Post by Caliban (Pyrin) on Jul 15, 2024 13:39:11 GMT
This RP occurred directly following the events of "Gardens of Sinew and Bone" by Willemf, featuring Dryss, Tom M, Andy D and Caliban, with their Respective Characters: Finnegan, Kem, Mendal and Pyrin.
“Hekrati.” Pyrin uttered to his companions as they journeyed away from Daring Academy. “A bunch of savage, inhuman, demon worshipping scum.” He’d have spat if he could. His feathers ruffled and his wings twitched. He turned to eye Kem. “You seemed intrigued by them. They’re not a pleasant bunch, especially that High Priestess.” The mood of the Aarakocra had turned very sour from his demeanour earlier in the day, the revelations and events having worn him down.
Kem kept up the cocky demeanour for a little longer, but continued to look over his shoulder as they walk away from the Hekrati. “Interesting choice of word. ‘Intrigued’. You’re going to tell me you’re not intrigued by all this Pyrin?” He ventured with a smirk.
“I’ve never heard of them, they seem powerful, no?” said Finnegan, intrigued.
The Aarakocra tilted his head, and responded, "I'd describe myself morbidly curious. Twice now- I've encountered these, these bastards." He spat the last words, seemingly unable to find anything else fitting to describe them (or this being the only he could use in present company).
Turning his head, he sighted the smirk on Kem's face. "You seem to be in high spirits, for a damn devil cult having just gotten a hold of a fracking vampire-horror." He hissed the last words, cautious that they were walking the streets at night and unwilling for any prying ears to hear their conversation.
"You heard D'artagnan, we're responsible for every one of those things- so learning a bunch of kidnapping, sacrificing psychopaths just got a hold of one isn't exactly deserving of sly smirks!" Pyrin rushed the words, gaining pace with every line and with clear irritation evermore present.
Kem stopped in place as they made their way down the street and checked over his shoulder a last time before exhaling and shuddering, the smile falling from his face, replaced with a snarl directed at Pyrin, "I don't know if you noticed, but if I wore my heart on my sleeve like you do there was a good chance of us not walking away from that last conversation."
He scanned around for a suitable inn to step into and relaxed back into his usual easy demeanour, "Maybe we can find somewhere better than this for it if you want to talk further?" He glanced, an eyebrow raised, at each of his compatriots.
Finding a suitable tavern to dive into, Pyrin muttered to Kem as they entered into a booth, “Forgive me for having morals. And forgive me for having the damn decency to stand by them, rather than tucking our tail under our legs. I’ll not deny perhaps we were outgunned- but at the very least we don’t begin to play ‘friends’ just because she held herself well.” Pyrin paused. A comment came to his mind which he just managed to hold. Then he continued, “She’s an arrogant prat. Seems to be a recurring feature with these Hekrati assholes..”
Kem rolled his eyes at the implied insults as he took his seat, “She may not have had the longest claws or sharpest teeth, but any one of us could have guessed that that woman was the most dangerous creature we met tonight. I don’t need a ‘thank you’ for likely saving your life there, but to my people that means you at least owe me something and I always appreciate a good story.”
Before Pyrin could respond, the moment was interrupted by Mendal returning to the table with drinks.
Drink up lads! Mendal said, pushing the drinks towards his fellow adventurers, and sitting himself down. The dwarf, sitting comfortably, inhaled half of his ale, and smacked his lips in satisfaction. "By the way, don't worry about paying me back - drinks were free. So's food too, if you want any. I do. I'll go up and order food for the table, and another ale - mine's almost finished"
Kem kept his eyes locked on Pyrin for long enough to be clear that this conversation wasn’t over before turning to Mendal, “For… all of us? I don’t normally question someone paying for my drinks, but did they say why?”
Nope. Mendal said flatly. "I can think of a million reasons why people should feel inclined to cover my expenditure, but... didn't our friend outside Daring Academy mention how grateful they were, and how we'd be paid well?"
“No ‘if you introduce me to your friend with the tattoos’ then? That’s a little worrying.” He looks back to Pyrin, “And all the more important we hear who our new patrons are.”
“Well, there is indeed a dark side to all of this,” said Finnegan as he gratefully accepted the drink from Mendal, “but I think we did well. We are still alive and that's the most important.
Maybe, my dear friends, we should have a little chat with some higher level adventurers, you know, just for them to be aware. And of course, no need to mention what we did at the cemetery.”
“Kem, maybe we could compose a little song about it? What do you think?”
Kem cocks his head, enjoying the wildly different energy from each person at the table, “You take the tune and I’ll do the lyrics maybe? I’m not much of a musician.”
“Ah, in that case never mind.” replied Finnegan, “Putting this kind of thing into words is part of how I relieve the pressure after a day like today.”
Hearing Mendal make mention that he wasn't sure of who paid their tab caught Pyrin's attention, but he'd make his own inquiries in good time. He wanted to agree with Finnegan, but with Taverns within the Hekrati's influence; where else could be within their influence?
His silence gave him some time to compose himself, and he gently took his cap and rucksack off, setting them aside before he drew his notebook, finding a page where he'd sketched the icon of the Hekrati on a page, and angling it only to be visible into the booth, he displayed the page to the rest of his compatriots.
“I feel a explanation, from the top of my head, is due. The Hekrati are a...cult. They seem to be fiend related, and they've been dabbling in the kidnappings of innocents. This here...is their symbol. By any chance have any of you seen this before?”
Kem leant forward and peered at the image. He shook his head before sitting back again.
I've seen it, Mendal affirmed to Pyrin. "But, don't get your hopes up that I have anything new to tell you. I only know the symbol because Archie showed me it last week, when he came back from the Watch mission with you."
Mendal leaned in to the centre of the table in an attempt to whisper what he wished to say next and keep the words away from the ears of potential Hekrati allies that might be around. "Those people; cult bastards."
Seeing agreeing nods from around the table, the dwarven cleric leaned back against the booth's backrest. He then added an extra observation of the Hekrati as he tapped the symbol in Pyrin's open notebook, "I'll say this though; it's a pretty badass symbol they have. If they asked me to etch that sword and goat skull image into those crossbows they had pointed at us, I'd bet I'd do an amazing job with my craftsmanship."
Pyrin flipped his notebook to another page, where he then revealed names he’d taken over the course of the days events. “We’ve also met a…DeWalt? Von Wald? That spectral…Wilhelm. That mopey so-and so. And D’artagnan. And the ‘Di Silvias.” Pyrin huffed and ran his hand against his head. “And they all want something to do with the Skantros. Those ghouls. Oh; and the ghouls themselves- they have their own agendas it would seem. Has anyone encountered anyone related to any of those groups prior?”
“Skaragos.” Kem corrected Pyrin just a touch too quickly.
He looked to Kem. “You’ve heard that name before tonight?”
“I can honestly say I haven’t.” He said absentmindedly flipping over his cards. “Oh and it’s von Wald. That one I have heard before.”
“Who are they? They had a coat of arms; like an order of paladins or something? This Joannes seemed to be.”
“Some kind of very long lived noble family. I’ve had some involvement with them. Something vampire adjacent I think. A tragic story of fratricide and internal family politics interspersed with some very interesting side characters.” Kem pondered the last point wistfully.
“So much for brotherly love.” Pyrin raised an eyebrow at the last point, “If Wilhelm was anything to go off of, they just seem like a band of wistful nihilists.”
Kem leant in and tapped his deck of cards on the table, “So we agree that none of the factions seem like the obvious ‘good guys’ here? Then by keeping balance between them it looks like we got the best outcome for everyone else. If they’re busy fighting each other then that’s a gift of time. We don't want any one of them on top until we know more."
Yes, Mendal agreed. "Better they fight each other and leave the Dawnlands out of it."
Mendal stroked his beard as he considered what time might provide them. "You know, with my divinely blessed craftsmanship I could whip up some silvered blades pretty quickly. We could go to BloodyCreek and find that last Skaragust monster and terminate it, like the ponce from House di Silvia showed us. If we all had silver blades; less risk."
Kem eyed Mendal and casually placed his hand over his tankard, concealing how much was left of the contents, “I suppose, but there’s no rush is there? My free beer’s nearly finished. Would you like me to get us another round my friend? Maybe see if they’ll let us have something off the top shelf?”
Pyrin ran his talons over his beak. He held his tongue. Or, held back most of it. He spoke to Kem. “Are you content to inaction?” His tone distinctly was restrained, coming more as a genuine question from the heart (which it truthfully was), rather than an enraged accusation. “I hear what you mean of time, I’ll give you that. I just…” Pyrin’s talons fell flat to the table, a sigh leaving his beak. “Time’s never a given quantity. Who knows how long we have- forget weeks; days before they set off plans in motion which we can’t counter. What happens if we take too long?” His last words were rushed, and he turned straight to Kem.
Kem smiled at Mendal before turning back to Pyrin, "Let me tell you a story."
“Once there were two little birds. Each flew into a window and sat on the ground stunned and wounded, unable to fly, unable to defend themselves until they recovered. A cat came up to the first little bird and asked them 'What happened little bird? Why are you on the ground?' and the first little bird said 'Oh I'm just basking in the sun before I stretch my wings and fly, there's no need to worry about me'. The cat turned to the second little bird and asked the same question. 'Oh woe is me' said the second little bird, 'I flew into the window and now I cannot protect myself' and the cat snapped him up and devoured him in a single bite.”
Kem pretended to drink from his tankard as he took a pause at the end of the story, “Maybe you should calm down for an evening and stop flapping Little Bird. We both know there are cats aplenty in the city tonight and you are in no position to escape them if they come for you. None of us are.”
There was no verbal response from Pyrin. His beak tightened, his eyes glaring daggers at Kem. His talons slowly moved off from the table, one going to the drink he had been taking sips from, the other resting just at the edge, very slowly digging in.
He couldn't quite form together a retort in his mind beyond insulting Kem's mother and his attitude, so silence fell from his beak. Little Bird. He'd pay for that. In time.
Mendal downed the rest of his ale. He was probably going to do that anyway, but there was a lot of tension in the air after Kem told his allusionary bird tale of caution to Pyrin, their aaracokra companion. So downing his ale gave Mendal a way to avoid the uncomfortable air, if only for a few seconds. Something else would have to be done.
Mendal smacked his lips after finishing his ale, and addressed Kem, "Top shelf it is! Good idea. I'll come with you, and see if they have any dwarven brandies."
Kem smiled at Mendal and considered apologising to Pyrin as he watched the young investigator simmer. He needed a subject change and he got it, but at a price.
At the bar, the limits of the benefactor's generosity was being tested. Mendal suggested to Kem a very pricey brand of dwarven brandy they should get. As the bartender reached to pull the bottle down of the shelf, Mendal looked up and Kem. "Some might say I love winding people up. It's just a bit of fun though. That said, I think Pyrin's at boiling point. Might be best to ease up before the kettle explodes? We're all friends here right?"
Kem posed himself against the bar, “We are indeed. I wouldn’t want to cut one of my friends down from a tree to extract a message from their innards.”
He leant around the bartender to try and get a glimpse of the label Mendal had gestured to, “You think I went too far?”
Maybe a smidge, Mendal offered as his response, as he followed Kem's line of sight. "Young Mr... Pyrrin?" Mendal did know know the junior detective's family name, "he's a bit sensitive too, I reckon." Mendal looked back up at Kem. "What's his family name, did you catch it? Too many adventurers go by their given name only, or some nickname because they think it's cool. Posers! You mentioned yours, what was it again, Kem...?"
Kem’s full attention focused on Mendal and he spoke very quietly in an attempt to encourage Mendal to do the same, “My family name is Roșu. Pyrin introduced himself as Pyrin Branch. Where are you going with this, Mendal Vultan?”
“You know! …” Mendal cleared his throat and shifted his gaze across the room while keeping his head still. He then looked back up at Kem's face, and did his best to lower his voice. "You know I mean your other title. The one where if P.I Branch found out about it his head would explode as he made the connection - is there a connection?"
Kem held a practised poker face as he weighed up the situation for a few beats, “Not… an active one or even one I fully understand. But yes, I made that same connection.”
“I see.” Mendal said plainly, glad at least there was no playing coy from Kem. "And so then, do you know how you came to put that note up after all?"
“No, but I have a theory, and someone I need to talk to about it. What I don’t need is this situation developing further before I’ve had a chance to do so.”
As the barkeep poured out the brandy he locked eye contact with Mendal, “I know you have little reason to trust me and I’ve given you plenty not to, so whatever I need to do to help you believe me when I say that I am not your enemy just name it.”
“For now, you can pay for these if our benefactor doesn't. There'll be other opportunities later to prove your trustworthiness I'm sure. Also, maybe mention it to the others. Especially detective feathers. He's likely to trust you less the longer you don't mention it. Plus, he's not bad at playing detective - he might be helpful.”
“Maybe not tonight - I somehow don't think he's in the right mood for it.” Kem waited for the bartender to hold out a hand for coin, a hand that was never produced. "Well. Lucky us. In any case I need to depart and my next conversation is going to be one I need a clear head so feel free to give mine to someone you think is in need of it."
He dropped the false levity for a moment, “You’re going to keep this between us right?”
“Sure.” Mendal picks up both the brandies. "I don't like it. But sure. And good luck then.”
Mendal glanced back at the booth where Pyrin and Finnegan were sat. He hoped they were talking about something nice. Maybe Fin was regaling Pyrin with how he and Fin first met? It was a dangerous time. But far less horrible than what the current party had gone through.
“Oh!” Mendal remembered one last thing he wished to say to Kem, and pointed one of his brandy holding hands at Kem's waist. "Make room on your belt for a sword. I'm crafting those - probably fabricating's a better word - silvered blades for us. If we're going to be wading into more of this muck; good to have a fit for purpose weapon. Save up your silver coins; I'll need them."
Kem raised an eyebrow at Mendal's parting comment, but gives him a quick "Sure." as he nodded to Pyrin and Finnegan and made his way toward the door.
As Mendal returned to the table he found Finn trying his best to diffuse the situation by being cheerful and telling stories. But anyone with a good perception could see that there was something bugging him and eventually he felt the need to voice it:
"There is a big game that is played here, I can feel it. Many things are at stake I think. These devils and undead, they are no small fish and whatever we decide, we have to be very careful. I don't say we have to do nothing but we might just end being entangled in something that is way beyond us and if it's the case we will need some powerful allies,” said Finn slowly.
Everyone could see him clutching his glass tightly with a dark look as he added: “Believe me, I've seen what darkness can do in Port Ffirst and we had to be a lot of us to fight it.”
“But if you will excuse me, I don't feel very well and will go back to my room.” He said as he got up from the table. “Pyrin, Mendal, let's stay in touch. That story is not over yet!”
“Cheers mes amis!” exclaimed Finnegan as he made his way to the door, leaving Pyrin and Mendal drinking together.
“Hekrati.” Pyrin uttered to his companions as they journeyed away from Daring Academy. “A bunch of savage, inhuman, demon worshipping scum.” He’d have spat if he could. His feathers ruffled and his wings twitched. He turned to eye Kem. “You seemed intrigued by them. They’re not a pleasant bunch, especially that High Priestess.” The mood of the Aarakocra had turned very sour from his demeanour earlier in the day, the revelations and events having worn him down.
Kem kept up the cocky demeanour for a little longer, but continued to look over his shoulder as they walk away from the Hekrati. “Interesting choice of word. ‘Intrigued’. You’re going to tell me you’re not intrigued by all this Pyrin?” He ventured with a smirk.
“I’ve never heard of them, they seem powerful, no?” said Finnegan, intrigued.
The Aarakocra tilted his head, and responded, "I'd describe myself morbidly curious. Twice now- I've encountered these, these bastards." He spat the last words, seemingly unable to find anything else fitting to describe them (or this being the only he could use in present company).
Turning his head, he sighted the smirk on Kem's face. "You seem to be in high spirits, for a damn devil cult having just gotten a hold of a fracking vampire-horror." He hissed the last words, cautious that they were walking the streets at night and unwilling for any prying ears to hear their conversation.
"You heard D'artagnan, we're responsible for every one of those things- so learning a bunch of kidnapping, sacrificing psychopaths just got a hold of one isn't exactly deserving of sly smirks!" Pyrin rushed the words, gaining pace with every line and with clear irritation evermore present.
Kem stopped in place as they made their way down the street and checked over his shoulder a last time before exhaling and shuddering, the smile falling from his face, replaced with a snarl directed at Pyrin, "I don't know if you noticed, but if I wore my heart on my sleeve like you do there was a good chance of us not walking away from that last conversation."
He scanned around for a suitable inn to step into and relaxed back into his usual easy demeanour, "Maybe we can find somewhere better than this for it if you want to talk further?" He glanced, an eyebrow raised, at each of his compatriots.
Finding a suitable tavern to dive into, Pyrin muttered to Kem as they entered into a booth, “Forgive me for having morals. And forgive me for having the damn decency to stand by them, rather than tucking our tail under our legs. I’ll not deny perhaps we were outgunned- but at the very least we don’t begin to play ‘friends’ just because she held herself well.” Pyrin paused. A comment came to his mind which he just managed to hold. Then he continued, “She’s an arrogant prat. Seems to be a recurring feature with these Hekrati assholes..”
Kem rolled his eyes at the implied insults as he took his seat, “She may not have had the longest claws or sharpest teeth, but any one of us could have guessed that that woman was the most dangerous creature we met tonight. I don’t need a ‘thank you’ for likely saving your life there, but to my people that means you at least owe me something and I always appreciate a good story.”
Before Pyrin could respond, the moment was interrupted by Mendal returning to the table with drinks.
Drink up lads! Mendal said, pushing the drinks towards his fellow adventurers, and sitting himself down. The dwarf, sitting comfortably, inhaled half of his ale, and smacked his lips in satisfaction. "By the way, don't worry about paying me back - drinks were free. So's food too, if you want any. I do. I'll go up and order food for the table, and another ale - mine's almost finished"
Kem kept his eyes locked on Pyrin for long enough to be clear that this conversation wasn’t over before turning to Mendal, “For… all of us? I don’t normally question someone paying for my drinks, but did they say why?”
Nope. Mendal said flatly. "I can think of a million reasons why people should feel inclined to cover my expenditure, but... didn't our friend outside Daring Academy mention how grateful they were, and how we'd be paid well?"
“No ‘if you introduce me to your friend with the tattoos’ then? That’s a little worrying.” He looks back to Pyrin, “And all the more important we hear who our new patrons are.”
“Well, there is indeed a dark side to all of this,” said Finnegan as he gratefully accepted the drink from Mendal, “but I think we did well. We are still alive and that's the most important.
Maybe, my dear friends, we should have a little chat with some higher level adventurers, you know, just for them to be aware. And of course, no need to mention what we did at the cemetery.”
“Kem, maybe we could compose a little song about it? What do you think?”
Kem cocks his head, enjoying the wildly different energy from each person at the table, “You take the tune and I’ll do the lyrics maybe? I’m not much of a musician.”
“Ah, in that case never mind.” replied Finnegan, “Putting this kind of thing into words is part of how I relieve the pressure after a day like today.”
Hearing Mendal make mention that he wasn't sure of who paid their tab caught Pyrin's attention, but he'd make his own inquiries in good time. He wanted to agree with Finnegan, but with Taverns within the Hekrati's influence; where else could be within their influence?
His silence gave him some time to compose himself, and he gently took his cap and rucksack off, setting them aside before he drew his notebook, finding a page where he'd sketched the icon of the Hekrati on a page, and angling it only to be visible into the booth, he displayed the page to the rest of his compatriots.
“I feel a explanation, from the top of my head, is due. The Hekrati are a...cult. They seem to be fiend related, and they've been dabbling in the kidnappings of innocents. This here...is their symbol. By any chance have any of you seen this before?”
Kem leant forward and peered at the image. He shook his head before sitting back again.
I've seen it, Mendal affirmed to Pyrin. "But, don't get your hopes up that I have anything new to tell you. I only know the symbol because Archie showed me it last week, when he came back from the Watch mission with you."
Mendal leaned in to the centre of the table in an attempt to whisper what he wished to say next and keep the words away from the ears of potential Hekrati allies that might be around. "Those people; cult bastards."
Seeing agreeing nods from around the table, the dwarven cleric leaned back against the booth's backrest. He then added an extra observation of the Hekrati as he tapped the symbol in Pyrin's open notebook, "I'll say this though; it's a pretty badass symbol they have. If they asked me to etch that sword and goat skull image into those crossbows they had pointed at us, I'd bet I'd do an amazing job with my craftsmanship."
Pyrin flipped his notebook to another page, where he then revealed names he’d taken over the course of the days events. “We’ve also met a…DeWalt? Von Wald? That spectral…Wilhelm. That mopey so-and so. And D’artagnan. And the ‘Di Silvias.” Pyrin huffed and ran his hand against his head. “And they all want something to do with the Skantros. Those ghouls. Oh; and the ghouls themselves- they have their own agendas it would seem. Has anyone encountered anyone related to any of those groups prior?”
“Skaragos.” Kem corrected Pyrin just a touch too quickly.
He looked to Kem. “You’ve heard that name before tonight?”
“I can honestly say I haven’t.” He said absentmindedly flipping over his cards. “Oh and it’s von Wald. That one I have heard before.”
“Who are they? They had a coat of arms; like an order of paladins or something? This Joannes seemed to be.”
“Some kind of very long lived noble family. I’ve had some involvement with them. Something vampire adjacent I think. A tragic story of fratricide and internal family politics interspersed with some very interesting side characters.” Kem pondered the last point wistfully.
“So much for brotherly love.” Pyrin raised an eyebrow at the last point, “If Wilhelm was anything to go off of, they just seem like a band of wistful nihilists.”
Kem leant in and tapped his deck of cards on the table, “So we agree that none of the factions seem like the obvious ‘good guys’ here? Then by keeping balance between them it looks like we got the best outcome for everyone else. If they’re busy fighting each other then that’s a gift of time. We don't want any one of them on top until we know more."
Yes, Mendal agreed. "Better they fight each other and leave the Dawnlands out of it."
Mendal stroked his beard as he considered what time might provide them. "You know, with my divinely blessed craftsmanship I could whip up some silvered blades pretty quickly. We could go to BloodyCreek and find that last Skaragust monster and terminate it, like the ponce from House di Silvia showed us. If we all had silver blades; less risk."
Kem eyed Mendal and casually placed his hand over his tankard, concealing how much was left of the contents, “I suppose, but there’s no rush is there? My free beer’s nearly finished. Would you like me to get us another round my friend? Maybe see if they’ll let us have something off the top shelf?”
Pyrin ran his talons over his beak. He held his tongue. Or, held back most of it. He spoke to Kem. “Are you content to inaction?” His tone distinctly was restrained, coming more as a genuine question from the heart (which it truthfully was), rather than an enraged accusation. “I hear what you mean of time, I’ll give you that. I just…” Pyrin’s talons fell flat to the table, a sigh leaving his beak. “Time’s never a given quantity. Who knows how long we have- forget weeks; days before they set off plans in motion which we can’t counter. What happens if we take too long?” His last words were rushed, and he turned straight to Kem.
Kem smiled at Mendal before turning back to Pyrin, "Let me tell you a story."
“Once there were two little birds. Each flew into a window and sat on the ground stunned and wounded, unable to fly, unable to defend themselves until they recovered. A cat came up to the first little bird and asked them 'What happened little bird? Why are you on the ground?' and the first little bird said 'Oh I'm just basking in the sun before I stretch my wings and fly, there's no need to worry about me'. The cat turned to the second little bird and asked the same question. 'Oh woe is me' said the second little bird, 'I flew into the window and now I cannot protect myself' and the cat snapped him up and devoured him in a single bite.”
Kem pretended to drink from his tankard as he took a pause at the end of the story, “Maybe you should calm down for an evening and stop flapping Little Bird. We both know there are cats aplenty in the city tonight and you are in no position to escape them if they come for you. None of us are.”
There was no verbal response from Pyrin. His beak tightened, his eyes glaring daggers at Kem. His talons slowly moved off from the table, one going to the drink he had been taking sips from, the other resting just at the edge, very slowly digging in.
He couldn't quite form together a retort in his mind beyond insulting Kem's mother and his attitude, so silence fell from his beak. Little Bird. He'd pay for that. In time.
Mendal downed the rest of his ale. He was probably going to do that anyway, but there was a lot of tension in the air after Kem told his allusionary bird tale of caution to Pyrin, their aaracokra companion. So downing his ale gave Mendal a way to avoid the uncomfortable air, if only for a few seconds. Something else would have to be done.
Mendal smacked his lips after finishing his ale, and addressed Kem, "Top shelf it is! Good idea. I'll come with you, and see if they have any dwarven brandies."
Kem smiled at Mendal and considered apologising to Pyrin as he watched the young investigator simmer. He needed a subject change and he got it, but at a price.
At the bar, the limits of the benefactor's generosity was being tested. Mendal suggested to Kem a very pricey brand of dwarven brandy they should get. As the bartender reached to pull the bottle down of the shelf, Mendal looked up and Kem. "Some might say I love winding people up. It's just a bit of fun though. That said, I think Pyrin's at boiling point. Might be best to ease up before the kettle explodes? We're all friends here right?"
Kem posed himself against the bar, “We are indeed. I wouldn’t want to cut one of my friends down from a tree to extract a message from their innards.”
He leant around the bartender to try and get a glimpse of the label Mendal had gestured to, “You think I went too far?”
Maybe a smidge, Mendal offered as his response, as he followed Kem's line of sight. "Young Mr... Pyrrin?" Mendal did know know the junior detective's family name, "he's a bit sensitive too, I reckon." Mendal looked back up at Kem. "What's his family name, did you catch it? Too many adventurers go by their given name only, or some nickname because they think it's cool. Posers! You mentioned yours, what was it again, Kem...?"
Kem’s full attention focused on Mendal and he spoke very quietly in an attempt to encourage Mendal to do the same, “My family name is Roșu. Pyrin introduced himself as Pyrin Branch. Where are you going with this, Mendal Vultan?”
“You know! …” Mendal cleared his throat and shifted his gaze across the room while keeping his head still. He then looked back up at Kem's face, and did his best to lower his voice. "You know I mean your other title. The one where if P.I Branch found out about it his head would explode as he made the connection - is there a connection?"
Kem held a practised poker face as he weighed up the situation for a few beats, “Not… an active one or even one I fully understand. But yes, I made that same connection.”
“I see.” Mendal said plainly, glad at least there was no playing coy from Kem. "And so then, do you know how you came to put that note up after all?"
“No, but I have a theory, and someone I need to talk to about it. What I don’t need is this situation developing further before I’ve had a chance to do so.”
As the barkeep poured out the brandy he locked eye contact with Mendal, “I know you have little reason to trust me and I’ve given you plenty not to, so whatever I need to do to help you believe me when I say that I am not your enemy just name it.”
“For now, you can pay for these if our benefactor doesn't. There'll be other opportunities later to prove your trustworthiness I'm sure. Also, maybe mention it to the others. Especially detective feathers. He's likely to trust you less the longer you don't mention it. Plus, he's not bad at playing detective - he might be helpful.”
“Maybe not tonight - I somehow don't think he's in the right mood for it.” Kem waited for the bartender to hold out a hand for coin, a hand that was never produced. "Well. Lucky us. In any case I need to depart and my next conversation is going to be one I need a clear head so feel free to give mine to someone you think is in need of it."
He dropped the false levity for a moment, “You’re going to keep this between us right?”
“Sure.” Mendal picks up both the brandies. "I don't like it. But sure. And good luck then.”
Mendal glanced back at the booth where Pyrin and Finnegan were sat. He hoped they were talking about something nice. Maybe Fin was regaling Pyrin with how he and Fin first met? It was a dangerous time. But far less horrible than what the current party had gone through.
“Oh!” Mendal remembered one last thing he wished to say to Kem, and pointed one of his brandy holding hands at Kem's waist. "Make room on your belt for a sword. I'm crafting those - probably fabricating's a better word - silvered blades for us. If we're going to be wading into more of this muck; good to have a fit for purpose weapon. Save up your silver coins; I'll need them."
Kem raised an eyebrow at Mendal's parting comment, but gives him a quick "Sure." as he nodded to Pyrin and Finnegan and made his way toward the door.
As Mendal returned to the table he found Finn trying his best to diffuse the situation by being cheerful and telling stories. But anyone with a good perception could see that there was something bugging him and eventually he felt the need to voice it:
"There is a big game that is played here, I can feel it. Many things are at stake I think. These devils and undead, they are no small fish and whatever we decide, we have to be very careful. I don't say we have to do nothing but we might just end being entangled in something that is way beyond us and if it's the case we will need some powerful allies,” said Finn slowly.
Everyone could see him clutching his glass tightly with a dark look as he added: “Believe me, I've seen what darkness can do in Port Ffirst and we had to be a lot of us to fight it.”
“But if you will excuse me, I don't feel very well and will go back to my room.” He said as he got up from the table. “Pyrin, Mendal, let's stay in touch. That story is not over yet!”
“Cheers mes amis!” exclaimed Finnegan as he made his way to the door, leaving Pyrin and Mendal drinking together.