Quest Nightshade

[Lucas Arias]

It was very, very quiet in the building, and Lucas couldn’t help but wonder why. He’d expected the people here to talk loudly about the treasures that were being auctioned that day, but they were hardly saying a thing. It was almost as if they were afraid to raise their voices. Even his colleagues only spoke in whispers. The former squire made a face. He didn’t like silence. It made him feel as if something bad was about to happen.

As Trente arrived on the scene, the redhead arched an eyebrow. There seemed to be something wrong with the man. Was he sick? Why had Hadrian hired a man who wasn’t feeling well? He instinctively moved a step away from the man and eyed him warily as he spoke.

A once in a lifetime opportunity? Power? Maybe he should have opened one of the boxes when he had the chance!

As the bids began, the former squire’s eyes widened until they nearly threatened to drop out of their sockets (which was why it was probably good that he was wearing a mask). Lucas had never had so much money, and it was doubful that he ever would. At the moment his savings amounted to an astonishing three hundred gold mizas, so he would probably never be able to afford that sword that was supposed to open voids even though he really wanted it.

Who were those people that they were able to spend such sums? Powerful wizards? Eypharian nobles? Servants of Rhysol that spread chaos everywhere? What did they want the artifacts for? What would they do if they were outbid? He was surprised that nobody had tried to steal anything yet!

He suddenly felt the need to make sure that his sword was still there.

[Nai'shee]

As the girl approached Trente she realized he wasn't at his healthiest. His lips were really pale and he was slightly shaking, she guessed he would be really hot on touch. She tried not to think of that as she nodded to his command, going back to packages to take the first one.

She carried them one by one to the stage, where Trente gave a short description before bidding started. Packages weren't too heavy, but she used a little bit of Flux here and there so she wouldn't seem clumsy while carrying them. But what really distracted her were the sums she heard. They literally made her head dizzy. She never thought there's so much money on Mizahar, let alone in one person's safe. She couldn't help thinking it might be in Zeltiva, but she was sure she wouldn't be able to reach it unnoticed. If they had so much money they also had powerful guards and charms around it.

Hearing of mysterious artifacts' powers she was really intrigued. She wasn't a warrior or a politician, she was perfectly aware she didn't need powers they possessed, but she couldn't help admiring them. She was sure old man Anselm would die to possess just one of them and she made a mental note not to be hired by him to steal one, no matter the amount of mizas. She also imagined Tock's face upon seeing animated guards. They were made of fine steel. Trente gave them few commands to prove they were animated and highly intelligent, while audience just lift a sigh. The girl could bet they couldn't wait to spend their family's treasure on those. They moved elegantly, but she caught glimpse of quiet a few sharp parts, all made of fine steel. For a moment she imagined battling those, but she soon concluded she didn't have idea how could one win, even if he possessed all the knowledge she knew about.

One after another powerful artifacts were auctioned and after a while the girl started to have fun imagining each one used against her as Trente described them. She could not overcome even one of them. She was sure cities could fall before those, even huge and glorious Zeltiva. However, she doubted they would really cause a war. There must be at least one wealthy person from Zeltiva who'll bid their protection. She imagined people from all over Mizahar were around her. She was aware she'll regret not stealing anything for a while, but she didn't dare to.

GradingAdd Nai caught a cold for a xx days as well after this.

[Echelon]

Each item seemed to possess its own precise and explicit missive dictating how it would be handled, presented, spoken about, likely how it would be handled after the auction as well. A true thief would know that the long scroll Trente presented with groggy determination was the most valuable item in the room, concealing within itself invaluable information which even Hadrian had not had the pleasure of looking over in any detail before this night. Still, in such a dark place there was no knowing truth from half-truths from lies, and the words on the scroll itself could be nothing but subterfuge just as much as every mask in the room. The auction would not be assaulted by explosions, or teams of mercenary thieves storming the congregation. But, as they all crept toward the final items on the list a secret danger fell upon them all. "Lot 78, and 89. The-" A waver. The eyes behind the mask clamped firmly shut a moment, and slightly open lips quivered without graces before the inhale and final exhale. A sneeze, sending a loud crash through the dark room, and the fine mist of saliva and illness fell out over all present. It churn and wafted nearly invisibly in the flickering candlelight, and with a innocent and professional apology Trente moved on, only to have another take him. Sneeze. Another. Sneeze. Hadrian was the first to feel something off. Trente had been sick when he came, but the rate at which he had worsened during the auction was alarming to a man with his level of Auristics. Furthermore, his paranoid mind took the knowledge churn within his subconscious. To this, he was given back unbridled intuition. He knew that something horrible was happening. He could not, even with all of the Auristics in the world, however, precieve the shrouded threat pulling down upon them all. Trente clasped his chest after several sneezes as they shifted and violently turned to wheezing coughs. The scroll, weighted heavily by a dark wooden rod let out an accompanying clatter to the cacophony as his other hand freed itself to brace against the podium. Finally, as all seemed to know it would, the plan faltered, and something went array. Trente lended a distant searched look, slack jawed at Hadrian, waiting for a queue as to what he should do. To pull on, through the pain and sickness, concede the scroll to one unrehearsed, or to end the meeting all together. Hadrian would see in his fluctuation blue eyes, adorned with his probing Auristics, a singular worry in Trente's mind. Poison? oocOh so fun seeing you all plot. I do believe this will be our last round in the auction itself. Once we are done with this round we will move onto conclusions to what was bought/sold, information traded. Some of the "patrons" will be taken off to a more private part of the maze to discuss when the drops will be made, or be arranged. Many of the more influential patrons will have special exceptions to this. And cheap"er" items will follow a different set of rules. But, Hadrian (having the missive discussion how to handle the items after the auction) will deal with that when it comes. PM if you'd like Hadrian. Also be prepared for anybody you are tailing to possibly take off next round. That all said. This round should be finishing up anything during the auction itself. Thoughts on Trente's outburst, and for Hadrian deciding how to proceed. Leigo do what u will with your patron for now. If he bids, what he bids for. Enjoy. Hadrian Anselm Faval Leigo Wrenmae Lucas Nai'shee

[Hadrian]

Hadrian got the sense that they were dancing on a razor-sharp tightrope, and he wondered whether Eyris had granted him any wisdom at all or if this was some puzzle designed to test how far Her gift had developed within him. When he looked up, Faval as lowering his bow, eyes shooting elsewhere. Lucas reached for the hilt of his sword, knight-trained reflexes at work. He wished he had made an executive decision and worn one of those suits of mage armor. As he stepped forward to come to Trente's aid, he began to exude an invisible aura of Shield energy. Now he knew what he was doing, there were no flashes of color, but he tasked to to ward off metal, and of course it would absorb djed into itself. He wasn't the greatest of Shielders, but he was good enough. It wasn't until he had seen the scroll and the boxes of artifacts that he had been aware of just how thoroughly he had been had. An underground auction, they had said; he had assumed rich people wanting status or something magical would show up. He had not expected such relics. Not all of them were so very dangerous, but the ones that didn't seem to be, those were the ones for which his mind began to construct scenarios in which they might be. If his mind could do so, surely others could as well. "Carry on," he said to Trente, purposefully omitting his name. He stood by him then, surveying the crowd. Now he was worried about a mutiny. He was fairly sure he could trust Lucas, and he had been fairly certain that Trente would be trustworthy within the realm of this agreement, at least, but then several of the others had come through Trente and they had not expected such riches before them either. He shook his head slightly. He was no expert, but he detected no poison. There was something off in the auric register, strange and diffuse, but there were just too many impressions in the chavi and the djed for him to make heads or tails of them. And Trente had sneezed on all of them, so if he was contagious, they were already likely infected. He would see a healer as soon as possible, of course. But for now he simply wanted to see this to the end without violence. In the meantime, he looked for the Watcher, and memorized the auras of those present, the better to match them with what they might win in case he had to track any of them down at a later date.

[Anselm]

Ancient artifacts, endued with magic and power. Much of it destructive, although not all. Lot 17, the staff of warding, caught Anselm's attention. How he would have liked to have had that item. But the sums being bid for all these items were far beyond anything he could imagine. The scroll caught his attention as well. He had no idea what was on it, but for unknown reasons it piqued his curiosity. Then the auctioneer went into a sneezing fit followed by a spell of ragged coughing. A man in black appeared on the dais, spoke to the auctioneer and then turned to survey the audience. He had an air of confident command about him. The atmosphere had grown tense. Something was in the air. Perhaps literally. Virus? Poison? Gas? Magic? Anselm moved toward the dais. If havok should break out he might have a chance to grab the staff. Or the scroll. EDIT : Minor modification to position Anselm nearer to the dais.

[Nai'shee]

Grading :

I take back my last OOC!XD
Btw I love this quote: "He could not, even with all of the Auristics in the world, however, precieve the shrouded threat pulling down upon them all."

As she delivered the last package, Nai'shee stayed besides the stage, for sake of guarding the final object. Trente's sneeze scared hell out of the girl. It was probably ironic for her to be guardian of anything in the moment she jumped up and turned to the noise. He apologized and carried on, while Nai'shee still observed him, wondering why on the world would he want to lead this auction so badly, despite being so sick. He haven't even succeed to finish the sentence when he started to sneeze and cough again. She was worried about him, but as he progressed to sneeze she started to get really worried, wondering if someone is sabotaging everything somehow. When Hadrian approached she was sure something is wrong. She was unaware of his skill, much less that he was her new teacher, but she already knew he wasn't type of person to run on stage just to tap someone's back. Something was happening.

She turned to the crowd, reaching out inside her robe for a knife, showing that she was armed and guarding. Since she didn't move any more than that everyone would get the message. She just hoped they'll assume she had a dagger or something and was skilled with it. However, faces around her seemed as stunned and confused as she was, as well as grossed out for some noble woman. There was no sign of anyone acting unnaturally. She heard Hadrian tried to get Trente to carry on, which at first caused bad reaction in the girl, but she calmed herself down reminding herself this was the last bid to take place and Trente would be able to rest afterwards. After all, Hadrian didn't have much choice. She was just unsure why he wouldn't take over... She assumed he didn't want to risk revealing his identity because of the voice, but who was he exactly? Who was the man she worked for? Was he so important person, or just extremely careful one? What was with her, they were all in the middle of auction of dozens of mysterious and powerful objects he organized...

She remembered she trusted him only because Trente indirectly got her to. However, she didn't act. She just wanted everything to finish.

If everything would go on smoothly Nai'shee would slowly loose her guard, without revealing her weapon, but she would stay careful. Trente didn't need any more inconveniences.

[Echelon]

The sense of alarm spread through the crowd with a sudden shift of defense from almost every member. The slightest of movements were made as members reached for what one could only assume were hidden weapons, but no flash of blade was shown, and no overt aggressive action made. However, Hadrian could see a thick air of concern swell before him as the coughs died away and all eyes turned on his exposed face. He allowed himself to slip farther into his second sight and begin the usually long process of familiarizing himself with the masked figures before him. Even with the power to see auras such secret people, cloaked by both masks and intention proved to have more than challenging defenses against even a highly skilled auristic. Still, their attention on him opened enough of a gateway to their djed to offer the clues needed to gather basic impressions. Enough of which to queue Hadrian to the cold and borrowed body shuffling with some measure of stealth toward the stage. A true opportunist, and a tendency that stood almost alone in the crowd. As the exposed leader took his own private inventory of the crowd, Trente nodded and forced himself to scoop the scroll back into his shaking hands with a bold wheeze and pained stretch of lips back from well groomed teeth. His voice, scratchy but forced into auditory volume, drulled like contorted and stained rusted gears sputtering on fumes. The individual words were lost almost completely to the distracted Hadrian, but all the others in the room took witness to a final auction, which allowed the user to let loose a sinister dose of vilemoss to a controlled area at alarming frequency and stealth. The bid was quick, with a single bid by a heavily cloaked individual, with deep pockets and or impressive connections. The staggering bid dwarfed the other bids in the room, and brought no competition. With a dismissive, or disgusted nod Trente announced the new owner of the deadly weapon, none other than the individual who had so quietly won the attention of Leigo earlier that night. Then, with a rather rushed but proper adu to the crowd he deliberately rolled the scroll up and departing the stage for the back area, fist awkwardly clenched tight with pain around the parchment he would see to the destruction of at the next opportune moment. With a hurried and drunken stumble Trente took a route dangerously passed Nai'shee as he stepped down from the dais. The step proved too much for him, and gravity worked its magic, sending the announcer plummeting with some force past the girl toward the unforgiving floor. Enough force to allow the scroll to be jostled yet again from his clumsy fingers, bouncing once then unrolling, its secrets exposed to the candle light and hungry eyes above. As Trente struggled awkwardly about the shadows played heavily upon the spilled scroll, summoning it in and out of complete darkness as another coughing fit took him. And, as Hadrian could see quite well the Nuit had found himself plenty close to the ordeal to swipe with more than some risk, the scroll int he confusion. With disregard for the coughing announcer the patrons began to move immediately as Trente fell from the stage. They would lend but a moment for Hadrian to speak a word of closing if he wished, before moving on as if they all had choreographed their steps before entering the building. Those that expected the items immediately came forward to the stage with the money they wished to trade, be it in full or more frequently a down payment. Those that knew themselves outside any rules confidently began to walk away, trust the exchange would happen securely at a later date, and one individual in particular stepped forward with no regard to the common decency of queue requesting the item up front with no down payment. With a clear and quite enchanting feminine voice the cloaked figure Leigo had been watching throughout the night demanded with a sense of experience in her bladed voice that the weapon be given directly to her. oocAs a reminder I believe Hadrians face is still exposed. Though there is still question to who exactly his "boss" is. As you can see I made some changes to the plan. I won't require anybody to take off to a separate area to discuss exchanges if they don't wish. However, if Hadrian (who will be going first) wants he can delegate other PCs to be responsible for dealing with item distribution. As of right now I plan for Hadrian to have a certain list of instructions of how to deal with the exchange of each individual lot. These range from just leaving them in the warehouse for a special team to come move them later, to storing them for a day then moving them, to moving them that night, onto just allowing some members to walk out with him, with a trade of a down payment. And in the case of the last lot to of course allow. This round will take some level of autonomy for you all. The auction itself has been concluded, and what they patrons will do now is a real wild card. If you wish to break off and speak with stalk or otherwise interact with a specific patron, or for a specific item/mizas that should be addressed not, either by leading the quest yourself in this thread and having me take over later. Or, but PMing me and asking me to run something for you. It can be done in this thread or a separate one, whichever is more comfortable for you as a player. Those that wish to be paid for the nights work really aught to stick around long enough for Hadrian to divvy out the pay he wishes to give out, and how much he wished to take back to his bosses. That will come at a later rotation, once Hadrian had collected the disgustingly large amounts of Mizas and stored them in a convient place. As always in this particular quest. It's all up to you guys. Have fun ^-^ Order: Hadrian Anselm Faval Leigo Wrenmae Lucas Nai'shee For those of you which opted out of the last round, please feel free to post when you will, as per standard rules.

[Hadrian]

Everything was going to hell. He could just feel it under his skin. But he caught Nai'shee's gaze and nodded toward Trente, hoping she could help him somewhat, though he himself had no idea what had happened to the poor man. He had plans to learn more about herbalism, the better to fuel his philtering, but that was, like many plans, for the indefinite future. For now, the power to heal was as far away as Rak'keli's grace, the which he could not claim for his own. He could only hope nobody had been meddling with that scroll to Kseyden, else they all might be dead men walking (and women too). People were approaching the dais now the lots were won, and so he raised his voice to address those present. "Thank you all for your attendance, and congratulations to those who have won any of these precious artifacts. If those winners would please queue in an orderly fashion, or send a representative to queue for them, we can dispose of the lots as quickly and expeditiously as possible." When the demanding woman stepped forward, he hoped that Faval and Wrenmae and Lucas and the others would back him up with steel and arrows if necessary. Now they knew the extent of their cache of items, he was not secure in those guards he had. Better to have the logistics handled by bonded Kelvics, Familiars, and golems, but this was not exactly his show. He wondered if he had been set up. Time would tell on that one. "Madame, we can make arrangements for exchange, but no lot will be handed over without some recompense."

OOCLet me know if I didn't do what you wanted, Echelon!

[Anselm]

Nuits tend to be a cautious race, avoiding trouble whenever possible, not wishing to expose themselves to close scrutiny. Few were more risk averse than Anselm. But he had two fatal flaws that now came into play to overcome his natural reticence. The first was his overly active curiosity. Mysteries drew him like a magnet, and this strange scroll had reached out and pulled him into its sphere of attraction. The second flaw was his obsession with collecting rare or unusual objects. There was no accounting for what might or might not grab his attention, but the scroll had done so. These two flaws now conspired to cause Anselm to take an unwise risk. The auctioneer had managed to fall off the dais and was now on the floor engaged in yet another coughing fit. The scroll also fell to the floor, unrolling itself from where the wheezing man had dropped it to the tip of Anselm's right toe. His left arm was hanging useless at his side as he carefully “pushed” his astral arm out of his physical body. He was totally focused on the scroll, oblivious to the growing chaos around him or to any possible observers of his actions. He pushed his astral arm out to the far end of the scroll, touched it, and flexed his index finger to start rolling the scroll back up. Touch, flex … Touch, flex … Touch, flex … until it finally joined the end next to his foot. Resisting the urge to look around to see if he had been seen, he reached down with his right hand, picked up the scroll and stuffed it into the top of his right boot, pulling the pant leg over it. Then he stood up and began the process of re-attaching his astral arm.

[Echelon]

oocAnd times for cycle is up. this is not what i intended for you to do Hadrian, but I like it. Hadrian you may conclude these dealings this round if you wish, and move back with a rather hefty chest of mizas to the backroom. The patrons will leave soon enough. The total Mizas for these base pays will be right around 2000 mizas. I suggest you take charge of distributing it, and take at least some back to the college with you. They will expect a "fair" amount of that money, and that a "fair" amount goes to your crew. Good luck figuring out whats expected of you XD None of the masked features, including the auctioneer, approaching delirium with haste, noticed the scroll rolled off into the shadows on it's own, or the Nuit who quickly fell back into the chaos, making for the door. Even Hadrian's perception was in question at that point, as the masked and dominant women he spoke to clenched her fists silently, with a cool natural glow from brilliant blue eye glowered defiantly up at him, before softly letting tempered words slip from her again, knowing she would be making unnecessary risks if she were to push further. "Your chain of command is less than professional, Sir. You obviously have no clue who I am. I will make arrangements with your leader to collect by valuables soon." Then with the slightest of hiss from lips cruelly dictated by a clenched jaw she added, "and if there is a single other complication I will have you undone, I swear it. Encourage your informants to explain my station to you before we meet again." And, with that she gave a slight flourish of her drapings and sped with some force from the auction house with fierce deliberation of steps, leaving room for the next patron to step forward, more than willing to hand over their velvet coin purse.