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Post by zeferin on Jan 26, 2012 2:55:29 GMT -4
After washing his hands in a small basin, Trazish walked over to the cadavers to start on the autopsies. Pulling the sheet cover off the first one, Trazish found himself staring at the face of a young blonde woman. To the average person, she could pass off as simply sleeping, but Trazish had seen enough death to know better. Pulling the tray of tools slightly closer, Trazish took a small scalpel and began the procedure.
heal: [dice=20] + 13 After checking numerous organs and examining the contents of several, Trazish did his best to clean up in incision by sewing up the cut and then placed the white sheet back over the woman's body. As he wrote down his findings, Trazish moved to the next table and pulled back the sheet.
Under this sheet laid the body of an older, larger middle aged looking man. He had a large overbite, half his teeth missing, scars across his face, and half an ear missing. Trazish could see where he had been in fights before from old knife wounds that were on his shoulder. Taking a longer scalpel, Trazish set to work to cut through the leathery skin and thick fat of his stomach area.
heal: [dice=20] + 13
After cleaning up the second cadaver, Trazish moved to the next one. This one was an old, wrinkled man. His hair, or what remained of it, was pale white while his skin had taken on a yellowish tint. He was covered in liver spots and looked more like a skeleton wearing a wrinkled skin suit. Care as it not damage the already frail body, Trazish set to work.
heal: [dice=20] + 13
Closing the old man back up as best as he could, Trazish jotted down a few notes and moved on to the last one. Pulling the sheet back, a young boy, almost old enough to be an adult, laid on the table. Sighing, Trazish looked at the papers that came with him. "Unknown cause of death. Found outside town. No name. No identification." Turning back to him, Trazish sighed, "May your journey to the afterlife be better than the one to Oakdale." And with that, Trazish turned to finish with the last of the four.
heal: [dice=20] + 13
Just as he had finished cleaning the tools he had used and was about to wash his hands, Trazish could hear the sounds of the lunch bells ringing and the faint clamoring of students and faculty rushing off for lunch. Amongst all that, though, Trazish thought he heard something else.
Perception: [dice=20] +13
(OOC: Sorry about taking so long to post. I'll be quicker to respond for now on.)[rand=290644059889018547061795629560947409559434279799469517538244836032]
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Post by irishmagician on Jan 26, 2012 10:05:57 GMT -4
(OOC: So, I totally mixed up Zeferin and Blackhawk's names. Oops. Blackhawk, I will also need you to make a Perception check as well.)
The autopsies take longer than expected, their causes of death turning out to be varied. Blunt trauma to the head. Cardiac arrest. Organ failure. Strangulation. However, a knock at the door to his locked office brings the coroner out of his focus; a human shaped image can be seen standing in front of the office, obscured by the opaque glass set into the door. Muffled due to the closed door, a male's voice can be heard.
"Trazish? There's a letter for you. I'm slipping it under your door." The sound of paper sliding against the floor can be heard softly, as the man walks away. As the coroner heads back into his office to take a look at the letter, the symbol of Pharasma can be seen faintly drawn on the back of the envelope.
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Post by blackhawk on Jan 26, 2012 11:11:24 GMT -4
Vulgrim fixes a scowl at someone who bumps into him and staggers off. "Ye'd think bein aboot twice as wide as some of 'em would make it wher they paid a bit moor attention." Vulgrim grumbles under his beard. He makes his way through the square, avoiding further bump-based incidents.
[dice=20] +5[rand=182353775249794130225230467040091753857494818512350321419478999450803]
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Post by irishmagician on Jan 26, 2012 13:47:58 GMT -4
A dwarf seems to materialize out thin air amidst the crowd in front of the smith, the insignia of the IronHammer Clan clearly displayed on a red-and-brown surcoat worn over shirt of chain mail.
"Well met," he says as he holds forth a badge in his hand. The badge bears the symbol of the IronHammer Clan, crossed warhammers over a mountain peak, with dwarven runes underneath identifying the bearer of the badge as a tithe-collector. "Patriarch Bormir has sent me to collect the taxes from Oakdale for this month. Here is your bill, sir....Vulgrim," the tithe-collector says as he quickly double checks a small list in his other hand. He ruffles through a satchel, and proffers a roll of parchment, bound by a red ribbon and a wax seal.
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mith
Junior Member
Posts: 90
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Post by mith on Jan 26, 2012 15:41:05 GMT -4
Grumplestiltskin smiles at the laboratory's record-keeper. "Well, he hasn't managed to out-wit me yet!"
She made a note on her ledger and looked back, grinning, "Not even with that request for a gasseous healing salve last month?"
"Bah - I finished that assignment to the letter. He didn't specify that it be non-flammable! And my second formulation avoided that problem."
"Your second formulation smelled so terrible we had to have 'clear air' cast twice."
"But it worked! And it didn't explode. Anyway, I'll certainly bring these up to the tower after a bit of lunch."
"All right, thank you. See you on the morrow." She continued down the row of benches, cataloging the morning's work.
Grumplestiltskin pulled a tightly wrapped box out of a cupboard under his workbench and took out several pieces of dried meats and fruits. Savoring the snack, he wandered out of the laboratory to a quiet space between several buildings, away from the Academy gate and the lunchtime crowds. Another advantage to getting a late start in the morning was an excuse to eat a late lunch and avoid the dangerous crush of large people at the noon bell. Still, he always found himself having a snack around noon anyway.
After enjoying the sunlight for a few minutes, and waiting for the lunchtime crowd to quiet down, Grumplestiltskin walked slowly back to the laboratory. He packed his vials carefully into a padded satchel and started back up towards the Tower and Jorell's office. 'There should be plenty of time for lunch and a bit of work on that special project this afternoon, if Jorell doesn't talk too long', he thought.
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Post by blackhawk on Jan 26, 2012 16:39:57 GMT -4
"Ach. Thank ye." Vulgrim takes the scroll and puts it in a pocket inside his vest, making sure it is snug.
"I'm on me way t' deliver a commissioned piece t' the Archmage at the mages school. If ye wan't I can do me best to meet ya at me forge this evening an' give ya the coin."
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Post by irishmagician on Jan 26, 2012 19:50:14 GMT -4
The dwarf consults his list for a moment after the smith's response. "That be fine. You have a good record of keep'n your debts paid, I should have no concern about your payment," he says. He agrees to meet the smith later in the evening at his smithy, and departs with a slight clinking of chainmail. At this point, most of the crowds have cleared the streets, leaving only a few individuals going about their business.
In the distance ahead, an iron wrought gate marks the entry into the Wizard's School; designs of magickal symbols and creatures dancing through its metal bars. Directly ahead of the gate lies a massive stone tower, built in the center among the buildings housing the various departments in the School; each one dedicated to a discipline of magick. The grounds around the Tower are essentially clear of students at this time, with the exception of a lone halfling bearing a satchel as he walks towards the Tower.
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Post by Naerwen on Jan 26, 2012 21:02:58 GMT -4
She gives a slight nod and enters the room moving toward the seat he had indicated. As she walked she took a quick glance at her surroundings. She watched him ease into a seat and glanced up for a brief moment as she heard the toll of the bell.
She gives a small grin in response to his rhetorical questions and waits for him to continue. She follows his gaze as he looks around.
As he spoke she nodded slightly showing that she understood. As he pointed out the branch she glanced over just in time to see the leaves unfurl.
She wondered what the Archmage would want with such an item as well as how she was lucky enough to be chosen to help in this task, but she didn’t voice her queries. She nodded and replied, “I can take it to him. Is he expecting me at the tower? I trust that you know of him well enough to know he doesn’t have a malicious intent.” She paused and thought for a moment then commented, “It’s curious though … if the branch may only be handled by one of our Circle how does he intend to make use of it without our help?”
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Post by zeferin on Jan 26, 2012 21:27:28 GMT -4
Looking down at the letter on the ground, Trazish quickly rinsed that last bit of his work off his hands, dried them just enough and walked over to pick it up. Double checking that the door was well locked, Trazish rushed back to his desk and lite a few more candles.
Looking over the letter, Trazish made sure that the seal was authentic and took a letter opener and cut the seal open. Pulling the contents out and unfolding it, Trazish looked over what it had to say.
Scanning through the letter several times, Trazish sat back and took in all the information that he needed to know. "Errand boy...Temple of Mysteries....Talon....Errand boy...Temple of Mysteries...Talon...." He repeated these over and over until he knew what role he needed to play and took the letter and held it over one of the larger candles. A small hint of sadness crept into him as the first form of contact that he had had from Koil in the last few months burned in front of him.
As the last bits of the letter crumbled into black soot, Trazish scooped up the remains and threw them into the waste bucket next to his desk. Taking the greatsword and changing it back into its chain form, he wrapped it again around his arm, covered it up with his sleeve, gathered the rest of his supplies, and took off out the door. Locking the door behind him, Trazish posted a sign to let anyone needed him, though rare as it was, that he was out for the evening due to illness, and took off quickly back to his shack of a home.
When he got back, moving with the tail end of the lunch crowd, Trazish quickly changed out of his work clothing, packed them carefully back, and proceeded to put on a sleek breastplate. After putting it on and making sure he could move easily in it, he then when back to the pack, taking out a folded up, black long coat and an off white tunic and put them on. Fitting them just right as to hide the breastplate, Trazish took a dagger off the table and placed it in the inside pocket of his coat. Koil taught him that you could never be too over paranoid.
Checking the time from a pocket watch he had on him, Trazish knew that the lunch hour has almost over and quickly set out for the Temple of Mysteries. As he left the small room, he muttered to himself under his breath, "I am Talon...I am Talon," and hurried on to the temple.
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Post by blackhawk on Jan 26, 2012 22:56:30 GMT -4
Vulgrim treks through the gates, nodding at a couple people he is passingly familiar with, heads up to the tower door. As he moves toward the tower, he watches the halfling as he goes about his business, but he is not overly concerned about his goings about. As he reaches the door he checks the bundle in which the dagger is stored before entering the tower, making sure it hasn't shifted about in its wrapping.
Barring something odd happening, he intends to head up to the Archmages chamber, or barring that asking one of the people about the tower where he would be.
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Post by irishmagician on Jan 27, 2012 0:03:31 GMT -4
(OOC:Zeferin, I will need you to make a Disguise check.[/color])
Giloren gives Naerwen a slight smile, understanding her sentiment. "I know as much as you do in that regard, little one. It is in my opinion that he merely wishes to study it, rather than actually use the branch. Hence, when you bring it to him today, feel free to assist him with moving it around and such; but do not feel beholden to do more if he asks it of you. Perhaps he will tell you more of his intentions when you arrive," he says. Getting to his feet with a slight groan, Giloren reaches for a cane near his desk. "He will likely only need it for a couple hours. Please do bring it back with you when he is finished, if it is still intact," he says as he slowly moves back over to the window.
......................................................................
The dwarf and halfling arrive approximately at the Wizard's Tower entrance approximately at the same time; a large set of oaken doors stand open, accommodating the fluctuating flow of students and researchers that move through this entrance throughout the day. The foyer for the Tower is rather plain, consisting of little artwork or decoration beyond the grey stone that supports its architecture. An unassuming desk sits in front of two stone stairwells that ascend on either side of the foyer. Behind it, a female human sits at a desk, doing little at the moment beyond filing her nails with a small metal instrument. After a brief pause as she examines her work, she looks up (and down, briefly, for the smaller visitor) at the two individuals.
"You have an appointment? " she asks, pausing briefly for affirmative responses from the two visitors. The, what you can only assume, secretary glances down at a sheet of paper on her desk; then up at a clock set into the wall. "Unfortunately, the Archmage is running behind on his appointments today. He will be ready for you in an hour. If you wish to wait, there are benches over near the wall," she points towards them. Shortly thereafter, she returns to filing her nails; occasionally holding them up at different angles to evaluate her work.
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Post by zeferin on Jan 27, 2012 0:22:50 GMT -4
Moving through the waning crowd, Trazish finally reached the Temple of Mysteries. Years of devote worship had led him to meet many priests, faith talkers, clerics, and even a few inquisitors of other faiths, but The Temple of Mysteries had never sat right with him. Their name alone came across pompous to him. But he had to set all that aside for the time being.
As he approached the temple, a priest outside saw him and called out, "What may I do for today, Half-elf?"
From the way the priest said it, and old part of Trazish wanted to flare up and lash out, but years of being scolded had taught him how to suppress it. "Tell the Abbot that Talon is here."
Disguise: [dice=20] + 10[rand=285086762625724128667518985457728840854424051949657153873704374]
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Post by blackhawk on Jan 27, 2012 0:28:39 GMT -4
Vulgrim lowers his eyebrows and scowls a bit as the lady relays the information. "Ach. Alright. Thank ye." He trudges over to the benches along the wall and sits, laying his bundle next to his leg.
He reaches inside his vest and breaks the seal on the letter from the tithe collector, reading its contents and scowling at it. After finishing that, he picks at his fingernails and re-braids a section of his beard that was looser than he would have liked whilst killing the time, assuming that nothing else comes up to preoccupy him.
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Post by Naerwen on Jan 27, 2012 1:02:07 GMT -4
She nodded seeming mostly satisfied with his reply. “I’ll see what I can do. Hopefully when he is finished I can bring the branch back to you.” She watched him reach for the cane and wondered if there was anything she could do to help him feel better, but she figured it was probably due to being elderly. As she moved to gather the branch she asked if there was anything else she could help him with. She paused for a moment almost afraid to disturb the branch. Almost as you would treat a newborn she carefully wrapped the branch and slid it into her bag for safe keeping while waiting for his response.
Not wishing to disturb him any longer she made her goodbye and wished him well. She quickly dashed to her room to fetch a couple of apples for lunch then headed for the Tower. Rather than turning after she went through the gate to head toward the area where the magical beasts were kept she went straight, making for the tower. She reached the oak doors and stepped inside seeing as they were open.
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Post by irishmagician on Jan 27, 2012 13:50:10 GMT -4
The priest stares at "Talon" for a moment, as if trying to place the name.
Sense Motive: [dice=20]+5
The look the priest was giving "Talon" slowly becomes suspicious, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. He opens his mouth to say something, but stops sharply as an aged hand touches him on his shoulder from behind. Spinning around, he almost falls over himself to bow at an old man wearing spotless white robes, who almost seemed to appear out of nowhere.
"Why, thank you for greeting this young man for me, Jarn. I am expecting him, of course,"the old man says to the priest. Jarn, now sputtering out apologies, bows twice in rapid succession, and disappears almost as quickly as the old man arrived. The man turns to "Talon," an eighth of smile briefly gracing his visage.
"You'll have to forgive the younger acolytes who train here at the Temple. They have many years left to learn more of the virtues it requires to be a servant to the Gods above. Please, do follow me this way if you will...." The old man turns, beckoning "Talon" to follow him into the Temple. The pair do not go far, as the old man turns into a small living quarters shortly past the entrance that "Talon" arrived at. Shutting the door firmly behind them, the man turns once again to "Talon," the smile on his face more broad than it was before.
"So, "Talon" you say? I am afraid you have quite a way to go in your training, Inquisitor of the Lady of Graves!" he says with a humorous twinkle in his eyes as he drops into a well-worn chair in the corner. Leaning forward, he introduces himself with a slight nod of his wrinkled face. "I am Solonius, Abbot of this Temple. Tell me, how is Koil doing lately?"[rand=62269423047615898270096194702556348422992183188505922550154939499]
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