Goose, set, match... - Chyril 28th (MT) - Callara

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Goose, set, match... - Chyril 28th (MT) - Callara

Post by Callara »

Chyril 28th - Early Morningtide

Callara arrived at the Goose quite early. She was unsure if breakfast service had started even, as the sun had only just peeked over the cliffs of Roque. For her, this was the best time to walk through the streets of the city. Less people to worry about, less strain on her sensitive senses.

She had contemplated what she would do for quite some time the previous gravetide. As she had gotten up, looking at the box and the three chess pieces sitting on the table beside her bed she had come to a conclusion and had packed accordingly. The backpack which had sat empty underneath her bed was now filled with the box, the three pieces and a few kitchen utensils she had taken from the palace kitchen before starting her walk down to the Goose and Gander.

"Who are they to presume to tell me what to do..." As she walked into the city and more blood surrounded her, her headache started up again and the blood riled in defiance accordingly. This added to the frustration she felt over the omnicient way she had been addressed and she was determined to act decisively.

Callara pushed the door of the Goose and Gander open and stepped into the familiar common room. It had been a while since she had been in here but she knew her way to the bar and sat down there, waiting to be served.
Last edited by Callara on Mon Jun 30, 2008 11:40 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Arnholt »

"Good morning, Callara." Arnholt's voice. Coming from just behind her right shoulder. "You don't mind if I join you, do you?"

The cultist was already settling himself into place beside her. Still in his monkish get-up, though wearing his deep red cloak and hood rather than the black one he'd been wearing the night they met. He was smiling an easy smile. But then, there was nothing especially significant about this time or place to him. Though his appearance here wasn't exactly a coincidence, either.

Arnholt was a scholar by inclination, and a cultist by calling, but until very recently he had also been a burglar by trade. In fact he'd been watching the Summer Palace from hiding since late Grave Tide the previous night. Casing the place, the way that thieves will. Inspecting the walls from as many angles as he could. Taking the measure of the guards, and waiting to see when they would be relieved. Not because he was planning on robbing the place any time soon, but because Callara was an ally only in the "enemy of my enemy" sense. Righteous only knew when he find it necessary to force an entry into the palace, or to leave the place precipitously.

So far he hadn't learned very much of use. But it had only been the first night. Arnholt planned on continuing his professional observations for a week, at least, both outside the palace and in. Happily, his labor had already born a different form of fruit, as he'd observed Callara leaving the palace this morning. He had retreated deep into the gardens when he saw movement at the gate and realized who was coming out (unaware of her ability to feel the blood of living beings, of course, but very cognizant of the fact that a sorceress might have senses he did not). Watching her departure from a distance, he had in fact considered approaching the gates while Callara was out in the hopes of poking around the place without her there to look over his shoulder. In the end he decided to follow her, instead. Mostly just to see where she was going.

As far as choices of destination went, therefore, the Goose and the Gander was something of a disappointment to him. Nevertheless, he'd decided to make his presence known. Just to see if she'd realized he was near. And also because it seemed to him that the sorceress owed him a meal. What's the harm? It wasn't as if our association was a secret; only the true nature of it was.

"I was actually heading up to see you," he remarked, "when I thought I saw you heading the other way. Early, I know. But I hadn't expected you to be out." In point of fact, he'd been half-seriously picturing Callara as akin to some kind of night-roving vampire. "If you're busy, of course, I'll be on my way. I suppose I can just as easily have a look around up there on my own."
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The bartender for that Morningtide, a weathered old soul with the unfortunate nickname of Peaches, stood behind the bar silently, allowing the monk his say before looking to Callara with a pondering gaze, his left hand holding a mug and a rag in his right, the two items together making a soft squeaking noise as he rubbed them together. “Whuttayuhave, miss?” he asked, his voice like carts riding on loose stone with the brakes set. “Sir?” he added, looking at Arnholt with a bemused smirk before setting the mug down and grabbing another. It was nice for him, the early shift, as it let him watch the sunrise through the window and serve those who were not yet drunk – the conversations in his usual day may have lacked the volume and incoherence of the late-night crowd, but they early risers usually told better tales, even if the did not know so.
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Post by Callara »

Callara had sensed Arnholt coming up to her, not knowing it was him ofcourse since her senses weren't quite that refined yet. She was not truly surprised however at the appearance of the man. He reminded her very much of herself, which was as much good as it was not, considering her own ideas of how the world should work.

"Good morningtide mister Beacon. By all means."

She entered the inn and sat down at the bar, waiting for Bram to finish his sentence before responding first to the bartender. "A meade and some breakfast if you please. Whatever you have that's fresh will do." She was in quite a good mood, knowing what she was going to do. She got out her backpack and set it on her lap, turning to Beacon as she started to open in. "Oh, I try to be out as early as possible if I head into the city. I may have told you I am not much of a people person and the early and late marks of the day allow me to avoid as many as possible."

While talking she took out the box that held the chess pieces, note left safely at home. She took the three of them out and set them down on the bar, followed shortly by a mortar and pestle, taken from the kitchen.

"In fact, I was on my way to a friend of mine but heard I was due to stop by here and that this fellow..." She nodded at the bartender "...would be able to direct me further."

She waited patiently for her order to be filled. As she spoke she dropped each chess piece in the mortar one by one and started grinding them with the pestle, starting off with a few rough bashes to break the marble they were carved from, then slowly to maul them into a neat little pile of marble dust.
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Post by Arnholt »

"Bacon," Arnholt told the bartender. "And an egg. Also small beer, if you please."

A friend of Callara's wasn't something that he could imagine very easily, but the cultist nodded his understanding nonetheless. He didn't bother asking for any further details, figuring that he wouldn't want Callara sticking her nose into his personal business, either. Arnholt did, however, cast an inquiring glance the sorceress's way when she brought out the chess pieces and started trying to grind them up.

His first thought was that Callara had just gone completely off her rocker. Or that she was attempting to work some of her witchery right here in public, which amounted to pretty much the same thing. Still, it didn't take him more a handful of flickers to put one and two together and realize what she was really doing was sending a message. Some sort of oddball mages' cant? If so, it was about as meaningless to him as the thief signs were to Callara. Uncertain of what direction the wind was blowing, he wrapped his fingers around his staff where he'd propped it against the bar. Just out of an abundance of caution.

Arnholt met the eyes of the counter man... apparently the intended audience of whatever Callara was saying... and shrugged, disclaiming any involvement. Waiting to see what the man's reaction would be.
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Peaches looked back at Arnholt with a mixture of apathy and amusement as he stood for a few flickers watching her grind up some chess pieces into a mortar and grind them up. During the second piece, he finally let a chuckle escape his lips and shrugged. “Who’ere toldya that, ma’am, was talkin’ ‘bout the wrong man. The mead, beer, and brea’fast, though, I can help ya with…” He started to turn to the cook’s window to relay the food order when he stopped and turned back to the woman. “…and it’s a might tastier than wha’ere you’re plannin’ to cook there, I betcha…” he added, turning once more and shouting the order to the cook who seemed to have fallen asleep at the grill due to the fact that only three other bodies dotted the dining floor that Morningtide and, of the five of them, Callara and Arnholt were the only two without meals.

With another mirthful glance at Callara’s grinding and Arnholt’s expression, Peaches shook his head slowly, gathered up two mugs, and filled them with the requested drinks, placing them on the bar before the pair and muttering off the normal fee for their orders. “Aye, Jared!” he called after a burn, turning back to the window which led into the kitchen. “This ‘ere lady reminds me. Throw last night’s tack to the dogs, willya? And make some more fresh…” His eyes turned back to Callara and Arnholt in interest – this certainly was proving to be an amusing Morningtide indeed.
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Post by Arnholt »

"My apologies," Arnholt told the barman expansively. "I can't take her anywhere. Still, the lady is paying, so what can I do?" And to Callara, "I believe it is your turn to pick up the tab."

Arnholt knew a thing or two about cant. He did not, however, have a blessed idea what had passed between Callara and the old man just now. He hadn't seen any flicker of recognition in the innkeepers eyes, so he supposed that either the man was an exceptional actor or he had no more idea of what was going on than Arnholt himself did. Still, it looked like an interesting show might be developing; or if not, breakfast still ought to be arriving pretty soon. So the cultist just sat back, smiling pleasantly, his hand falling away from the quarterstaff propped by his side.

"Had a falling out with the local chess club?" he inquired of Callara mildly, sotto voce.
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Post by Callara »

Callara had anticipated the innkeeper not responding to her hint. It hadn't been very subtle and they had onlookers. He didn't look particularly smart either so he was either not the one she needed to talk to, or he was very good at hiding the fact he was.

She finished the grinding of the pieces while occasionally drinking a sip from the cup she was given. She turned to Arnholt as he replied to the innkeeper's comments. "Oh, no worries. I've got this one, believe me."

As she finished the grind, looking over the pulp in the mortar she drank the last of her meade. "I have no idea what kind of club sent me these. But whoever they are they seem to be under the false impression they have any say in what I do in this city." She took the cup she had drank from and emptied the contents of the mortar in the cup, then slid it to the innkeeper. "Tell whoever you're supposed to be speaking to that drinks are meant to be drank, not to be spoiled by marble grit. If they want to talk to me, they can do so face to face, not pretend they are K'tan almighty. I pathe my own way in this city."

Sitting next to Arnholt she considered if she should give him the box meant for him. These people wanted to talk to him aswell, probably giving him a similar offer as they had made to her. If he found out she had neglected to mention it, their already fragile alliance would be worth even less. If he didn't she might have an edge on him at least for a brief while.

"Trust...edge...trust...edge..."

"To the Nether with trust..."

"So, how's about that food? I haven't got all day you know..."
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Post by Gutter Rat »

Peaches showed no sign of either interest or confusion as he took the mug away, although there was a hint of mild annoyance at having to wash sticky marble grit out of a mug which he proceeded to do while awaiting their food to appear at the window. Arnholt's came first, followed by Callara's, twin plates of breakfast stuffs since she had been less than detailed of what she wanted. Peaches gave a small shrug as he placed the plates before them and took Arnholt's drink to be refilled - he 'refilled' Callara's as well, albeit from a fresh glass - returning the mugs with a pair of soft thumps on the counter top, releasing Arnholt's, but keeping his hand on the handle of Callara's for just half a burn longer.

"I werk fer no'one but the Gander, ma'am, an' I only talk ta my cook 'o tha mornin' and tha customers so, as you command..." he said, a jovial smile on his face normally worn by those trying to be diplomatic as he looked her pointedly in the eyes. "Drinks are meant to be drank, not to be spoiled by marble grit." With the somewhat snide comment delivered, he released the mug and moved down the counter to tend to a Roque who had just walked in for his morning constitutional. Meanwhile, more people had begun to slowly file in - the morningtide crowd trickling through the door like tree sap - varied faces that may have looked Callara and Arnholt's way for a flicker in the search of friends or whatnot, but no eyes giving any scope of recognition.

Save for one pair which lit up with delight at the sight of the woman and the monk.

A little girl, about nine yahren old, made her way past the tables and up to Callara, giving a small tug on the woman's clothing if Callara did not notice her beforehand. "...'scuse me...", she muttered in innocent voice. "I was told by a man to wait until he was gone to come in here and give you this." she stated, simply, setting a letter on the bar beside her plate and then practically running back out of the Gander without waiting around for interrogation, presumably another part of her instructions from 'the man'.

"Message received." read the note although Peaches had never left Callara's sight nor given any sort of message that either Callara or Arnholt had picked up on. "If you wish a meeting to discuss furthur options, insult the Roque sitting near you by saying something about his mother. If you wish no further contact, pat the Roque on the back and tell him what a fine job he is doing. We await your answer as well as the monk's reply, for your opportunities rest on him as well. Remember, paranoia is good only in small doses, Caretaker..." It was signed with the same seal that had been on the box, a small post script in the bottom edge.

"Someone carving his or her own path through the jungle, must still deal with the jungle and all who live in it as the path does not promise safety. You would do well to bear that in mind." Warning, threat, proof of eavesdropping as far as her pathe comment, or just friendly advice - Callara was free to interpret the post script as she saw fit.
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Post by Arnholt »

"I have no idea what kind of club sent me these. But whoever they are they seem to be under the false impression they have any say in what I do in this city."
"I see," said Arnholt. There was little humor in his voice at all, now.

Problem was, Arnholt did see. It was all too clear, now, what Callara was doing: She was making enemies. Which shouldn't have been a surprise, really. He had suspected from the beginning that she had a talent for that. But as the cultist sat beside her this morning, it occurred to him how easily Callara's enemies could become his own enemies too. And if it was true what she had said (and in this case, she had no real reason to tell such a lie) she had just thrown down a gauntlet to a person or persons about whom she knew absolutely nothing.

Lunatic. It wasn't the first time he had thought that with regards to Callara, but it was beginning to seem less an expression of dislike and more a statement of fact.

He turned away from her slightly, his hood falling across his face to conceal his profile, his hands clasped before him in a prayerful pose. As if he was beseeching the innkeeper to forgive his companion's eccentricity, or for the One God to exorcise the daemons of madness from her. When the food arrived, Arnholt tucked in wolfishly, as was his habit. As if his breakfast might be snatched away again if it was left on his plate too long. That had after all been the reality he had lived with for much of his adolescence, and old habits died hard. Today, however, he barely even tasted the meal. In fact the monk was thinking rather intently of how little he trusted Callara, how much of a danger she seemed to be to herself and others. And how she was the only person in this city who knew his secret.

Useless, he thought, for all her power. I should never have approached her. But it was a bit late for self-recriminations now. He was deep in it already. And anyway, he knew Callara's secret, too. In a way their fortunes really were linked. As the moments passed and the tension began to drain from Arnholt again, he thought it seemed a bit hasty to write her off as worthless just yet. In a way he'd be making the same mistake she had when she'd decided to piss off the secret society of chess aficionados...
A little girl, about nine yahren old, made her way past the tables and up to Callara, giving a small tug on the woman's clothing if Callara did not notice her beforehand. "...'scuse me...", she muttered in innocent voice. "I was told by a man to wait until he was gone to come in here and give you this." she stated, simply, setting a letter on the bar beside her plate and then practically running back out of the Gander without waiting around for interrogation, presumably another part of her instructions from 'the man'.
Arnholt watched the little girl retreat with hard eyes, and then took a quick glance around the room. Who was missing who had been here, before? The cultist really couldn't say. He hadn't realized what was going on when he came in, or he would have been sure to take stock of the other patrons' faces. Summoning the last dregs of his patience, he waited for Callara to finish perusing the note (or start to put it away/destroy it), then reached out to take it himself.

"May I?" he asked aloud, cheerily enough. And much more quietly and coldly, "I want to see what you've gotten us into, Callara."
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Post by Callara »

Callara passed the note to Arnholt after having read it, joining him in looking around the room to ascertain if she could tell who was missing from the group. It struck her as rather odd that they would have someone here at all marks of the day awaiting her to come. For all they'd know she might never come at all. But then again, they seemed to be everywhere anyway. Not that she cared. Logic dictated that no one could be everywhere at once, save perhaps a god and considering that she did not hold gods in high regard, why would she men.

"They really don't learn, do they...Rather than getting the message like they claim they have, they again try to tempt me into playing their game."

She glanced over at the Roque.

"He must be in on the whole thing, or someone else in this room is, but then if he isn't he won't take very kindly to me insulting his mother. I reckon either way it is a trick. Not wise to even consider."

She ate her meal while contemplating the whole thing. They kept saying paranoia was only good in small doses, yet they only riled her into more suspicion by the way they chose to approach her. The thought of her plans going all to the Nether if the Roques were already involved, aswell as the underworld which had been her second bet meant she would have to focus her efforts on another aspect entirely.

Her magic.

All plans out the window. To hell with these folk and their conspiracies. Marcus had not needed anyone to burn the city down, and nor would she. Ushuaia awaited, her lessons would continue and she would tear the city apart regardless of this unseen menace. The Roques and the underground could do whatever they damn well pleased. So could Arnholt if he chose to heed these notes.

She placed some coins on the bar to pay for her tab and Arnholt's as promised, got up and greeted the bartender. Before leaving she turned to Arnholt. "If you're interested...there's another one of these boxes..." She pointed at the now empty box on the counter. "...with your name on it back at the palace. I will be there at tradetide, you can pick it up then." She replaced her hood over her head. "If ofcourse you choose to heed the ramblings of these all-knowing beings..." This last sentence was spoken with enough flaming sarcasm to burn down the inn.

[Callara exit stage left]

OOC: I'll pick this up in my recess post.
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Post by Gutter Rat »

Within the hot, good-smelling confines of the kitchen, a hooded figure stood with his back to the wall and his ear to the window. Peaches had done as bid, calling out a 'nonsense' phrase like 'throwing out the tack' if Callara or the monk had shown and not passed him a piece or two. Had they done so, the mug would have appeared in the window marking their selections, but...

The figure sighed, throwing back his hood to bring in a bit of air to the nape of his neck, his arms crossing as he stood in thought as to how better to tug at the young mage's strings. Getting a bit of information about her had been easy enough - the gate records, while not well guarded, were well maintained, and the Roque at the bar was, indeed, but one in their bevy of seemingly 'corrupt' forces. A hand tattooed with blue-green dragon scales covering every available spot of flesh rose to scratch the chin of an equally tattooed face as he thought things over.

She was too pretty a jewel to pass up and, even so, he had seen to it personally that while the monk and the 'Caretaker' dined on fish, the true 'Caretaker' did just the opposite, her mangled remains mixed with the chum in the buckets lining the port and starboard sides of the fishing trolly that she had chosen as a transport. Someone within the Council wanted Callara's ear and Jeet was willing to up the ante with her to insure that they got it. With a dark smile made of teeth which were the same shade and texture of the moss on the forest floor, Jeet-Belan re-donned his hood and made for the back door, his target the Summer Palace where, thanks to the Council's placement of trusted guards, he would be lying in wait for whenever she chose to return.

Not to ambush or attack, but to give her what she clearly desired. A face-to-face with one of the puppeteers.

OOC: Ok, Callara. I will PM you details on the meeting. Arnholt, I am not abandoning the thread, you may continue on posting if you'd like. ;)
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Post by Arnholt »

"Callara..." Arnholt almost started after the woman, before thinking better of it and sitting back down. "Never mind," he muttered. "Thank you for breakfast."

Left alone in a crowd, the cultist read the note over carefully one more time, then folded it neatly and tucked it away in a pocket, smiling faintly as he did so. On its own it was nothing much, but who knew? If more of these communications were forthcoming they might add up to something useful later on. For now, though, he could only wonder about the owner of the odd seal: what they wanted, and how much they knew. Callara seemed to know next to nothing about the conspiracy, but they obviously knew something about her. And how much did these people know about him? Apparently an invitation had been sent to him, as well. But why? The only person in this city who knew his true nature was Callara, and she had learned of it only the previous night. While Arnholt's opinion of her wasn't all that high right now, he was sure she wouldn't have been so stupid as to expose them both to a third party within the space of less than two full tides. It wasn't just "How much do they know?" then, but also "How do they know it?"

Questions, questions. For a moment he almost felt bad about thinking ill of the sorceress. It seemed that someone else also was making a play for power in this city, and they knew her far better than she knew them. That had to rankle with her. And then there was the more than halfway-threatening tone of this note. Clearly they didn't know Callara as well as they thought that they did, if they thought that would win them her cooperation. Still, she was a fool, in his books, to set herself in opposition to the conspiracy before she knew a blessed thing about them. Wiser by far to learn how they could help or hinder, before a final decision was made. He had to give the sorceress credit at least for being smart enough not to indicate that she was cutting off all contact...

But nevermind her. It was time to consider his own part in this affair. How, exactly, did Callara's opportunities rest on him? Did they know who he really was, or did they just have need of a plant in the monastery for some reason? A box was delivered for me, too, Callara said If he wanted to know what was really going on here, that was the place to begin. Trade Tide, hell. What was to stop him from picking up the package now? The guards at the gate of the Summer Palace knew him. They'd be expecting his return. And the sorceress hadn't raised any complaint when he'd suggested he begin his preparations there without her, before. With any luck he could find the package and stake out a good spot for a shrine without Callara having to worry about either.

"A good day to you, then," he told the innkeeper, setting down his own empty mug. "And god save you, sir." And Arnholt picked up his staff and left, bound for the Summer Palace, himself.

(OOC: We can continue here or just finish things in PM, whichever you think is best.)
Last edited by Arnholt on Tue Jul 08, 2008 7:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Gutter Rat »

Skilled, locked, archived, and will pass Arnholt the information about his box in PM
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