Kiyoka

[mindstalk]

OOC: Kiyoka's a mix of Tsuirakuan exurbanites (land, sweet land) and Farrellian immigrants (jobs, sweet jobs) so you can probably handwave a lot about local government. Tsuiraku itself... a bunch of mages living in mini-Tokyo with no outside contact for 2000 years. There may be dysfunctional elements to the society but there has to be a lot scarily functional or they'd have gone literally boom.

Of course they might be so functional the police don't get much practice. Vs. Farrell where the cops and crooks have the same training.

[Viking-Sensei]

(OOC: Hey, I've seen Law and Order - Kureji's the insane daughter of a family of rich Tsuirakan socialites - she could set fire to an orphan on the steps of city hall and they'd let her off with a warning. Besides, she didn't technically blow up the fountain... only the blood IN the fountain. It's just that the fountain happened to be in the way of the several hundred gallons of exploding blood when it decided it was time to explode.)

[mindstalk]

OOC: even rich brats should probably attract attention if they seem insane enough to do a Kizan and blow things up. But I was actually thinking of the authorities sniffing around the tracks of our heroes, though they not matter enough now they're in Farrell, though I suspect Farrell is an extradition (or simple cops as bounty hunters) zone for Tsuiraku. Just throwing out plot bunnies. Partly because I've been Tokyo for the past two weeks so I've seen "oh yes, government does work" at, um, work. Also a train line called 'Rinkai'.

I will now end this distraction. Probably.

[Graybeard]

The mini-skirted nun made it to the scene of the conversation just in time to be splattered by the exploding rat -- or at least it looked like she was going to be splattered, but she was able to dodge most of the gore with some extraordinarily rapid gyrations. A few of the male customers looking on thought these were dance steps and produced wolf whistles, but if the withering glare she gave them wasn't enough to shut them up, the single-word "Silence!" spell she hissed certainly was.

The young woman ignored Kureji completely and pointedly turned her back on Atwater as she spoke to Argus. "Sir, I am from the Veracian mission. I know you have no great love for our church, but we have a request for you. Can we find somewhere quiet to talk, away from these ... people?"


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OOC:

OOC: even rich brats should probably attract attention if they seem insane enough to do a Kizan and blow things up. But I was actually thinking of the authorities sniffing around the tracks of our heroes, though they not matter enough now they're in Farrell, though I suspect Farrell is an extradition (or simple cops as bounty hunters) zone for Tsuiraku. Just throwing out plot bunnies.

I'd be surprised if there really was a Tsuiraku-Farrel extradition treaty; Farrel is too free-wheeling a place for that. In any event, the Must Save Face argument seems to dispose of events at the docks. As for the things at the mission, patience...

[Drannin]

Argus cracked his eye open slightly. The lunatic mage girl... better avoided. She looked vaguely familiar too him (somewhere back in floaty-town? Bah, who cares) and that sent off a warning bell in his head. The less he dealt with old aquaintances, the better. But how to deal with this situation without bothering with said lunatic mage-

Oh. The nun had a mini-skirt. And nice legs. Right then.

Smoothly, Argus got to his feet. "Of course, miss. Please lead the way." Away from the irritating kid who I just don't feel like dealing with, he added mentally.

The nun nodded and gestured for him to follow.

"Thank you, reverend," Argus said politelyto Atwater, "It seems that some manner of duty calls, so good day to you." Argus started to leave, paused, then bent down and grabbed something.

Turning to Kureji, he politely handed her a dead rat before leaving with the nun. She had asked for one, after all. Sort of.

Besides, he really didn't like her. It was probably the head trauma.

(OOC: Argus has never met Kureji, but I figure he might have met her family while he was a big-shot it Tsuirakushiti and sees a family resemblance. Or maybe he's heard rumors about her, if she's crazy enough.)

[Graybeard]

Surprisingly, it didn't take long to get away from the pandemonium of the square. The nun took Argus to another bar just down the street, bearing the logo "The Leaping Lizard," with a most improbable mascot at the front door. This place was much quieter; possibly the clientele had all headed east to see what was going on at the square. The nun nodded at the bartender, who beamed and said, "Ah, Sister Marilyn! So nice to see you again! Your favorite table?" Two glasses of wine were waiting by the time the two sat.

Catching the look on Argus' face, the nun said, "Surprised, Mr. ... um, may I just call you Argus? Don't be. Our church may have a reputation for being rather ... straitlaced, but that is more a matter of some of our more, ah, zealous practitioners than of church doctrine. Besides, our church in town is a mission, not a temple, and a mission's role is to bring the word of Luminosita to sinners. The last time I checked, you're more likely to find sinners in a bar than in a cloister, or at least more people who'll admit to being sinners ... And we also have the challenge to do Luminosita's work: in other words, to help people who need help. And that too is the kind of person you'll find in a bar."

She swirled the wine in her glass, sampled the bouquet, took a taste, smiled. "Please call me Sister Marilyn. Incidentally, I have an identical twin in the convent, Sister Eva, and she is more ... traditional ... than I am; there have been amusing consequences when people confuse us. Please don't make that mistake.

"And now, I would like to discuss with you a certain, shall we say, business opportunity."

[Drannin]

Argus took a long slow sip of the wine. "Stars above above, that's excellent," he sighed. "I haven't had decent wine in... well, long enough anyway." He took another long sip, savoring it.

Argus glanced up at Sister Marilyn. "Cleivien," he said, "Clay-vee-ein. Don't worry about it though, a lot of people have trouble pronouncing it. I've been 'Argus' for a long time now, anyway." Argus looked down at the table. At his hands. At his ratty clothes and joke of a staff he'd picked up in a curio shop one time, mainly to remind himself of what he once was. He considered his rather appalling lack of funds, and the low probability of decent alcohol in the future. Not that there was like to be much of a future. Still, one needed one's comforts in this dark, damned world.

Argus closed his eyes and savored the wine once more. Vaguely, he wondered what kind of job the nun wanted of him. She seemed to have a vague idea of who he was. Use his magic to help rebuild her church? Something silly?

Did it matter?

Argus shook his head, and his eyes were suddenly very clear, somewhat grim, and a little defeated. "I am in no position to refuse. How can this aging man be of service?"

[Graybeard]

"Well, actually, there are two things, closely related," Sister Marilyn said. "You've probably guessed at the first, and easier, one: we need help to rebuild the damaged mission. You have something of a reputation as regards magical construction -- or at least you used to have one. There will be significant parts of the job that are plain old grunt work, and for that we will look to Kiyokan people. But we'll need help for the magical parts, rendered by mages more proficient than ours. You qualify.

"Second, and more important as well as more difficult, some investigation is needed regarding the incident that caused the damage. We want to know who did it, and why. More than that, however, we want to know why the Tsuirakuans are being so uncooperative in their own so-called investigation. Hmph," she snorted, "my eight-year-old brother could do a better job than they have. There's something going on there that's keeping them from delving too closely into what happened, and we don't know what it is.

"Part of your reputation is that you have no great love for the Tsuirakuan powers that be, and vice versa. Here is your chance to rub their noses in something unpleasant -- although we ask that you just find the facts and leave the nose-rubbing to us. We think there is no personal danger to you in this. Of course, if you find something sufficiently ugly..." She let her voice trail off.

"So can you help?"

[Drannin]

"I was sold at rubbing their noses at it," Argus chuckled darkly. "Though if I can't do it personally, I would appreciate a blow-by-blow account." This was only a half-joke. GOD how he wanted to make those bastards squirm. Argus paused to take a drink of wine, thinking.

"The magical construction is child's play," he said finally. "Inorganic manipulation is my specialty and I have a degree of ability with magical runes and engraving. That presents no problem, though I may need to practice on a couple sample pieces first to get back up to speed. That's nothing big, though, and I can get to the real work afterwards." Another sip of wine. A delightful image of a certain handful of councilors squirming.

"As for the investigation... it sounds like something I could really use." He smiled, looking quite chipper, but there was a dark glint in his eyes as old grudges started to awaken. After all, if he had a chance to cause a little pain to cause a little pain to the archbastards before the end, he was damn well going to take it.

"All right. I'm in. Now, to begin, why don't you tell me what you know about the attack..."

(OOC: I'll re-read the earlier posts to summarize what Marilyn probably had to tell him... Unless you know what she wants to tell him, GB. Either way works for me.)

[Graybeard]

"All right. I'm in. Now, to begin, why don't you tell me what you know about the attack..."

Marilyn thought for a moment, said "Well, my sister knows more than I do. I wasn't there when it happened, I was out here, tending my 'flock,' such as it is." She paused as the bartender brought a spinach-and-artichoke dip, with crackers, and plunked it down on the table between them. "On the house," he proclaimed as he went back to dealing with the paying customers, who seemed to be returning from the merriment up the street.

"Thanks, Kazuo," Marilyn called behind him. Catching the puzzlement on Argus' face, she lowered her voice a notch and said, "I get a certain number of freebies here. The Church helped his daughter get over a really nasty drug addiction, and he remembers it. Think of that the next time you hear those idiots with the wobbly soprano voices belting out bad hymns: behind the claptrap and posturing, this mission actually helps people. Anyway:

"Rather than giving you the whole story, I'll let Father Egbert, my superior at the mission, do it. He wants to talk to you in any event, and he probably has as clear a view of what was happening as anyone. 'Sides, it's getting late and I'm expected back there shortly. Enjoy the dip -- it's excellent -- get a good night's sleep and show up at the mission at 9 a.m. tomorrow, at the side door for staff, not the main one for ... worshippers." She got up abruptly and headed for the door. Argus started to rise, but she said, "Don't worry, I'll walk myself home. Kiyoka is a pretty safe city -- most of the time -- and nobody in this part of town will mess with me." And she walked out of the bar, with the easy yet vigilant gait of a martial-arts black belt.

[OOC: either works -- go back and read what was going on from a troll's-eye view, and I'll write Egbert's version when Argus comes calling.]

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(Some hours later:)

One omission in their planning, Layla thought incongruously as she and Zachary headed for town, was that she'd never thought to lay in a set of widow's weeds -- not a totally unrealistic item for the spouse of a Gewehr Wraith to have in her wardrobe, all things considered. (Arty had, and had used, a dark suit; had he been expecting to survive her? Nah, don't think like that...) That had the potential to create some problems if she encountered someone in town who knew that Arty had been killed -- other than Sergeant Ohta, of course. Well, let's make a virtue out of necessity, she decided; venturing calmly and quietly into town, dressed as though for a normal day of shopping or business, would test Ohta's claim that he'd be able to keep Arty's death out of public knowledge. If he'd been successful, she'd be able to go about her business until she boarded the slow boat and got out of Kiyoka; if he hadn't, she'd have to deal with offers of well-meaning sympathy, and feign surprise and horror when she "learned" that her husband had been killed -- not that she'd have any difficulty summoning some genuine tears and grief to accept the sympathy with ... Or maybe act as though she'd already got the news, and say that, in her shock and grieving, she was coming into town to buy a mourning dress to wear in Delphiniel, where Arty came from. She'd have to play that one by ear, but she was pretty sure she could handle it.

However, it would be nice to get an early sense of just how the encounters were going to go. Most of the shops, boutiques and restaurants weren't awake yet, but there was one place in town where she was well known from her cover business, yet not known as a Gewehr Wraith, and would have activity occurring this early in the morning. Yes, that'd make a nice guinea pig.

She diverted from the road down to the docks, and headed for the Veracian mission.