Shadows of Charn

Once the interrogations and the Guard and everything are taken care of, Rona invites Daechir for a cup of tea. "So do you have any idea who those guys were?"

"Not a clue much to my chagrin. I know very little about the gods myself." Daed smiles and settles back in his comfortable seat as he waits for his tea. The shop is right on the verge of the theater district, not too far from where the whole incident went down. "Your question suggests that you do not know very much about them either. Perhaps we should have stayed with the guard to see if he had any more information to offer."

"Perhaps. Still, I got some intelligence out of his mind... I'll try to track that down, and see what their victim has to say once she wakes up." She frowns. "Hopefully the Guard can keep her secure until then. Plus also the Verdamans might know something about what's going on, if they can be convinced to help." She shrugs. "That will all take time, though. As, apparently, will our tea," she observes with some asperity.

"If you learn anything let me know. I would be very interested to know what they were planning to do with her." Daed shakes his head and smiles at Yelrona's impatience. "I suspect that just because we saved her once does not mean she is safe now. If they are that serious about their victim choices - enough so to kill themselves in the effort - then they will likely try again."

Yelrona nods. "Yes, that was my thinking as well. I'll see what I can do about bolstering those defenses, but you know how it is... the best defense is a good offense."

GAME: Yelrona rolls knowledge/local: (1)+4: 5 (EPIC FAIL)

"To know what offense to take however would mean having more knowledge." He pauses and then tilts his head to the side. "In fact I think I might have a lead after all."

"Exactly," Rona echoes approvingly. Then -- "Oh? What's that?"

Daechir is staring off into the distance thoughtfully. "Ga'Elian... or rather. He was looking into the murder of a musician. A very famous musician named Ascal. Have you heard of him? Well apparently he was murdered under suspicious circumstances. I think Ga’Elian mentioned something about masks."

Yelrona shakes her head. "No, I hadn't heard... but I've been away for some time. Did he have any connection to the Verdamites?"

Returning his gaze to Yelrona, Daed shrugs regretfully. "If he did, he did not share those details with me, but then... the whole thing seemed very personal to him. I think he took Ascal's death hard."

Yelrona nods. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that. He's rather involved in the arts scene here of late, so it's no surprise he's made close friends there, I suppose."

Daed nods and smiles broadly as the waitress finally brings them their tea. "We should talk to him then. He might be a good place to start at least. And if not, perhaps he will be interested enough to aid us in any case."

"Agreed. Investigation really isn't his forte, but it might be different if someone he cares about was affected directly." She sniffs the fragrant steam coming off the teacup happily, then settles into her seat and enjoys it.

The dark elf leans forward slowly, his fingers caressing his teacup. "You are usually quite up-to-date on what is going on in the city. I have been gone recently due to familial matters. Is it true that Sandriel has been... displaced?"

"I'm afraid I've been out of touch lately, myself," Rona admits. "But I've heard talk to that effect. I haven't seen her since my return, though, and I have no idea what is mere rumor and what isn't." She shrugs apologetically. "Give me a few days and I should be better informed."

Daechir offers a small secretive smile. "Now that I have returned it is likely that I will see her before you."

"Oh?" Rona returns the smile with a raised eyebrow. "Are the two of you close, then?"

The question draws out a smokey laugh from Daechir; echoing with the ringing of a bell. "I have known her for quite some time. I would say that we are close, yes."

Yelrona grins and settles in. "Do tell! What was she like in her younger days?"

It's clear that Daed is thinking about it, memories flickering across his red eyes. Fond ones it seems for they make him smile. Then he shakes his head and looks at Yelrona ruefully. "I think she has changed very little actually. Though we were both much less... restrained back then. Age teaches caution to some of us. Do you know her very well?"

"Well enough," Rona observes over a sip of tea. "Though she keeps secrets on her secrets, as I'm sure you know."

"Age teaches some of us that as well." He makes an amused noise. "I am honored to know more than most I think."

"Well, hopefully that will be of use to her," Rona acknowledges. "As I will be happy to be, if I can. Now that the Lich is gone, I was hoping she could relax somewhat... though of course, one does not get to where she is without making many enemies."

Daechir nods and sips his tea. "If the rumors I have heard since my return are true, then those that have treated her so will have made at least one new enemy of their own."

Yelrona sighs. "You've lived closer to the cities than I for longer," she admits. "Has it always been this... complicated? Life back in my mother's settlement was admittedly on the boring side, but there really does seem to be no middle ground."

"I think it depends on the city. In my father's homeland things never seem to cease to change. In my mother's however... It was extraordinarily quiet compared to here." Daed motions to the room around them to indicate the larger Alexandria that they were within.

Yelrona nods. Sips her tea. Seems to consider her next words carefully. "Yes," she says, then: "This is not general knowledge, but I spent much of the last few months in Charn."

Red eyes widen minutely. "So did I, but I am surprised to learn that is where /you/ have been." Daed sipped his tea again. "Care to share?"

The creature pauses outside the Hope Theatre to speak with a paperboy. The child, in rough cap and clothing, holds up a copy of the latest Tribune.

Latest for a copper, sir," the youth says. He shakes the pages at the creature, whose eyes widen, faintly. Then, dart towards the paper in hand.

Yelrona smiles. "I thought you might have. And, well, I suspect we were not travelling in the same circles, and in any case Meira Yelrona was not there, if you understand me." She thinks about it some more. "In broad strokes, certainly: I was looking for my father. Whom I believe I have found... and rather wish I hadn't. In more detail, well... eventually," she says after a long, stone-faced pause. "I am not ready to discuss it now." She regards the Creature Outside Hope curiously, as though looking for a change of subject.

"Sounds interesting. You know if you need anything..." He trails off to follow Yelrona's gaze. There he finds a orangey-hued sith-makar whom he does not recognize. "A friend of yours?"

The creature hesitates, and then quickly produces a pair of coppers from a pouch. Hands it over to the youth, and an exchange is made.

Chay takes a step away, and glances downwards at his new possession. Ink stains the tips of his fingers already. He wears a dark green, leather duster that's seen some comfortable wear.

Yelrona nods. "I may well take you up on that. And, yes, very much so," she replies, waving Chay over. "Have you two not met?" she asks incredulously.

Daechir shakes his head and rises to his feet in preparation of meeting someone new. "Not to my recollection." He offers a smile.

The reptilian looks over quickly, startled. He says something to the youth then, in hissing tones, before turning, tucking the paper underneath an arm. He heads that direction, towards Yelrona and Daechir.

"I suppose the world isn't as small as it sometimes appears, then." She rises and manages introductions, using full names and titles as best as she can remember them, then gestures the wait staff for some more tea before sitting down.

"Peasse to you both," the reptilian says. He ducks his head after he speaks, and blinks orange eyes. The tail behind him is twitch-movement, a flicker-flick at the end. A kink along the middle.

"It is good to share words again, Yelrona, ser," he says to Yelrona then. Then looks to Daechir, hesitates. Then, "And you as well, ser. I am afraid one does not shake," he says, and holds up a hand, palm upwards. He spreads the fingers, then. Claws.

Daed has the grace to look somewhat embarrassed by Yelrona's introduction though he offers a warm smile for Chay's humor. "I can see why." Instead he inclines his head politely, waving toward a seat and then sitting down himself.

Yelrona watches Chay's tail curiously, as though attempting to memorize its patterns, as her two friends get acquainted. "Is the news interesting?" she asks, craning her neck to get a glimpse of Chay's paper.

The reptilian looks down at the paper that he's tucked under an arm. Looks back to Yelrona, then. "One apologises. This one has not had a chance to read. However, they did mention there were new sstories by the Crimson Pen. And. ...perhapss updates on sshipping schedules."

"The Crimson Pen?" Daed's interest is clearly piqued and he lifts his cup awaiting what is hopefully an explanation.

Yelrona 's lips quirk. "I have read enough shipping schedules this year to last me a century," she admits. "The same goes for the Crimson Pen, come to that." Then, more seriously: "Anything of special interest?"

A hesitation. "One was curious about the shipping schedules, ser. From time to time, one checks the names. ...the Crimson Pen was to write of the Lost Love of Lady Ssandiel. Rumors are that she has gone homeless, sers. If one may be so bold...one ssuspects they may be trying to draw her out." Chay hesitates again, and then more definitively, grasps the paper and places it on the table.

"Draw her out for what?" Daed sounds mildly irritated, but even that can not hide the moment where his eyes widen slightly. He lifts a hand to his lips and furrows his brow. "Perhaps I should go looking for her sooner rather than later."

Yelrona nods slowly. "Perhaps. I'd heard that about homelessness as well, but thought it just a rumor. But what has the Crimson Pen, or Sandy's lost love," she askes puzzled, "to do with shipping schedules?"

"...one may only speculate, sers. But, hssst? Embarrassment, sers? She is of the nobility. Perhaps being homeless is uncomfortable for her?" The sith-makar says. He shifts, somewhat. "...and one was looking into them separately, ser. One has not sseen Charneth's Freedom lay into port for ssome time," he adds. This--the smile firms at the edges, curls at the ends. Fades. "One has not sseen the Hunter either, for ssome time--but one does not forget, sser. One's bow is ever ssharp."

Daechir only seems to look less and less pleased. "I hate to work of rumors, I shall ask her directly the next time I see her." He meets Chay's eyes briefly. "As for ships from Charn... I think you can expect to see more of them in the future."

Yelrona nods agreement. "The bow is of little use, if the arrows are not kept sharp." Curiously, then, to Daed: "Any cargo in particular?"

A hiss escapes the sith-makar before he can stop it. A hiss, rapid and as sudden as a striking cobra.

Chay stumbles backwards, and rubs at his face. Rubs at it. "Excuse me, ssers. Perhaps. ...perhaps it is the coffee," he says quietly.

Wisely Daechir keeps his gaze on Chay. "No, have I said something that concerns you?"

Yelrona stands up rapidly to assist Chay, looking concerned. "What's wrong?" She checks his vital signs as best she can, still worried about his possibly being targeted.

GAME: Yelrona rolls heal: (2)+10: 12

Chay steps back as Yelrona reaches for him. /That/ causes his eyes to widen. His hands come up in a gesture of defense.

Breathe.

"...just the. Just the coffee, ssers. Nothing to be concerned for. Thiss one had perhaps too many cups of it." Pause. Swallow. "And. Hss, who likes news of the Charneth vissiting?" Joking. Joking tones. Right?

Daechir nods. "Few if any. I hope you will excuse my speaking of it? I meant no offense."

Yelrona steps back as Chay seems all right. "Perhaps the ship requires some closer inspection," she muses.

The sith-makar lowers his hands. He lets go a breath, and his shoulders lower as well. "Sss. Perhaps a worthy hunt, ssers. Perhaps." He glances down at the paper for a moment.

-End