Epsir

When the Flames Die

THE TUSSLE AT THE TAVERN?

When the Flames Die

The bartender and then inn-keeper of the Crossroads was looking distraught tonight. A bar fight had started on her day and the Roads was usually a peaceful place. Her employment was hardly threatened but her hobbies were, and people didn't talk or tell stories amongst themselves when they were out cold or in the care of the guard. Two men had died, and while a few samaritans had deigned to carry them off to report the deaths it certainly put a damper on the place. Alastair Menhem, a young woman with wine-colored hair, barely old enough to be apprenticed much less running a tavern in her free time, was in charge of the family's establishment that night. Even as she hurriedly cleaned glasses and set out drinks she saw something that hadn't occurred since the fight, someone walking into her bar. "Welcome in the Crossroads, wanderers," she called out. They looked like an entertaining sort, there was a story about them but she couldn't place it. Whether or not they spoke of it, they were roughed up enough that she knew they had one. "Is it board or beer you're after tonight? A lot of our rooms just, eh... cleared out."

---

"Yes, just three," she said, grinning at her joke and preparing her final words. Her eyes quickly darted around the room as she gathered information. She had no weaponry to speak of, and perhaps leaving her swords at the tavern had been a mistake. Their use was disallowed but they made for persuaders at times like this. The captain rolled her shoulders, feeling out the rope holding her hands and ankles together in the chair. More pressing was the feeling of the iron footplate of a loaded crossbow against her chin. The situation was beyond her self control at that point, she began to do what she was forged to do. A chill ran down Trinan's spine, she felt all at once cold and sick, her stomach rolled and her stare up at the Guildmaster became hollow and farsighted. All in an instant, her time for thinking was over.

Her voice took on a desperate, panicked tone and she pleaded and shook in the chair. "L-Look, please spare my life, I never meant you any harm! Please! Everything I have! I'll do anything! There is a purse containing the approximate equivalent of eight thousand in-" Mid sentence, Trinan sprung up from the chair, slipping one hand free of the figure eight around her wrists and feeling the opposing end ratchet tight around the other. A problem she could fix later. Her right hand was immediately up to the crossbow she was pushing her chin against, seizing the stock of the weapon and twisting it hard on the holder's wrist and most importantly, away from from her. If she did any damage to the man, she wasn't watching for it. Maria pressed herself as close as possible to the Guildmaster, turning herself around him and buying herself an instant of shelter from the other crossbows in the room as she oriented towards the door. A tempest of motion, her other hand went to the pouch in the small of her back. Medical. Gauze, scissors, the bottle. Just as soon as she'd thrown herself against the man, she threw the glass bottle of antiseptic ethanol over his shoulder into one of the nearby torches. The glass hip flask shattered, and the flammable fluid within combusted, spraying flaming droplets around the room and over the walls. With an inferno now started in the warehouse, she shoved herself away from the Guildmaster and with a tremendous strain of her legs, snapped one link of rope and caused the others to shed. Trinan stumbled as she felt the protest of her muscles and the familiar feeling of her internal tissues tearing, and immediately sprinted for the door of the burning building, waiting for the twang of crossbow fire to follow.

When the Flames Die

The last person to see it was Sir Tyler of the Order of the Thistle who determined it was leaving the palace grounds.

When the Flames Die

The guard looked between everyone there, uncertainty showing in his fidgeting more than it could on his face. Ordinarily, he would have simply let a noble who clearly had... some sort of retainer with her decide her own night arrangements. Unfortunately it was the dead of night and he'd grown up in Mullen, he knew how the streets were and as peaceful and fight-free as their taverns typically were, all you had to do was go down one street thinking you'd find a better deal and end up brushing shoulders with the kind of guys the wrong crowd tended to shy away from. The Lyokis were being targeted, and there was drama afoot within the castle that meant they had no idea how safe the situation with the Order and the regent would be. How did all of this end up lumped on him, a fresh trained guard standing a lowly post? He had a call to make, and he made it. They weren't safe here and they weren't safe in the streets, but they were safer among a bunch of bar regulars than they were in an empty palace. "Alright, the doors are open. Go straight to a tavern, stay on the widest roads you can find. If you see a guard on the way stop him and show him your signet or something, get a move on please." He sighed after he granted access, it wasn't good either way, but the logic of getting them away from rooms that had already been targeted seemed sound enough to him.

When the Flames Die

Maria cocked her head to the side as the man claimed the death of one of her fellows. The 33rd had swam from SNS Roumont that day, which meant... another company had been here. Her own name was clear, but if what the man said was true then someone else's was not. That was the worst news she could be given, because it meant they could be confronting another scout company with charges of treason, and that was not a confrontation either side was walking away from unbloodied. Her thoughts snapped back to the Guildmaster as he posed his next question. If only she really did have Bard II's approval, she wouldn't be roaming the streets at night. A tired laugh escaped her mouth as she contemplated finally having an operation under foreign sanction. As a matter of fact, she was perfectly happy to discuss what she was doing in Mullen. "I'm looking for a tavern. Four people died in the one I was staying in, that's not good for me. So I came here to solve my problems. Actually, my problems are with him," she indicated, with a nod of her head, the thug she'd earlier encountered at the Crossroads. "But, you can step in if you want." Pausing for a moment of composure, the captain straightened herself in the chair. Her patience was just about gone, she'd left her cloak with a stranger and there was a lot of sleeping she was missing out on being here. Her voice lowered, and she began her tirade. "Here's the easy way, listen to me. Clean up your mess, and I will leave you, disappear into the night and begone. No harm done to any one of your 'boys'. I'll tell you how to do it and lend a hand." She smiled brightly up at her interrogator, locating him between wine-clotted clumps of her hair. "I am a killer, I deny the ignoble and contemptuous nature of my existence through restraint. I dedicate myself to the preservation of life through the one thing I can do: violence. Help me. Ignore me, pretend none of this happened. Do either, do not get in my way."

When the Flames Die

One of the many red-brigandined guardsmen stood post atop the gate, his fellows probably in the nearby guardhouse playing cards to pass the time. Gate duty was cozy, especially when there were hijinks on the grounds. Nobody shady ever just up and tried the front gate and besides, their was broken anyway. Contented with the night vista of Mullen, the dimly red shingled roofs and the lights of ships on the river, he turned around from the battlements in time to see a trio that looked to have originated from the palace. Oh dear. "Hold it! What's your business here?" He called out to the dark, quickly scaling the stairs down to the ground level to get a closer look at the strangers. A woman, a girl, and a young man all looking something distraught. Weren't they all? If it hadn't been for reports of strangers on the walls he would have probably just let civilian looking types go straight on through but he could tell from the silhouette in the guard house that the corporal was watching, and procedure was now his new god. Thankfully for all involved, he recognized the Lyoki royal up close, and took a step back to bow. "Apologies, your grace, but we have been told to restrict access to and fro the grounds. Might the guard be of any service to you, however?"

When the Flames Die

Not really, Trinan was referencing the tendency for Scouts to contact the criminal underbelly of hostile lands when they need to exist under the radar, and by that logic their name is probably known in the world of organized crime. Of course, it's your choice on whether this particular guild has heard of them or what they feel towards them. The intent was a little half-subtle exposition with a little something to follow if you wanted to.

When the Flames Die

Sorry for the delay I was away for a bit!

Maria is asking him to speculate on why she hasn't made any attempt to fight back, which might seem strange considering she is claiming to be a soldier.

The Scouts are a specific part of the military of the country of Arcartus (the blue one on the right side of the map). Arcartus and the Scouts have been tangentially involved in the plot since a woman named Lexine Tristan was killed a little over a day ago in-game time and papers were found on her body implicating a few officers from their ranks, which is why the Arcartis are currently interested in investigating that rumor. The Scouts themselves are of moderate renown, although only among circles interested in a foreign country's military. Their presence in Keilaudrin is unwelcome, because of a reputation as infiltrators, saboteurs, and generally dishonorable wet-workers. The military of Arcartus is split between the jurisdiction of the State and the Royal Family, with the royal family granted largely ceremonial authority over a select few groups when the state military is not already using them, which is where they get their naming convention.

The Keilaud military is more feudal in its organization so it's difficult to provide a comparison and none of them have come up in the thread other than the differences between the palace guard and the king's knights (The Order of the Thistle), but in tl;dr the scouts are something akin to special forces.

When the Flames Die

She had no idea what lunacy lead her to accept bindings before a fight, but there she was with ropes fastening her wrists and ankles. This was the sort of thing that constituted a prank at the academy, and she could at least be grateful it was a wooden chair and not a chemical locker holding her up this time. The scar across the bridge of her nose was starting to itch uncomfortably, but trying free her hands at a time like this would seem untoward when the receiving party wanted to appear very much in control. The name Kelzhar came up, but she couldn't place it; she hadn't had a notion of identifying some southern city's gangs but there was always the hope it was someone she'd worked with before. The captive Trinan stared forward, eyes slowly revolving to search the contents of the dark room, people and weapons, out of habit more than any intention to start something untoward. An attractive option had surfaced in her head on the way in: Make a bigger incident to pull attention away from the four murders outside of her inn, but that sort of thing never actually worked. The guard was not so small. A long, cold silence took hold in the time after the Guildmaster posed his questions. She sat there, choosing her words carefully. Ordinarily, she loathed giving her credentials out, but some criminal in this town was bound to have cooperated with the Scouts before, and despite how hard they pretended to be, the reason she had a career was because criminals talked. "I am Maria Trinan, Captain in the 33rd Company of the Royal Arcarti Scouts. That answers both questions. I am asking mine. The first is for clarity of purpose." She looked away from the wall, watching the Guildmaster with the unchanging, vacant glare that she'd been wearing for a while now. Should have brought a bottle from the tavern. "Why do you think one of the crown's hunting hounds is being so civil?" She nodded her head left and right, indicating the room around her and the lack of violence (on her part) that night.

When the Flames Die

The investigator remained firmly planted where she'd been standing to knock on the door. Her drab greens eyes were bright in the dark as they slowly passed over each of the figures that had arrived to surround the two by the door. Street thugs, perhaps slightly better outfitted, all the same she cataloged the variety of armaments levied against her and sized up her odds. Trinan's face drew as she contemplated death for a moment, and then the lively manifestation of one of the nicknames she'd left Erschald with: Trouble. The death toll, however, would be inexcusable, this wasn't one street thug but a fairly large assortment. A frown broke out across her face, she was disappointed and then upset with herself for being disappointed. Well, there was no sense being dishonest with the cloaked men now. "I should tell you the same, keep them steady," she said flatly, locking eyes with the man who'd appeared first. She eyed the open door for a moment, taking stock of her options before committing. "Let's trade questions then," she concluded, and strode forward into the building. This would be one for the logbook, the captain's night on the town. Even in the dark recesses of the building she was walking into, she could hear the coming laughter of her XO. Whatever awaited, she was resolved on one thing: Those bodies weren't taking care of themselves, especially not when they were practically framing her following the incident at the palace.