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Post by 3personal5me on Jan 30, 2019 23:26:20 GMT
"Were the victims related in any way? Business partners, gambling, do they frequent similar places, anything that could suggest this is targeted?" Stephen may be new to adventuring, but investigations were his domain. "Anything else happening lately? Even if it seems unrelated. Economy fluctuations, changes in immigration and emigration, political rivalries?"
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Post by enchilada on Jan 30, 2019 23:38:41 GMT
“I can’t remember... something like... well, they would have been going to the same temple, they were close with one of the priests, I remember that but not much else. I’m so busy.” She shook her head, flicking through the paperwork on her clipboard. It was no use, really. “The only other things I can think of are... no, nothing. Business as usual.”
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Post by pastels on Jan 31, 2019 3:26:34 GMT
“Priests of Kelemvor, abandoning the dead and dying?” Astra’s voice rose, tremulous with disbelief, above her usual monotone. Now that was unusual. She knew enough about the god to observe the fastidious forms of worship his followers carried out—their domain was morbid and austere, but it was a priest of Kelemvor that laid her husband to rest, and she carried a deep respect for their kind ever since then. It was a tasteless task, to be sure, but they had the fortitude to stand amidst a sea of bodies and attempt to pick out the survivors from the corpses.
As the woman talked, more and more doubts entered her mind. She had to be sure.
“I retract my previous statement. Perhaps we should look at this temple, first,” Astra glanced towards the others, her face set into a steely grimace.
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 31, 2019 22:12:52 GMT
Yeah, she had a question... but not for Vanalika like perhaps she was expecting. "...... Mala Lad..." She began, holding back a bout of giggles despite the seriousness of the situation. ".... 'ave ye ever written en Abyssal 'haha foods Aye'm actually hidin' en teh basement just tae fuck with people?" She'd turned to face him and look with the most curious yet disbelieving-yet-totally-believing-it expression. She had been paying attention to everyone, really, honestly - but the potential language-based practical joke was the thing that drew her focus. The way he was staring at his familiar and not making eye contact? She had a hunch as to what the answer was. But back to the matter at hand… "Aye call dibs on ground support!" She swiftly jutted her hand and wing in unison to the sky to claim a spot on the activities-based crew after Stephan's suggestion. "Aye'm pants at research an' really, Aye'd just be an unwelcome force." She knew herself well enough to know her and data did not mix. No shame in being self aware. Despite her complete and total commitment to a ground team there was a part of her intrigued in looking more into Kelemvor - the god of death and life, and that balance one had in between those stages. She wondered if he had anything in common with another deity she'd spent years researching on the very topic. And if so? Perhaps she was better suited in a research group. "But, fair's fair en bein' open about strengths an' weaknesses… - Aye dae knae quite ah bit about life an' death, though nae much about teh God himself… o' plagues." She looked bwteen Stephan and Astra both, talking now out loud to herself and anyone who wanted to listen, voice quieter so as to not disturb the questions being asked. "But ye're both much more suited tae lookin' enta things vs meself." She shrugged as she continued to think out loud. "Bein' an investigator an' someon' who clearly es on top o' researchin - ye takin' notes an' such." It was an assumption, but she was fairly good at reading people. "At least amoung teh four o' us, ye'd probably be pretty good at et. Though Mala 'ere Aye'm sure could fit either side ef we wish tae divide an' conquer. Wizards are good at tha' sort o'… " She made some 'drunken' like hand movements. "Research thing."She went quiet, like a child when adults were talking, as the two she'd pinpointed as being much more apt to researching did indeed flourish under the task of asking more questions and getting answers. Childish as she could be at times, Citrine still knew when, mostly, to be quiet and let the intelligent ones do the talking. So instead she listened. And observed. Raptor eyes watching the face of their contact point for any cases of lying or suppression of information that might be helpful. ((As you haven't stated before starting the adventure thread enchilada , would you like us to refrain from requesting dice rolls when we want to focus on something or are you fine/prefer people to ask when they feel a dice roll would be helpful? In this case I'd like to suggest a, Insight skill roll from Citrine towards Vanalika telling the truth, or surpressing information, etc.))
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Post by enchilada on Jan 31, 2019 23:14:33 GMT
((Good point - I’ll add this to my first post for reference. Please don’t ask to roll, but you can make it obvious you’d like to roll if there’s a point by saying your character investigates a room or something. If you say that you attempt to read into Vanalika then yeah, make the roll. :3 basically if you’re investigating a room with a big red button, you’ll see it, and if you come across someone who’s stuttering and avoiding questions and gazes they are probably lying))
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 31, 2019 23:33:33 GMT
Thank you! Since it hadn't been brought up I figured I'd ask. Roll seen below - do with the result as you will oh mighty DM <3
9ivRGTTe1d20+51d20+5
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Post by enchilada on Jan 31, 2019 23:45:35 GMT
Vanalika seems a mixture of public face and intentional memory loss. Her corporate type smile is plastered across her face, there’s something incredibly fake about her temperament, but it’s so pleasant you want it to be believable. She’d probably make a good lawyer, or worse, some kind of agent that shook one hand and stabbed with the other. Even though it felt painfully obvious that the Mayor wasn’t just a busy, forgetful old lady, you don’t think pressuring her will get you anywhere. She’s a politician, she’ll push past the questions, make a statement, then give a coin to a beggar, like nothing happened.
One other thing, she seems very comfortable in her clothes, which, despite being baggy, seem to suit her well. There’s a possibility that she has, for one reason or another, recently lost a lot of weight. People are usually awkward in others’ clothes, besides. Why would she wear clothes that were anyone else’s? They certainly went with her title.
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Post by 3personal5me on Jan 31, 2019 23:59:36 GMT
(because it may be relevant, Stephen's passive insight, passive perception, and passive investigation are all 16s)
"Well, it seems we don't have any choice but to look into the church. Without an idea of where this started, or how, or who, or literally anything, the church is our only lead." Stephen sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was glad to be in the field working a case. He also hated working with churches." I say we poke around, canvas the area, see if anyone has noticed anything weird, and see if we can dig up a lead". A small part of him was excited. The chase was on.
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Post by pastels on Feb 3, 2019 3:42:16 GMT
“I know little about plagues, too, save that we had one in Silverymoon a few years ago,” Astra said with a shrug, “It devastated more than half the city. I was… uninvolved with most of the proceedings.” That was to say she was safe. The pandemic she was referring to might have been big news, had it not happened long, long before any of her allies had been born. Even local Silvaeren knew little of the situation, only that the repercussions caused the High Mages to prioritize hospices and medical research from that point onward. She didn’t expect any of them to understand either; the statement was said simply to illustrate her lack of knowledge on the subject matter. Yet now that she mentioned it… Long-buried memories started to bubble to the surface. Oh. The rank stench of fear and sweat clogging every street corner. The heat of corpse-fire on her skin, slick with sweat, as she slipped past a mob marching towards the house of the first carrier in their district. Screams and chaos in the streets. It took years and many, many washings for the scent of smoke to leave her clothes.
A flicker of discomfort crossed the elf’s pallid features, and a wince and an eye twitch showed a glimpse of the internal struggle underneath the stony façade. She breathed in and closed her eyes. She recalled her father’s voice, reciting a mantra to help her heart and mind whenever it was weighed down by troubles. Envision your hands locking a chest. Feel the smooth brass lock under your fingers, and know with certainty that what you leave behind will stay dead. Breathe.
Astra, still as a figurine as she kept her breathing even, listened as the others talked about the plan. It seemed as if some wanted to split up. “Even our combined insight may have faults… er, Citrine. Have you a last name I can properly address you by?” The woman’s name was uttered with a bit of hesitance. “In any case, I would welcome more eyes to the investigation, to make up for any areas we might have missed.” The mayor was also becoming increasingly short with their questions, which somewhat muddled about the timeline of events, and Astra would have cared about this kind of behavior were she a paragon of friendliness.
(She was not.)
“If that’s decided, then let’s go on our way,” she said, and tilted her head at the mayor in a deferential nod, “Mayor. If there’s nothing else… We’ll take our leave.”
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Feb 3, 2019 4:43:44 GMT
Surveying what was being said, and -more importantly- what wasn't being said, was a specialty, of sorts, for the lil firebird. When everyone assumed you were just there for laughs, and talked simply to hear your own voice? It was easy for most to assume you never took anything seriously. Or questioned what you heard. Or, goddess forbid, you knew how to listen. Perhaps she hadn't been so aware when she was first born as a human all those centuries ago… but after all she'd lived through? Races she'd been. Classes she'd explored. People she'd met and battles fought? She had a keen eye for trouble and an insight to match.
Elves weren't the only ones to have sharp eyes to see with, ospreys were good too - spotting the teen tiniest of fishes in the deep ocean below.
First thing first? Her body language. For someone like her who made it a major hobby to read and display the appropriate body language to convey a buffet of emotions and desires? How someone held themselves was an important aspect. Knowing if advances were welcome or not. Knowing if the touch or personal space in between was wanted or not. Knowing if she'd managed to find the line in the sand between annoying and antagonism (so she could toe the line as close as possible of course) key. It went further than that of course, the intraquicies of the movement-based language more than just a simple yes or no. And in this case? The way that Vanalika held herself did not match with what the eyes saw. It was - too manufactured. Like an actor who'd played the role perfectly, yet had no passion or desire for art behind their words or poses. It also seemed a lot like Holly… the snobby stuck-up types who would only lock down and wave you off if you misspoke one word. She was done answering questions.
It was odd too - her costume that is. Just like the perfect line delivery without passion, the mayor's costume just… didn't fit the role. Well, they did… but they weren't right either. She's known people in the past who wore ill-fitting clothes, for a variety of reasons, but politicians? No - they never wore anything less than perfect. And while these clothes were rightfully the color, style, and design for the job? It was an understudy who was wearing the lead's outfit.
These details all collected into one thought for the phoenix - there was a good chance this person wasn't who she said she was, worse case, and the impostor was a secret. Or, best case? They had someone who was purposefully filling in the role of the mayor and was told to behave as if she was, on behalf of the actual mayor who was somewhere else with this full knowledge.
But they had a plague spring from nowhere. And clerics missing - when did clerics abandon their people? This didn't sit right.
Now, the way she looked at it, as Stephen urged the decision of heading to the church and Astra catching her attention with the use of her name - she had two ways she could go about this. Subtle. Or Theatrical. (Really she had no in-between). Still debating on what to do, she didn't think the information the mayor had given them was false - only the pretense of this being the mayor…
"Aye, tha' Aye dae Lass." She agreed to the question of a last name. A playful grin inched onto her face, hiding the whirlwind of her observations going on in her head. A bit of colored wax perfumed off of her wings. It was like a mother or teacher saying 'yes you can' but be asking for 'if you may'. "An', we should be on our way then, Aye, as ah group - et prolly es best. But perhaps the Mayor can ask on' last question?" She turned her posture to look at Vanalika. "What's ye foot size?" It was an innocent and random question - one she was sure would be met with strange looks and even more flustered groans. But she was looking for how quick the mayor answered: if she stumbled, or gave an answer that didn't seem to match with the current 'size' the mayor was currently existing as.
As she waited for an answer, Citrine had an absent finger rise into her hair and began twirling the long coil of copper wire that wrapped around a braid - a habit that she always did, playing with the braids and trinkets in her hair. Speaking like a ventriculus would, so no sound seem to come from her at all, but the magic of the message spell had no problem passing on her words. First it went to Astra, then Mala, then Stephen - the mental message spell for their ears only. "There's somethin' off-puttin' about teh mayor 'ere, Lads an' Lasses. Ye see 'er clothes? How short she's bein' despite teh tragety o' teh town? Aye think et may perchance.. Be an imposter. But Aye've nae proof. Perhaps just keep et among us fer nae.. aye?"
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Post by enchilada on Feb 3, 2019 8:56:55 GMT
“Size four.” She snapped back. Vanalika was a woman of debate, she looked back on days where she never missed a beat, always could retort, and... well. She had a long braid back then, but she was attractive, a town sweetheart. Perfect little Aboret, who never misspoke. She liked to think nothing had changed but her face and the close cut.
“Seeing as you’re done, I’ll be going to my office, in the town hall. If you need me for anything then just drop by but as far as I’m concerned, if you don’t break any laws I don’t really mind what you do, so don’t worry about that.” A hand traced the skin of the other, and her face lit up, she’d remembered something important. “If you see someone with a rash on their hand, it’ll be red and sort of... wet? Don’t touch anything they touch, don’t drink anything and don’t eat anything, and you’d probably benefit from a wash. I... I think no one still has the illness but I don’t like risks. They might seem a little pale, maybe quite skinny? Sick.”
Insight check if you haven’t already please
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Post by 3personal5me on Feb 3, 2019 9:13:17 GMT
Insight KjaQO6Wq1d20+61d20+6
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Post by pastels on Feb 3, 2019 11:15:23 GMT
(Astra too? Here it is.)
Insight = z|C16vzq1d20 1d20
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Post by Malakbel on Feb 3, 2019 17:24:54 GMT
Malakbel smiled at her coyly.
"Maybe"
He said, the fun ever present. Not I'm hiding in the basement, precisely, but he had used it for other creative works of art. It usually had more than statisfying results if your objective was just to mess with people a bit.
The comment the elf made about plagues caught his attention, but quickly was dismissed as she admitted she hadn't been involved with the proceedings. Nonetheless she dropped a piece of information that seemed to be of great importance beforehand: It was unlikely that priests of kelemvor would randomly abandon the dead and dying. He didn't know much about them himself, but he was willing to take the word of the woman for what it was worth. He looked at Citrine, then looked at the Mayor.
Boy, would it have been useful to have a "spit out the truth" spell ready right then. If only such a spell existed. Perhaps he should seek out to make such a spell exist, and create one if it didn't. Alas the spells he had learned for the job were mostly situational and of use in combat. He would look up to Citrine and the investigator on the matter, as they were the ones that seemed to be the most perceptive. Citrine because he knew her. And the man because well, it was pretty much in his job description. Malakbel didn't place much faith in him, but that was simply because he didn't place much faith in anything.
After listening to Citrine's whisper in his mind, he thought of something. And looked at the mayor and asked.
"Has anyone ever been cured of the plague?"
Insight OurQQ_Xk1d20+2 1d20+2
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Post by enchilada on Feb 3, 2019 17:40:29 GMT
“Yes, they have. It seemed to be entirely a matter of willpower. Some were selfless and locked themselves away until they fought through it, others recieved the same herbal treatment as everyone else and randomly made it through. It was a death lottery.” She sighed, and held her hand tightly. The matter seemed to depress her the more she spoke.
If you got 15 or above, you can put together the plague, the rash on hands and loss of weight symptoms, and her manner of speaking as she specifically mentions these things that it is almost certain that Vanalika herself had the plague.
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