Making Connections (solo)

[Inoadar]

38th day of Summer, 512 AV

In a city where canals fulfill a major transportational need, it stood to reason that the men who filled that need would happen upon a great deal of information. With no crowds of bustling riff-raff to contend with, passengers would be less cautious with privileged accounts of schedules, affiliations, contentious relationships, locations and all manner of exploitable details.

He had seen it before in other cities, why should it be different here. Not the canal aspect, but the typical attitude of the well-off, that their servants were of no consequence, irrelevant, not much more then mere scenery. Such were the ravosalamen, the 'pilots of the poles', the men who steered the small, sleek vessels throughout the city at the request of citizens of importance.

These same citizens, in their arrogant nature, allowed themselves to flaunt their connections to those 'in the know', the better to lift themselves above the unwashed masses.

Inoadar sat on a 2nd-story landing, overlooking a portion of the route these boats took. Something had caught his eye on his second day spent here, but it had been late and only one additional run of that route had occurred. So here he was, observing that every ravosalaman removed his hat to wipe his brow at the same point. Seven times in a row it had occurred now, and it was not the same boatman every time, though even that would not have dismissed the unlikely coincidence.

'THERE, there it was!' it was getting late, but there, on the eighth pass of the boat, not only did the boatman NOT remove his hat, he flipped the corner of a decorative cloth to fold over and reveal a bright red cloth underneath. 'Red. the color of danger' he grinned in thought. Surely someone in the buildings nearby took note of this and set something in motion. Something gravely detrimental to the passenger.

Inoadar collapsed his sighting lens and made his way down to the docks themselves, feigning interest in some of the clothes. After a short while, he saw the boat with the disturbed cloth and let his gaze fall over the crowd. He saw no insidious glances directed towards the ravosala, but he saw a man in the crowd remove his hat, wipe his brow and head away from the docks at a steady, but leisurely pace. The man did not so much as glance at any of the wares on his way out.

Inoadar marked him, noting a description of him as he headed back to see the ravosala moor alongside the dock. The passenger disembarked and headed the same way the man with the hat had. The passenger picked up a pair of escorts, rough looking men that took positions on either side of him. They turned down an alley and approached a horse-driven coach. Inoadar saw, to his disappointment, that the man with the hat was the coachman.

The boat passenger and one of his escorts climbed into the cab, while the other escort rode with the coachman. Inoadar slumped with the thought of the time he had wasted and was about to turn and head back to his room when he saw the coachman, once again, remove his hat and wipe his brow. He would have ignored it and chalked it up to summer heat, but a candle in a nearby second-story window was immediately extinguished, followed by a streetlamp two blocks down.

[Inoadar]

'Coincidence? Possibly. Any reason I can't take the time to check?...Nope.' He kept to the shadows, taking his time to remain undetected. Most likely, the point where the lights had been darkened would see some action. He pulled his sighting lens open and observed.

The coach entered the unlit area and stopped. The coachman dropped to the ground and pulled the door open. Figures spilled out of it, struggling. A blow was struck and one of them sagged into the grip of the other. A man came out of the shadows, nodded to the coachman and his accomplices, climbed into the coach with one of the escorts and the group pulled into the street and left as though nothing had happened. It all took about ten seconds.

Inoadar approached the shadowed area, ignoring the coach now; it was no longer relevant. He took a moment to pop the brass end off the cane he carried. He scratched his forearm, grabbing one of the darts he kept on a bracer there in the process. He turned the crook on his cane until it came loose. He pulled it free, exposing the 5-inch stiletto blade. He inserted the dart and replaced the bladed crook, reassembling his cane and pushing the dart into ready position within the shaft of the cane.

He approached the darkened street, limping and tending towards the man on guard at the door where the original coach passenger had been taken. The man warned him away and Inoadar started, as though he had not been aware of the man. He apologized and yawned letting it build into a long stretch. He nonchalantly hooked his cane behind his neck as he stretched and twisted it as the guard lost interest in him.

Inoadar loosed the blowgun portion of his cane from the stiletto and quickly put it to his lips. A quick puff and the guard slapped his arm. By the time he found the dart and realized what it was in the dim light, Inoadar was on him, stiletto in hand. He put a hand over his mouth and jabbed the blade into his back, using it to spin the man around and shove him down the street into deeper shadows.

The poison began to work and the man found himself far weaker and more off-balance than one knife wound would account for. Inoadar dodged his attacks easily, taking the opportunity to grapple the man and work his cloak off before cutting his throat. He slid the body into the shadows and retrieved the sections of his cane, cleaning the blade and reattaching it.

He slipped his victim's cloak on and took up his place at the door. He carefully opened the door a crack and listened. Two voices, one asking questions, the other trying not to answer them. A third voice made a crude remark and another laughed. He listened a minute longer until he was satisfied that there were only three men interrogating the coach's passenger. Three men, unaware of impending betrayal by the man they believe to be their associate, standing guard at the door. Inoadar smiled, 'No problem.'

[Inoadar]

He listened at the door for a while, gauging the value of the information the thugs were getting out of the man from the coach. The man cracked with contemptible ease. It made Inoadar loathe the man. If not for his experience hearing people cry out in pain and beg for mercy, he might have thought the man faked his breakdown to pass misinformation.

Inoadar logged away the man's offerings so far: His name, Baldor Candrell. His message, a list of names. The affiliations, unknown (this was what the thugs were currently trying to confirm with extensive "motivation") but neither Ebonstryfe NOR Rising Dawn. 'Interesting' Inoadar noted to himself. 'Someone would definitely wish this to disappear.'

Inoadar leaned in and called out, "Hey!" he coughed to create an excuse for his voice to be slightly different than what his associates inside might expect. "There's a guy with a message out here!" he coughed again.

"Well, bring it here!" one of the voices called back, the one doing most of the questioning.

Inoadar waited a moment to account for an exchange of comments and called in again "He says he'll only give it to you." Inoadar made throat clearing sounds.

The voice inside cursed and told the other two to "keep an eye on HIM, I'll be right back." Inoadar heard footsteps approach. He stepped back outside, turning his back to the doorway and slipped his garrotte from his pocket, holding it by one handle and letting it hang by his leg.

Inoadar stepped to his right as the main questioner stepped outside, both he and Inoadar acting like it was natural for Inoadar to step out of his way. Just as the man paused to see the 'messenger', Inoadar pointed to his left. The man turned that way, puzzled. Inoadar grabbed the man's hair with his left hand, preventing him from swinging his head down to protect his neck. In the same motion, he swung the garrotte around his neck. He released the man's hair and grabbed the other handle. He shoved the man forward and then pulled back on the handles, the thin wire slicing through the meat of his neck almost to the bone.

The man would bleed to death in seconds and was unable to shout any sort of warning to his associates inside. Inoadar slid the dying body to the ground and pulled his tamo daggers, but left them sheathed. He opened the door and crawled halfway in crying out as though wounded, glad of the other men's blood on his clothes.

The sound of alarm came from the other room and footsteps followed quickly. As they came around the corner, cursing, Inoadar pointed a shaking hand towards the doorway, gasping "outside".

One of the two men shouted to the other, "check him out." and stepped outside expecting an attack. The other man crouched over Inoadar, thinking him to be one of his associates. Inoadar faked a tremble as he tucked his knees under him, keeping his face down, away from the other man.

Tamo daggers are always in pairs, the handles of each having slots to act as a sheath for the blade of the other, the handles often carved decoratively. In Inoadar's case, they were largely plain, but had just a few scores to imitate the stitches on a hard leather messenger's scroll case. Inoadar slowly got to his shaking feet and held out the "scroll" to the other man.

Unsuspecting, and eager to have whatever this dangerous 'information' was. the man grabbed the other end of the "scroll case" and pulled. By the time he realized that he had actually unsheathed a dagger in the hand of a stranger facing him a foot away, the dagger was in his heart and Inoadar had both hands on the other dagger, overpowering the man's arm and driving the blade up into the underside of his jaw. The man's eyes widened in shock and fear as he twitched and gurgled, dying and sliding to the floor. His weight pulled the daggers free again as Inoadar swung to face the last man, who was only now discovering he'd been duped.

[Inoadar]

The man made that most common of mistakes, he hesitated. He wanted this intruder dead, but, not only did he doubt his ability to do so, given that all three of his associates had been killed by him already, he also knew that this needed to be reported to his commander. The leader had been the only "soldier" among the four. It had been his idea to abduct the man in the coach. Wanting to show initiative and resourcefulness to further his aspirations toward 'commander' rank, all he had accomplished was abject failure. He had died far too quickly and easily.

The man new that HE would, most likely, suffer the fury of his commander. But it might be offset by the courage it would take to even FACE his commander. His display of devotion to his duty by reporting this new threat despite the impending punishment. He might only lose a finger. All this flashed through his mind in only a second. But IN that second, Inoadar had already reduced the thirty feet separating them to twenty. For HE was encumbered by no such complicated worries. He knew he needed to kill that last man and had no reason to hesitate.

The man turned and ran, but in the time it took to achieve the same speed Inoadar had already attained, the distance separating them was further reduced to only ten feet. Inoadar diverted only enough focus to consider what weapons he still held. He hadn't brought his whip, he cursed himself for that. His Garrotte was still lodged in the flesh of his second victim's neck. The blades in his boots would be no use in this case. His blowgun/stiletto was on the ground by his first victim. All his secondary-consideration weapons, like hammer or grappling hook were back at the inn.

No, all he had were his tamo daggers, one in each hand with the three-foot removable leather strap currently connecting them to further imply the deception that it was an over-the-shoulder messenger scroll case. He needed to get in hand-to-hand range to use that....or did he?

He let go of the dagger in his left hand, swung the entire set laterally over his head three times and then hurled them, like a bola, at the mans feet. It didn't fully entangle them, but it distracted the man as he looked down, off balance, to see what had wrapped around his ankle. This was all it took. Inoadar dove at the man, catching him at the hip and sending them both sprawling in a heap.

[Inoadar]

The man came up with a knife. Rather than dodge or parry, Inoadar took the slash on his arm as he rolled in and jammed his thumb in the man's eye. The man screamed and clutched at his wounded eye with his free hand. Inoadar spun on his knees and grabbed the hand holding the knife in both hands and put the weight of his entire body into slamming it against the ground.

The knife clattered free as Inoadar allowed his grip to slip. The man lunged for the knife as Inoadar got to his feet, twitching his foot inside his boot to release the blade, which sprung and locked, extending four inches out the tip of his boot. The man spun on his knees, thinking Inoadar would be diving on him again, and the knife slashed empty air as the man over-extended and started to fall forward, putting his empty left hand out to break his fall. Inoadar kicked him in the side of the head, sinking the blade into his temple. The blade now linking the man's head with Inoadar's foot caused him to be pulled onto his face as Inoadar followed through with the kick, bringing his foot back down. The man did not get up.

A couple hiding in the shadows gasped. Inoadar looked over at them and thought for a moment he'd have to kill them as well. Thinking quickly, he spat on the dead man and hissed, "So, the 'Dawn is Near' is it, traitor? Well, the sun just SET on you!" The couple let out an audible sigh, satisfied that Inoadar was just a soldier of Rhysol, doing his duty.

He took the time to loot the pockets of the four men, pocketing a couple gold mizas' worth of silver and copper. He also found several notations on scraps of paper, some of them ruined by blood stains, some still legible, but holding no meaning for him. 'They'll hold meaning for SOMEbody' he thought with a grin as he stripped the garrotte wire back out of the one man's neck, unwound his tamo daggers from the last man's ankle and retrieved his stiletto/blowgun cane.

He went inside and started to ask a few questions of the grateful prisoner to confirm that the man WAS a member of the Rising Dawn. It occurred to Inoadar that if he killed the man here, Both factions would have cause to wonder if there was a new group in town, since whichever party was victorious would only leave the bodies of their enemies behind. The man asked HIM a few question about which cell HE worked for, foolishly dropping new names in the process. Inoadar grinned inwardly, thinking he ought to ask for payment from the Rising Dawn for shutting this loudmouthed idiot up for them. But he only shushed him and said that they needed to leave.

Inoadar asked him about the coach as they made their way from the scene of carnage and the man said it was the property of The Dawn and that it was obviously compromised now. He started to remark about how he needed to warn them, which struck Inoadar as so obvious, only an idiot would need to say it, but his voice suddenly became a gurgle and he lurched forward unsteadily in pain and surprise as Inoadar wiped the blood from his dagger on the man's coat and pushed him to fall headfirst and limp into the canal.

So with a list of names, several scraps of paper with notes on them, the names of two leaders of Rising Dawn cells and a bit of information about the coach itself, Inoadar returned to his room to ponder how he would find out who this information would be the most valuable to.

[Inoadar]

It had to do with the boatmen, the ravosalamen, he was certain of that. The next day he went down with his change from the night before and purchased a leisurely boat tour of the docks and surrounding structures. He made sure he got the same pilot that had steered the coach passenger yesterday. He figured that word of the man's abduction had already reached them by now. As well as the deaths of the Ebonstryfe crew.

As they approached the intersection where the ravosalamen had been giving what he was certain were signals with their hats, Inoadar stretched on his back and swung the crook of his cane behind his neck, twisting it to loosen it for blowgun use. There was no indication that the boatman took notice.

"Just follow the same course you steered for the last passenger you had last night." he said casually, watching sharply for a reaction. He was not disappointed. The boatman's eyes grew hard and his face twitched in his direction, though he tried to cover it by looking around more. Inoadar directed a smirk his way and the man's eyes narrowed, knowing he wasn't fooling him.

The boatman let go of the pole with his right hand and started inching it behind him, sliding it under the hem of his shirt.

"Ah, ah, ahh" Inoadar warned, whipping the cane to his mouth and blowing a quick blast through it to show what it truly was. He produced a dart in his hand and pushed it into the tube. "Now" he said, keeping the blowgun in a readied hold, "Let's not let this get ugly, my friend. I have done you and yours a favor."

The boatman shrugged and acted unconcerned. Inoadar smiled, "That's better. Now, when we get to this crossing, you just go ahead and take off that old hat and wipe that old forehead." The man sagged slightly and Inoadar continued, "but don't do anything with those cloths behind you. We're just taking a easy ride, enjoying the cool breeze off the canal." he spoke slowly, easily, holding the blowgun at the ready the whole time.

When they passed through the intersection, Inoadar sat up. "Now, I'm going to put this away." he said, indicating the blowgun, "I would appreciate your hearing me out before you do anything...precipitous." He slid the stiletto handle back into the shaft and twisted it into a cane again. The dart remained inside.

"Ok, here's what I know."

[Inoadar]

"The man you cruised last night was abducted. His coachman was in on it. he was given to a four-man interrogation squad of Ebonstryfers. He had a written list of names. He broke quickly, saying he was to deliver the list. He said he was going to be contacted about who to deliver it to. He said the list was not members of Rising Dawn." Inoadar marked the fact that the boatman's eyes narrowed slightly. He had a good idea who the names belonged to. He went on.

"Obviously, it wasn't a list of "Stryfers" either, or they wouldn't have bothered asking him who they were. Chances are, whoever was supposed to get that list is not going to be pleased. He may even be panicking." he paused, "He may even be dead." The boatman looked anxious, but remained silent.

Inoadar pulled out a rolled up piece of paper and held it up. "Here is the list. I killed the four "Stryfers" questioning him, but not the abductors that dropped him off. I also killed the passenger. He was a liability with a big mouth. But not before he babbled a few other things that may be valuable." He noted that the boatman tried to hide his relief at the mention of the interrogators being dead. It confirmed Inoadar's suspicion.

"Now, as far as the list goes, you can have it back. Not so much to convince you I didn't make a copy. I doubt you'd believe me if I said didn't anyway. No, I give it to you so you can verify that it IS the original, so you know I'm not lying to you. Call it a gift." He set the paper on the unoccupied bench in the center of the boat.

"I have a proposal for you. I expect no answer here and now, as I'm sure you have people you answer to. Let them know I have averted a disaster on your behalf. What I would like in return is...consideration." The boatman looked puzzled but intrigued. "Consideration for hire. I caught your signs, detected the abduction, overheard the facts, acted on them and gained additional details undoubtedly worth money. I want your higher-ups to 'consider' that I am a capable man with no weak links and no history in this town. I know what loose ends are and how to deal with them and I do not hesitate.

"I propose that I work for you and with you. The Stryfe and the Dawn are too well known for your needs. I can arrange for them to blame each other for my efforts. Which of them would ever believe the other's denial anyway? There is only one scenario I can envision where my actions last night could be viewed as detrimental to your organization's welfare..." He noted that the boatman didn't deny the reference to an 'organization'. "...and that would be if you work for either of them. I expect I will find out soon enough if that's the case, though I highly doubt it. Think over my offer. I can be found at Tarsin's under the name of 'Strachen'. I will be there until further notice." He looked around and saw the landing he wanted approaching. His timing had been perfect. He motioned to it. "Just drop me off right there."

[Inoadar]

Inoadar sat on the bed in his room, listening to the noise upstairs. The room above his own, currently being occupied by a man named Strachen, was embroiled in a loud argument. The cause of the volume primarily the renter himself, insisting that he knew nothing of any list and demanding that the men claiming otherwise leave immediately.

The men in question repeatedly tried to quiet him, insisting they meant no harm, that they had been dispatched to convey their agreement with the previously mentioned proposal. Every point they tried to make, however, simply became the next issue hollered about.

Inoadar decided that the strained effort at courtesy that the visitors displayed was a strong sign that their intentions were, indeed, as stated. He got up, intending to find cause to loiter near the stairway to get a glimpse of the men, so he could approach them on his own terms. As he opened his door, there was a swish of shadow and an impact on the side of his head. Pain and dizziness enveloped him as his knees gave way. His last sight was the boatman from earlier that day, sap in hand, looking up and nodding, his face calm. There was the sound of footsteps as he lapsed into unconsciousness.

His head throbbed, as he expected, when he started to come around. He was not tied or restrained in any way, save for the fact that he was alone in a room with six men and one exit. The room was dark enough that he couldn't tell if the large blotch, on the face of the man speaking, was a tattoo, a birthmark, or a scar of some sort.

"Not such good fortune that you employed a tactic that we enjoy using, 'Mr. Strachen', Even if you hadn't said you 'lived under that name', we would have had men at the door of every neighboring unit. Above, below, every side and across the hall."

Inoadar stifled a groan as he sat up. With considerable effort, he refrained from rubbing the side of his head and gave the man a direct look, eyes clear and focused. "Your efficiency is noted. I see you even took my boots."

The man shifted almost imperceptibly and there was a distinctive springing snap. Inoadar lowered his gaze to the blade protruding from the tip of the man's boots. "Again, a tactic we enjoy. I thought it best to remove the temptation. No two men react precisely the same when awakening from an abduction."

"Is that what this is?"

"Of course. But it need only have been a safety measure to prevent your giving a sign to possible spotters as to our location. Though it COULD be a safeguard to ensure your permanent silence. Which would you prefer?"

"If I had preferred not to do business, I would not have returned to my room. I would have let the 'Stryfers' have their pigeon and enjoyed a leisurely boat ride."

"Very well then. Here are the terms under which we will operate. First, I will express my thanks over the various tidbits of information we obtained from your bags and pockets, both about you and about people referenced on scraps of bloody notes." He rose and gave a nod, "Thank you...Then we will ask you what information the victim "babbled', as you described it."

Inoadar remained quiet and expressionless, as though he had fully anticipated this, and nodded once. "Two names, leaders of Rising Dawn cells."

The man's eyebrows rose, "Giving it up so easily? That's disappointing."

"I haven't given you the names. But I did tell you what the information was. That IS all you requested. Surely its of no value to tell you that the Rising dawn have cells; that the cells have leaders and that the leaders have names." Inoadar responded without so much as a blink.

The man's eyes widened, his mouth opening slightly. All at once, he roared with laughter. "By The Gods! You got me on THAT one!" he slapped his knee and withdrew an ugly looking knife. He fiddled with it a moment, giving Inoadar a 'pointed' look. Then he sheathed it again and stood up. "No, a deal's a deal. Okay, Mr....uh...seriously, it shouldn't be 'Strachen'. What shall we call you?"

"Porellis" he answered without hesitation. "For my first two...tasks...I shall give up one of the names as a gesture of trust. After that, I don't think such gestures will be necessary."

"Before or after you complete your task?" the other man asked.

"After, of course. It's only fair that I am able to be certain the task is lucrative before I share such valuable information."

"Do you consider the return of all your property and the promise of future dealings to be lucrative enough for your first task?"

"It is what I expected." Inoadar replied with a satisfied nod.

"Then we are in agreement. I expect to hear the name soon, Mr. Porelli. When you return to your room you will find everything as it should be. You will also be in a position to see to your first task. There is a reason it would not serve to call yourself 'Strachen', I understand he is about to be found dead. He did see some faces best forgotten, and he seems to have an unfortunate condition that prevents him from keeping his mouth shut." The man gave Inoadar a hard look, "Remember, Mr. Porelli, you chose to involve him."

Three days later, a Mr. Loren Strachen was found drowned. It seems he had far too much to drink a few nights before, and fell into one of the canals. The current, though light, made it difficult to determine where this unfortunate event took place. Foul play was dismissed as his belongings were untouched, but no one really cared anyway.

[Verilian]

Inoadar +1 Observation +1 Blowgun +1 Subterfuge +1 Garrote +1 Dagger +1 Brawling +1 Intimidation You Question My Logic? : Alrighty.. so.. you did a lot of stuff that was beyond your skill level. Easily defeating members of the Ebonstryfe, who are trained to kill, when you have only 10 in blowgun, and nothing in all the other weapons, is a bit much. Since you are new, I won’t make you rewrite the threads or anything, but you must remember to play at your skill level even in solos. Now, as for the XP itself, if you have any questions or concerns on the reward, feel free to PM me. Loot: 13 Silver Mizas, 18 Copper Mizas Lores: The Rising Dawn Exists, Contact: The Ravosalamen, Lore of Rising Dawn Cell Leaders: Ervis, Moriana Notes: Okay, first thing, I would like to request that you link you CS in your profile. To do this, go to the User Control Panel, click Profile, then put the link in the appropriate slot. Second. I have created a Storyteller Secrets thread. This is a thread that details certain storyteller only info about your character, as well as salary and wages and things of that sort. Please also link this in your profile. http://www.mizahar.com/forums/topic24037.html Okay, so the thread was well written, but I do have to comment on some things. First, you aren't supposed to go around killing people in threads without storyteller permission. Luckily, I am lenient. I'll let it slide this time, but there may be some IC repercussions to your actions down the line. Also, you kind of created an infrastructure to the Ravosalamen that I had not intended for you to create. However, it's okay, because you didn't stray far from what I've envisioned. Eventually there will be a wiki article about the Ravosalamen themselves, as a standalone faction. Finally, I only gave you first names for the cell leaders. There is no reason the guy would have used their last names when asking you what cell you were in. If you were a member of the Rising Dawn, you would have already known their last names, so he wouldn't need to tell them to you. All in all, I enjoyed the thread. Be careful about overplaying your skills. Some mods aren't as lenient as I am, and I am only lenient once. Good job, and keep writing! Notice As per the request of the Founders, threads cannot be graded unless your CS is up to date. This means you need to add threads to your thread list when you make new threads, keep your skills up to date, ledger, living expenses, ect. If you aren't up to date, you'll get a PM from me before I grade your thread. If you are up to date, disregard this notice.