PC Central - Homecoming: Kith and Kin
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OOC Note: I have mistakenly used the name Whitedune, in reference to that noble family involved in the plot, when I should have used the name Kildarn.
That is my error.
I will be updating this thread, including your posts, to read "Kildarn" throughout.
In character, please act as though the family involved was always Kildarn, and not Whitedune. That includes the last name of the murdered Cedric, as well as Antony, whom Aoth visited.
[DM Xanatos Gambit]
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Isolde, in reviewing her notes after a talk to the usual suspects at the new and improved table outside the Mermaid, jots the following down:
"Priorites:
-Kildarn estate, basement: are those blasted doors in use or not?
-Find Rowe
-Learn whether Snydders golems were stolen or remain at the house's estate"
With that written down, Isolde then slips out after hours, hooded and masked, to reach out to a few of her more elusive contacts.
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Back at the Ladies Detective Agency after a long and arduous investigation into (and under) the home of Kingsguard Richard Gale, Isolde writes up the following details, available to any trusted ally collaborating with the investigation:
"42 Birch Street
I had worried we'd taken too long in following up on the search of the dopplerized Kingsguard, but the clear indication of magic added to a sturdy lock on the front door soon saw my interest piqued. Detect magic revealed generalist and transmutation magic present, presumably some manner of Alarm spell which unfortunately, repeated attempts at dispelling saw going off. Aoth and I both concluded the original caster is someone quite powerful - I'd wager the same caster responsible for the Lessor Spellfire that saw the flagship go down in blue, unquenchable fire.
Within, a normal and unremarkable home awaited, but hidden by an illusiory wall was a small square space, in which a rope was suspended. Pulling this, we shifted a large cabinet which had been shunted into the false wall and found a recently dug tunnel leading down to a hidden basement. Whoever had been operating there was long gone, but we soon saw the following:
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A hole, going deeper, in the center, with a pulley/rope system set up near it.
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A large orb, next to a desk, with some stray papers and notes strewn about.
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A forge and alchemical tables and notes near it.
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Lastly, a small ash pit. The ashes were fine and thin, bringing Wilkes' assassination instantly to mind. Were these the remains of the real Richard Gale?
A closer study of the forge and alchemical tables supported that grim assumption. Necromantic symbols and glyphs littered the papers, though it looked like the user's attempts at combining certain necromancy spells or effects with weaponry had, so far, failed. Though it should be noted that some papers were missing, others scattered as though someone took off in a haste. The forge, the chimney of which had been connected to the residence's normal chimney, dug through, contained old twisted bits and pieces of metal, and the residue of spent arcane ingredients from necromantic spells, specifically black onyx.
Near the big orb ahead stood a pair of cabinets and a book, on the ground, alongside some scattered, seemingly blank papers. The book's spine was damaged from someone having torn certain pages out. Aoth, skimming slowly and with care though, found a few relevant pages the tearer missed in their haste. A faint sheen revealed the use of a near invisible ink. We collected everything we could for later examination.
The cabinet's top three drawers were empty, the bottom two full, but of blank papers, while the large drawer contained clothes - specifically fanciful noble clothes, fit for a man of medium build. The orb, now inactive, resembles Jonni's scrying ones. A later examination of the notes showed the use thereof in chilling detail, as Aoth held the pages up against the light:
The pages with hidden content appears to be a log of actions and dialogue, taken in note form, and also sketches of Kasimir Fisher and King Thalaman - the latter from the papers strewn near the scrying orb. The sketches are extremely detailed and from different angles. Profile, face-first, above, to the side. . . as well as certain sketches being up close - eyes, nose, mouth, etc. Enough, perhaps, for a Doppelganger to assume a believable guise without stealing it directly, up close and personal.
A direct transcript from the original notes, written in shorthand, is added below:
Page 1.
"KASIMIR FISHER (KF): I simply don't think we should be complacent. Urgent situations require urgent action.
THALAMAN FISHER (TF): I've heard enough.
KF: You know she's dangerous. Even the clergy say so.
TF: I said that that's enough.
KF: You expect us to do nothing. While she returns? Without punishment or decree? The clergy say so. Even my own Kingsguard says so. They all say so. They're all worried. And what do you? Ignore it? Go off hunting? Stick your head in the sand?
TF: Not another word from you. Or anyone, on this.The shorthand notes read: (The King shouts. The room is silent. Other councellors are also silent, for a time. Eventually the King continues)
TF: The next person who suggests exiling Reyhenna Jorino or anyone from her group is no longer a member of this Council. I don't want to hear about it, anymore. We have other matters to attend. Let us attend to them."
The back of the first page contains the following note: "King Thalaman Fisher, taken during a caravan ride, on the King's hunting trip, in the company of Kasimir Fisher and certain members of royal council."
The other pages are apparently for different contexts/conversations, each one taking shorthand notes of not only actions, but detailed notes of words used, dialogue, and inflection.
Page 2.
"Enenan Snydders (ES): I don't know the King's brother to be so generous. (Nasal, suspicious, dry, slow.)Richard Gale (RG): A token of appreciation for all that you've done for the monarchy. And your loyalty, despite the trying times. From what I was told to say.
ES: How thoughtful. Thank you. I expect I shall drink it tonight. (Addendum: RG has, after return, indicated that Snydders was lying, based on his immediate thoughts in the moment at the time.)
RG: "Of course. Until next, Councillor."
The backside of page 2 indicates: "Conversation took place outside of Snydders estate, following delivery requested by Kasimir Fisher."
Page 3.
"Thalaman Fisher (TF): Have you felt it?
Kasimir Fisher (KF): Felt what?
TF: Something feels different.
KF: And what's that?
TF: I don't know. Wrong, somehow. Not quite how I remember it.
KF: You're getting older. We both are. Memory is unreliable.
TF: I don't like getting older. I miss when we were younger. Actually.
KF: Do you? What, you want to be a child, again? Better to be in the now. Now you can actually do as you please.
TF: Everyone was around, when we were younger. That was nice, wasn't it? Everyone all together.
KF: You're not thinking straight. I think you need some time off to clear your head. Why don't we organize another fine evening? I can have a mage contact those Suzail noblewomen you liked so much last time.
TF: "... You ever wish you could do something differently, from before? Make a different decision- (Thalaman Fisher is cut off by Kasimir Fisher, who spoke the foregoing)"On the back of page 3, it reads: "Spoken at the royal estate, on the balcony, overlooking the courtyard dining area."
Final note: Aldous Pliskin confirmed the ashes found in the hidden basement are indeed human remains. Whether the dead person or persons can be resurrected remains to be seen, as does definitive proof of the metal remains in the forge being a match to the stolen shipment. But everything points that way so far. And while our persuit of the perpetrator down the hole leading into the Underdark proper was a bust, we 'did' run into a nasty clutch of Drow - leaving one alive to ponder our Doppelganger warning.
~Isolde~"
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"Mm, please do! My reputation's going to go down the drain if I forcibly bleed everyone I suspect to be faking it, heh. Likely my non-caster friends could be well served with the same, so give me an estimate and we can work on it as a group I bet."
She smiles and sips the tea, lingering for some chitchat. Next on her list is Garric Hemway, but clearly this is someone Isolde seems keen not to antagonize by midnight visits out of the blue.
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Frewin frowns a bit, then smiles. "Could you have an answer for me by next tenday? The King's tournament is soon, and the window of opportunity for me to reach out to Easthall is closing."
[DM Xanatos Gambit]
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Visum, as usual, presents as a well-dressed arcanist, with clean-cut hair and a skeptical and wary look in his eye.
He welcomes Isolde inside. After they're both seated for hot tea, he listens to her request. He pauses for some time before replying.
"I see. How concerning," he notes, in response to her indication of doppelgangers.
"Scrolls of sending are no problem. I will see about scribing two for you."
"A permanently enchanted true-seeing apparatus is not feasible, from what I understand of the current arcane. Only consumables can work. And they are extremely expensive to craft, and require very peculiar ingredients. If you like, I could put together a list of those ingredients, for you to make additional consumables?"
[DM Xanatos Gambit]
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Hrresh hails George.
"Aye, George, what news have ye?" he inquires. When George asks him to call all hands on deck, Hrresh squints at him. He protests only somewhat that they're in the "middle of changing course."
After George's insistence, however, he does, indeed, call all hands on deck. The 20 or so troops on the ship make their way to the deck, and line up...
[OOC: For the remainder of this action, we will proceed next time we are both in-game!]
[DM Xanatos Gambit]
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Isolde, back at the detective agency with her boots up on the desk and her eyes staring at the ceiling, ponders her next move. On the open notepad resting on her lap, two names are written: Garric and Visum. Her dark blue eyes flicker towards the window, assessing the time, before finally rolling out of her slouched position and stretching, heading for the door.
In the midnight blue of approaching night, she slinks out of the city and towards the Witch and Seer, there to seek out Visum with a special request - after having made certain he is himself, through one means or the other.
"I need your help, Visum. Perhaps you've already heard of the whole stolen shipment of 'doom' issue, but a complicating factor's that there's a whole bunch of deliberate misleading and scape-goating action going on. We've revealed at least two Doppelgangers at play and suspect many more, which is making me pretty anxious, I've got to say. My True Seeing gizmos will soon run out at this rate, so I was thinking, do you think there's a way to create a handy tool to use? Like... a monocle or glasses, cut from spellcrystals or the like to see 'clearly'? Or just something that goes 'ping' in the proximity of a predetermined threat like doppelgangers, let's say?
Oh, and can you procure a scroll of Sending or two for me, pretty please? I figure letters aren't ideal these days, but surely a Sending will always reach the intended party!"
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At the earliest convenience, George sails out to meet with H'resh. Given the infiltration by Doppelgangers, he does not wish to take any chances with a mere letter. He leaves word with Isolde about his whereabouts, in case he happens to disappear.
He brings with him the rod of True Seeing he still needs to return to Rey, but keeps it out of sight.
Approaching the ship with colours raised, he boards when given permission and requests the captain out on deck.
"Hey cap. Could I ask you to call all hands out on deck? And I do mean all hands, even the ones on bilge pump duty and Tim catching forty winks in between the stacks of ham like we can't smell that's where he's been. Don't worry, I've got a point to make, but I'd hate to ruin the surprise."
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After hearing Frewin Ashald out, Vernadetta seemed pensive, finally smiling at him
"Let me think about it, si? It's a big decision. Is there a deadline on when you need an answer?"
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Danson inspects the candy. He takes particular note of the wrapper, and of the brand.
"I like the name 'Limonetti,'" he notes, before unwrapping it and taking a bite of the candy bar. After chewing and swallowing, he goes on.
"The doppelganger in question remains captive. I'm unaware of whether Motley Gray dipped her paws into any doppelganger files. She did not steal them. Whether she copied or consulted the information, I couldn't say."
[DM Xanatos Gambit]
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The Kildarn estate is modest and small. There is only one domestic servant - a dark haired maid of middle-age. After that there are five guards, who seem rather reluctant to be here, in Peltarch, and in service to the Kildarn house.
After being let in, Aoth ultimately is met with only one noble: an elderly man, with a frail frame, and a severe shake to his hands. That is despite the numerous other portraits upon the wall of younger men and women of various ages.
The elderly man invites Aoth in to sit for wine and bread.
He the nobleman introduces himself as Antony Kildarn.
"Forgive the cold and empty house," he says. "My grand-daughter, her husband, and their children, have decided to leave this place. For greener pastures, in Hoarsgate. It's just me and my grandson Cedric now."
He wags a few letters of correspondence, which he keeps nearby on a small table.
He listens to Aoth's news, and then grows quiet for a long while.
Eventually, he murmurs, more to himself, as an objective, than anything else: "I'll meet with the Temple to arrange for resurrection. It will work."
The sullen old peers at Aoth, after she remarks about the potential for strange happenings and visitations. He replies: "No, no strange visitations, that I'm aware of..."
After a few moments, he seems to remember, and continues: "There was one woman who came by, asking about Cedric and the Snydders girl. A peculiar woman, didn't seem from around here, you know ... apparently works for City Hall, as Herald."
"She also asked about my son's activity, with respect to certain occult practices, eh, wondering, about the basement ..."
"Some detectives, a pretty woman, and a halfling, eh, put an end to my son's misbehavior, many years ago. In that basement."
He is quiet for a bit.
"I told the Herald the truth. The door, down there. It held magic, once. It used to lead elsewhere. Another place. Somewhere unreal. But the magic's gone. It's been sealed shut. Hasn't been opened in years."
"I let her inspect it. She took a while to look at it. She seemed satisfied, and left."
Should Aoth ask to see the basement and the door for herself, Antony Kildarn says, "Not today. I have business, with the Temple, with respect to Cedric."
[DM Xanatos Gambit]
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Isolde hears Danson out, urging him most empathically to steer clear of any close contact with the alleged 'nerdification table' in question. She taps her crimson nails, processing the news on Motley Grey's two-timing of the Smiling Monkey without much surprise - then leans across the table and pushes a particularily finely branded candy-bar across, the name "Limonetti" written in swirly yellow lettering across the black wrapper. It seems to hold a chewy lemon bar of fine quality. She affects her most dectective-styled voice and says:
"You're a peach, Danson, but for the win I need the Doppelganger dirt, see. In particular, the one that did me in, after messing with people's memory and even books. The bastard's still in lock-up, right? And did Motley Grey dip her paws into any doppelganger cases that you know of?"
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A few days after the death of Cedric, the gray druid pays a visit to the Kildarn residence dressed for the somber occasion. She begins with a bowed head. “I am Aoth Sepret, and I wish to extend my condolences and my apologies for your loss. I was unprepared and as such unable to shield your kin from the creature’s full attack. If there is anything I or my associates can do, you have but to make a request.”
If the family will hear her out, she will continue. “You may know my name from the rumors of my association with the Bravickus family. I wish to extend to you the same courtesy I gave them and young Cedric in the infirmary: my belief. Like them, I fear you may be subject to strange visitations, unusual requests, and improbable accusations. If any of these are familiar or become so, I urge you to share so that we may bring this conspiracy to its end and avenge Cedric.”
((Persuade: 12+22=34))
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The bright-eyed Frewin Ashald pulls up two chairs in the arms-room's ancillary alcove. The alcove is well lit by large glass windows, revealing the greens of the gardens outside.
He sits, and goes on, answering Verna's question:
"No use keeping it from you. My former champion is dead. He was a fine fighter -- a half-elvish bladesinger from the Cormanthor. He was named Alcoril Amarillis. Unfortunately, the resurrection didn't take."
"He was with me three years, before he lost a duel against Zasugur, the half-orcen champion fighting on behalf of House Easthall, from Kront."
Frewin frowns deeply at this. He shifts in his chair, and for moment and the first time, he seems quite cross and sullen.
He catches himself in this mood, and consciously smiles instead. It doesn't quite reach his ears for a few moments.
"The result of this loss was a rather un-favourable commercial arrangement between Ashald and Easthall. We had made a bet, you see. That the terms of certain prices for the import of rare minerals - gold, silver, the like - would depend on the outcome of the duel."
"I lost that bet."
"I've had my eye on several replacements. You're my favored candidate. Someone for a rematch against Zasugur. Assuming that you accept. And that gloatsome woman Levina Easthall accepts the offer."
"That, of course, would come after your practice run at the King's martial tournament in two weeks."
A servant serves a large pitcher of tea, along with a large bowl of ice, followed by two goblets. Frewin thanks her, scoops ice into his goblet, and then begins pouring the tea over it. He offers you the same.
That is before he concludes, "In short - you will represent me in duels, tournaments, and matches of my choosing. At any moment you could of course decline, but the moment that happens our arrangement will be at its end."
"Represent me well and there will be more for you than mere coin. Champions are well respected by any noble with eyes and sound mind. Not only by me."
[DM Xanatos Gambit]
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In the Docks of Peltarch, in the hidden facilities of the Smiling Monkey Company, the young Danson peers at Isolde with listless eyes. He remarks, in his slow, somewhat dull tone, "Hello, Isolde. It's been some time. I notice you and your friends have caused some disturbances since your return."
He continues: "I received your report about the entity which you called the 'nerdification table.' I'll have an investigator inspect it for any anomalous properties."
After your question, he replies: "The reason I removed Motley Grey from the company is simple. I have reasons to believe she is working for an un-identified third party. Each of my attempts to identify her true employer have remained unsuccessful to date. Consequently, she cannot be trusted."
"As for why she chose to work in City Hall... Perhaps it is to do with the former Herald's absence? Why she chose to seize upon the vacant position. Ultimately, I do not know her motivation."
[DM Xanatos Gambit]
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The following letter is submitted to the Peltarch Times opinion page:
A man is innocent. A man is guilty.
The key to a thorough investigation is an inspector who can hold as truth both statements simultaneously while searching for evidence against them. The same can be said of a fair trial: to properly identify guilt, the magistrate must imagine innocence everywhere.
The gaoling of innocents, with or without slanted proceedings, may be the single most determining factor in whether a people are free or safe. Indeed, the greatest threat to an individual life is not an arrow (for that can cause only death) but their own society. For if a civilization refuses a life or a perspective or a possibility, ultimately it values nothing and no one. Those throwing stones without repercussion today can only expect the same returned upon them tomorrow.
Is there anything more suspect in a time of crisis than someone who attempts to turn the confusion to their benefit? I see little difference between a vial of poison, a necrotic arrow, and the mob on Civic Road—all of them tools of an effort to unseat justice.
–Aoth Sepret
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*After admiring the weapon collection, seemingly impressed by it, Vernadetta accepted the invitation to sit with an untrained smile, a reserved hue in her features as she was more used to deception than praise.
"You defeated a lich, I've heard," he remarks. "And you've fought against an entire city guard, in Abdar, of the Silver Marshes. Isn't that right?"
Have I? Oh... che cosa, I don't remember. I try not to put a name to my enemies, it only fills my head with remorse and keeps me from sleeping at night.
"Do you know me?" he asks.
Vernadetta twisted the left corner of her lips for a moment before answering in what seemed to be a natural gesture
"I did not know you, but per favore do not take offense, nobility and gossip are just not part of my circle of concerns. I do know well that the Ashald family is well established and notorious in Peltarch, and has had figures of power and prestige in the city for generations.
"I'm no warrior. I'm trained in matters of commerce and finance. To find value where no-one else sees it. But I was never quite interested in pure docks business."
"I don't care for investing in enterprises. I would much rather prefer to invest in a champion. Someone willing to fight in my name, and raise both our profiles. My family can disagree all they like -- I think there can be no sounder a business decision than to invest in the right fighter."
"And, besides, Uncle Edwin likes me," he smiles. "So there isn't much any of the other Ashalds can do about it."
"What do you say? Would you be interested in becoming my champion?"
This question gave her pause, as she brought a hand to her chin, tapping her lower lip gently with one fingertip, in some consideration
"I must know the nature of this championship. If it is for sport, in tournaments where death is not involved... certo! You can be my sponsor, and I can be your champion. I still don't know you well, so I may change my mind later about it, but I'm open to try it. But is it that, what you would require of your Champion?".
Vernadetta tilted her head, listening attentively
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Isolde, after having delivered the black arrow safely to Jonni's sanctum, doubles back to the city with some haste. She heads immediately to the Ladies Detective Agency, where poor Tristyn's subjected to various scrutinizing tests to ensure he is, indeed, who he ought to be. Assuming no foul play is discovered, she instructs the ex-Cerulean to stay on high alert versus the doppelganger threat. Finally satisfied, Isolde kicks her boots up on the desk, flips the Smiling Monkey notepad up and writes:
"Oh Danson, my Danson! Whatever drove Motley Grey back into City Hall and to the herald's job? It can scarcely be rewarding in the traditional sense, given she's pretty much the only one doing actual clerk work that I've noticed. So her angle is something 'else', I'd wager. Has she been ousted from the SM ranks, perhaps? I need the scoop on that, and the worrisome, potentially related fact that the city's rife with Doppelgangers! Please share any intel you have on the latter, in particular whether that 'certain' one I captured is still safely incarcerated. Your favourite employee,
~Isolde~"
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Verna finds that the Ashald guards know her face, and are well aware of the open invitation from Frewin Ashald. One of them invites her to the Ashald estate, which strikes her as the perfect time to accept and to visit.
After she is escorted to Frewin's arms room, she notices it is replete with all manner of decorative weaponry, including longswords, greatswords, and greataxes.
The room is also home to portraits of the great fighters of history: Nasher Alagondar, Llachior Blackthorn, and Arilyn Moonblade, among others.
Standing in the center, apparently having been informed of your arrival ahead of time, is a fresh-faced, brown-haired, bright-eyed and smiling nobleman.
"Vernadetta Di Alva Dolcexicio," begins Frewin Ashald. "I'm Frewin Ashald. The pleasure is mine. Please, join me."
After only ten or so minutes of small-talk, it becomes clear that Frewin is an enthusiast of warriors and duelists. Although he has no actual direct experience in martial matters (indeed, he seems to have led a rather easy life), he is actually well read on the history of fighters and is in the loop of gossip concerning even more recent events.
"You defeated a lich, I've heard," he remarks. "And you've fought against an entire city guard, in Abdar, of the Silver Marshes. Isn't that right?"
"Do you know me?" he asks.
"I'm no warrior. I'm trained in matters of commerce and finance. To find value where no-one else sees it. But I was never quite interested in pure docks business."
"I don't care for investing in enterprises. I would much rather prefer to invest in a champion. Someone willing to fight in my name, and raise both our profiles. My family can disagree all they like -- I think there can be no sounder a business decision than to invest in the right fighter."
"And, besides, Uncle Edwin likes me," he smiles. "So there isn't much any of the other Ashalds can do about it."
"What do you say? Would you be interested in becoming my champion?"
[DM Xanatos Gambit]
