The Cult of Thieves

Doctor Jax · Apr 9, 2017

xxxxxTamerlinxxxxx

The trip to the island had been... interesting, to say the least. He had decided to take a boat with Kylar to the monastery, and with both of them being the taciturn men they were, it was quite the quiet journey. There was also the fact that Tam was not all that familiar with Kylar as it was -- and in fact was perhaps not very well-acquainted with any of the Cult, save for Quinn and Sothal -- and that only added to the pregnant silence towards the monastery.

Upon arrival, however, Tam immediately hopped to, helping to stow away their acquisition into the monastery. He knew that their mercy was perhaps begrudging and a little less than cheerful, and thus he wanted to ensure that they got the most out of this investment as possible. He would treat the man the way he did any of his potential marks, though he had no doubt that his... methods might cause some confusion from his other teammates, besides perhaps Quinn, if he chose to partake. He would need help, of course -- he was an idealist, not an idiot, and he knew better than to hang around a Tainted without help -- but he had high hopes that he would get the information he sought. He did have to admit that he was glad that Sothal made it clear someone was to stay behind with him. Tamerlin hated to be a bother, and would prefer someone else did the bothering, and seeing as Sothal had the weight of years and de facto authority behind him, he was the perfect candidate.

However, he hadn't been aware that the masquerade would be a group project... He grit his teeth in a grimace as he realized that he'd have to try and find good attire that was in his size. Often, for projects like these, he was a servant or someone rather innocuous. Once, he'd gone as a double flute player with a friend he'd paid off, and he'd mimed playing them the entire night long. To this day he could barely stand the noise, nasal instruments. Hopefully one of their acquisitions friends could help find something in his size.

Immediately, he pointed to Kylar.

"If you don't mind, I'd like you to help me with some things," Tamerlin stated softly, his voice muffled by the sound of waves. "We'll be going to the larder. I'll explain when we're down there."

Momentarily he smiled at the rest in company and stated, "If anyone else wishes to help, we'll be in the kitchens."

With that, he walked out of the main hall into a darker corridor to the side. He'd done a few things here and there in the monastery to try and keep the place in better shape. The ceilings, at least, no longer leaked buckets (only teacupfuls) and the hearths had been completely cleaned out. There were no doors on any of the hinges, but the vines and brush had been cleared out of the place. The walls were stone, the ceilings wood-and-pitch, and the rooms were small, mean, and stingy of space. However, the kitchen and larder were quite expansive in comparison. Tamerlin had brought several stores of food there just a few months before. He tried to keep the place stocked, as it was arguably the safest place any of the Thieves could hope to run off to, should things really fall down the gutter. Off to itself and shielded by mist and waves, it was not an easy place to get to, and knowledge of its existence was sparse. Had Tam not been boating on afternoon on a whim, he wouldn't have found it himself.

In the kitchens, he quickly lit a few candles and set them on the large table in the middle. He waited for Kylar to arrive, seeing as it would be easier to have two sets of hands to move some of the larger hocks out of the way. There was enough food to last out three Windfeld winters in that larder....

@Red Thunder @Elle Joyner @Effervescent @CloudyBlueDay @rissa @Gossamer @RiddL

RiddL · Apr 10, 2017

Kylar stood at the ready while he was on the boat, one eye on Tamerlin and the other watching for any guards. As they neared the island he pulled his mask up over his nose, more to stop the lingering smells and hide his face from any eyes that might linger on him.

As the boat landed he jumped off, right behind the small man, though the thought in his head was 'Dwarfling' even though to Kylars knowledge, he was no such thing. I He walked with the careful grace of a predator towards the monastery, eyes scanning for all exits that would prove most useful in case they were raided for whatever reason.

He walked through the entrance, eyes scanning up and down everywhere, scouring the shadows and all the nooks and crannies that the walls hid. He came to a stop when he reached where all the others were, letting his hood down but keeping his mask over his face, not knowing if there were any hidden eyes behind the walls.

As Tam singled him out he walked forwards, following the man as he led them around to what looked to be the kitchens. He stopped and used a finger to slowly bring the mask down, the muscles in his face relaxed, making it seem as if he was either completely at ease or pending on violence.

He lowered his gaze towards Tams, ice blue eyes piercing as he rolled his shoulders, "What do you need?" Kylar asked in a toneless voice, eyes never moving or blinking.

@Doctor Jax

Elle Joyner · Apr 13, 2017

no-lightbox

She had slept. Not well, but she had no real notions it would have helped much if she had, anyhow. When she climbed out of bed a few hours after Quinn had ordered her into it, she felt marginally better than she had, but her head still ached and there was a pulse behind her eyes that made her vision foggy around the edges. Slipping on the cloak that Quinn had liberated from the tannery, she made her way downstairs and found the other Cult member where he said he would be waiting.

Their trip was made in near silence, apart from Cordelia's polite reminder to Quinn not to say anything to Sothal about her recent revelations (with the addendum of her subsequent health issues). She wasn't entirely convinced he would stand by what he said, if only out of concern for her and really, she couldn't blame him. In reality, she probably would have difficulties remaining quiet were their situations reversed. That was the funny thing about the Cult. They were supposed to be expendable… replaceable, but in truth they were a family - or had become one, and at the end of the day, you could risk breaking your word if it meant protecting someone you loved.

It's why she had told Quinn about Sothal's identity - and why she had little doubt Quinn would mention her regression if he felt it was a risk to her not to. It was why, despite everything that they had all been through, they all worked so efficiently together.

They arrived at the monastery and to no surprise were the last to do so. Cordelia was glad to see that Sothal appeared in a better state, his instructions clear and to the point - the sort of focus she had come to expect from his when he was of sober mind. While she felt a twinge of both sympathy and concern for Tam, she understood Sothal would not have given his a responsibility he couldn't handle and where a part of her almost desperately wanted to stick around and help him, she knew it wouldn't be in her best interests to attempt anything quite so daring, so soon after another episode.

And so instead, as Sothal left to speak with Quinn, and Tam wandered off with Kyler, Cordelia turned to the two remaining women, "I'm not acquisitions, but I did a bit on the side before I joined the Cult… and I think I've got an entrance that would work, but I'll need to map it out. I could use help if either of you are up for a trip back to town."

TAGS: Collab with @Red Thunder || @Effervescent, @RiddL, @Doctor Jax, @rissa, @CloudyBlueDay

Red Thunder · Apr 13, 2017

New Developments
a collab between @Effervescent and @Red Thunder

The other members were wrapping things up by the time Quinn arrived. He frowned; he hadn't intentionally skipped out on the heavy lifting, though Gerald was almost certainly not that burdensome with so many Thieves helping. Yet his conversation with Orac- Cordelia had been somewhat eye opening. Perhaps the bastard had masked his desire to give-a-shit a little too well.

Sothal began issuing instructions suddenly, mentioning Lady North ands masquerade ball. Funny, Quinn couldn't recall any such thing. What was the old drunk up to? He scratched his beard absentmindedly, staring at the man without an even veiled attempt at subtlety. Yet projects were being doled out, the first being that of acquisitions. He should be able to get ahold of something. Coughing, Quinn opened his mouth.

Yet it seemed Sothal had other plans. Brow furrowed in concerned curiosity, he followed the leader over to the corner, eyeing the room indicated earlier where Gerald lay. He sent a concise prayer to whatever gods might be listening then focused his attention, pulling up short at the look on Sothal's face.

"What?"

Instinctively to Quinn's demeanor, Sothal's arms crossed over his chest as he firmly planted his stance. Like most Baladuri, Quinn held true to the people in their imposing nature, and the good few inches the blond had on Sothal made him seem almost a tower. It always gave him a hint of hesitancy when interacting with Quinn knowing he would have to resort to magic to win in a fight should it ever come to it. But he was also quite fond of the man and his antics or tactics. A fresh set of eyes and perspective not otherwise given by most of the rest in the Cult.

"I need a few things that are difficult to come by," he began, and handed over a piece of parchment. He still smelled of liquor and his voice carried the slight effects of a heavy tongue in his speech. Even the hastily written list had scrawl from inebriation. On the list were quite a few rare or difficult to obtain items in the Allied Kingdoms: moondust, a tome from Kal'katah titled "Ambrose," a journal from Lord Kinsington dated Year 1469 Seasons Winter through Spring, hazelnut, drackenberries, warded armor against Shadow Magic, and a necklace with a pendant that glows that has runes etched into it.

"Do you think you can get any of these?"

Quinn didn't even bother hiding his reaction. He blenched, quite visibly, as his eyes scanned the list. 'Difficult' didn't begin to cut the effort that would be needed to obtain some of these items. A few were doable, if expensive in the way of money or favors, but others... They were so absolutely specific and unique that he couldn't help but wonder why it was Sothal needed them. Was it to do with-

"You realize," Quinn finally managed, eyes shifting upwards at last to hold the royal Thief in his gaze, "that most of these will be at the least very costly to obtain, and nearly impossible to steal? And that the ones that aren't are so absurdly unique in their existence that even learning of their locations will be a feat unto itself that will rival those of some of our more legendary Thieves?"

Scoffing, he looked back down at the map, questions running through his mind.

"Look, what's all this even for? Couldn't you get by with more...conventional, common substitutes?"

"I get that it's all a rather difficult endeavor," he said in return. "That's why I'm coming to you. You've got one of the best networks. It's all for future tasks and things we will need to address."

He looked down at the list, and pointed to the hazelnut. "Other than that," he clarified. "That's more for a gift should we want to check in with Shae Berk. Him and his damned exotic exchange for visions. I'll give you the money needed if you need. I want to know if you can handle getting any of it. I'll be more specific if you can, otherwise it's irrelevant. But we all know moondust is one of the best and efficient methods out there for a multitude of things. It has no real alternative."

Quinn fell quiet, the answer unsatisfactory. It wasn't enough that he had concerns about housing a Tainted and was still contemplating on the implications that Cordelia's shared secret carried. Absentmindedly, he scratched his chin. It sounded as though Sothal had another venue he might pursue if Quinn was unable to meet his request, and the Baladuri was not about to miss out on whatever scheme it was that all this entailed. He glanced back up.

"Fine. At the least, I will get things moving. Much of this won't be quick in obtaining, and none of it will be cheap; I'll come to you for finances as I need them. And of course, anything you can tell me about any of this will make obtaining them easier."

Sothal's gaze roved over Quinn with scrutiny upon his acceptance. "As soon as you can get them, that's fine," he said. "The tome might be the most difficult, honestly. Not even sure if it's still in Kal'katah. The Shadow Army might have plundered the whole library. I need that for..." He paused, uncertain as to whether or not to fully explain himself. But Quinn had been around almost as long as he had been with the Cult of Thieves.

"What happened earlier at the tannery with Oracle," he began. "That's not a good sign for her. That tome was mentioned to me on more than one occasion and it may hold a cure. Or at least give her more time."

"Fine. That will definitely be the priority, then." Quinn nodded in reply, folding the list. "I'm glad you brought that up. She's been doing too much with that...'gift' of hers, Sothal. And if it's harming her to that degree, it must be doing something similar to you. You both are fairly free with using them."

"That brings me to my next topic," Sothal said, his tone calm and more quiet. "I'm not dying as quickly, but the magic I use is...different in a way. Her's is far more demanding. And there are consequences to both types. It's complicated to explain. But there may be occasions where I'll... disappear unexpectedly. And for uncertain amounts of time. It happened today and it wasn't the first time. And judging by what I've read this sort of thing doesn't have a rhyme or reason. I want to name you as my successor in title. You've been with the Cult of Thieves for a very long time and know how everyone presently works. And you run a business rather well. I think you would do well as an organizer. I may have to retire early from the Cult anyway. Give it a think over."

"I don't need to; I'll do it. You're a good boss, despite your insistence that we have none, and it will be a shame to lose you to-" Quinn caught himself, the memory of his promise keeping the words inside his mouth. He coughed to cover it up. "-to this thing, if it goes that way. Maybe your tome will offer you some insight."

The folded list was placed carefully within his breast pocket, and the Baladuri took the moment to consider what he intended to say next.

"But that bottle won't, you know. I'm usually the first to encourage a drink when one is wanted, but... Sothal, this habit of diving into the bottle at the first sign of frustration is going to take you faster than that Shadow ever will. And there's perhaps some here in particular who would hate to see you leave so early, and in such a stupid-ass manner."

His hand clapped Quinn's shoulder. "I can manage just fine," Sothal stated dismissively. "We've got a Tainted to interrogate and a masque to prepare for. I'm going to check and make sure Kylar hasn't offed the man before he spills what Tam wants. Oracle would have my head otherwise."

Quinn frowned, the concern in his face darkening a shade. The man's casual dismissal was irritating, as if he either didn't understand or didn't care how his behavior affected the others, and he ignored the rest of what was said.

"Yes, well. Maybe you can deal. But it's not really helping the group out to have their leader or organizer or whatever you call yourself drunk half the time and accidentally disappearing into Shadow the other." He paused, the other information that Sothal had conveyed just now clicking in his mind. "What masque?"

He nearly rolled his eyes like a child at Quinn's persistent concerns, but his inquiry saved him from such a display. The abrupt change in subject was a welcomed happenstance. "Oracle discovered a noble is hosting a masque," he explained. "Since Gerald and that girl Tam found worked in the Noble District I figured the best place to delve into this Tainted matter is to attend such an event. And we have the added bonus of anonymity, it being a masque. What better place to gather intelligence on an otherwise closed social circle?"

The Baladuri shrugged in response, indifferent.

"Shouldn't be too hard to pass as a nobleman, either. All we have to do is be asinine and arrogant, and no one will be the wiser."

Truth be told, Quinn's mind was rather more occupied with his new task. That, and Sothal's denial of the alcohol issue. But now, when tasks were being divvied between thieves, was not the time to press it. He would later, to be sure, but he might employ Oracle to help him. It didn't seem as though their friend was going to give up his bottle easily, and that even after what was no doubt years of nagging on her part to do so.

Quinn glanced back toward the city, catching the dancing fires of the street lamps in his gaze.

"But I've a lot of cogs to get moving, if you want this stuff in even a semi timely manner. You need anything else from me?"

"No," Sothal replied simply. "Duty calls to us both. If you don't find anyone here later on, we've moved back to the Underbelly. But until we decide what to do with this sod I'd rather not leave him alone."

"Hell, you know my take on it. But majority wins out, as ever.

"I'll see you."

Quinn looked to Sothal one last time, eyes narrowing only slightly before slapping him on the shoulder and turning away. Finding an easy pace, he pulled his pipe from his pocket and lit it, the tobacco slow to light for the length of time it had spent in the bowl. For some time the fire refused to take, forcing Quinn to attack it with a small prod to break up the compressed shell the stuff had formed at its top. Finally the tobacco came free, throwing some bits of leaf into the air. Yet the inside was open, exposing it to be kindled with a renewed vigor. Smiling, Quinn stuck the thing between his teeth and took a deep long drag. Finding the small boat he and Cordelia had arrived in, he shoved off and began paddling his way back to the mainland.

rissa · Apr 29, 2017

The trip to the Monastery had been a quick one... if one could say haggling with the old man was quick. Though it was more than she ought to spend, Arianell Maran (more commonly known as Milly Lecadre) handed over a small coin bag in return for two days ownership of his small fishing vessel, The Maiden. That was hours previous and Milly was still damp after succumbing the salty spray off the Glassy Sea. She docked near another boat, the one she had helped Tam and Kyler get Gerald into, and then made her way inside, where she waited patiently until the entirety of the Cult was gathered.

Sothal doled out their responsibilities and Milly nodded, a plan working it's way through her mind. The Oracle's voice cut through her internal monologue and Milly listened with appreciation -- her plan was already coming to fruition.

"We could do both, together." Milly said thoughtfully. "The entrances and the clothing… You wanna map it all out before we leave the island?"

Smiling, Cordelia nodded, and gestured to the monastery grounds, "Might be for the best... Then the others can meet there when it's time. I suppose they've got parchment and ink around here somewhere. Shall we?"

"I did see some parchment and ink," Milly said thoughtfully, "The last time I was out here..."

She raised a finger and nodded her head towards the room the Tainted was being kept. If she wasn't mistaken... Ah.

The bottle of ink was near gone and the parchment weathered - like everything else in the Monastery, but they'd do their job. Milly handed the items over to Oracle, ushering them towards a flat, decently lit surface near the far corner of the room. Weak daylight filtered from a window cut high and thin into the monastery's stone wall.

"Will this suffice?" Milly asked curiously, wishing she'd thought to bring some extra supplies with her.

"This will be perfect..." Cordelia sank down in a small niche in the stone beside the flat surface and pulled the materials over, setting to work on a map of the wall, "Any thoughts on the acquisition part of this little venture?"

Milly nodded her head. "We can pilfer through a few minor noble estates for the most part." She scanned the room for each member of the Cult, eyeing their builds and frames and shape. "Tam will be the hardest to find clothing for, I believe. Lady Dareah has an adolescent son..." Milly replied thoughtfully. "There should be some fine fitting clothing there. The most difficult part of course, will be getting in and out together, without being seen."

She glanced down at her clothing and wondered.

"I can give you my cloak when we're ready. It'll help my wards hide you better, I think. Anyways," Milly said clearing her throat. "I have a boat and you know where we must go. We should leave soon, get a good start on acquiring these masque clothing's and scouting the entrances."

Smiling faintly, Cordelia nodded, while she worked the ink over the parchment, "Wouldn't be the worst thing for Tam's been made to wear. The things Quinn's convinced him to put on."

Looking over her map she frowned in thought, "Right. This might take some time, but I can finish this on the boat. I've a thought, though... that might make it easier for you to get in and out."

With a curious smirk, Milly leaned over and cocked a brow. "What are ya' thinkin' Oracle?"

Something shifted in her expression, a vaguely cooler look, as her fingers pauses across the page, "I'm going to pretend to be my mother..."

"Well- that's.. At the ball you mean... Or..." Milly stood there mildly phased at the notion. "Are you sure that's a good idea Oracle?"

"She has... certain connections and we appear enough alike that for a noble, with how observant they are, it wouldn't be a challenge. It's safer, anyway, than both of us trying to break in and you can grab what we need without my getting in your way. I'd serve as a distraction... But an effective one."

Milly nodded. There were certainly safer ways they could conduct their duties but Oracle seemed sure in her ability to mime her mother. So she nodded again. "Okay."

She'd learned long ago to put faith in her fellows. Some she trusted easily, others she did not. But faith she had in all of them. Too long had they worked together to not.

"We needn't have you risk the disguise for every estate. It'd stand out too easily, put them on alert during the masquerade. The more influential ones however... a distraction could absolutely lighten the risks."

"If all goes well, we won't need to visit too many, at all. These nobles aren't well known for being frugal. Especially where clothes are concerned. One or two homes and we should have what we need." Folding the map, she rose with a nod, "We should head out, then."

*

The trip across the Glassy Sea this time round was easier. The great sea seemed friendly, though the salty spray still stung her eyes and caused her lips to crack. The boat ride was short and filled with equal bits of silence and pleasantries. Milly didn't waste a moment. She docked The Maiden in her usual spot and led the way to their first locale.

The House of Altrey.

"You ready?" Milly asked Oracle, her face already a mask of concentration as she called to her magic, hands moving fluidly as she began refilling her physical wards.

It was risky. For so many reasons it was risky. But in the end, it was no less dangerous than her usual work , and considering that was out of the question, she had to work with what she could.

Years ago, her mother had visited the House of Altrey. Today, she would visit once more... Hopefully, it would serve the Cult's purpose well enough.

"I will go first. Give me ten minutes to set things up before you head for the laundry. Be sure to take anything that appears more worn... They're less likely to notice a dress they don't wear anymore. I can give you maybe fifteen minutes... Will that do?"

"It's more time than I usually have." Milly said with a smile, eyes burning with anticipation as the affixed runes lining every inch of her clothing glowed arcane-blue. A heartbeat later she disappeared.

"After you, Oracle."

A Collab with @Elle Joyner

Elle Joyner · Apr 29, 2017

no-lightbox

It had been half a decade since Cordelia had set foot in the noble district, so boldly. Ironic, that her quarry then had been much the same as it was, now. Lord Altrey would be a little older, but undoubtedly the same pompous, shallow, posturing bastard he had been back then. He had been a perfect tool for the manipulations of Farrah Briggs, and no doubt, he still feared her name. After bidding goodbye to Milly, whose efficiency with her gift of the Arcane still astounded, Cordelia made for the Altrey's entry way and knocked, solidly against the heavy, ornate door.

A servant answered, young and spotted with dark freckles, oddly murky green eyes peering up at her from beneath a hood of thick, black eyebrows that stretched across the entire bridge of the poor creature's nose. He cleared his throat and straightened, but there was a flash of uncertainty in his gaze at he looked up at Cordelia, briefly, "Can I help you, Miss?"

"I'm here to see Lord Altrey. He's home, I hope?" Her voice took on a frigid quality- something she had not practiced before, but knew so very well that she hardly needed the rehearsal. Her mother had a way about her that could turn blood to ice, heart to stone. Stepping back, the boy swallowed.

"Wh...who shall I say has come to call?"

"You shan't. Just tell him an old friend is here. He will see me."

He stood for a moment, his expression thrown between confusion and fear before he turned without a word and disappeared inside. His return a few minutes later was marked with a similar expression, but his face was considerably paler, and he did not meet her gaze as he waved her inside.

Following after him, keeping her posture rigid and regal, she let her eyes wander only slightly from the back of his head, staving her own curiosity at the odd assortment of artworks and statues that lined the hall - a collection of items that appeared as expensive and ostentatious as the man who owned them. When at last she was led to Altrey's study, the boy knocked, then let her passed, before he disappeared around the corner. Slowly, Cordelia stepped into the room.

Altrey looked up from his desk, his eyes wide, stunned, his mouth hanging open without a word. He was a decidedly handsome man, but in such a way that he surely knew it all too well, his pearlescent grey eyes devoid of much genuine emotion, heavy lidded. His dark hair was slicked back, speckled now, as it had not been then, with small bits of salty grey. Across his thin lips he'd grown something of an absurd mustache - a wispy line, like something drawn on with charcoal.

"I…" He finally stammered, rising from his desk, "Forgive me. I was not expecting a visit from the Cabal."

A brow quirked, and Cordelia lowered her hood, "Yet, here I am."

"You... I'm sorry. You look so different from what I… It's just… your clothing? That's an odd look around these parts?"

"I'm intending to blend in. But I didn't come here to discuss the current state of fashion at the salons...did I?"

Shuffling pieces around his desk, Altrey lowered his gaze, anxiously, "You mean… the...The presentation? It's not quite ready." Looking up again, he shrugged, his expression less grim. Idly, he circled his fingers across that ridiculous fit of facial hair, around his lips. Her eyes shifted to the ring on his finger and her heart gave a jolt… Gold and green...Perhaps. But no. It was too light a shade. Still, there was a chance he knew…

"But you're welcome to attend the Lady North's Masque." He continued, and her eyes moved to his again, "You can see its progress, then."

"How convenient for you, then, that I was already planning on attending. But that's not all I'm here for. I'm looking for someone. You might know him. A man with a particular ring… gold and emerald. I have business with him, but we've yet to meet. You know of him?"

"Belongs to Renou. Curious thing… I thought we had agreed the Cabal would be summoned when everything was completed?"

"I have other business, as I've said." Her response was seamless, but her chest still throbbed with a sudden pulse of anxiety, "But as I was in the area, I thought a progress report would be appropriate."

"I see… I'm sorry I've so little to show you, then."

"It's little worry. I look forward to the masque…"

"Indeed."

She turned for the door, pulling up her hood, but Altrey came around his desk and called out. She paused, turning back to him.

"I never caught your name…"

"No. You didn't. Good evening, Master Altrey." She slipped out, leaving him little room to argue, her heart resounding against her ribs as she muttered a prayer that Milly had had enough time to work.

TAGS: @Red Thunder, @Effervescent, @RiddL, @Doctor Jax, @rissa, @CloudyBlueDay

Doctor Jax · Apr 30, 2017

Wining And Dining

a collab between @Dr Jax @Effervescent @Riddlr and @Cloudy Blue Day

Tam looked over at Kylar, noting the pensive stance of the typically predatory assassin. Tam gave a small smile as he stated, "Well, I'd most appreciate if you'd grab for me two cuts of cured ham from that larder there and the bottle of Vignot stamped with a red seal -- it's good stuff, so please don't break it. I'd been planning on using it for a celebration, but this man seems to need some cheering up."

The diminutive blackmailer opened a cabinet and grabbed a hold of a cutting board and some razor-sharp knives.

Kylar felt the corner of his mouth involuntarily rise as he heard about the wine, his eyes following Tamerlins hands as he brought up knives. Curious, he asked Tam "Knives, cuttingboard, ham..." he paused in confusion at the list.

He picked up a large platter, grabbing two slices of ham and the bottle of what was probably good wine. He turned, walking the platter and placing it down when it clicked. "Are you seriously considering feeding it?" he asked, torn between utter bewilderment and annoyance.

Tam's eyes flicked upward at the incredulous question. He blinked a bit before stating with surprising bemusement, "Yes."

He handed Kylar the wine glasses and said, "If you would, I'd like you to wipe these out. They're awfully dusty. One for each of us, see?"

In the mean time, Tam took hold of the ham on the platter and began to thinly slice it with the blade, nearly as thin as paper.

"While our dear Gerald happens to be a Tainted and a manly beast, he is a beastly man for the time being, and beastly men talk more truthfully when there is wine and food to be had," Tam said with quiet firmness, his eyes set on the meat in front of him, which was cut into delicate curls.

"Could you pull out one more glass?"

Leona hung in the door way, arms crossed. Her normal cheery outlook was pulled into a tight frown. Her eyes rested on the Tainted, and she let out a deep sigh as she pulled herself into the room.

"I don't like keeping him alive. And I definetly don't like this whole.. taking him out to dinner thing you've got going on. But.. I want answers. And I could use a glass."

Kylar looked at Tam and then Leona, sighed and went to get four wine glasses, thoughts only that it had better be good wine. He pulled out a cloth from his satchel and wiped all the dust from it with a practiced hand.

He returned and poured out two glasses, one for himself and one for Leona. "What answers are you after?" he asked Leona as he handed her the glass, quite content that the two real killers in the Thieves were here, if the tainted happened to shift, Tam would be useless and Kylar would be hard pressed by himself.

"Why the Tainted's here, of course. Where it came from and who set it upon the city." Leona raised an eyebrow at Kylar, as if her reasons were obvious and his question was unnecessary. She took the glass from him gingerly, eyeing it momentarily before she took a generous sip. "The poison should be wearing off anytime now. I'd rather get on with this sooner than later."

She could see the wounds he had inflicted on the thing, at least when he was in another form. Leona was no killer, contrary to her display. She could do it if she had too, but she preferred not too. But.. tainted were where she drew the line. It was like killing an animal. It was just a creature, nothing more. This man was no longer a man, and she doubted he'd be able to prove himself otherwise.

Tam did not miss the flick of the eyes towards the back room where Gerald no doubt lay.

"While I understand your reluctance in my methods, I do appreciate your help. Of course, some general guidelines-- I'd appreciate if weapons are not drawn at any time during my questioning. You may ask your own questions of course, but do try to be polite. This man is more victim than perpetrator, and it would be unfortunate if a stray angry word were to send him into a furballed frenzy...." Tam began as he gathered up the ham, cheese, and wine.

"Second, if the worst is to occur, and he does transform, I would bid you to grab hold of me by the scruff and make for the boat post haste. Under no circumstances would I want either of you to confront him head on. Distract him? Perhaps....but not to risk of your own life. The information we garner will be worth more than even my life and someone must live to tell the rest of the Cult."

He drew himself up to his full height -- which, of course, was anything but imposing. He lifted his chin nonetheless, appearing for all the world the most confident of small men.

"And third, if you would please join us for a talk, rather than an interrogation. Whatever you think of him, I do not believe he has lost all sense, and if he has not, then honey would draw the flies better than vinegar-- or in this case ham. We'll see soon enough. If you will follow me...."

The soft spoken blackmailer walked into the back room through a small corridor and set the tray on a half-rotten table. He smiled quickly to the man they held captive, for all the world appearing like a servant.

Kylar took Leona and Tam's words in stride, face revealing nothing as he followed Tam to the 'Talk', he'd do what was asked of him, except leaving it alive should he turn back into a giant killer hamster again.

Leona could grab Tam and drag him away but Kylar didn't leave things half done. Voicing none of this he took a sip of wine and entered the room, his mask around his neck and his hood lowered, revealing his long, blonde hair tied in a pony tail. Giving him a somewhat dignified look as opposed to Tamerlin's servant manner.

Kylar decided to play nice though, stepping forward calmly and filling the Tainteds cup with Wine, although he was almost tempted to put a muscle relaxant in it, stopping at the last second against his better judgement. As he stepped back he put a hand on Tam's shoulder and whispered in his ear, "Your show, you lead. But if he twitches I will act."

He released Tam and walked back to the corner of the room, glass of wine in hand as he lent against the wall.

Gerald had regained enough movement to push himself up to a sit in the dark corner of the room. He looked up at Tamerlin lazily as the man entered with a tray in hand and set it upon the table. The room smelled musty and felt a certain type of grime akin to Windfeld's abandoned locations. He was no stranger to such places, but knew it was a bad omen. Seeing only the silhouettes of his captors made the feeling all the more unsettling, but he could still barely move properly.

"I 'erd you," he said. "I 'erd you planning to kill me. Slit my throat. Either get it over with or let me go."

Tam sounded like a school teacher, setting rules for his children as they set out to the playground. She felt only the tiniest bit insulted, and she would've felt it moreso if Kylar were not standing beside her. Leona didn't hear what Kylar said to Tam, but she saw that whispering, a secret, silent message, or perhaps more of a threat. Leona straightened her shoulder, her stance becoming more tense. Business. This was business. The Cult was business. She had to remind herself quite often.

The room was musty and dark, and Leona's eyes stayed narrowed on the Tainted, who groggily awakened. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it first, looking over at Tam, waiting to allow him to get it going.

"Quite the contrary. I see it's rather dark in here..." Tam noted, and he walked towards a sconce, removing several matches he'd kept on hand for the occasion. He lit the pitch-covered torches, throwing the room into relief.

"I understand that you have been quite uncomfortable. Is there anything you have need of?" Tamerlin asked as he walked back towards the table. Gerald had every right to be perplexed and scared. These folk were suspicious by nature, and finding oneself in a strange place with fearsome figures perhaps did nothing to alleviate that tendency.

"We've brought refreshments with us as well, as it were," Tam offered, gesturing to the tray before him, hoping the man would be enticed to eat.

Gerald displayed more hesitation, though not completely voluntary in movement. His brow furrowed at Tam's kindness and he kept his position on the floor, head rested on the wall for support. "Let me leave," he said. "Let me leave or kill me. I don't want your food or your buttery words."

Now within the candlelight he could make out all present parties. The two in the other corner were familiar to him, though they were without the other man who wished him dead. "Though I get the feelin' I ain't gonna get one of the options," he muttered.

Kylar stepped forwards, taking a sip of his wine. "That depends entirely on you, Gerald. You help us and I'll do what I can to help you. But you also need to understand where I'm coming from. You are dangerous and after what's happened it makes sense to be distrusting of us, but also keep this in mind."

He paused to take breath, "If you help us, I'll try and do what I can to help you, whether it be finding you a Lush island to live your remaining days, in solitude but alive. But we can also put a stop to the people who have done this to you, wouldn't you want to see them punished for what they've done to you?" Kylar said, his voice deep and steady, his cold blue eyes never leaving Geralds as he talked.

Gerald huffed a small laugh at Kylar's words, head shaking somewhat at his predicaments. "You can't stop 'em," he said. "Not like you lot could even take down one Tainted without a struggle. What sort of army you got hidden away in 'ere? Because that's what you'll need going up against these blokes."

For once, Tam's eyebrows met in a frown. Quietly, he picked up a goblet and a slice of ham, before going to the far wall where Gerald leaned and sat down, though at a safe distance so as not to encroach the man who was their unwilling captor.

"I already know that what we face is...formidable," Tam stated, taking a bite of his ham and a drink of his wine. "A young boy named Jammison took me to his sister, Lynn, who also had the same mark of one who has been Tainted, and she said the Nobles were most definitely the ones who had done such a thing to her."

He looked over to Gerald and set his own wine glass beside him.

"I would like to prevent such things happening to others such as yourself. As do we all here. Kylar said as much," Tam said, nodding towards the man with the mask and hood. "While our faction is small, we are not to be taken lightly, I assure you. But we wish you no harm."

More or less, Tam thought, considering what would have happened had he not found such a niche to place Gerald in a timely manner.[/hr]

Effervescent · May 1, 2017

The Island Monastery
A Collab with @Doctor Jax @RiddL @CloudyBlueDay

Lynn's name struck a chord with Gerald. His eyes widened and body straightened at the mention of the girl. "Lynn is..." His voice trailed off, and his expression turned from concern to resolve. "I want to see her. Is she here? Did... Did you hurt her?"

Leona gave a meaningful glance to Tam, almost asking with her eyes if they had indeed hurt Lynn in anyway, but looking at Tam, Leona doubted it. "'Course not, Gerald." Leona said indignantly. "We haven't hurt anybody who didn't deserve it. Or perhaps terrorize the entire city." Leona crossed her arms.

Tam smiled at Leona, glad of her assurance, and then to Geralt, telling the man, "Leona's quite right. I've put her up in a nice place nearest the Temple on Broad street, if you know where that is. I've already told the Head Brother she's there and he will ensure she is safe and well-cared for. We couldn't do much the same for you because of your.... current state. I apologize for how run-down the place is. I'm... working on it."

Tam grimaced as he looked up at the ceiling, a few spots showing holes to the upper floors.

"How do you know Lynn? She'd not said anything of you," Tam stated.

Leona's words repeated in Gerald's mind as Tam continued his assurances. We haven't hurt anybody who didn't deserve it, she had said. That wasn't reassuring to him in the slightest, especially coming from a seedy trio who had nearly killed him without much of a care as to who he was or his life. And yet now suddenly they cared. He continued to ignore the food.

"Quit pissing me about," Gerald muttered, his demeanor shifting as he felt cornered once again. His fingers curled into fists he could not raise. "I won't say nothin' till I see 'er. If you don't like that, then just get this over with and do me in."

Tam winced at the mention of going to see Lynn. He should have gotten a hold of something of hers, but he hadn't thought someone would call into question what had happened to her, or otherwise doubt his word.

"I would take you to her if I could, but unfortunately we are on an island quite a ways from Windfeld... You're free to take a look, if you'd like. Are you.... aware of what happened to you? Or what happened to those around you?" Tam asked. He hadn't considered that Gerald might be confused as to why the Cult was so interested in him. "We're on this island for your safety as much as the city's. You... transformed into a Tainted. I'm not sure if you recall."

His head slightly shook, and his fists relaxed where the rested. "I got flashes," he said. "Wasn't my first time, you know. Turnin'. They were tryin' to train the turn to happen on command. Mostly it's like goin' to sleep, though. But if they got to Lynn and she has the mark as you say, then you know she's just as much of a threat. So why ain't she 'ere?"

"I've got this one" Kylar said as leant against the wall. "It's quite simple really. If we put two tainted beings in the same place at the same time, it's only inviting trouble. We were hard pressed to stop you from killing anymore people and contain you, you broke two of my ribs and I am one of the only good fighters we have." he said, not trying to sound above it but explaining that if he were one of the better fighters and he lost, how would they cope with multiple.

"I'm sorry, but the simple fact is that we don't know what triggers you, if contact with the girl causes you both to turn... Well do you want to be responsible for the deaths of more people?" he finished questioningly, pulling another pain dulling leaf and placing it under his tongue.

Tam looked over at Geralt with a sad smile.

"There's also the fact that Lynn has not turned, to my knowledge. If you were to turn while in her presence, locked in with her, I would be beside myself for putting her in danger as well. It was best we kept you apart," Tam said. However, something that he said made his eyebrows furrow angrily.

"They were trying to train you to turn," Tam stated with disgust. "There's only one reason to be doing that..."

Tam took a long swig of his wine, as if to wash out the foul taste of what those nobles had done to Gerald.

Their logic calmed Gerald further to the point where he leaned over and grabbed at the slice of ham with his dirty fingers. The injured arm did not move much as he elected to rest it in his lap protectively. The ham was devoured before he spoke again, juices sticking to the sides of his stubble around his lips he licked away like an animal.

"I don't know what the reason is," Gerald said. "Didn't get that far. All I know is they're takin' in the 'elp that don't do as they want. Probably already found a replacement for me. It's good work, you know. Up there in the Noble District you can eat fine scraps o' food that ain't rottin'. And we get good clothes so we look right proper. So we try our best to get it and keep it. Just 'ard keepin' your morals too."

Sothal walked in and leaned against the doorframe to watch Tam work his interrogation. It was an interesting tactic, and rather smart. Despite Gerald behind hesitant to eat or drink at first, his tongue was loosened by the casual and calm air. Gerald was manipulated despite him thinking otherwise, and that was a good mark on Tamerlin's abilities. The Cult of Thieves did have a knack for picking out the cream of the crop.

"Whatever the reason," Sothal finally cut in, "we are going to put an end to it."

Gerald's head jerked over to look at him, his body tensing, or perhaps flinching. "Your death wishes," Gerald said, and then darted his gaze over towards the others. "Not like you can get past the gates anyways without work orders."

"The gates are closed," Sothal informed.

"Then even moreso," he responded with a shrug. "The back ways have been barred up since Lord Vaughnic found the food smugglers. His whole staff was in cahoots and sending the table scraps out the wall through the Underground. All them tunnels and the like through the sewers. That whole lot be gone now. Likely Tainted or dead. Got a new staff, 'e does. They don't know yet what's waitin'."

"Right," Sothal said as he pushed himself away from the door frame. His back was starting to ache and stung with every movement. "Perhaps we should leave Mister Gerald to his meal to discuss some matters? Not like he can get far."

House Altrey

Cordelia's surprise visit was indeed a well calculated diversion. Even the servants moved their chores to rooms close by to eavesdrop apart from the butler. He perused the floors of the house, lips downturned as he muttered about the Cabal under his breath. Being the Lord's confidant he would surely hear all about this little visit, to which he would continually advise against continuing his dark endeavors.

But the butler, despite his closeness with his master, was still a servant and under and Noble. It was more likely his words would fall on deaf ears. And that was frustrating to the aging man. No status should warrant dismissal of wise words.

Not to mention those under him and other houses suffered the disappearances of hired help without explanation. As the butler, it was his duty to notify when a servant would be let go. But lately it fell out of his hands due to Lord Altrey's dark dealings.

Lord Altrey lived in the same house as his spinster sister, grumpy father, and aging grandmother, all of which would not attend any parties. They clung to the house in melancholy as drab as the furnishings. His fiancé was the young daughter of Renou, but it was an engagement born from the need for money.

Nevertheless, fine clothing were in abundance in House Altrey. His sister hadn't been a spinster for long, and so her garments of better days still rested without dust or moth holes, though they were hoarded in her room due to sorrow and wishful thinking.

It was a tall house apart from it being a bit too large for the occupants. The home was intended for a far bigger lot, and were it half a century prior it would be prime. The glory days of House Altrey appeared to be waning.

@rissa @Elle Joyner @Red Thunder

Doctor Jax · May 1, 2017

xxxxxxTamerlinxxxxxx

Tamerlin looked up as Sothal entered their humble room. He stiffened ever so slightly as Gerald becam increasingly agitated, and Tamerlin hoped that the man would not be so quick to break trust with them. Geralt could be a potential ally, a bargaining chip of sorts should things ever go sour. He was living, breathing proof of what had happened to the help of the Nobles above, and that meant he needed their protection -- but also that they needed his trust. He'd not speak on their behalf at all should he think they meant ill-will.

"I'm sure there are ways around those gates," Tamerlin stated with assurance. "I'd like to say I've been over the wall a few times, but I guess that would be telling."

He conspiratorially touched the side of his nose as he smiled at Geralt congenially.

Tamerlin stood up and stated as he did, "If you need anything, there's a fully stocked larder past that door. The meat and wine is, of course, yours to do with as you will. There's clothes in one of the rooms somewhere, I think the one with a red door. Do be careful of that hall over there-- a few boards have nails sticking out of them."

With these parting words to Geralt, he quickly left the room, waiting for the others to follow. There would be much to discuss. He wasn't sure how much Sothal had heard. Tamerlin would've liked to get more out of the man, but the presence of both Leona and Kylar seemed to have had an adverse affect on the man's tongue and his willingness to talk. Something about them saying they'd kill him.... Tam winced.

At the least, they could've been polite and talked of that out of earshot....

rissa · May 3, 2017

Milly Lecadre

There was a reason thieves were surrounded by the esoteric whisperings of working only when the moon dominated the sky. The truth was far from that, of course, but there was still a reason. Under the veil of starlight, thievery was easier. Eyes were closed, suspicion gone with unconsciousness, and wary servants far from second story rooms.

Even though the majority of her wards hid her from sight, they didn't stop servants from seeing a door crack open, or the rise of a clothing chest's lid. She weaved in and out of hallways, listening at doors and peeking in, hiding from meandering servants, mostly the same one, before she finally reached a promising room.

It was a woman's room, obvious at first glance, and as grand as she expected. The room emanated with a sense of forlorn and once she entered, Milly was struck with the realization that perhaps the suite wasn't as grand as she first thought. It was empty, thankfully, and she wasted no time. Finding the clothing chests were easy, as three large ones stood proud behind an ornate folding screen.

From within a pocket of her cloak, Milly took out a thin drawstring bag. It wasn't large but it was the most expensive item she owned. The draw-string bag was simple in design and made of common wool, but it was affixed with spidersilk laced with woven crystals that had costed her an entire year's worth of pay. She worked hard for it and damn was it useful. Unfolding the bag and giving it a shake, Milly tucked it under one arm and started searching through the chests.

Finding the right style took her the longest. Not just any old garment would do. They would need to blend in at the masque, not stand out and unfortunately, that worked in two mysterious ways. Dresses could be too new, remembered by their owners or fellow nobles, and they could be underdressed, suspicious in more ways than one. The first dress she decided upon was a deep burgundy that was cinched at the waist with rich crystals that complimented the color of the dress. Milly shoved it in the bag and kept looking. Besides a few odds and ends and an old pair of pearl earrings at the very bottom of the chest, there was nothing else. She repeated the process to the other two chests with bated breath, knowing her time was running short.

Oracle had probably left already -- she'd need to do the same. Very, very soon. Milly found a few lace undergarments, three more dresses, two pairs of lace gloves, a silvered ring, and a single mask, feathers half crumpled, at the very bottom of the last chest.

Her heart was beating faster with every second that ticked by and it caused her to take a moment just to focus. Paranoia creeping it's way up her spine, Milly refilled her physical wards, all of them, and made her way back to the door. She listened carefully before exiting and hastily made her way to the servant's quarters, where she had came in from.

Tags: @Effervescent

Red Thunder · May 18, 2017

Lists
a collaboration between @Red Thunder and @Effervescent

Quinn's hand touched the Sur's face delicately. She was one of Eswayt's girls, trusted and vetted. And gorgeous. He'd have to take advantage of that in the future. Several patrons had turned their heads when she had approached him, knowing full well the reputation of their favorite tavern's owner, and most paid it no mind.

That was entirely the point. When you try to hide something, people want to know. But when you force them into an awkward scenario, like perhaps all but telling the customers of Quinn's establishment that he was about to go spend time with his latest whore, well, no one wanted to be apart of that. His hand moved to grip the nape of her neck, and he kissed her gentlely. Sell the performance. And of course, if you enjoyed your work, what harm was there in that? Arm about her waist, Quinn led her into his room.

Some half hour later, the she-elf was gone, having been entrusted with procuring two of the items on Sothal's list. The drakenberries should be easy enough; she had family near the Orcish Lands, and they could be obtained by trade or a woodwise elf. The warded armor might be a little more difficult, if in fact not so long in coming. The Cliffs of Anova of Thallas weren't that far from Windfeld by ship, and a guard-post there would sure have some store of overstock; there was little occasion now, save for pirates, for Thallas' southern coast to take up arms, and armor often merely sat in the armory, disregarded.

Quinn leaned against the bar, hating to see her leave but loving to watch her go. Shame, that it was a business visit. She sure was beautiful. Sadly, his business wasn't concluded. More items had to be found than just berries and armor, some of which would be quite difficult indeed. Acting as though he were conducting inventory, he began running options through his mind.

The surly wife of a fisherman sat next to where Quinn leaned, her eyes looking from the handsome Baladuri to the elf and rolled her eyes. "Damn elves need to take food and lodging in their own land," she muttered and then looked back at Quinn. "Why do you let 'em take our money when we got plenty of pretty human girls runnin' about?"

He glanced askance at the woman, mind stumbling over itself momentarily as it switched topic.

"Maybe it's pity. Poor young elf-girl in need of financial assistance, me being a gentleman, who am I to say no?" Staring at her a brief moment, Quinn pulled a bottle of whiskey and a small clay cup out from beneath the counter. "Not that it has ever stopped you from coming. You still like an orcish brandy, right?"

"O'course," she said as she slapped the table. "Hit me up. And you should pity our folk, blondie. We've got kids starving in the streets and men out of good work. And you're tossin' good coin the way of a pointy ear. Sleazy daggers."

Quinn snorted, pouring two fingers worth into the cup.

"Soon as you want to direct your own daughters to that line of work, you let me know. But, er, not your men, please." His mouth pulled back in a wry grin as he corked the bottle and replaced it. "It's not as though I withhold work of other kinds. Wist Reger hauls my shipments from the docks, and he's as local as they come."

The woman grumbled and situated herself on her stool as she snatched up the cup. "It's the permis of the thing," she continued. "You keep supportin' 'em and they'll keep comin' 'round eatin' food that should be for Fallenites."

"Only when they're conducting business of other kinds, my dear," Quinn said with a finger pressed against the side of his nose. "I'm not the only one who invites them here for their services.

"But enough of that. Have the waves treated you and yours well? Plenty of fish in your nets, I trust?"

"Acourse they have," she stated, "well enough for them nobles, the fat lot."

The woman rambled on about her husband's work and all it's perils and all the injustices of Faledrin, happy to pour out her mind to a willing ear. All of the tavern was lively and typical around them save for a strange blip. There was a figure that calmly moved at the other end of the room sifting through the crowd without seeming to touch a single soul. What was more curious was the metal mask that covered their face. The figure dressed the part of a member of the Cult of Thieves, but they were not a recognized silhouette. And without anyone's notice or care, the figure exited with a purpose.

The movement did not go unnoticed, and neither did the less than typical get up for a normal citizen. Quinn frowned; every Thief should have been busy elsewhere, and should besides know better than to where that style in one of their safe houses.

"Ya think it's too much, then?"

Evidently his expression had been misconstrued. The fisherman's wife sat scowling, perturbed by the assumed disagreement. He blinked, regaining his composure, and smiled disarmingly.

"I would never disagree with a woman of your, er, standing. I'd merely suddenly recalled a task that has been needing doing. Excuse me-" His mind went blank; for the life of him, Quinn could not recall her name. So he went with the first that came to mind, hoping all the while that it was the right one. "-Ernestine. Here; it's on the house."

Dropping the quarter full bottle of brandy back onto the counter with a thunk, Quinn ducked away from his usual position. Curiosity gripped him. Had nothing of atypical note happened recently, the stranger may not have garnered such attention. Yet, with the Tainted problem…

"Milly!" He poked his head into the kitchen door. "Come watch the- No, damn. She's out today. Jay! I'm stepping out; mind the front while I'm gone."

A smallish lad of perhaps sixteen appeared from around a corner nodding sullenly in comprehension, as Quinn left. Topped with a mop of jet black hair, the kid was something of an ace pickpocket when Quinn got ahold of him. He'd given the boy work and a bed, placing him in a position of evaluation for the Cult. He'd as yet not showed much more promise than he'd shown on the street, but then, Jay had only been in the Baladuri's employ 2 months or so. With time, Quinn hoped he'd come through.

But that was a minor thread as of now in his mental tapestry. Not even really trying to hide his intention, Quinn strode through the front door, wary eyes searching for the masked stranger.

The unfamiliar silhouette walked calmly through the rainy streets, hood still drawn like the rest of the citizens that tried their best to shield their faces from the wet spattering. The figure turned down a street heading eastward and disappeared around the corner. By the time Quinn reached the street he found the figure in a sprint towards the other side of the building.

"Hey!"

Quinn took off after him with a shout, any possibility of surreptitiously shadowing the figure clearly gone. He thanked the gods for his long legs, though he cursed his own vanity; the benefit his stride provided might be offset, if his hair became so waterlogged it obscured his vision. Brushing it aside as best he could, he hurried after, left hand holding the hilt of his sword to- Dammit! He'd left it behind! He had his knife, but that would be small comfort if this got hairy. He prayed it didn't.

The figure had rounded the other corner into the other street marked by the heavy flicker of their rain drenched cloak. Their gait was not as lengthy as the tall Baladuri providing Quinn with an advantage in the chase. It was only a matter of time before the distances would be closed. Answers were just around the bend.

Excellent; he was getting closer to the- what was this fellow? And why were they in such a hurry to leave Quinn behind? It was almost as if the figure had wanted to be followed. The Baladuri's eyes narrowed in suspicion; he was too curious to give up chase now, yet the more cautious part of his mind prodded him insistently. This wasn't a safe play to be making.

No gain was ever made without risk.

Yanking the knife free of his belt, he rounded the last corner after his prey running right into an unsuspecting citizen. The woman placed a hand on her chest as a startled gasp sucked into her lungs. She was drenched completely from the rain as it began to pour more readily. Behind her were others going about their business in the street, yet no sign of the elusive figure.

"Honestly," the woman said as she looked from Quinn to the way behind her and then back at the Baladuri. "What is with people today?"

Quinn cursed, trying to avoid hitting the poor woman. He didn't quite manage, more clipping her than anything, his momentum carrying him into the stone wall of the inn to his side. The knife rang as it bounced off the wall as well. His eyes began scanning the crowd, trying to pick out the masked figure, until he comprehended the woman's words.

"You mean," he questioned, glancing down at her curiously, "I wasn't the first? There wasn't someone just now, was there?"

A frown tugged her lips downward as she looked from Quinn's face to the dagger he held, and she waved a dismissive hand as she passed. "He flew off that way," she said, her hand flicking down the road.

He didn't even stop to ask further. With a muttered Thanks, Quinn sprinted off in the direction the woman indicated, his pace slowing when he'd covered a few yards in order to check down alleys and side streets for signs of the figure.

As Quinn set off, the woman watched him rush in the direction she pointed and lingered only a second or two before quickly dipping into the alley in which Quinn had exited.

His pace slowed, the frantic search turning up no leads. Where had the figure gone? The street was too long for it to have managed to escape at the far end, and for all his search Quinn could find no place to hide or flee otherwise. He frowned, partially at the rather insistent downpour but mostly at the circumstance. Oh well; it was a random curiosity. It'd probably have led to nothing anyw-

"Oi!" He raised his voice, the patter of the rain forming a kind of discordant harmony with the blacksmith's hammer that drowned out nearly every other noise within proximity. It'd been a chance observation: clothes were piled, seemingly discarded, within the barrel that the blacksmith used to collect rainwater for cooling his metals. "Hefest! You moonlighting as a laundry maid?"

Quinn pointed to the cloth in the barrel as he sheathed the knife, tone casual and conversational.

The blacksmith turned at the call, bushy brow raising as he eyed over Quinn and his findings. He was a tall and lanky fellow, yet in his old age he carried heavy jowls that shook with his head. "T'ain't mine," he said, and then pointed his hammer towards the barrels. "Some pretty thing dropped 'em off. Said she'd be back."

The reply prompted yet another question.

"Oh?" Quinn asked, lips pursed in dawning comprehension and self-derision as he looked back down the street the direction he'd come. Sure enough, the woman he'd encountered earlier was gone. "She say when?"

"Neh," the smith responded. "Thanks for gettin' it out the barrel. Set it on the beam, will ye?" With another point of his hammer he pointed towards a hook within one of the support beams before turning back to his work.

"I didn't…"

But there was no use arguing with the man. There never was. Ol' Heft was like the anvil he used in his work: hard and unyielding, you'd bend yourself on him before his will ever broke. Sighing, Quinn did asked, perturbed at himself for his lack of quick wittedness about the woman.

The woman. She could have gone anywhere, save past him. Beyond the alleyway he'd chased her through, the street he was now ok continued in the opposite direction he'd come, with the occasional alley or side street crossing at perpendiculars. If he was more of the inclination, he might have been able to predict her movements. But that wasn't his skill set. Grudgingly he stalked back the way he'd come, retracing his steps back to the inn.

The inn was just as lively as any other day. The rain made for a good excuse as patrons procrastinated going back to their trade. The fisherman's wife still sat at the bar now grumbling to another unfortunate pair of ears that pretended to care. There was a table of men close to the wall banging a beat against the table as they sung a lively tune. Beneath their stomping boots was a piece of parchment beaten into the floor unbeknownst to its aggressors.

Quinn stood in the doorway for several moments, frowning, hands in pockets and absolutely drenched. His weary gaze swept the floor. This wasn't how the day was supposed to go; it should have been a smooth day of arrangements and planning. A day of checking Sothal's grocery list. A day of making his own.

He darted forward suddenly, his brain finally making the connection that his eye had set up, and snatched the parchment from beneath the singers' boots. The song cut short as Quinn was inundated with several questioning stares. He waved it off.

"Pure accident, gentlemen! I'd misplaced this earlier and am glad to have come upon it again! Please, don't concern yourself with damaged; no harm, no foul! Enjoy your drinks, and you're certainly welcome to take up that tune one more."

It hadn't been there when he left; the Baladuri was sure of it. Not really bothering to shake the rain free, he slipped behind the bar and scanned the contents. Berk, coffee, hazelnut, Ambrose, dittany. Hm. Fairly extravagant ingredients list. The question, as was typical, was what for? His hand went to his breast pocket as he considered, searching for tobacco. But the rain had been hard and invading, and the tobacco was waterlogged. Grumbling at yet another downturn, Quinn made for the stock room.

It'd been turned upside down. Barrels were overturned, boxes forced open, and more than a few bags sliced into. Oats and potatoes littered the floor, though there was a far greater concentration of nuts, of all things.

"Jay!" Quinn yelled, a heat rising up in his belly at the boy's inattention. "Get in here and clean this shit up!"

Maybe he shouldn't have unloaded on the kid, irresponsible as he was. There had been such a sudden influx of stress, piling on top of the usual stress being involved in the Cult necessitated. Now damage and loss to his stores and livelihood: broken seals on perishables, split delicate vegetables and fruits, and crushed cashews and almo-

Quinn's eyebrows raised, and he glanced at the new list. Hazelnuts?

Indeed, it would appear as though someone had been looking for the same things Sothal had asked Quinn to procure. The likely suspect was the mysterious masked woman he had encountered due to her suspicious and questionable exit. Whoever it was left his stores in a complete mess, as if in too much of a hurry to cover their tracks or intent. Whoever was the previous owner of the short list was looking to procure information from Shae Berk, particularly information about the tome Ambrose.

It was a strange coincidence to be sure, and one that could either insure their paths crossed once again or cause Quinn to be too late in procuring the tome that could help save Cordelia's life.

The realization gave him pause. It seemed imperative now that he focus all his time and efforts into getting it before the woman did.

Effervescent · May 18, 2017

The Island Monastery

Sothal looked between the three as they gathered in the other room. His hand moved over his mouth and down his chin contemplatively. Progress was made, but they couldn't just let Gerald go. It meant a constant watch on the man to insure not only did he remain a human, but that he did not leave the island. Having an active member of the Cult babysitting was an annoyance he wish he didn't have to consider.

"Gerald needs watching," he stated. "Kylar, if you would, I want you on that task until I can get a Veteran out here to take over. Leona, if you could, please ask Muller to come take over this task. I'll see if Caleb is available to alternate shifts. We need every active member for the masque coming up."

Crossing his arms, he looked over at Tamerlin. "Is there another Tainted?" he asked. "A girl, I think was mentioned. I think we should bring her here. There are plenty of rooms in this place to keep them well separated. Do you know where she is?"

@Doctor Jax @CloudyBlueDay @RiddL

Doctor Jax · May 18, 2017

Tamerlin Edelva

The newest member of the Cult almost winced at the mention of letting Kylar watch over Gerald. No doubt the Tainted in the room would find little appreciation of Kylar's company, given the fact the man had all but said he'd kill him while Tamerlin had been in absentia. Nevertheless, if there was anyone who could at least handle themselves in this instances, it was Kylar, and perhaps Tam should not be so quick to dismiss the man's physical abilities.

As Sothal dispatched Leona and Kylar to their respective tasks, he waited for the man to turn his attention away from the two. Without hesitation, Tamerlin said, "You'll find her in one of my hideaways on Broad Street in the Lamb District, next to the House of Worship where Brother Aiken lives. I can give you the keys if you wish, and then have another veteran take fetch her, or I could do it myself. Personally, I'd prefer that I make the trip, as I'd promised I'd be back there a few hours later."

Tam winced as he added, "And as far as the masque goes, I do hope that our dear friends were able to find something my size. Luckily my voice allows me to pass for someone quite a bit younger than I am, and I may play the part of 'stripling', should the need require...."

Though I would most definitely prefer something a little less ostentatious. Like winebearer, Tamerlin thought, though he did not voice his opinion. He could play most any part that did not require he look like a mountain of a man, and he was confident he could pass for an abnormally short -- perhaps foreign -- noble.

@Effervescent @CloudyBlueDay @RiddL[/hr]

RiddL · May 19, 2017

Kylar nodded his head as Sothal said to stay and guard, catching Tam's look of disapproval and ignoring it. He filled his drink back up and offered it to Sothal, "Any rules for babysitting?" he asked, the annoyance laced in his voice even though he understood why he was chosen, since he was perhaps the only one who might stand a chance against a tainted for any perios of time.

He reached down into his satchel and pulled out Parsley and started chewing on it vigorously to keep himself awake and concentrated as he thought of an appropriate Veteran to replace him as guard, but coming up with only a few thugs who were more suited to hitting someone on the head with a Cudgel, and even then only when they were drunk and even then only from behind.

"Just hurry please... I hate leaving my shop for this long, even though my assistants are there to make sure everything is going smoothly I have a delivery coming from the Orcs and a... Special... Delivery coming from an Elven associate of mine." he added as an afterthought, secretly excited about the new shipments.

@Effervescent
@Doctor Jax

Effervescent · May 19, 2017

The annoyance in Kylar's voice was noted, and Sothal looked over at him sidelong. "I know you have business to attend to," he said. "We all do. When you agreed to join us you knew full well you would have to sacrifice your own selfish wants for the greater good. If you don't believe in that anymore, feel free to walk away. Honestly, if your shop is more important to you than the betterment of Faledrin... For all the stars, Quinn runs a business quite well and is still capable to do his duty for the Cult sans attitude."

He pursed his lips and fought away the irritation he felt from Kylar's attitude, though likely more caused by the annoying pain in his back. "Any rule of babysitting is founded in not being stupid," Sothal continued. "So, use your brain and we'll be fine. We absolutely cannot leave that man alone, so as mundane as this task may feel, it has its importance. If you can't see that, then by all accounts let us know so we know not to waste our time with you any longer."

RiddL · May 19, 2017

Kylar sighed and shook his head, merely taking a deep drink from the glass he had offered and emptying it, "No need to be an ass about it... I just wanted to see what exotic poison ive been given this time." He muttered quietly, turning and walking away, stopping at the door of Geralds room and pulling out his rope spear, keeping himself entertained by flourishing it with completely useless tricks.

'Not the boss he says, though he certainly acts he's the blasted king sometimes.' he thought as sent the spear darting towards a wooden beam, picturing various people as it flew, a heavy thunk sounding as the blade buried itself in the wood, becoming stuck. He began pulling and realised quickly that the blade was not coming out the easy way, muttering obscenities he pulled out a small dagger and began chipping away the wood, feeling like an idiot as he went.

rissa · May 24, 2017

The Hall Boy had seen it. He saw the door creak open on its own and the lid of the trunk lift open. That was no easy feat, as the curious teen had found in his nosy pilfering. His heart pounded in his chest as he couldn't bear to fixate on the haunting occurring in the dark room. He had plates to help wash in the lemon scrub with the scullery maid after all.

His pace to the servant's floor was hastened due to his fear. He would have never guessed it was just a half-elf casting invisibility wards, especially with all the other strange happenings about the Noble District. Rounding the corner of the stairs towards the stairwell to the Servant's Quarters he nearly ran into one of the servants, Miss Laurel.

"Don't be doing that, boy!" she warned as she fanned herself with her hand. "Gave me an awful fright!"

"Sorry, Miss Laurel," he said. "I just seen a ghost."

"Another one?" she said thoughtfully, and then looked up the stairs. "Where'd you see it?"

"In the spinster's room," he said. Miss Laurel nodded in thought and motioned down towards the stairs leading to the lower levels.

"Run along to your chores," she advised. "I'll check on this ghost and make sure Biggs doesn't see to it first."

The Hall Boy didn't argue, and happily set off further away from the frightening unknown. Miss Laurel, on the other hand, dutifully set a course right for the room in which Milly presided.

Just as she reached for the gilded doorknob, Milly heard voices from beyond the room. Words were impossible to distinguish, but her heart fluttered and she took a silent step backwards, followed by a few more. With wide eyes, she scanned the room while considering her options. Ideas popped into her mind as fast as she could veto them, and she took another step backwards.

A two story climb wouldn't be that terrible…

With a shake of her head, she decided to take a risk. If the door were to be left open she could easily walk through unperturbed, she only needed precise timing. Waiting silently, anxiously, Milly waited to see if the door would even open at all. If worst came to pass, there was a dagger in her left boot, willing to perform its duties.

A soft creak and a burst of light emitted into the room as Miss Laurel slowly peeked into it. She held out the lamp from her to allow it to enter the darkened spaces first. The orange glow flickered about sending the shadows of the bedposts dancing across the painted walls. Her head crept into the room from behind the door hesitantly, but as soon as she saw the empty room she heaved a sigh and relaxed.

"What are you doing?"

The butler took Miss Laurel by surprise, the woman turning about to face the man just feet behind her. Her hips hit the door in the turn causing a lengthy creak. "Mr. Biggs!" she said, her body blocking the path from the door. "Michael thought he saw something and I went to go check on it."

"Dear me, I hopes it's not rats again," Mr. Biggs said thoughtfully as he approached the entrance to the room. "Lord Altrey would have our heads."

"Not sure," she responded, and looked back at the room. "Everything looks in place though."

Mr. Biggs slipped past Miss Laurel, hands clasped behind his back as he entered the room to inspect it more closely. Miss Laurel held out the lantern into the room to provide him with more light to see.

Milly watched the scene unfold before her with a combination of anxiety and curiosity. Servant talk, she'd found, always brought the juiciest of conversations. But pressed flat against the wall with stolen goods in her hand was not exactly the place or time for eavesdropping. She tried her best not to squirm, wishing the woman would move just a hair to the left…

"See anything?" Miss Laurel said as she raised herself up on the tips of her toes to try and gander a bit over the bed. There was nothing out of the ordinary that she could see. Mr. Biggs was a bit more meticulous as he checked under the bed and in the chest and armoire.

"Did you see anything earlier?" he asked as he walked back to where she stood in the door. Miss Laurel shook her head.

"''Twas all Michael," she said. "Strange things have been going 'round haven't you heard?"

"Aye," Mr. Biggs said as he scooted past the woman once again. She followed after him down the hallway. "But I wouldn't speak of it in these halls, Miss Laurel. Lord Altrey is up to something he won't even tell me. A butler always knows his master's thoughts. I think it's to do with the blue eyes."

Their voices carried on down the stairs.

As Milly made her way out of House Altrey her mind was on more than just acquiring goods for the masquerade. The butler's words had sent chills down her spine, knowing instinctively what he referred to. Once free of the estate, Milly continued channeling her wards, too paranoid to reveal herself just now. Ghosts, gaslight eyes, butler's speaking of potential horrors…

Concealed from sight, Milly arrived at her destination, outside the wall where she and Oracle began this undertaking. She had a feeling this would turn into a solo mission; if her instincts ran true, Sothal and the rest of the Cult needed to know that Altrey had ties to the Cabal.

Tags: @Elle Joyner || A Collab between @Effervescent and @rissa

Doctor Jax · May 24, 2017

Hot Tam This Is My Jam

a collab between @DrJax and @Effervescent

"You are quite sure our compatriots will find a suit for a dwarf?" Tam ribbed, watching Kylar stalk off.

"I'm sure we'll find something that suits you," Sothal assured, and then motioned outward. "I'll accompany you to the location, if you don't mind."

Tam nodded his head and left the monastery, doing his best to keep up a steady stride given his short legs. He took hold of one of the remaining boats and quickly began the process of heading back to shore.

"What do you make of it?" Tam asked as he rowed, waiting for the right moment to put up the sail on the small dinghy. "We've two Tainted and it appears our good friends the Noble class are in on it. What purpose could this serve?"

"I don't rightly know," Sothal responded honestly, and shook his head. "Gerald made mention of discourse due to smuggling, but I don't think that would cause the nobles to dabble in Shadow Magic. The servant involvement seems more like an excuse for practice. But I can't tell their motives. It's why we need to attend the masque."

"Lynn had mentioned to me that there were more servants, all kept in cages, and that she was released. It worries me that they willingly allowed Tainted to go free. It's a bold move. Or bald mistake," Tam stated as he brought up the sail. Land was coming into focus, and Tam sighed as the sea spray coated his coat and beard in small drops of water.

"I don't understand why anyone would do such a thing to a person," Tam muttered quietly as he pulled on a cord. "Though I've no room to speak, I guess, given my profession."

"There's a difference," Sothal said as he leaned forward in his seat. His back was beginning to bother him more than he'd like to admit, and there was no comfortable position to sit that alleviated the steadily growing pain. "Just as they don't much care for the common folk, we don't much care for the wicked. But we work towards bettering Faledrin. They work towards bettering themselves."

"You bring about a good point," Tam said with a slight smile, thinking of the children who were no doubt already getting tucked into bed by the older children. "Had I not the orphanage, I'd consider myself a scallywag not worth shaking a chicken bone at. I'd love to see a day that old place won't be needed anymore."

The shore was creeping up on them now, larger ships growing ever more in the distance. It wouldn't be long now, and Tam could see the dinghy was less than comfortable to the man who'd been bleeding like a stuck pig only hours before.

Sothal was thankful to see the shoreline creep closer and wondered if he could convince Tamerlin for a drink before they retrieved Lynn. "Sometimes we have to make choices we don't like," he said, and then looked over at Tam thoughtfully. "Since you've come into the Cult we haven't had much dealings in affairs that would call for that sort of conflict. But with what may be involved with the Tainted and Shadow Magic, that time will come sooner than you'd like. Do you think you can handle that?"

Tam thought hard about it as he navigated the harbor. There had been several times in his life that he had had to make difficult decisions. When times were especially lean, he'd had to decide which children would leave the orphanage and which would stay. However, he had the feeling that Sothal was talking about far graver consequences.

"I will do my best. I would hope you will believe I will do consider decisions for Faledrin as a whole," Tam stated, a sheepish smile on his face as he managed to pull close to a pier along the wharf. Windfeld's activity had somewhat fallen off, which made Tam slightly nervous. He would hate for someone to notice them, but that couldn't be helped.

Sothal helped Tam secure the boat to the docks and waited for him to lead the way. While Tamerlin had given him the address, Sothal needed his comrade ahead of him so that he wouldn't leave him behind. Their strides had a noticeable difference.

"I give all the members the benefit of the doubt," he said. "There's a reason we're all voted in. But it would be a shame if any of us lost sight."

"I understand the concern. I know others of our caliber who are….less scrupulous," Tam said with a nervous chuckle, doing his best to walk fast. The streets passed in darkness, the occasional window lit by a lantern. "Here we are. She's just down that way."

Tamerlin's resources were of interest to the Cult since he was first prospected, and he had yet to disappoint. Sothal approached the door and paused a moment, listening for anything out of the ordinary.

"You should go first," Sothal suggested as her straightened. "Familiar face and all."
[/hr]

Rowboat · May 25, 2017

Mies

Fucking Bettleben, she thought, snorting to herself under her breath as she trudged into Windfeld. Her hood was pulled up over her hair to shield her from a driving rain that had hit the forested walk back rather hard. She was absolutely soaked from head to toe and the only happy thought she could muster in all of is was, At least I am not freezing my ass off.

Five years prior, she had received a letter from the Lord of Bettleben, Helmut Kleij, who had succeeded his own father and now ruled over the wealthy little town and now was summoning her. Summoning, she had thought, savagely. Hardly 15 years of age, she had long since dismissed the man who she had learned was her father and now, he had the nerve to summon her to his side. But, she was weak-hearted and she missed her mother desperately, so while she was angry he could so easily turn her away she also wanted nothing but, to know the man who her mother had loved all her life.

This year was no different. She spent the week, stubbornly answering his questions in terse, one worded replies. It was always a long week for both of them, something she did on purpose but, each year he invited her back and each year she accepted despite both knowing the encounter would be draining. He always seemed to have a "gift" for her that he thought would ease her anger. It didn't and simply, whatever it was, when she returned she would hawk it and use the proceeds to set herself up for a few months.

She could feel the lump in her pocket where this year's gift banged insistently against her thigh; a dreadfully heavy and cumbersome decorated porcelain egg which had no use other than to sit on someone's mantle piece. But, who except the noblemen of Windfeld even had a mantle piece worthy of such an artifact, a fact she was sure was lost upon her old man for he had never once offered to come her way and see the dump she'd taken to in her years nor invite her to live with him. She expected that while he acknowledged he had a daughter now, he was still ashamed of the stigma it came with and no one apart from the staff in his manor house knew who she was.

She sighed roughly, turning the corner onto a long, cobbled lane where she spotted two men moving through the darkness. One, a whole head shorter than the other, lead the way and the other seemed to be walking at an uncomfortably slow pace to not pass him. In silence, she followed, listening to them muttering to each other until they stopped at a door and she paused to watch a few yards back.

@Effervescent @Doctor Jax

Effervescent · May 31, 2017

Windfeld

The door to the church's back room opened to empty quarters. There were clear signs of a struggle as papers and books were strewn about around the overturned table. Nailed to the back of the door was a note written finely from the inkwell that was now splayed across the stone floor. Sothal took the note in hand, reading it over quietly before reading it out loud.

"Thievery is punishable by death," he read, and then rolled his eyes as he crumpled the note in his hand. "This location is compromised, I'm sorry to say. Hold your breath."

Without explanation, Sothal grasped Tamerlin by the arm and jolted them through the dark abyss. In an instant they emerged in the Underbelly surrounded by the hollow stonework below the city. Were it not for the embers softly glowing in the belly of a potbelly stove the room would have been as black as the Darkness in which Sothal traveled. He quickly took to relighting the oil lamps and handed one over to Tamerlin.

The Underbelly was quaint in its own regard. Desks and shelves and tapestries lined the walls as though it were an ordinary living space. Rooms connected to the Den where Tamerlin and Sothal currently stood. Where the furnishings came from was questionable, but it made the space feel more inviting as the glow of the sconces opened the room.

Sothal fought against the painful knot under his chest as he applied pressure to it with his hand. "I'll go back and make sure we weren't being watched," he said. "Stay low until I give the all clear."

Before he left, he grabbed the bottle of port from a desk nearby and disappeared in a black smoke. The bottle pressed to his lips as he tipped it upward. Already his mind was at work to rationalize the intake, and he staggered out the door with a bit of a dramatic flare to appear more inebriated than he currently was. The streets were fairly empty this time of night apart from a familiar silhouette just outside the church.

"Mies," Sothal said as he approached the tiny half-elf. Her only racial giveaway was hidden behind blonde hair and a hood. He placed a hand on her shoulder to guide her in the direction he meandered. "How's the family?"

He took another swig and lowered his voice as he continued. "You've missed a lot," he said. "We're gearing up for a party. If you could, please check the perimeter around the church for anything suspicious. And be casual about it. When you feel you've finished the task go to Quinn's Inn and give him a report. Oracle can help you prepare for the masque if you're unsure of what to wear. I'll have assignments for everyone before we go."

He pushed off of Mies and stumbled to sell the act, waving to his associate as he parted ways without another word.

@Rowboat @Doctor Jax

The Cult of Thieves

Disease Empress

Tia mi aven vadin isainde Moridin.

Moop.

A Warrior in a Garden

the clairvoyant pterodactyl

Moop.

Disease Empress

|| Perpetual GM ||

Disease Empress

the clairvoyant pterodactyl

A Warrior in a Garden

|| Perpetual GM ||

Disease Empress

Tia mi aven vadin isainde Moridin.

|| Perpetual GM ||

Tia mi aven vadin isainde Moridin.

the clairvoyant pterodactyl

Disease Empress

Rowboat

Guest

|| Perpetual GM ||