of illusion before stepping within his vision, so that a much taller and brawnier Justine Ferryman stands in front of her and mimics her motions. "Hugh Cronin, is it? Speak up, man."(more)
<El-Cideon> The interrogation is relatively straightforward, Cronin cooperating with the inquiries more often than not and seeming eager at least to take his mind off some unpleasant memory. He goes into some detail about befriending Imelda after a chance encounter in Dockside (where she'd accompanied her parents, who were overseeing some shipping concern of theirs) with the explicit intent to take over her group and use it for his own purposes.(more)
<El-Cideon> He is straightforward about the methods used in doing so, and about the plan to train the group as a wild card to be used in his side's defense in the event of any sudden social upheaval. Justine listens to all of this, sounding unimpressed with Cronin's exploits, but as though she does believe it. Eventually she cuts him off. "Heard enough," she says to Derrick and Nemesio. "We'll need to turn him over to Registry agents, of course."
<Nemesio> "Of course," Nemesio repeats, not challenging her words. He has already accepted this outcome, after all.
<El-Cideon> "The tests are not over, regrettably," she continues, ignoring Cronin now. "Though I begin to comprehend their purpose," she says to herself. "I'm told they should be concluded within the next week. You have my word I'll do everything I can to make them easier on you."
<Nemesio> "Could this purpose be shared with us, then?"
* Derrick raises a curious eyebrow
<El-Cideon> A bitter laugh. "It would not be much of a test if I did that. Now, we'll need to fetch someone to bring this offal into custody. Registry agents don't wander in the open this far out in the city, at least not obviously. The Watch will have to do. It'll be their responsibility to turn him over to the Registry."(more)
<El-Cideon> A pause, and then: "I was not aware this would escalate into a full-fledged criminal investigation. You have my apologies for that."
<Nemesio> "We WILL graduate with the rest of our class, would we?" Nemesio asks, tiredness returning once more.
<El-Cideon> "You will. What happens to him is no longer your concern, nor should it have been made such." Another long look between Nemesio and Derrick. "This whole affair is doubtless quite a strain on all of you. You'll have until Monday for your own affairs. You can meet me in the morning then, on the field."
* Nemesio glances at Derrick. "Should we go and fetch the Guard over?"
<Derrick> "I suppose. And to let Pilfer know that we've got another task awaiting us on Monday."
<El-Cideon> "I'll take care of that. Pilfer could do it faster, but...I can't imagine he's the best to send for getting the attention of the Watch, nor would he be eager to do so."
* Nemesio nods, and bids the professor farewell, before leaving outside in search of Pilfer.
* Derrick follows along.
* Pilfer appears behind them as they exit the building, walking in step.
* Pilfer, unusually, says nothing.
* Nemesio glances back occasionally as he walks. "We bring news that are certain to lift your spirits," he comments upon noticing Pilfer's appearance.
* Pilfer glances up.
<Pilfer> "Oh?"
<Nemesio> "There is a third task."
<Pilfer> "So by 'lift my spirits' you meant 'will make me want a drink'?"
* Nemesio looks thoughtful. "Perhaps it's like the labors of that tale? We must complete a dozen to gain acceptance in the eyes of the gods or, in other words, our Chancellor and his cronies?"
<Derrick> "If they drag it out more then three, I'm going to tell them to go jump in the ocean and have the Faith certify me."
<Pilfer> "I'll light an extra candle at my altar. You need any more incense? I hear the Chancellor likes cherrywood."
<Nemesio> "It seems we are stuck together for quite some time," Nemesio tells Derrick and Pilfer, "and I mean that in the nicest way possible. No doubt you were just as excited to be saddled with new friends at this stage of your career, but have made the best of it since then. Would that be a fair assessment of our situation?"
<Derrick> "No thank you, I'm incensed enough as it is."
* Pilfer shrugs and looks away.
<Pilfer> "I can deal."
* Derrick chuckles, "I suppose it would be, at that."
<Nemesio> "I seem to recall Derrick wanting to share more information between ourselves, to be better prepared for what was to come. At the time, I dismissed it, since we were only seeking out a book. Now, our instructor tells us she begins to see a common thread through the murky series of assignments that touch upon both detective work and the criminal, at once. Perhaps, that suggestion should be revisited."
* Pilfer blinks.
<Pilfer> "So... you wanna share diaries now?"
<Nemesio> "Anything useful tactically would do, I believe," Nemesio answers with a shrug. "Though I would gladly read a diary, if one were shared with me."
<Pilfer> "I bet," Pilfer mutters.
<Nemesio> "Was that a no, then?"
* Pilfer shrugs.
<Derrick> "Heh. Unfortunately, I don't write my thoughts down anywhere, though I'd be fine enough with sharing them. You two must think me horribly boring as I really don't have any secrets."
<Pilfer> "I don't keep a diary. Neither does the Chancellor, for what it's worth."
<Nemesio> "This obsession with older men in positions of authority can't be healthy," Nemesio comments. "Have you never used your ability to spy on the girls' dorms?"
<Pilfer> "I told you, I can't turn invisible," says Pilfer, his tone remaining light, though his face turns a bit crimson.
<Nemesio> "Not yet, anyway," Nemesio muses, before shaking his head. "Be that as it may, you can move, yourself and others, and you can protect people. That would be an accurate summary of your special talents?"
<Pilfer> "More or less. Moving like I do messes most people up pretty badly, though. Doc says I instinctively shield my mind from the unfiltered impact of seventeen dimensional axes in constant flux. That's what got Cronin."
<Pilfer> "I don't have to shield the people I take with me."
* Nemesio nods thoughtfully. "Do you have a power that's not on the books, in a matter of speaking?" he asks Pilfer.
* Pilfer shakes his head slightly.
<Pilfer> "Threats of death can be kinda effective in that department."
* Nemesio sighs. "I do, and it has to stay that way. If any of you don't think you could keep it that way, please let me know now, so we could pretend this conversation did not take place."
<Pilfer> "I don't rat out friends."
* Pilfer doesn't look as certain about the relative friendliness, after the disturbing reactions to the idea of coercing Cronin.
<Derrick> "Nor am I."
<Nemesio> "I won the fight against Imelda because I knew exactly how she was going to act the same time she did," Nemesio admits. "It can be quite useful, especially in getting information without undue physical force, but I don't need to tell you two that it would place a pretty black mark on me if it were to get out. Perhaps, even a target."
<Derrick> "How did you know? Glimpses into the future, or...?"
<Pilfer> "I guess that explains why she got so friendly afterwards."
* Nemesio looks offended. "And why would that be?"
<Pilfer> "Heck, I get enough dirt on people just from rummaging in their desks," Pilfer points out.
* Derrick blinks, "Am I missing something here?"
<Pilfer> "You can read minds, can't you?" Pilfer says to Nemesio.
<Nemesio> "It's not like that," Nemesio says, shaking his head. "She... there is a lot of history, there, between her and Cronin. It's not my place to talk, but she has good reason to want him gone. We offered just that. Wouldn't you be friendly, too, in her place?"
<Nemesio> At Pilfer's question, Nemesio nods. "The louder thoughts, if that makes sense, unless I'm not pressed for time."
* Pilfer looks disgruntled, but accepting.
<Derrick> "That's...huh. Forbidden magic, isn't that? Well, I said nothing about certain forbidden texts, so I suppose this is no different, is it?"
<Nemesio> "I wouldn't be so sure about it being quite as forbidden," Nemesio says darkly. "Forbidden to anyone not under the Registry's thumb, perhaps...."
* Pilfer looks miserable, like a cat that fell in the river.
<Derrick> "Are you alright, Pilfer?"
<Nemesio> "Yes," Nemesio echoes Derrick. "You'll have to tell us what's wrong, because I only use this ability in emergencies."
<Pilfer> "I don't like politics," Pilfer says, almost growling. "I don't like fighting. And I don't like torture. And now we have all three, with more to come and no way out."
<Derrick> "Torture?"
* Pilfer glares at Derrick.
<Pilfer> "What do you call threatening to kill a guy who's tied up?" he says hotly.
<Nemesio> "A bluff, one he could call?"
<Pilfer> "Was it? And I suppose kicking him while he's down was a bluff, too?"
* Derrick suddenly laughs, "You bought that? Pilfer, I'm a scrawny geek who grew up in Dockside. I got good at making threats to back people off so I wouldn't get beaten up. My threats are almost always empty, I assure you. That was just so he didn't wake up swinging."
* Pilfer 's metaphorical hackles go down slightly, but not all the way.
<Derrick> "Now...I suppose it's my turn to be honest. When I said I can fight, I meant it. My Prima is Flesh, as I said. I can both bring someone back from the brink of death, as well as send them well beyond it. It's not an aspect of my gift I ever use willingly, but it is there."
<Derrick> "I do not fight, because if I do, my choices are lose or kill."
<Pilfer> "Hunh. And they thought *I* was the dangerous one?"
<Nemesio> Nemesio opts not to get into that argument. Hugh deserved that, in his opinion, and the kick served another purpose, so he might as well cut his losses, here. "In any case," he continues. "If we are ever in a situation where a plan must be communicated on the fly, giving me some sign and concentrating on it should allow me to pick up on it." He nods at Derrick. "So there is no way to merely put someone down without killing them?"
<Pilfer> "That's my department," Pilfer points out, with more enthusiasm.
<Pilfer> "It'd probably kill me to give someone a rough enough ride to cause any permanent harm."
<Nemesio> "I meant for Derrick's power, though that is noted," Nemesio agrees. "Have you, perhaps, avoided training this aspect of your power due to its deadliness, and thus never got it to merely harm or subdual?" he asks Derrick.
* Derrick sighs, "I have done some training with it, on sides of meat and such. It's not just human flesh I can warp, after all. But I do try to avoid using it under preassure. And...I think you should wait until you SEE it to make any leaps about whether or not it could ever be less then lethal."
<Nemesio> "Sides of meat?" Nemesio frowns. "Could you just force it to freeze, to stop in its tracks?"
<Derrick> "Yes, sides of meat, like you buy from a butcher. Pig and such."
<Derrick> "And no, I haven't been able to do anything like that."
<Derrick> "Believe me, I've tried to find less lethal uses for my power, but it seems to refuse to become anything more subtle then 'force wounds closed' and 'force them wide open'."
* Nemesio frowns deeper. "It might sound crass, but you have mentioned being able to bring someone back from serious injury, perhaps the brink of death. Would it also apply to injuries that you yourself have caused?"
<Derrick> "You underestimate the level of injury I cause."
<Pilfer> "Okay, let's talk about something else," says Pilfer nervously.
<Derrick> "Please."
<Derrick> "This isn't something I like having, and I also don't particularly like other people trying to find ways to make me use it."
<Nemesio> "A demonstration on those sides of meat might be in order, then, some time," Nemesio says, before nodding at them both. "Alright. Back to our tasks, I got certain information from Cronin that the Registry may not find just yet. His handler, as well as a possible meeting place. Would you like to try and follow up on that?"
<Pilfer> "Er... for what value of 'like'?"
<Nemesio> "If we observe them, we might be able to find out what the university and others involved have planned for us," Nemesio reasons. "That would allow us to prepare better. But that is only a thought."
<Pilfer> "Couldn't you, uh, just, y'know, *find out* what the university is planning?"
<Derrick> "First I think he'd need someone who knew, and we don't know who, beyond the Chancellor himself, knows anything."
<Nemesio> "As I have misunderstood the extent of Derrick's power, so have you mine. It only works for loud thoughts, unless I'm left hours alone with our friendly Chancellor. And I think he would notice me glaring at him silently, then."
<Pilfer> "Guess not, then."
<Pilfer> "As long as we're being honest, the main reaction I have to all this conspiracy and revolution horse-puck is wanting to jump on the nearest boat and head for the horizon."
<Derrick> "Really? Mine isn't nearly so adventurous. I'd much rather go hide in the church library until the whole thing blows over."
* Nemesio snorts. "Myself, I would like it to pass me by and leave me to my own devices. But I don't think the cushy job I planned to get at the university would be there for me, now."
<Pilfer> "How do you know the church isn't in on it?"
<Derrick> "Because every one of the Faithful I know is as disgusted by both sides of this as I am. Because the Faith doesn't answer to a person or group of people who crave secular power but rather to a belief that even Honre Kryla herself is bound to." Looking over at Pilfer, Derrick smiles, "But mainly...because I have faith."
<Derrick> "Sounds silly doesn't it?"
* Pilfer glances at Nemesio.
<Pilfer> "Are we still being honest?"
* Nemesio shrugs.
<Derrick> "I don't really see what not being honest will do for us here."
* Pilfer shrugs.
<Pilfer> "So I guess we check out this lead of Nemesio's, in the interest of not, y'know, dying horribly at the hands of our own government or something."
<Nemesio> "The equally valid option is to wait until Monday," Nemesio reminds Pilfer.
<Nemesio> "I would not dream of forcing anyone of participating in this."
<Pilfer> "Won't we have another task on Monday?"
<Nemesio> "Yes. That's what I meant by waiting for Monday instead of taking the initiative and investigating."
<Pilfer> "I thought the point was to find out more before we get thrown into it headfirst?"
<Nemesio> "It was," Nemesio confirms. "But the idea wasn't met with enthusiasm, I thought."
<Derrick> "At this hour, after what we just went through, I doubt anything but maybe a drink and some sleep will invoke any enthusiasm out of any of us."
<Pilfer> "I'd rather know what's going on before I get fed to the dogs, myself."
* Nemesio nods.
<Derrick> "Then I suppose we'll investigate."
<El-Cideon> Imelda and Evan are waiting outside the familiar hangout--the Lock of the Maid--when the trio of upperclassmen arrives. The two younger students manage to look both relieved and nervous, though there's a touch of Imelda's usual irritiability about her as well. "Hey," Evan says with a wave. "What's the verdict?"
<Pilfer> "Guilty by reason of insanity?"
<Nemesio> "You should be off the hook, though keep to the story in case you're questioned by anyone," Nemesio tells the two, responding to Evan.
<El-Cideon> Evan nods along, then sighs at the end, leaning against the wall of the building. "Well, that coulda turned out worse. You lot up for a celebratory drink?"
<Nemesio> "We are clearly here for the fine drinks," Nemesio affirms. "This round's on me?"
<Derrick> "Works for me."
<El-Cideon> So the group trundles into the establishment somewhat earlier than usual. It's sparsely populated this afternoon; Madda is nowhere to be seen, and whether this is because she doesn't work at this hour or because she had other business to attend to is unclear. The portly owner himself is tending to customers, and seeming most unhappy about it. "So, what now?" Evan says. "You guys aren't planning on taking over, are you? I've just gotta wonder, is all," he says apologetically.
* Pilfer looks honestly bewildered.
<Pilfer> "... WHY?"
<Nemesio> "Not interested into forcing people into anything," Nemesio responds for himself. "I wouldn't mind giving a few of the guys some pointers on how to better use their powers, if they want, but that's about the extent of things."
<Derrick> "Being in charge of anything isn't particularly something I want to do, no."
<El-Cideon> Evan laughs, looking relieved. "Well, that was my first assumption when you guys barged in. Someone takes on the head honcho, it's because they want to take his place, right? Maybe being around Cronin too long just warped my thinking. Anyway, most folks don't go around looking for a situation like that just out of charity."
<El-Cideon> "Not that I'm not thankful, of course," he adds.
<Pilfer> "Best not to get into the situation in the first place," Pilfer says sagely, tilting his mug back.
<Nemesio> "It wasn't just out of charity," Nemesio says to that. "But it wasn't to take over and become another Cronin, either."
<El-Cideon> Evan nods. "Yeah, well, that's not how it started, you know? Was just a bunch of kids showing off, having fun, really. Hard to remember where things became serious, but I don't need to tell you where they got unbearable."(more)
<El-Cideon> Imelda cuts in here. "Doesn't matter any more, really. It's over with, and no one who matters wants to start again."
* Derrick nods and raises his drink a bit, "Here's to Cronin not mattering anymore, hmm?"
<El-Cideon> "Damn straight," Evan says. Imelda concurs, "I'm content drinking to that, sure."
<Pilfer> "Did he ever?"
<El-Cideon> The girl shrugs vaguely. "He had a way of making you act like he did, while he was around. If you keep up a show like that long enough, it starts to sink in." She shakes her head. "It's better if we forget about this. Talking about him's more than he deserves. So...What are you three planning to nose your way into next?"
* Pilfer shrugs.
<Pilfer> "Everything."
<Pilfer> "Apparently."
<Derrick> "More then we probably should, I'd imagine."
<Nemesio> "And yet, I imagine it would be quite rewarding, in the end."
<El-Cideon> Imelda's expression suggests she hasn't gained much appreciation for Pilfer despite him helping bring down Cronin. "Such as...anything specific?" She steals a glance at Nemesio, trying to read the expression behind that odd remark.
<Pilfer> "Dunno. Anything interesting at your place?"
* Pilfer returns Imelda's glare with a cocky grin.
<El-Cideon> Imelda returns this with a blatantly challenging look. "Try and find out someday, if you don't mind the consequences."
* Nemesio seems about to respond, but stops at Pilfer's remark, opting to remain silent for the time being.
<Derrick> "Pilfer, please stop antagonizing her. Imelda, please stop letting him get to you."
<Pilfer> "But it's like eating marshmallows!"
* Derrick blinks, "I...I want to know how that analogy works, but at the same time I really don't."
<El-Cideon> Imelda stops, peers at Derrick for a moment, and subsides. "Guess you're right. I'll behave as long as he does, for what that's worth. Anyway..." she seems about to say something, but waves it off. "Never mind."
<El-Cideon> Evan seems just amused by the whole exchange. "Well, if nothing else, it's gonna be easier for us to focus on our studies now. For what that's worth."
<Nemesio> "Ah, yes. School. I can't say I'll be sorry to be done with the pre-finals cramming and the term papers," Nemesio laments, ordering more drinks.
<Derrick> "You two taking any interesting classes?"
<El-Cideon> Imelda snorts, as though the concept is one foreign to her, but she does acknowledge that the few classes related to literature can be interesting. Evan is more enthusiastic. "I find I'm frighteningly good with these 'maths' they insist on teaching us. Calling it something of interest might be going too far, but I guess it's useful."
* Pilfer glazes over as the talk turns academic.
* Nemesio admits to knowing more about the visual arts, and not the written word, though he participates more fully when Evan begins to talk of sciences.
<El-Cideon> "I mean, I haven't any idea what I would use it *for*," Evan continues. "Worse comes to worse, I can be an accountant somewhere. Though if that happens, I'd thank you all to clonk me on the head and drag me out into the wastes until I come to my senses."
<Derrick> "Hah. Some levels of math are actually pretty standard prerequisites to have under your belt before getting into more advanced things like...well, most of the higher sciences, really."
* Pilfer begins to look sleepy.
* Derrick chuckles, "Aaaand, I think the mere mention of anything academic is about to send Pilfer here into a coma."
<Pilfer> "Not my fault they don't teach anything practical," Pilfer points out.
<Pilfer> "I've really got to work on learning how to be invisible..."
<El-Cideon> "Dash of cold water in the face does wonders to wake someone up," Imelda mutters. "So what qualifies as 'practical,' in your sagelike wisdom?"
* Pilfer shrugs.
<Pilfer> "Which streets to avoid, who to talk to, how to spot a mark..." He pauses. "I could go on."
<Pilfer> "Learning to read is a useful bonus, really."
<El-Cideon> Imelda actually laughs at these last two comments, as if mentioning how to spot a mark confirmed a lot of things in her mind. "Alright," she says with a smirk. "I'll concede that point.
<El-Cideon> Finally, Evan pushes back his chair and stands up. "Well...again, thanks, you guys. I have work to do today, but...wouldn't mind meeting up with you again at some point. So long for now." Imelda simply nods agreement with this, though she locks eyes with Nemesio for a moment before leaving.
* Nemesio nods at her, though he remains seated. "How about planning our little excursion?" he suggests to Derrick and Pilfer once they are alone. "Our 'mark' is one Dane Culathein. Would the name ring a bell for anyone?"
<Derrick> "Hmm, it does sound familier, yes."
<Nemesio> "Oh?"
* Pilfer nods.
* Derrick pauses, and then sighs as he remembers where he heard it, "Ah, yes, that's is. Culathein is...a Dockside 'buisnessman', if you will."
<Pilfer> "Big gangster type. Supposedly he's trying to whitewash lately, but it's about as convincing as a wolf wearing a sheepskin rug."
<Derrick> "Into alot of smuggling, I believe."
<Pilfer> "And whores. Don't forget the whores."
* Pilfer admonishes Derrick.
<Nemesio> "Why would he be interested in going against the Registry?" Nemesio asks curiously. "It might be obvious, but not to me."
* Pilfer shrugs.
<Pilfer> "It's a lot easier to be a criminal mastermind when there's less law and order around the place, I guess."
<Derrick> "Probably just sees a chance for profit if he gets in good with the new faction, I'd gather."
<Pilfer> "I can't imagine he's being welcomed with open arms by the current crop of 'rulers', and if he's looking to buy respectability..."
* Nemesio nods. "Since you two know of Dane, would you also know where to best gather information on him?"
* Pilfer glances at Derrick.
<Pilfer> "It's been a while since I really *walked* in Dockside, y'know? There's not a lot of love lost for the snobs around there, and going to the University..."
<Derrick> "If i've got my crime lords straight, he's the one who owns the Tree of Pearls, but honestly I'd rather not go poking aorund there. That's all I know, unfortuantely."
<Pilfer> "I can say vaguely where to go, but finding a specific contact..."
<Pilfer> "Maybe the Golddigger could give us a hand, but she's pretty pricey, 'specially for outsiders. That's assuming she even talks to us, too."
<Nemesio> "We could try this Tree of Pearls and take it from there, resorting to other sources if we end up empty-handed," Nemesio suggests.
* Pilfer glances from side to side.
<Derrick> "Ah...Tree of Pearls is a brothel, Nem. That's the reason I'd rather avoid poking around there."
<Pilfer> "You realize it's a cathouse, right?"
<Nemesio> "I actually do," Nemesio confirms. "In fact, that was the best place to start from. Cronin seemed to have done all his business, pun unintended, in one."
* Pilfer blinks.
<Pilfer> "Really? Figures he couldn't get a steady girl..."
* Nemesio doesn't react to that, instead asking, "Any thoughts about getting our information? We could try a literal stakeout from an unlikely location with your power, Pilfer, or bribing and otherwise convincing one of the employees to talk."
<Pilfer> "If we're gonna bribe, let's just go straight to Goldie," Pilfer opines.
<Pilfer> "At least she won't squeal to the bossman."
<Derrick> "That might be the best idea."
<Nemesio> "I'll defer to your knowledge, then. Can we go see her now?"
<Pilfer> "Er... three mostly-trained mages, showing up all at once? Bad plan. That'll get us killed, or at least shut everyone down."
<Nemesio> "When, then, and how?"
<Pilfer> "Someone solo, later tonight when the places get jumping, and quietly," Pilfer responds smartly.
<Nemesio> "Works for me."

~Fin~