Uncommon Tastes
Thirteenth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
One city's monsters just weren't enough for you, were they, Aly? Alysande Redsail thought as she crouched in the narrow alleyway, far too close from the offal from the local butcher's shop, her nose informed her. Most of Tyrosh was clean and getting cleaner these days after being conquered by a better ruler than the damn magisters could ever hope to be, but that didn't mean you could not still find places that would turn your stomach walk through.
Or maybe it was just the suspicion of what some of that meat might be.
"I don't see why we don't just march in there and arrest the lot of them..." Shara Rogare grumbled. Unlike the other three inquisitors who had been assigned to work with Alysande on her lead, the young Lyseni was not particularly awed by either her magic or her connection to the King, and she chaffed at the notion of letting lunatics and killers loose for one moment longer than was needed to gut them.
A good instinct in an investigator whether they bore the silver eye or the book and sword of the Inquisition, but one that needed to be tempered.
"Because if we are wrong... if
I was wrong, not only will we have embarrassed the Inquisition, the Silver Eye, and ourselves for good measure, we might warn off any real killers."
Alysande had been helping out with the finishing touches for studying the way of the Silver Eye in the new Scholarum in Tyrosh when Shara had asked her for any information on the cult of Zagreus, explaining why the investigation needed to be undertaken.
Start Silver Eye Course progress 12+6 = 18/20
It wasn't that Alysande had a great many free days every moonturn, but she had a few and this was a good cause to be spending them in. She had gone from searching through the archives in Braavos for information about the wine-god to speaking with some of his more 'faithful devotees', which is to say those who were known for
risque masques and other indulgences thus discovering that there were certain ways for those favoring Zagreus to know each other, not only in subtle ritual greetings, but in signs like the cut of one's garb and preference in jewelry and flowers. In Braavos it was a game, the sort of lighthearted secret one would share with friends over a cup of wine or three, but in Tyrosh things might have taken a far darker turn.
As though called forth by her thoughts a man stumbled out of the butcher's shop, his face pale as wax, eyes feverish, smelling of wine and beneath that of something worse, something familiar, the coppery smell of fresh-spilled blood.
The Silver Eye sorceress schooled her thoughts to the paths of power and
sent them out to learn and listen:
I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to... she wanted it... she asked for it... its alright because she asked. The disjointed thoughts were held together by a single image: a young woman lying naked on a bed, slitting one of her wrists and letting the blood flow freely into a heavy copper bowl half filled with scented wine then pressing it into the man's hands. Even through the haze of the guilt-filled memory Alysande saw that the woman's eyes were also glazed with something far more potent than wine.
It wasn't proof of unsanctioned magic or unholy miracles, but it was proof that someone was likely dying. A good enough reason for 'investigation in force' as far as she was concerned.
Remember, it's not your show here, you're just the most experienced, the mage thought, herself turning to Shara and hurriedly explaining what she had seen.
"We are going in," Shara whispered to the other inquisitors. "Remember, that unless and until you see someone cast a spell or a fiend shows up these are citizens wanted for questioning and perhaps for trial, not tree-fodder."
And that was when the smell of smoke hit them and moments later screams of: "Fire! Fire!" muffled through the heavy door.
"Well our job just got harder in a new and unexpected way. Ain't it great being an inquisitor?" Shara asked her fellows by way of backhanded encouragement.
They all rushed the door as one. Thanks in no small part to Alysande's magic and Shara's bravery in facing the flames they managed to save all those present, including the woman who had almost bled to death before Shara's healing belt could mend her wounds.
OOC: This is what you found for Zagreus so far—he is the god of wild parties and excess, and some of his followers can take that into some pretty dark places, but so far no hints of anything magical. The lack of formal priests and doctrine frustrate studies into the god himself.
