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Log: Teahouse Kung-Fu, Part 3: Assassins revealed

Page history last edited by Tsangun 15 years, 6 months ago

Synopsis: Turtle appears to have discovered who sent the ninjas after Nellens Rombulac, but all is not as it seems...

Setting: Hundred Kingdoms

Characters: Gentle Turtle

Run By: Gao-Ling

 

 

        The third floor is an odd, unusual floor. In sharp contrast to the first two floor, which seemed like a normal tea house for the most part, this floor's customers are obviously out of the ordinary. There are only a sparse few individuals on the floor. A large, shirtless barbarian looking fellowing wearing animal skins is snoring gently in a corner. Not far from him, a women surrounded by exotic looking plans appear to be mixing medicine, or poison, of some kind. There's a fellow sitting there enjoying a cup of tea, and would look fairly normal were it not for the fact that he's sitting across the table from a blood-ape, who's drinking out of a cup appearantly fashioned from a skull. This is a den of heretics and villains if Turtle ever saw one... but no ninjas yet.

Additionally, there seems to be sounds of music driftly peacefully throughout the floor. Someone is playing a sanxian.

 

         Gentle Turtle does not have the sly cunning and political acumen that comes to those who spend their lives immersed in the Dynasty; while, yes, he is a Dynast, he was never a big part of it. He is mild-mannered, polite, humble and straightforward. As such, while something clever would likely serve him better, he has only one option: just be upfront and ask them, one by one! He begins by looking for the person playing the sanxian.

 

-= OOC =- Gentle Turtle is going to be sniffin' around all detective-like, and then question the sanxian player.

 

-= OOC =- Gao-Ling says, "Roll awareness then."

 

(Judge) Gentle Turtle rolls Perception  + Awareness  + Essence: [ -1- 3 4 4 6 8 9 ]

         Resulting in 2 successes.

 

-= OOC =- Gentle Turtle thinks he's not yet rid himself of his poor rolling luck.

 

-= OOC =- Gao-Ling says, "You don't SEE a sanxian player."

 

         Turtle doesn't manage to see anything, and that brings a frown to his face. Then he recalls what was said on the floor below - demons are rather common here! Activating Pasiap's Humility in order to attune himself to the spiritual, his eyes are suddenly assaulted by the myriad miniscule spirits that fill the world; it's disorienting and frightening, to be honest. He again tries looking for the sanxian player, thinking perhaps it was an immaterial demon. He also decides to speak! "E-Excuse me," he begins, to no one in particular. "W-Who's playing? It's q-q-quite nice."

 

(OOC) Gentle Turtle just spent Essence from his Personal Essence pool

 

-= OOC =- Gentle Turtle can now see the immaterial! So if there's demons around, he's getting an ugly eyefull. :(

 

The music stops, mid-song, somewhat abruptly. Turtle suddenly notices a long haired man sitting on a bench, a sanxian in his hands and a fine sheathed blade sitting beside him. He puts the instrument down on the bench and looks at Turtle. "That would be me. What exactly brings you to this place, Immaculate?" He spits the last word out, as if finding it distasteful. He seems to be no demon.

 

         "You p-p-play well," the monk admits, bowing politely. The distaste in the man's voice does not affect him in any noticeable way, his expression still pleasant and his manner demure. "I'm l-looking for information, and a muh-muh-master of a certain art. You know the name Ra-Ra-Rombulac?"

 

"Who around here doesn't? He's the Satrap of Greyfalls, is he not?" The musician replies as he gently, in a fairly non-threatening manner, picks up his sheathed sword. "Of course, we are not in the Satrapy right now. Although I dare say the bounderies of the Satrapy might get larger once this war finishes."

 

         "We are n-not in the Satrapy, and I am n-not a suh-suh-soldier, and do not know of such things" Turtle concedes, paying no visible mind to the sword. "I am a muh-martial artist, looking for another. Even an asssassin's-" and of course he stutters on the word so many times it sounds like he's got the mouth of a sailor, "- art has its ah-honor. The Fuh-Fuh-Fivefold Shadow Hand Style, known by the group to uh-attack Rombulac. I want to nuh-know who's to blame." There's no subtlety there, no clever tricks or wordplay; Turtle is relying entirely on the 'code' that binds martial artists, perhaps unwisely.

 

"So the Satrap of Greyfalls is attacked by assassins, and you show up here, seeking people blame, solely because of the style used by the assassins? You insult us, Immaculate. We may practice martial arts not endorsed by your order, and you may call them low styles... but to suggest that just because of that we would harbor assassins here is an insult!" The man suddenly leaps up, his weapon no longer in its sheath, its black jade blade flashing dangerously before Turtle's eyes.

 

-= OOC =- Gao-Ling says, "If you're up for fighting, roll join battle. If you want to try to appease and avoid a fight, you can give that a try too"

 

         "You tuh-take offense where none is meant," Turtle says demurely, unmoving and unblinking - sure, he's terrified to be up here, but Serendipity's waiting for him downstairs. He needs to get through this without pissing himself or destroying the building. Even in the face of the man's anger and jade, his expression is benign and calm. "This is a guh-gathering for martial artists. It r-reasons to follow, then, that ah-asking here would be more fuh-fuh-fruitful than mindlessly wuh-wandering. I did not suh-suggest you harbored them here, I asked for i-information if you had it. Puh-puh-please calm yourself, I have fuh-fought enough."

 

"You've barely fought at all. You sparred, you danced around the past two floors. I should draw your blood, show you exactly what the so called 'low styles' can really do." Growls the man menacingly. "And you might do that." comments the woman with the plants, one table over from Turtle and the sanxian player. "You'd impressively nick him once before he breaks every bone in your body, and probably this whole floor too. I, for one, would rather we skip that whole mess."

 

         "That would be tuh-tuh-terrible," Gentle Turtle says, looking horrified by the mere thought of doing something so cruel as breaking every bone in someone's body. "I am nuh-not looking to hurt anyone." He bows once more to the sanxian player. "I will gladly fuh-fight you if you wish, in return for he-helping me. It'd be ruh-rude to refuse someone who assisted me." He turns to the plant woman. "Skipping it would be best," he says, managing it without a stutter. Whether he needs to fight the man to appease him or just listen to the plant woman, Turtle is willing.

 

"There are indeed a few people here who practice the Fivefold Shadow Hand styles. I, for one, would not be so quick to call them assassins simple because of that..." The woman mentions. "But they would occational come and purchase some of my more... dangerous wares." She smiles, opening a lid of green-ish looking paste or oil. It looks like the kind of thing someone would apply onto their blade for that extra edge. The musician, meanwhile, has reseathed his blade, glaring angrily at both the woman and at Turtle before he picks up his sanxian again and turns his back to them. "There were last here a month ago, meeting with some guy I never seen before. But they haven't been around since, so why don't you get lost?" The man says.

 

         "Muh-My apologies for the label," Gentle Turtle says, looking properly bashful. Hands clasped at his front, head lowered, he shuffles on his feet. His question has been answered, but he needs more information, so now he's uncomfortable. "P-P-Pardon, but...um...wuh-wuh-wuh-what did this man look like?"

 

The sanxian player shrugs. "Like a fellow. Dragonblooded, likely. Ask the purple one, she can show you." He suggests. The man who's drinking with the blood-ape stands up at this point, and his form changes, slowly revealing him to be a her, and a neomah. The lavender first circle demon thinks for a moment, and her flesh shifts once more, taking the shape of a much younger man with short blue hair. "I believe the other humans called this one 'Iselsi'." The neomah says.

 

The family name, and the face on display manage to jog Turtle's memories. He had seen this face before, once in Greyfalls. He hadn't recall the exact occation, but he knows with certainly who this was. It was Iselsi Joveh. One of Kitono's close lieutenants. No doubt, he marched off with Kitono to war. His sighting at the teahouse would have been right before the troops marching out.

 

         Gentle Turtle inspects the transformed neomah closely, doing his best to commit the appearance of the man to memory - and then his memory is jogged. In a gesture surprising coming from an Immaculate, he smiles at the demon. "Thank you vuh-vuh-very much," he says as brightly as he can manage, even though his mood is rather shot after identifying the man. Kitono is against the Satrap, he has an army, and he's on the warpath - delightful. "Puh-Pardon the intrusion," he says with a bow to all gathered, before moving to descend the stairs.

 

Turtle's footsteps echo as he goes back down to the second floor, finding Serendipity and informing her of his discoveries. Once he is long gone, the sanxian player turns to the poison-maker and says, "Do you think he bought it?" The woman smiles as she crushes a handful of leaves in a bowl. "I'd think so. We put on quite an elaborate show, and he's tired and confused from the mindless spars on the last two floors... although from the looks of him, he's probably confused all the time. I'd say things are going well."

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