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Post by Kai Wren on Dec 1, 2019 8:30:09 GMT
It is rare that the Blackstaff makes any kind of pronouncements. She is concerned with the protection and sanctity of the world, and Waterdeep in particular, from mystical and arcane threats. Such a role does not leave her much time to get involved with the internecine politics of Waterdeep’s many competing factions – if she were even inclined to do so. She has wards to maintain and enchantments to upkeep. She has to keep an eye towards the Hells, the Far Realms, the Underdark, and all the many dragons, liches and stranger beings who would like nothing more than to see Waterdeep removed from the face of Faerun once and for all. So when the Blackstaff makes a public statement, it is something which people tend to take notice of. From the highest Lord to the lowest drunk, when the Blackstaff speaks, people listen. She has let it be known that she will handsomely reward anyone who can find the source of the graffiti which has recently plagued the walls of Waterdeep. Which makes it all the more impressive that so far, nobody seems to have any real idea who or what might be causing it. A small crowd has gathered around the latest piece, which has appeared overnight. The section of wall separates the Trade Ward from the fields outside Waterdeep proper. Situated between two businesses – a cobbler and an ironmonger – the wall doesn’t seem to hold any particular importance. There’s not nearly enough space for the dozen or so people, of various species, to crowd in and peer at it comfortably. A member of the City Watch is trying, unsuccessfully, to keep the crowd back or move them on, but the young man is clearly out of his depth, and his exhortations that there’s ‘nothing to see here’ do not seem to be winning anyone over. Especially as there very much is something to see here. The paint that has been applied to the wall has been layered with an expert hand. Splashes of bright red and vivid blue layer over one another to create a sharp pattern of jagged lines and clearly-defined angles. There does not seem to be any obvious language behind the lines, and nor does it immediately resemble any physical object. The graffiti covers a space roughly five feet by five feet across; a vaguely circular pattern, but imperfect, with the lines having no central source, just a twisting mass over and around one another, almost as though the red and blue are in conflict. Other parts of the city have had other colours, over larger or smaller distances, but this one is the most recent – and again, it seems that it appeared when there was nobody here to see it done. (I’ll take your choice of investigation or arcana checks as you presumably come to have a look! Post in with your immediate reaction to the crowd and the roll if you please - Skell firepaw littleork) |
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Post by littleork on Dec 1, 2019 13:54:11 GMT
Emerging from the hotel across the road, tankard still in hand, Jacquard glances to the sky and rests against a post as a raven flies over the crowd and settles on a gutter near the artwork. A few moments later the bird lands on his shoulder and he approaches the back of the crowd.
Investigation SVjEFubo1d20+1
Speaking aloud to no-one in particular;
"I wonder what the artist calls this one, looks kind of like a smashed crab"
1d20+1
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Post by firepaw on Dec 2, 2019 2:40:03 GMT
Rinn chases after Jacquard from the inn. His pace slows as they reach the crowd of people staring a the wall. Frustratingly, he cannot see over the larger folks gathered even with the stretch of his toes. However, not one to give up, he takes a cue from the raven and uses his claws to climb part way up a nearby post that supports a shop's awning. From there, he squints to see what he can of this 'art'. He wonders if the marking looks like something of magical nature.
mPhkrjSI1d20+1 (Arcana)1d20+1
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Post by Skell on Dec 7, 2019 18:05:46 GMT
It had been weeks since he first arrived at The City of Splendors and despite his best efforts and the connections that being a master alchemist in the Healing House extended to him, Ilar had yet to find anything beyond rumors about The Harpers. It was only when he heard about pronouncement of the Blackstaff that he gained new hope. The Archmage of Waterdeep was well known for fighting anything that could be summarize as a great evil and her neutrality made so that her every action attracted attention. Her request would probably be watched by Those Who Harp and maybe even persuade them to approach. It was even possible that herself had some contact with the organization. Were it in other times Ilar could even hope to become one of the Moonstars.
As part of either group he would have all the information needed to fulfill his duty. It was with those thoughts in mind that he made for the Trade Ward. From the skies Hyde, invisible and under the guise of a raven, followed. It was not hard to find the section of the wall where the strange graffiti was left. All that was needed was to follow the crowd. At the end of it a single soldier of the City Watch was trying to keep the curious eyes away, to little success. The painting itself seemed like nothing Ilar had ever seem before. It was large, almost circular and recent. At least compared to the others of its kind.
From the moment he heard the name of the Blackstaff, Ilar expected to find some kind of arcane inscription, but as a Warlock he received his powers from a patron, without any study or natural gift. If whatever was in those walls was magic in nature, he probably wouldn’t be able to tell. Specially taking into consideration that the best spellcaster of the city did not divine the identity of the responsible. Maybe I can identify the kind of tincture, he though fixing his eyes on the diagrams. During his apprenticeship Vinden taught him about the process of making paint. It was, basically, a simple chemical concoction. If he could identify of what kind, then there would be a chance of identifying the culprit. After all, it was quite improbable many people would buy the same paint with the same colors in quantity enough to mark so many walls of the city in the same time period.
Keep flying. He commanded his familiar telepathically while approaching the wall. Try to look for someone acting strange, he continued despite having no hope of the Imp actually finding a suspect. Rather, would be a challenge to find someone acting normal in a such an atypical situation. And tell me if someone tries to attack. He completed out of habit more than any other thing. His attempts of staying always alert have saved his life more than Ilar would have liked. Thieves were the last of his worries on the road.
Rolling for Investigation: 2OrfDcAE1d201d20 |
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Post by Kai Wren on Dec 25, 2019 10:00:41 GMT
Alas, it seemed as though the trio were as stumped as the population as a whole when it came to making sense of this situation. It seemed as though whoever was responsible was long gone, and whilst it might have some magical connection to it… Gods only knows what it might actually be.
The member of the Watch looked quite harried, though most people were starting to disperse, muttering amongst themselves about dire rumours and what it could all possibly mean. That left the three more qualified members of the community alone with the Watchman, even if their initial efforts hadn’t been entirely successful.
He clearly recognised them as being a cut above the civilian population. “Sirs.” He said, “I can’t say as we’ve many leads I’m afraid. I’m waiting for the alchemists to get here. This stuff is hell itself to get off the walls.”
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Post by littleork on Dec 25, 2019 18:11:43 GMT
Once the crowd had mostly dwindled, Jacquard took the opportunity for a closer look. With raven now perched on his shoulder, he approached the 'artwork.'
When the watchman addresses him;
You could ask the waitress from across the way,
he says, thumbing over his shoulder to the pub he just exited across the street,
I've seen her scraping all manner of filth from the walls early of a morning, mind if I've a go?
Without waiting for an answer, he draws his dagger and scrapes a little paint from the wall into his palm to inspect.
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Post by firepaw on Dec 26, 2019 1:32:02 GMT
As the crowd dispersed, Rinn leaped down from his temporary perch and scampered up along side Jac. Quickly, as the member of the Watch turned their way, Rinn pulled his posture to the way his noble upbringing had taught him. Many times he had slipped next to his father and with a quick dash of magic, the image of a dirty, impish little furball would be replaced by the clean and proud visage of a proper child.
His ear twitched in thought. "Don't artists usually sign their art somehow? Maybe not with a name, exactly, but a symbol or something like that. Sir," he asked of the City Watch, "have you seen the other paintings, anything in common with them? Someone must have kept a record of the markings before getting them all cleaned up, wouldn't they?"
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Post by Skell on Dec 26, 2019 3:10:26 GMT
Despite his concentration Ilar had no success in finding about the composition of the ink. An alchemist should specialize in more than healing potions, he could remember his old master saying. Should have told me to specialize in tinctures, old man. He thought somewhat bitterly only noticing that the crowd had dispersed when the soldier spoke.
For a moment he almost thanked the gods for his devil. Where not by Hyde he would have been completely defenseless while lost in thought. Could have been even worse if he had been attacked when the crowd was still present. Panic would ensue and he would end up being trampled, maybe to death. A stupid way to go, he thought to himself while listening the watchmen.
Then other men spoke. Well dressed and sporting a goatee, he too had elven blood, although from a different kind. He was shorter than Ilar, had white skin, dark brown eyes and raven black hair. His idea was to speak with a waitress from across the street. After him was the time of an orange furred Tabaxi to speak what had in mind, asking for similarities amongst the paintings.
Given their interest, Ilar suspect they too were working for the reward promised by the Blackstaff. They made good questions. The right questions. He concluded doubting the lone guard had the time to analyses the graffiti, let alone look for witnesses.
“Excuse me, sir.” He said turning to the soldier. If his previous encounter with the City Watch had taught Ilar something it was that its guards could become especially cooperative with little more than some respect. “My name is Ilar Draven and I am a master alchemist with the Guild of Apothecaries & Physicians. Could you give me more details about how the alchemists proceeded to deal with the paint in the previous incidents?”
His first impulse was to ask for technic information. The time it took for the removal of the paint, the components used in order to do so, how recent the paint looked this time. But then he remembered how unexpected where the drawings. The chances of the watchmen being present when any other graffiti was discovered where almost nonexistent.
“It would help to know if the same team of alchemists is always dispatched to deal with the removal. If any kind of register about their work is kept.” If the guard doesn’t have the technical information then they would certainly have. “Of course, any information about the paint itself could be a lead so if you have any, I would be most interested in hearing”
His thought was simple. He could not find more about the paint maybe the other alchemists could. The very product used to remove it could tell something about the substance used to make the drawings. It was a lead to a lead but as the old Vinden used to say, half bread is better than no bread at all. The question is, will this half bread be enough?
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