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Video: Act 2 Scene 1, The Knife Behind His Smile

quote:

The Herald

If we are to find Razitof, it is clear that this Herald is our best lead. We aren't going to get anywhere without any information about the identity of this Herald, however, and I believe I know just the person that might be able to help us with that.

quote:

Kalden Azrus

Kalden's response to the Bloodless has been unkind at best, savage at worst. What is it about the information broker that provokes him so? It must be whatever he is keeping from me. I should see if I can sieve out any further details.

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Tiziana de Felici

So the first lie has been fed. I cannot let her know that we have discovered the functions of the artefacts that Razitof searches for. If she knows that they have the ability to create Mascherines, that will only advance and hasten the Luca's involvement; the Golden Guild needs to be kept out of this for as long as possible.

I am not unfamiliar with the toxic rewards to be reaped from a lie sowed, or how quickly and violently deception can destroy acquaintanceships if left to fester; I expect that she will not be the least bit pleased when (or if) she finds out that we have been keeping this information from her, but again, I cannot let that interfere with the advancement of the investigation.

You do what you must, Marshal, and so will I.

quote:

Leventhos Merimbus

It is difficult to talk about Leventhos without smiling - the man is truly a joy to be around, an attribute that is scarce to be found in Ombre. Many who know me know that Leventhos has been a large part of my life for a long time, but if I am to describe my relationship with the man, we must first start at the beginning.

Rhunic, just off the waters, Cyrus subtly motioned with the fingers of his free hand. He held the digits of his signing hand just beside his ear so it looked like he was playing with his hair or picking his nails; it was a decent enough cover for communicating with street sign. No guards, he signed, which was unusual for the docks. Others called us foolish for deciding that this was a good spot to find prey, but Cyrus and I knew what we were doing. The fact that there were often significantly more guards at the docks than there were at the other notorious hunting spots not only meant that we'd have to deal with less competition, but also that the pilfering would be easier; guards were just as aware of the reputations of certain places as we were, and they acted accordingly.

Following my brother's gaze, I saw the man he'd been referring to - tall and lanky, with the trademark ebony black hair and pale skin of the Rhunic people. Indeed, guessing by the style of attire he'd chosen to don, he mustn't have been here very long. And his features... Rhunic people were infamous for their youthful looks but this man couldn't have been any more than a decade older than I was. What was a young Rhunic man who I'd guessed had barely started his third decade of life doing here?

I waited until my brother looked over. Look at clothes, and face too. Young. First trip?

Must be, he signed back.

I nodded. Waiting for you.

Cyrus returned the slightest of nods and brought his free hand back to the book in front of him to turn a page. Glances slowly began falling onto my brother as he started to lower his cover. He made the peep-holes in the book he was reading a little more obvious. He held the book a little higher and allowed a brown page or two of empty paper to fall from it. To anyone who'd just started watching him, it was clear - he was a street rat, a lousy one at that, scanning for prey. They wouldn't do anything to him, not unless he moved - he wasn't worth their time - but he wasn't the one that lost the coin flip today.

I shuffled through the crowd, my walk filled with purpose. I was a young dock worker who'd been told his salary for the month would be halved for breaking that stupid precious TeSerric vase from yesterday's shipment. I frowned. I wasn't happy. People would catch on to that; they'd excuse my rough shoves.

My journey through the mire of flesh and odours and sounds was just one of many plain journeys through the crowd, and any eyes that should've been wary of me all had a much brighter target to keep watch over - the pathetic excuse for a pilferer that was my brother.

I reached the Rhunic man in a few short moments, and sidled up beside him, helping him unload one of the shipments from the boat.

"I hear the winds from Rhune are rough 'uns this time of year," I grunted, burning my voice a little. A little brine in throat and salty fish between my teeth would finish the accent.

We put the shipment down and he made a 'sh' noise - must've been a Rhunic grunt or something. He turned to me. "Thank you for that, but I don't remember asking for anyone." At least he had come with a healthy dose of skepticism.

"Naw?" I asked, cocking my head to the side. "But the boss over 'ere said you needed some 'elp," I said, pointing off behind him at one of the dockmasters.

He turned his head to follow my finger. "I'm sorry, I really don't-"

But I was gone.

The snatch was perfectly executed - he'd tied his purse to his trousers with a typical Rhunic knot. A simple lift of the knot's inner coil and a quick tug of outer string was enough to release the catch into my hands.

I blended into the crowd as quickly as I had emerged from it, and caught my brother's eye. I raised a single eyebrow in a smirk, but my expression quickly faded as he waved at me, desperate. My grin quickly turned into a frown. What, did I pick the wrong man?

Purse! No! He gesticulated frantically. I stopped in my tracks. What was it?

I looked down at the purse in my hands and cupped the bottom, feeling its contents. They were hard. I tugged open the strings and turned the pouch upside down as its contents began to fall out into my palm. Whatever it was jingled on its way out, so what else could it possibly have been but-

Seven small black pellets fell into my palm. I hadn't instantly recognised them, though my curiosity at that moment drowned out the disappointment that they weren't crescents. They had a distinct smell, and it scratched at some buried part of my memory, but I couldn't quite identify what they were. Rolling one between my fingers, I made note of its features - it was hard and dense and smooth and oddly familiar. Where had I seen this before?

I looked back up at my brother and began to sign, What are-

I frowned. My brother wasn't looking at me, but his eyes were wide open and his mouth agape. Why wasn't he looking at-

I spun around and followed his gaze, watching as the shipment I had just helped unload came to life.

The lid of the wooden box shattered, sending splinters flying into the air and people screaming, as a winged serpent perhaps the size of a large dog burst into the air. A vipertail. I looked back down at the pellets in my hand and the smell almost overwhelmed me with recognition. Dried bloodvine seeds - catnip of the vipertails.

My throat parched very suddenly as I looked up to my brother and his moving fingers.

Run.

He hadn't needed to sign that twice.

quote:

Sierra Vede

The mountain Sierra Vede has watched over Ombre since its inception and sheltered it from harsh weather. None have been able to explain the strange wound in the mountain in which the Citte nestles cosily, or how the mountain is still able to stand despite the gash in its base. In fact, little is known about the mountain at all - it had been around since the time of the Dimenticate (some extant records mention it) and the primary geological component of the mountain, a rock called Ombrite, cannot be branded - but that is close to all the knowledge we have on it. How the mountain came to be and what relationship it had - and perhaps still has - with the lands around it remain mysterious.

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4th Scendera, 407IL.

I never enjoyed writing in loose sheets. Leather-bound journals have always been my preferred medium of note-taking, and if I'm going to commit to this investigation, then this is where my thoughts will go.

A brief summary of the investigation thus far: Razitof has been captured by Maskrunners while researching the origins of Mascherines and how they were created. His investigations led him in search of three artefacts responsible for the creation of Mascherines called the Heart, the Seed and the Knife; collectively they were known as the Trehroir. In the Cleaver, we learnt that he knew where to find these artefacts, but our leads ended there.

There are a few other loose ends that need to be wrapped up, as well: there was a stone found in Razitof's office in the White Spire and we have yet to understand its purpose or function. Also, Razitof had been looking into the creation of fey (he'd stored a handful of them in glass jars in his office) - but what that has to do with anything is unclear.

Our next major step in the investigation is finding a figure called the Herald - leader of the Dactites, the group of Maskrunners that have taken Razitof - and to do that we are going to go to an information broker called the Bloodless. Hopefully he can tell us directly of the Herald and where to find him, but in the case that he cannot, he should at least be able to lead us to Lissandra, leader of the Malecarte - the remnants of the Maskrunner faction that my brother led. I am hoping that she, as a Maskrunner herself, will be able to tell us more if need be.

My discomfort with the Maskrunners has not gone away in the least, but I cannot let that stand in the way of my duty.

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The Bloodless

I suppose it's finally time the shadows of Ombre coalesced into an entity. THe other countries have all had masters of secrets for a while already - some more publicly than others. TeSerra has the Rayisham, Rhune has its Tzeraya family, Illisia has its Mindweaver, and now Ombre has the Bloodless. Of course, none of the true identities of the other countries' masters of secrets, save Rhune's, are public pieces of knowledge; as an Inspettore, however, I have access to these resources slightly more readily than most.

All I can say is that it is a pity this Bloodless hadn't made an appearance some years earlier; I imagine a substantial number of my cases would've been made much simpler had I this reportedly well-informed character to turn to. I am curious how deeply involved in the investigation he is going to be, and wary of the price he's planning on exacting for his assistance.

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Maskrunner: Dactites

The Dactites are a relatively new faction of the Maskrunners. I'd never heard of them before my return to Ombre and, admittedly, am uncomfortable with this lack of knowledge.

Hopefully the investigation will shed more light on the faction, though at the same time, I am hopeful that we do not have to interact too intimately with them.

Don't be stupid!
You've seen how he is! He's a good man, Alena.
Even good men have standards!

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The Visiva: Meliare and Meseniare

The Visiva revolve around aesthetically enhancing the equipment of Masquerada, from their wardrobe to their weapons to Mascherines even, in order to bolster their abilities. These augmentations take the forms of engravings in Meliare and painted symbols in Meseniare and both assist the Masquerada who wears the equipment to better channel their powers. The Visiva are unique among the Media, for the engravings needn't necessarily be performed by a person in possession of a Mascherine. Yes, a Mascherine is needed in order to benefit from the augmentations, but the actual process of the application of such enhancements can be done by even Contadani, however rare that might be.

There's a bit of luck.



The Tvothes' Visiva practice is your replacement for the equipment treadmill. Here at the Astiguary's forge, they can doodle on your party members' stuff to enhance their autoattack. Ricaro's Meliare etchings provide a damage boost and a chance for a small buff, whose type is imparted by Alena's Meseniare painting.



You start out with the Du'silq ink and Zo engraving for free. New inks can be found around areas with heavy foliage, and old Dimenticate sites will yield new engravings.

Ricardo and Alena can also get all your Raw Mascherines painted up and ready for service, since Cicero will just die if he's seen wearing white after Legacy Song Ages Day...only not just yet, because we're in a hurry to meet the Beetle.

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The Bleeding Beetle

Taverns such as the Bleeding Beetle are not uncommon in Ombre. These are found closer to the docks than they are to the shadows under the mountain, and are favourite haunts of Contadani and those simply visiting from the other nations.

The lack of Masquerada that come by is easily explained - taverns such as this are for the poor and the rowdy, and few Masquerada would deign to associate themselves too closely with such common folk.

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The Tvothe Twins - Ricardo and Alena

The despondency of life in the streets - the life of the Contadani - is a powerful force. It whittles away hopes and dreams. It saps energies and buries lusts for life. I have seen it in action all too often and have had enough personal experience with this dread force to be familiar with it: my family used to live on the verge between life and this state of existence. Death is not a good word to describe it, for we still breathed and moved and ate and slept. But there was a point when we had almost stopped dreaming, almost stopped hoping, almost turned into one of the countless others who walked around, their shoes filled with invisible lead, their shoulders supporting unseen weights. Their eyes - and that was where you could always see it - their eyes were empty shells - carapaces, carcasses left in the wake of this terrible force. It happened so often I had grown numb to it.

And then these two came along.

Lodged somewhere deep behind their brown irises was a glimmer - and nothing more, lest it seemed dangerously obvious - of a dream. As I watched them more carefully, I realised the spark showed itself in other facets of the twins as well - in their banter, in the corners of their mouths, in the way they spoke of the future.

Something had shielded this treasure that so many others had lost, and though I might not readily admit it, I find myself somewhat envious of them. Perhaps naiveté has been their shield - they are still young, and perhaps there will come a time when their eyes no longer smile the way they do now.

With all this said, however, after they asked me to allow them to practice the Visiva, how could I say no? Certainly, there's the obvious reason - I now have an Artigiani and a Fabbra at my disposal - but it's much more than that, and... And even as I write this I chide myself for being such a sentimentalist. A pair of young twins, out to chase their dreams. Any other man with more steeled a heart than me would spare them the pain that awaits them in the future. Tell them that they stand no chance of earning a living - after all they aren't even Masquerada; how would they test the efficacy of their creations?

But what can a man do, if his heart cries out at such a sight? One only need look at the light in their eyes to understand why it's moved me such. Perhaps a selfish part of me wants to see them happy so that I might vicariously live through their joy. Perhaps another part of me knows that their smiles will not last and so urges me to treasure them while I can.

Whatever the case, spending too much time on this is unwise. I will let them do as they please while we can afford it.

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Maskrunner: Salt Breathers

One of the many factions of the Maskrunners, the Salt Breathers are led by Izander Ershel, a man who has thrived off the misfortunes of others. Understanding how difficult the life of a Contadani in this world is, Izander saw the potential profit he could weave out of a business distributing Stone Salt. He began small - distributing the drug to Contadani under the pretext that it was medication. Needless to say, they developed an addiction to it and came back to him for more and more, fueling his dark empire. The Salt Breathers had joined my brother in the War of Bearings, but it seems they weathered the storm that struck in the wake of his death and are back in business.

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Izander Ershel

Not every life in the gutters is one of empty pockets and hollow stomachs. Even within the depraved streets of Ombre there exists a hierarchy, and if one understands the machinations of the world between the shadows, rising through its ranks is not an impossible task. A requirement for such a flourishing, unsurprisingly, is a cultivated alienation from others of your social station. You cannot feel for their suffering - you must view them as resources to be used, assets to be abused, and certainly never as people. If one manages such a feat, and somehow furnishes one's heart with calluses, the upward road is that much easier.

But such a strategy comes at a cost - distancing oneself from one's humanity allows others to treat one in the same manner with far less weight on their hearts. In the more extreme cases, such as that of Izander's, death can be dealt with little remorse. It is an ultimately dangerous path to tread, and one that I, despite having been tempted many a time before, have managed to stay away from.