Masks Abroad
19th of Lamashan 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)
Almost unbidden a smile turns upon your lips, a small sly thing. "If only that vase could be mended then surely all would be well."
Visibly stiffing a laugh, though thankfully without anyone looking in her direction, Mina turns to the pair to ask helpfully. "Wouldn't it be best to mend the glass so that all might part no worse off for the misfortune?"
For a moment the girl looks wildly around, as though about to dart away, until her gaze falls on her two allies, who might not be so understanding if she were to let the mark slip the line. "Ach, Miss, my mistress is from... Hagreach up north in Ulfen lands see, she doesn't trust witchy magic."
Alas for her Mina doesn't let up: "Well that's no problem then, my friend here isn't a witch, certainly no Winter Witch." So saying motions to you, head to toe as someone at the back of the small crowd gives a guffaw, which you choose to interpret as as good sign.
With that the jig is well and truly up, the girl starts backing away in the direction of her confederates: "Nah, that's all good mam. I'll... I'll be going now." Hearing the fear in that small voice, not all of it over being caught you'd wager, brings forth a twinge of sympathy, but there's nothing for it now. She'll find some other mark before sunset, you're sure.
Mina Diplomacy (DC 15): 1d20+1 = 18 (Success)
The man whose purse and reputation Mina had just saved sweeps off his hat to reveal a head as bald as an egg, as though the hair on his head had despaired at the shapeliness of his magnificent mustache, and bows: "Yoska Covan, historian and antiquarian my lady. Some would append 'amateur' to that, but you shouldn't listen to them. A thousand thanks for seeing off those scoundrels."
Mina seems taken aback by the dramatic introduction. "Pleased to meet you too, master Covan. Mina of Barstoi, though I lay no claim to any other name and certainly no noble bloodline."
Eyebrows jump in interest the words, or maybe at the accent.
What would Mina sound to another of her home kingdom? you wonder. Whatever it is the fellow is not shy with flattery. He carries on: "That means only that the world has yet to recognize and reward your wit and grace."
So it goes on through the streets of Timbertown and on to Masks' Row, Yoska insists on buying you both tickets to the rather ominously named
Captive Audience. The playhouse certainly has an air of menace to you, so many arcane torches set about the place, from obvious holders blocking the doors to the inside of stucco reliefs in the guise of fearsome beasts, draconic, serpentine, and feline. Any kin of Pepper's that size is something you would rather not meet.
The play itself purports to be an account of the tragedy of Darl Jubannich, a philosopher, which you take to mean someone who can afford to spend all his time thinking and setting his thoughts to parchment. After having helped start the fires of the Red Revolution in neighboring Galt he quickly finds himself ever more isolated among a cauldron of feverish paranoia, stoked by hidden devils as well as the passions and bloodlust of mankind culminating with the monologue of the
brutalis devil Chenzerog proclaiming 'blood flowing through the gutters in Galt spills out into the sea and washes on the beaches of Cheliax. All is red and all is sweet'. Despite being born in far off Caliphas, Yoska proves quite knowledgeable in such matters, explaining in whispers that there is no actual proof of Chelish meddling to fuel the flames of violence in Galt, but that it's a theory commonly held here in Almas and in Andoran more broadly.
"You won't hear me admit this too loudly, but I think the Andorans are a bit too full of themselves. Did not the Palatinate overthrow its nobility with even less bloodshed than could be found in Andoran? I do not mean to say that our nobles were never as foul and vicious as Thrune's lackeys, but the fact remains that the folk here in Almas are a quite
selective about who counts as a 'real Andoran'. Why they never was a civil war at all, any of the nobles who resisted were retroactively Chelish, or Taldans when tensions with the Empire are high as they are now over the new grain tariffs ."
"Tensions?" you ask worried. You will be heading east soon into the borderlands of Taldor.
"Oh indeed my mysterious friend, there has long been agitation to tax Taldan grain more heavily so as to benefit Andoran farmers. People don't usually like the price of bread going up though, but it sounds like the recent Bellflower leaflets about the contrition of slaves in Taldan estates have done their job. The Supreme Elect is expected to sign the bill into law this week. There's rumors of one of the Taldan dukes trying his hand at an invasion again and more credible talk Taldan settlements pushing onto the Andoran side of the border in the Verduan. Borders are hard to mark when only the faeries and the druids know one tree from another." He shakes his head and returns to commenting on the plausibility of the account of Jubannich's escape from Galt via being smuggled in an Osiriani sarcophagus.
Meanwhile you are considering the virtues of admitting you are heading east to see if you can get more of an account of the state of the road, tolls are politics that way. On the one hand, Yoska likely has more he might say, on the other the fact being very knowledge makes him the kind of person Gavhaul likely does not wish to know about an Aspis expedition into the Verduan.
What do you do?
[] Explain that you are going east in the hopes of getting more information about the state of eastern Andoran and the border tensions with Taldor
[] Stay silent, best not to start rumors that could lead to more foes on your trail
[] Write in
OOC: Enjoy.