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>>4767144
[LEVEL UP:

You have become better still at seduction, illusion, and occult or arcane matters, since this is how you’ve resolved most major dilemmas lately.
When facing a matter where success is not guaranteed or terribly likely, failure has notable consequences, and I’d feel railroad making you fail or cheap forcing a success, I will roll dice. Currently, that is 1d20 for most tasks, but 2d20 (taking the highest) for tasks involving: politesse, intimidation, stealth, arcane knowledge, or the occult, and 3d20 for matters related to seduction, dance, or illusion magic. This is based on choices you’ve made.
You also have an inherent bonus to disguise attempts when relevant, an use human magic items without your Reptilian race’s usual penalty, and you have a decreased difficulty to rolls wherein you fight an untrained opponent hand-to-hand due to martial arts training. As a general rule, DCs are 15, but disguise, magic item use, and favourable melees as discussed have DC 10, Rolls will be used somewhat sparingly.]

[ Previous volumes, for those of you just joining us, are at http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=reptoidqm ]

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>>4767147

Having escaped the occult machinations of Mister Tokunbo and his dead-turned-demonic, dream-invading pupil Lady Zivic, and tamed the wererats who keep the former prisoner, you have discovered from some discussion with Agatha Johan and her uncle, Oxford, that The Grey Press AND the Mages’ Tower are both investigating the fire which claimed Zivic’s mortal shell—a fire that your ally, Roth, started after you visited Zivic’s manor. This is troubling, as it could potentially lead them to discover a trail to you and your race.

Of course, directly interfering in the investigation carries its own risks… And you also have some reputational matters to smooth over with your employer, Mina, and with your overgenerous suitor, Edwin. You abandoned your last shift to resolve Roth’s kidnapping, leaving them both with only vague and worrying half-explanations, and neither has seen you since.

Furthermore, Lord Yosef and his family are still all out there. You have no idea how much his family knows, but Isaac Yosef himself will not give up his quest against the Reptilian cause. According to him, a Reptilian infiltrator seduced and murdered his late son, and defeating your people has become his all-consuming obsession. Even without the support of The Grey press, he has connections in government and finance, and a pair of magical glasses which may be able to pierce illusions…

What do you do?
>Head back to Roth's home to discuss these new revelations
>Head to The Pretty Kitty to discuss your disappearance with Madam Mina, and to collect your wages
>Head to the Hawksong Royal Library to reinforce your relationship with Edwin, and to study magic matters
>Head to the Zivic Manor to interfere in some investigations
>Head to The Grey Press to offer up some misinformation
>Head to Lord Yosef’s manor to further subvert his efforts
>Seek out Janus the merchant’s son, to acquire more intelligence on the excavations
>Write-in

>>4767154
>Head back to Roth's home to discuss these new revelations

We should ask Roth what exactly happened at the manor with all the details. Figure out what will the Mages learn and if there is any pieces of evidence we could or should remove from there before proper investigation begins.

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>>4767162

You cast aside your other obligations for the most immediate priority: covering your tracks. To that end, you backtrack across town at a brisk pace, heading back to the smithy where Roth is recuperating.

Your colleague (if such a term in applicable) is still recovering from his beatings at the hands of the wererats who you call tentative allies. The two of you have come to an agreement that Boss Leo’s little mob of shapeshifting monsters should be exterminated in the near future, but you come inquiring for a different reason.

Roth, once more disguised as a human but still speaking your own native tongue in the privacy of his room, scoffs at your questioning. “Traces? Evidence? I leave no such thing.”

“Really?” you ask. “You left Tokunbo alive, for one thing. Think harder, Dragonblooded One.”

He snorts derisively, but unlike in the past, he refrains from insulting your parentage and lowly social status. He remembers well who saved his life, and tended to his wounds. “My fire burns with some intensity… But still, I suppose it is possible they might find evidence of the wounds my talons inflicted upon the servants as they fled their burning quarters.

You think back to the box of grisly trophies you uncovered in his home while investigating his kidnapping. “Did you extract any teeth from the mammals?”

Roth looks surprised, and glares at you. “Do not touch a dragon’s horde, Infiltrator.”

“Answer the question, Fellow Infiltrator,” you counter with ironically-reflected formality.

“No,” he says with some bitterness. “Zivic was the only worthy trophy, and the flames were too intense where she fell for even one such as I. The smoke would have asphyxiated me.”

You nod along with this. Only one obvious piece of evidence that there was anything more than a toppled candle or torch to blame, then… Well, that and perhaps the odd synchronicity of the two buildings, unconnected and a fair distance away from each other, both catching flame so rapidly that none (or none but Tokunbo) could escape.

What do you do next?

>Ask Roth additional questions (What?)
>Head to the Zivic Manor to meddle in the investigation directly
>Head to the Zivic Manor to sneak in and tamper with the bodies
>Head to The Grey Press to spread misinformation (What will you tell them?)
>Forget the Manor for now, and attend to other matters (specify which)

>>4767549
>Ask Roth additional questions (What?)
Why's he so bitter all the time? Why the teeth of all things?
>Tell him we didn't touch his trophies
>Head to the Zivic Manor to sneak in and tamper with the bodies
Let's see if we can do anything about those wounds.

>>4767549
>>Head to the Zivic Manor to sneak in and tamper with the bodies

Rolled 20, 1 = 21 (2d20)

DC 10 (post coming up)

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>>4767891
>>4767632
You consider lying to Roth about your meddling with his person affects, his ‘horde’… But you did, and you still have his book of contacts and targets. No need to draw attention to that, and to make it a matter of dispute, since your relationship with your contact has just started to improve. Part of you wonders why Roth is so very bitter, but… Well, if you aren’t close enough yet to offer reassurances, you doubt you’ll ever be close enough for a heart-to-heart, which has a distinct whiff of mammalian weakness. Maybe someday, perhaps… But not today.

Today, you take a quick detour to your apartment to slip into something more comfortable—some practical menswear, which has become your de facto stealth suit. To your relief, you see no sign of the apartment’s formal owner, Edwin of Engel. You have higher priorities right now than tending to male feelings, be it his or Roth’s. Once changed, and quickly bathed to relieve your sewer-stench, you head towards what remains of the Zivic manor.

The sun is low by the time you arrive, and you find yourself enviously eyeing those carriages which the wealthy people f this manor-studded uptown area use to exit their wealthy district of Hawksong. Traveling by foot takes up such a huge potion of your day, limiting your options… But what else is a prostitute, dancer, or kept woman to do? Could you feasibly request such a luxury from Edwin, you wonder? Would it allow you the privacy you need to do your true work, if you could? You reflect on your torpor-dream of being carried about by servants on a litter, once you have conquered this place for reptile-kind. A female can dream!

It is the smell of ash and waste which brings you back to reality. You slip through the same back-alleys which led you to Zivic’s manor before and, this time, you don’t run into any guards along the way. What you find once you arrive is the cold ash of a once-smoldering blaze, and the skeletonized remains of the servants’ quarters. You shudder slightly, though you can’t say why.

You lay in wait until you are able to identify the location of investigators. Guardsmen and a number of black-cloaked, individuals wearing pointy, maroon hats are currently in conversation with a familiar-looking human male: one of the employees of The Grey Press’ dwarven owner, Siddug Underhead. He seems to be trying to justify his presence in the investigation, and to get a closer look. You never caught the human’s name, but you offer him a silent and ironic thanks for distracting these more serious threats as you go about your work.

>>4768468
You root around in the ruins of the servant’s quarters, eventually finding the crusty-black remains of two humanoids. You remember Mattie and Mister Fireberry in life: a large, broad redheaded woman and a little dirty-garbed half-elf gardener. You shudder again, the feeling from earlier worsening, but you bury this anomalous emotion as you search their corpses for signs of Reptilian talons. You find them, primarily on Mattie; either she struggled or Roth has some real hang-ups, because despite the scorching of her body, you find many gouges and slashes. Luckily, nobody has headed this way yet,

What do you do?
>Hide nearby and use your illusion to hide the signs of savaging
>Drag the body away from the site to hide the evidence
>Use your dagger to disguise the slashes as the wounds of a more conventional weapon
>Bury the body deeper in the ash in the hopes this hides the damage
>Write-in

>>4768469
>Use your dagger to disguise the slashes as the wounds of a more conventional weapon
They suspect that Zivic was a witch, so it's better not to use magic in case they can see through our amateurish illusion.

>>4768469
>>Use your dagger to disguise the slashes as the wounds of a more conventional weapon

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>>4769098
>>4768539
You sink your knife repeatedly into the punctures made by Roth’s claws, dragging it across where he slashed them sideways. The burnt flesh is tough, hardly giving way and often crumbling at the edges. You can only hope that this further degradation doesn’t draw suspicion, but simply disguises the wounds as the result of the burns.

You hear footsteps approaching. Hurriedly, to brush and kick some of the debris back over the bodies to make the scene appear more akin to the naturally-buried state you found them in. Then, you fall back swiftly and silently into the hedges and shrubbery not yet burnt to cinders. It seems that the investigators have turned away the man from The Grey Press, and with him gone, they set to work. You don’t linger to see what they uncover; every instant you spend here is another chance at discovery.

The sun is lower now in the sky as you depart. It’s likely too late for you to catch Edwin of Engel at the library, but you have enough time to attend to a matter or two before work—especially as you have your Kamunu clothing in your backpack, ready to change into.

What do you do?
>Intercept the man from The Grey Press to lure him astray
>Visit Lord Yosef’s manor—it’s not terribly far away, and you could do some more work on him and obtaining his magic glasses
>Report back to Roth
>Visit the library anyway, to study magic; it’s not all about Edwin
>Head straight to work, to apologize to Madam Mina for you early departure last night
>Write-in

>>4769107
>Intercept the man from The Grey Press to lure him astray
Better if they don't pay too much attention to this. Surely we can sell him a dramatic story to satisfy his journalism so he fucks off.
>Head to work, to apologize to Madam Mina for you early departure last night

>>4769143
+1

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>>4770209
>>4769143

You hurry to intercept the human male who works for The Grey press, hurrying as best you can without drawing undue attention and taking several fortuitous side-roads. Eventually, running out of breath, you burst from an alley and into his path.

The man jumps back with a start, then tilts back his brimmed cap and looks you up and down.

“Hey, you’re that woman who stormed the office and pressured us about that lizard book,” he says. “What are you doing here? And why are you in man-clothes?”

“You’re invesstigating the Zivic Manor fire, right?” you ask, ignoring the latter question.

This abrupt subject change, and your knowledge of his doings, both throw the man off. “What’s that matter to you?” he asks.

“I have information,” you say. “Usseful information, on the fire. Jusst… Let me catch my breath.”

The human male—his name is apparently Anton—waits patiently while you regain your composure. He even offers to guide you over to a seat. It was really quite the jog, and today ahs been naught but cardiovascular exercise, after a long and difficult night. And there’s still your shift, awaiting you in a scant hour or two!

“So, what have you got for me?” he asks.

What do you tell him?
>Spin a tale of government and mage conspiracy against a hedge-witch
>Tell him a tale of dangerous wererats beneath the city streets, responsible for burning the manor down
>Warn him of a mad Aardan occultist who took advantage of a lonely noblewoman’s naivete and then turned on her
>Lure him into an alley and threaten him into silence
>Seduce him into dropping the story
>Assassinate him and hide the body
>Write-in

>>4770443
>Tell him a tale of dangerous wererats beneath the city streets, responsible for burning the manor down
>Seduce him into believing your story

>>4770687
supporting

>>4770443
>>Assassinate him and hide the body

>>4770699
We need to be inconspicuous, killing journalist who tried finding out what happened here would only attract even more attention.

>>4770443
>>Tell him a tale of dangerous wererats beneath the city streets, responsible for burning the manor down

That can also come in handy if, at any later point, we have to rat them out (heh) to the authorities. Being victimized for telling people about them will draw less investigation about our prior dealings than being victimized for unclear reasons.

>>4770777
>>4770699
>>4770693
>>4770687

“I know that we didn’t get off to the best of sstartss,” you say. “I didn’t believe you that there were ssubterranean reptilianss trying to infiltrate the ccity. The concept just sseemed ridiculouss, even dangerouss, to ssuggesst that fellow ccitzienss could be shapeshifting ssubverssivess…”

Anton looks confused. “I thought you said you had information on what happened to the Zivic Manor?”

Then, realization dawns.

“Wait,” he says, “you don’t mean…”

You nod, and he tilts back his hat. “You’re playing a joke on me, right? No gods-damned way. What’s your angle?”

“I’m not lying!” you protest, affecting a faintly frantic tone. Unbuttoning your shirt—to Anton’s surprise and evident fascination—you show off the fading scars left by your time as the wererats’ plaything.

“Holy shit,” Anton says.

Before he can say much else, you’ve thrown yourself at him, into his arms, and clung to him. You attempt a tremble, and smirk at the increase in his heartrate as your softness presses into him. You mumble something about how scary it all was, and before long the tabloid journalist is stroking your hair and comforting you.

Eventually, when you are certain the human male is in in a state of full, chivalric foolishness to protect your dainty little person from the big, scary monsters, you complete the maneuver:

“here’s just one thing,” you whisper fearfully. “They weren’t reptilian. The creaturess that attacked me, that burned down the Zivic Manor… They were rats! Giant, humanoid ratss!”

You manage to shake, shiver, and sob your way out of explaining the exact circumstances under which you were in that area of town, or how you escaped the wererats, or anything else of the sort. You refuse to give Anton your address—you tell him you’re terrified to stay put, anyway—but he makes you promise to come to The Grey press when you can to give a more formal statement. This works for you, as it’s more time to come up with a story.

>>4771066
With this scribbler of half-truths turned to your will and The Grey Press weaponized against those who betrayed and violated you, you hurry on to your work at The Pretty Kitty. Once there, you greet Felia at the door, and learn from her that Mina has been looking for you, and doesn’t seem happy. You also learn that Estellia is still missing, leaving the dancers without a truly talented human headliner.

Eurgh. And just when you’d started to move up and out of the burlesque dancing for miscellaneous lounge-goers and onto something more auspicious and suitable for high-society infiltrations. You half-suspect the rats are to blame for that disappearance and for this setback, too.

You get changed in the bathing room—after bathing away and covering with perfume any dregs of septic stench. Then, still ahead of schedule, you head for Madam Mina’s office. You know she’ll require an explanation for your sudden absence, especially given the circumstances.

It also occurs to you that, even if you were attend a ‘private showing’… You may have a wererat-borne sexual infection.

What do you tell her?
>Play it close to the chest; it was a private matter that called you away, but you’re here now
>Tell her outright about your possible STI, and suggest that this is why you left early
>Tell her you left to find Estellia, so great was your concern
>Show her your scars, and explain that you were kidnapped and assaulted by terrible rat-monsters
>Seduce your way out of having to explain anything [roll required]
>Write-in

>>4771067
>>Show her your scars, and explain that you were kidnapped and assaulted by terrible rat-monsters

>>4771067
>Show her your scars, and explain that you were kidnapped and assaulted by terrible rat-monsters
>Look at her reaction when we mention the wererats (since she's a cat)

Boobs solve most problems, but we don't wanna further piss her off if our charms decide to fail this one time. Doesn't mean we can't show her ALL the scars just to see her reaction.

Sorry if I sound ignorant, but do you mind reminding us about who works at The Pretty Kitty and what our relationships are here? It always slipped my mind but now it's pretty important.

>>4771324
[Your employer is Madam Mina, a stern but somewhat maternal cat-person. Your coworkers include Felia (busty, personable, a sex-worker but also more often than not middle management), Estellia (beautiful, talented, has a tense one-sided rivalry with you, now missing), Manuela (a rowdy halfling dancer and prostitute), Grendel (a shy quarter-orc), Helga (dwarf, business-minded, probable lesbian), and The Twins (Alicia and Tricia, quiet humans and close friends of Estellia). There's also Laskar, the elven bard who was sort of instrumental to your mystical awakening and discovering your live of music and dance.]

>>4771404
Thanks!
The fact she's the one who previously tried to find a dirt and nearly attacked us makes me wanna find her asap. Whether it's rats, demon or Tokunbo, they all could easily use her against us.

>>4771324
>>4771287
When you enter the cat-madam's office, she is puffing on her peculiar pipe—and obvious sign of stress. You silently take a seat, and her tail thumps the floor repeatedly, punishing the world with irate lashes.

“You think that just because you have talent, you don't need discipline,” she says. Her tone is low, but even; you can barely hear the vibration of a growl deep in her throat.

“I'm ssory,” you say, “but it wassn't my fault.”

“Oh?” she shoots back. “Then WHOSE, Kamunu?”

Slowly, you stand back up and, looking at you anew, she can see the stabbed over scratches and still-mending scars. She goes still for a moment then puffs again as her ears go back.

“Tell me everything,” she says.

You do… More or less. You don't tell her about your professional ties to Boss Leo, of course, or who arranged the meeting or proposed the sexual liaison, but you DO tell her about being spirited away to a dank sewer to be violently violated by a pack of rat creatures. To your surprise, Mina's reaction is more fury than surprise.

“They should know better than to mess with my girls,” she spits, claws gouging the armrest of her seat. She beckons for you to refill her pipe, and begins to smoke with an angry sort of enthusiasm. “Verminous scum!”

“You… Know them, Missss Mina?”

She doesn't answer, which is answer enough.

“Do you… Ssuspect that these thingss might have kidnapped Esstellia, too?” you ask. You wonder vaguely how they might use her against you.

“Let me worry about this,” she says, coughing slightly. “You can't go to uptown looking like that, though. Scrapes and slashes don't sell ‘class', and after what happened to you… Have you been to an apothecary?”

What do you do?
>Insist that you are clean, and can use makeup and illusions to hide your scrapes
>Offer to dance instead, as with previous nights
>Request the night off due to trauma and stress, so you can attend to other matters
>Write-in

>>4772097
>>Write-in

>Tell her you haven't been tended to well enough to feel safe from infection
>Ask her advice on what to do
>Be ready to dance, to cover for the establishment's troubles and lack of Estellia
>Ask on how to deal with wererats if they pursue revenge for ratting them out, especially when you are outside of the establishment and therefore outside of Mina's possible protection

>Tell Mina you're a reptilian. She is sharp, so she must suspect it anyway; you're valuable, especially now, and it doesn't get in way of your work, even during private moments, so it's gonna be fine with her; and she's going to learn it from the wererats anyway.

If we tell her ourselves, we can spin it as wererats thinking they've got power over us by knowing our secret. If she learns it from them first, we're likely to get into trouble for dealing with them and for keeping this secret from her. And she's not a human, she's a fellow animal-person trying to fit in, so if anything she might be sympathetic to our situation if we show honesty.

>>4772552
support

>>4772097
>>4772552
+1

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>>4772552
>>4772555
>>4772587
“I have been,” you say nervously, “but I didn't have the coin for treatment. I tried a temple insstead.”

“Girl,” she says frankly, “if temples could treat illnesses, we wouldn’t even have apothecaries. Let me see what they gave you.”

You show her anxiously, and she looks it over before looking back to you. “Symptoms?”

“Itching,” you say, feeling like you're back at a training session with your handlers, reciting infiltration procedures. “Sorenesss Mild inflammation.”

Mina nods. “Sounds like they were rough Went in dry, too I'd wager? You're probably okay—just some chafing. The rash spreadsheet or you get any bumps, you tell me. I know a guy. You good to dance?”

“Whatever you need,” you slightly bow your head, as if addressing a scion of a superior bloodline. She really does have the tone of command and authority down pat.

“Then get down there, Kamunu,” she orders. “I'll handle the rest.”

“What of reprissalss, though?” you ask. “When I'm here, I'm ssafe. But what about when I go home?”

“Your old room ain't occupied yet. Stay here a few nights.”

That could get in the way of things… But strangely enough, you feel you can trust this fellow outcast. Sure, she's just as lowly as the human race, if not moreso, but there's something about her…

You were about to leave, but now you turn around. “Mina?”

“Yeah?” she asks between puffs on her pipe.

“There'ss ssomething elsse I should tell you…”

And so you tell Madam Mina the truth—at least, a sanitized version of it. You are a half-reptilian, here in the city of your long-lost father, trying to blend in with the humans. The wererats know and you fear exposure. You're fearful of how humans might react if they learned of the truth. Your heritage isn't outwardly obvious—you couldn’t have done all that ‘wetwork' if it was—but with all the hostility between lizardfolk, kobolds, and men…

“Yeah, I get it,” Mina says. “Catholic ain't popular down south, either.”

She takes another pull on her pipe and looks you over. “Own it,” she says. “I never had the benefit of hiding who I am, and sometimes I would have envied your ability to do that… But I got where I am today because I owned it, accepted what humans thought of me, and used it to turn the tables.”

“It'ss… Not sso ssimple.”

“It never is,” she admits. “But the rats won't have any dirt on you, then.”

You nod and, taking this as a cue to leave, you head downstairs and to the stage to dance.

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>>4773148
When you arrive, it is to celebration from Manuela, Helga, and even Red Annie (the nautically-themed human redhead has been off sick for a couple says, but it seems tonight us all hands on deck). Tricia and Alicia are even quieter than usual, but that makes sense: they are practically Estellia’s lieutenants. They must be more worried than most, and you DO detect an undercurrent of concern.

What do you do?
>Leave the mammals to their drama; you are here to dance
>Reassure everyone that Estellia will be fine
>Share your recent experiences and suspicions with them, as you did with Mina
>Take this opportunity to build a rapport and establish dominance over the other dancers, taking Estellia's place
>Write-in

>>4773154
>Take this opportunity to build a rapport and establish dominance over the other dancers, taking Estellia's place
>Tell them all to watch out for themselves until we figure out what happened to Estellia

>>4773154
>>Take this opportunity to build a rapport and establish dominance over the other dancers, taking Estellia's place
>“Catholic ain't popular down south, either.”
You really need to do something about that spellchecker of yours. First it gets all naughty, now this?

>>4773148
*Catfolk ain't popular down south either

>>4773168
Thanks!

Yeah, I also saw unusually high amount of mistakes in that post. Weird shid.

Unrelated, but does Kamunu's stage illusion look like fireworks?

>>4773321
>The rash spreadsheet
Haha, well, I hope it's at least intelligible. I'm going to pin it on my possible Covid

The illusions most often resemble streamers of light when unfocused, but you have displayed the ability to manipulate the appearance of nearby phenomena like shadows, too. Manipulating ambient lighting or creating specific effects might be within your purview, with practice.

>>4773431
Oh, okay. I just thought we could assblast tokunbo's bird with fake flame if it shows up again.

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>>4773164
>>4773168
You straighten your posture and puff out your chest—Helga certainly takes notice—and you speak up in your best imitation of a handler, or maybe Mina.

“Lisssten up, girls,” you say. “I know everyone iss worried about Essstelia, but the show must go on. She’ss a professional and, wherever she iss right now, she wouldn’t want pity or concern. You all know that.”

The other dancers quiet,f alse smiles falling away. They glance at each other, letting the fear for their long-time coworker—their senior, even—slip out into the open. Good you can address it there.

“Mina is working on it, and you all know Mina, too. If anyone can bring her back and make sure she’ss ssafe, it’ss Mina. Demonss below, girls, we don’t even know if she’ss in any trouble! Maybe she jusst needed a break, right?”

You step forward and place a hand on each of the twins’ shoulders, looking Alicia and Tricia in the eye in turn.

“I’m worried, too,” you say. “But I believe in them both, and we need to make sure we don’t let them down in the meantime.”

They smile weakly. Estellia embracing you before she went missing probably went a long way towards earning their trust and, if even those two ice princesses will trust you… Well, the females who already like you are certainly on board.

After a moment. Annie looks around to the others, and asks: “Wait, have I been missing a speech like this EVERY night before showtime?”

“Nah,” Grendelia says, and the rest snicker… But spirits are lifted, certainly.

Mina steps back in from warming up the crowd, and Laskar starts in with a jaunty strumming of strings from somewhere up above.

“That’s my cue,” Manuela says cheerily, and shimmies her skirt up a little bit to show off a bit more thigh before skipping out to the stage, bouncing and flouncing all the way to great audience aplomb. Mina looks on, and then back to you, and her tail curls. She’s seen the good work you’ve done.

You go on not too long after. You don’t headline tonight—Red Annie is going to follow up, making her glorious return to the stage after her absence—but you certainly get the biggest cheer from the clients. You’ve become a star on this seedy little stage, for good or ill.

Out in the audience, you see… Ah. Yes. Edwin of Engel. He looks fairly sober this night, and visibly concerned. How could he be otherwise, you suppose, given the missive you left him with, and after not checking in today? You shoot him a small smile, and then glance around the rest of the audience for any probably wererat agents, or signs of the occult. No bird tonight. No rats. Just the regulars—some noisy, drunken louts, some wealthy human men looking to spice up their evening by ogling the beautiful poor, and that one drunken guardsman at his usual post.

>>4773697
What do you do?
>Play to Edwin specifically, to raise his spirits
>Focus on the music and mastery of your dance
>Use this opportunity to practice your magic, strengthening your existing abilities
>Use this opportunity to practice your magic, attempting a new illusory effect [specify which]
>Focus your attentions on groups other than Edwin, to put this presumptive male in his place
>Write-in

>>4773698
>Use this opportunity to practice your magic, strengthening your existing abilities
We didn't have time to practice magic until now, so this is a perfect opportunity. Let's not disappoint the crowd and hopefully raise the others' spirits too. We can catch Edwin after.

>>4773698
>>Use this opportunity to practice your magic, strengthening your existing abilities

Rolled 9, 20, 20 = 49 (3d20)

>>4773731
>>4774136

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>>4774577
>>4774136
>>4773731

Of you’re going to supplant Estellia entirely as the leader of this cabaret, you can think of no better way to do so—and to remind Mina and everyone else of your inestimable value—than by flexing some mystical muscle. You do not forsake footwork entirely, nor sensuality of course. This is no magic show, but an exotic dance to titillate and arouse. Still, you narrow your eyes and swirl light and dark around you, illuminating your body and strategically casting yourself into a veil of suggestive, sumptuous shadow.

None in the crowd is more fascinated than Edwin, of course. You’ve combined two passions of his: magic, and you.

You find yourself catching a few jeers from the drunken guardsman, and a few other hecklers join in, and so you amp up the display’s intensity and eroticism. Laskar picks up what you’re putting down. With a flashing smile and a wink, you throw your hips into a punctuated, thrusting gyration that sets coins to jingling, and men to sweating and whooping. With each pop of posterior, and bounce of bosom, you send a streamer of rainbow light out across the crowd. It sparkles and scintillates over them in exploding, almost firework-like patterns. You weave a palace of light a round yourself and detonate it like the crumbling edifice of this fragile human society before your ambition. By the time you leave the stage, it is to a shower of coins and applause, and the sort of catcalls that signal a full success: a perfect marriage of your ever-improving physical and mystical disciplines to captivate and control.

You smirk and imagine how these males will react as slaves—concubines, if they’re lucky—in your glorious holdings as the governess of The Serpent Priests.

You slip backstage for some well-earned pats on the back and praise. Even the twins join in, perhaps desperate for a powerful and illustrious figure to latch onto as a leader… Or just to not think about Estellia’s absence.

What do you do next?
>Visit with Edwin, to keep him on-side and explain your absence [specify any cover stories you give him, or questions you ask, etc.]
>Discuss your career trajectory with Mina
>Strengthen relationships with the other employees [specify who, if anyone in particular]
>Ask for leave to slip out for ‘personal reasons’
>Write-in

>>4774603
>>Visit with Edwin, to keep him on-side and explain your absence [specify any cover stories you give him, or questions you ask, etc.]


Very busy now, can't specify much. Something like:

Zivic met us and took interest; promised power, revealed herself as a witch dealing with all sorts of demons and monsters (including the ratmen), offered us much for a price. At first she wanted money, so we had to work in the brothel as the fastest way to pay her, but that wasn't the real pact, merely a bit of tutelage. Then she fast-talked us into a terrible pact that gave us genuine magic (no, we won't even let Edwin do anything this foolish to himself). Wanted us to do something horrible in her service, we flaked, pleaded the ratmen (who felt like they're somewhat disgruntled with her and generally were the most humane option compared to her other servants) to help us, promised to pay them back with anything. The rats killed her in the fire, then asked for a much higher and dirtier price than you could expect, extracted it by force yesterday (give him tears, show him scars), and are going to come back for more. Now you're hunted by Zivic's demonic spirit and her agents like that undead raven, and also by ratmen who took your "I'll do anything" for a promise of lifelong, miserable servitude. You're afraid, you can't go to the authorities because you're complicit both in servant sacrifices (you didn't do any, but were pressured into observing at least one) and the fire, and you can't abandon the brothel because madame has at least some power to protect you, and isn't judging you for getting into all this mess. You're also afraid of getting diseased, or possibly even mutating, and have no money to pay an apothecary. Halp.

>>4774603
>Visit with Edwin, to keep him on-side and explain your absence [specify any cover stories you give him, or questions you ask, etc.]
I guess >>4774795 is alright, but with less details about Zivic (Ismena has already said too much to too many people). Also we really shouldn't mention the rat gangbang and especially not the itching (Mina did say it wasn't necessarily an STD), cause he might simply lose interest. And tell him we're ssorry for our abssense today.

It's a great write-in, but being honest is not very wise in our line of work.

>>4774603
>>Discuss your career trajectory with Mina

>>4775077
>>4774807
>>4774795

You slip out into the crowd. Having worked your magic more literally with the rest of the audience, it’s now time to more subtly influence good old Edwin of Engel.

You gently rest a hand upon the would-be wizard’s shoulder, and he turns around.

“Izzy! He says. “Are you okay? I thought—I was so worried, and then you never came home last night, and I…”

He checked in at the apartment he supplied you, it seems. The benefits of having a kept woman? Or a possible liability? It’s a good thing you keep most of your sensitive information in your backpack and close at hand. Nevertheless, you mask your irritation and concern, and rest a finger on the man’s lips to quiet him.

“I’m okay,” you tell him. “We’re okay. There’ss… A lot to tell you.”

You weave a tale of half-truths and woe, of being essentially apprenticed to a dark witch who taught you mystical arts through means that seemed innocuous but quickly turned dark. You daren’t speak of the sinister wonders she worked to make it happen but, while it awoke a spellcraft in your soul, her dark servants eventually claimed her life and burnt down her home.

“You mean… The uptown fire, near my—near father’s home?”

You nod, and note his proximity t the Zivic manor for future reference. You continue your tailored narrative, leaving out any discussion of ratman gangbangs or demon pacts, save to say that dark forces are seeking to entrap and enslave you. Part of you worries that even that even this much will frighten your so-called boyfriend away, but perhaps you underestimated his commitment… or your mastery of his emotions.

“How can I help?” he asks, leaning close and gazing with some seriousness into your eyes.

What do you do?
>Turn down his offer; you must walk this dark path alone, and not endanger him further
>Offer to practice some magic with him back in your room
>Offer to ‘practice some magic’ with him back in your room [wink wink, nudge nudge]
>Introduce him to Laskar to see if you can make a useful magical minion of him through the same processes which awoke him
>Introduce him to Mina, to aid in her own war on the rats however she sees fit
>Ask him for more money, since you’re close to broke again
>Write-in

>>4775384
>Ask him for more money, since you’re close to broke again
>Introduce him to Mina, to aid in her own war on the rats however she sees fit
It sounded like she knows what she's doing. Supplying her war? efforts seems to be the best way of spending Edwin's moolah since there's a fuckton of rats and they aren't our main priority. Plus she has better chance to save Estella.
>Offer to ‘practice some magic’ with him back in your room [wink wink, nudge nudge]
Just remember that one of holes is out of order for now.

>>4775384
>>Write-in

>Ask him to teach you defence against the dark arts.
>Ask him about magic items that can pierce magical illusions and disguises, and on ways to obtain such items.
>Mention an undead bird as one of the dark servants haunting you, and ask for help in trapping and destroying it should it turn up again.
>Ask if perhaps he could help lead the incestigation of uptown fire astray, because you're afraid of what could happen to you if your involvement is discovered.


As an aside, wtf with these options? Two are incongruous with the story we've just told him and/or things we know in general (we told him we awoke our magic by dealing with a witch, yet we contemplate blowing that cover by involving Laskar, who has no reason to stay tight-lipped? Not to mention Edwin isn't likely to have the heritage that allows for our kind of talent? We've made a point to avoid mentioning wererars, so now we're bringing up a discussion of that very topic between Edwin and Mina? Once again, breaking compartmentalisation between people whom we told two different kinds of half-truth?); one is openly self-sabotaging (asking for money like a common con artist .after telling such a story is a great way to undermine his trust and dull his emotional investment). And while we're at it, two more just fail to capitalise on the emotions we've induced, and don't give us anything we couldn't have gotten from Edwin otherwise.

>>4775887
QM never specified what exactly did we say - we could've mentioned rats, but not in detail.
We can simply inform Mina we didn't tell Edwin about rape. I'm sure she won't do it either if we ask for discretion (for obvious reasons). We can instead tell him the rats are suspected to be involved in kidnapping one of girls (truth).
At the same time ask Edwin to not mention dark arts to Mina because we don't want to trouble her even more and our position is already shaky here (truth for all they know).
Lastly, Edwin doesn't care about money to the point where he weirded people out by overpaying several times. He literally doesn't realize paying in gold coin for most basic services is unusual.

Your proposal is not good either:
1. We already researched the defenses (amulet) and Bianchi is our man for that. He actually spent time learning about demon-related things unlike the bookworm Edwin.
2. We already talked with Lord Isaac Yosef AND Edwin about illusion-breaking items. They are VERY rare and expensive, to the point where Edwin couldn't get us one when we asked.
3. We can kill the bird ourselves. What's Edwin gonna do, throw coins at it?
4. He couldn't lead the investigation, because Mages of Tower are involved since they suspect that Zivic was a witch. Edwin doesn't have any ties with the Tower iirc.

>>4775887
[I try not to supply only advantageous/unproblematic options, because that's sort of putting my thumb on the scale, and there's always clever ways to proceed with potentially-difficult courses of action. I don't want to railroad you all into what I would do.

As for what you've told him, >>4776055 has the gist of it. I didn't interpret >>4774807 as "don't tell Edwin about wererats", just "don't tell Edwin seven wererats had their way with you in a sewer and now you have crotch-itch". Since there was no consensus on exactly what to tell him, if you fine folks want to vote or specify specific details that you DON'T want to share or want to avoid sharing between referent people, I'll take that into account.

As for options that don't capitalize on your emotional control of Edwin, well... You anons have been more strategic on aggregate in this thread and part of last, but early choices in the adventure and since then have established that you don't always play The Infiltrator as a mission-focused individual, but sometimes as a bit of a hedonist who likes dancing, teasing people, getting laid, buying and wearing nice clothes, mooching food, bullying or exercising power over people, etcetera. I try to include social options which allow you to goof off or chill out as well, in deference to this. Feel free not to pick them! I hope this explains those, though.

As for Laskar's option... Well, if you pursue it, I can elaborate on why it might work, assuming you get a good roll. Or your folks might work it out yourself. Suffice it to say it is neither a plothole nor a pointless dead-end option.]

>>4776055
> Edwin doesn't have any ties with the Tower iirc

[Correct. His only connection is that his mom was kicked out after she got pregnant with him.]

>>4776156
Nice, thanks for additional info about the quest! I actually like Edwin despite all the manipulation going on with him. He's chill.
And regarding defenses, could you remind us what's needed for the better amulet?
To avoid confusion, I wrote >>4776055. My id changes a lot.

>>4776179
[With the silver chain you acquired from the rats, you have about as good an amilet as you really can have, based on your available knowledge. Actual enchanted items might help, but asking Edwin to buy one (while an avenue you could pursue) would be akin to asking a person in our world for a new luxury vehicle in terms of price.]

>>4776213
Hmm, I must've missed the part with silver chain then. Also yeah, asking Edwin for extremely expensive stuff is not a thing I'd personally go for.

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>>4776224
[I was probably just a bit too blase in breezing past it. My bad. Also: just a heads up, I'm waiting for someone to break a tie on votes, but will roll for it or attempt to reconcile the two votes so far tonight after my Pathfinder game, or tomorrow morning at latest.]

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>>4775411
>Ask him for more money, since you’re close to broke again
>>4775887
>Ask him to teach you defence against the dark arts.
>Ask him about magic items that can pierce magical illusions and disguises, and on ways to obtain such items.
>Mention an undead bird as one of the dark servants haunting you, and ask for help in trapping and destroying it should it turn up again.

“I’ve been ressearching defencess againsst dark magic,” you say. “Esspecially magical itemss which can piercce illusions.”

“Is that why you were asking about magic items before, after we… Ah…”

You smile at Edwin. Good boy, doing your own work for you, piecing your tapestry of lies together in his mind to retroactively excuse your lapses.

“Yess, yesss,” you say, then turn your eyes down. “Ssorry about that. I tried to make my own.”

You hold up the amulet, and he looks at it a little skeptically. “Would this really help?”

“There iss an undead bird,” you say. “It’ss been pursuing me. And… I’ve had dreams, been followed by otherss in my waking life and when I ssleep. Demonss… Other thingsss. I’ve been told the making of a charm like this can help.”

“Well,” he says slowly, “silver is a protection against lots of supernatural things. Even elves react poorly to it, I’ve been told. Something about the alchemical reaction with their skin. Not sure about gems and plants stopping bad dreams, though.”

“It’ss helped me,” you say a little more defensively than you’d intended. “And… It’ss all I can afford right now. I sspent most of what I’ve earned, and what you gave me sso garcioussly, on protection. To feel ssafe again.”

You have to hide a canary-eating grin when your boy-toy produces a pouch of gold from his backpack, and hands it to you. You secure the money without even asking, making it seem like his benevolent idea. You put on only the flimsiest pretence of refusing it as ‘too generous, you simply couldn’t’. If Edwin notices your eagerness, the naïve, well-heeled rube shows no indication.

“Is your apartment safe?” he asks. “I… I could stay there with you tonight? Keep you safe?”

Edwin doesn’t even seem like he believes his own line—after all, he has only coin to throw at any invading devil-birds, while YOU are the one with magic. However he’s big enough to hide behind in a fight, or to sue as a decoy… And he’s big in other ways, too. If only you weren’t so sore!

What do you do?
>Take Edwin up on the offer, and take him back to your apartment after the shift
>Tell Edwin that you’re staying at The Pretty Kitty tonight, but offer to let him stay with you
>Ask to stay at Edwin’s tonight—a rich guy like him surely has security, and you can ingratiate yourself further with a social elite
>Thanks, but no thanks—you need privacy for the work you do, once your shift is done
>Write-in

>>4776854
>Ask to stay at Edwin’s tonight—a rich guy like him surely has security, and you can ingratiate yourself further with a social elite
let's social climb

>>4776893
+1
Agreed and we can also peek at Zivic's manor/investigation on the way.

We should probably teach Roth how to make an amulet for himself (since they need to be made by owner to strengthen the effect), but that's for tomorrow.

>>4776854
>>Ask to stay at Edwin’s tonight—a rich guy like him surely has security, and you can ingratiate yourself further with a social elite

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>>4776893
>>4776981
>>4777192
“Actually, I'd feel a lot ssafer… At your placce.”

“Oh,” says Edwin. Then: “Oh! Um, well… I don’t know if father would—”

“Pleasse,” you interrupt. “They came for me at work… They know where I live… There’ss nowhere I’m ssafe!”

When you give a male with a need to prove himself the chance to do so, and to be a hero fir a beautiful and sexually-available female… Well, you remember your training well, and it pays off.

You see through the rest of your shift, spending much of it with Edwin—a focus easily justified when you produce a gold coin for Mina after the closing line-dance. She seems notably skeptical of your plan to stay with Edwin for the evening, though.

“Does he know?” she asks.

“About the rat-monssterss?” you ask. “Yess.”

“And about your race?” she asks.

You don’t answer.

“Careful,” she says, turning away. “If you think he can keep you safe… Well, maybe at his home. Maybe. But what about to and from work? And what about if he finds out what you really are, and he doesn’t like it?”

You ultimately leave with Edwin, but you consider what Mina has told you. She seems to speak from experience, and you wonder what sort of patronage she maybe have been denied or have offered conditionally as a beast-person in need, once upon a time. Still, with a bit of oil and some care, you can easily blend into humanity and climb the social ladder in the way a muzzle-mouthed bipedal feline cannot… And you can keep yourself safe, if it comes down to it.

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>>4777391
When you arrive at the House of Engel, it is… Less auspicious than perhaps you anticipated. It is smaller than Yosef’s is, albeit bigger and much better-maintained that Zivic’s was. Its architecture is less ornate, more modern. It is a box of a building, albeit one with some crenellations and scrawled pillars. It almost resembles the warehouses which apparently made this family’s fortune, albeit modified to resemble a small estate to outside observers.

Inside, the feeling persists. The home is spartan in design elements, but houses a great deal of… Well, ‘merchandise’ might be the best word. It is like a showcase for art pieces, for suits of armour and grand clocks, for cases and statuary. There is no discernable theme, no personality, no homeyness characteristic of a human den. The Yosef residence was a dusty abattoir of familial feeling, a preserved shrine to a life loved and lost; Zivic's was a decaying ruin of forgotten glory surrounding a small sanctuary of dark knowledge. This home is a storage bin for symbols of wealth, with no deeper meaning, and without even much furniture for comfort.

Human servants—only humans you note—take your fluffy coat, and offer to take your bag. You refuse the latter, politely but firmly. Edwin, to your nervous, releases the arm he has been tenderly holding in his own on the walk over, and shuffles nervously, putting distance between the two of you. His eyes dart around furtively as the servants welcome him back and attend to his own overcoat and his pointy, rumpled wizard cap.

You hear the pointed clearing of a throat, and you and Edwin both turn immediately to the top of the central staircase, beneath the great chandelier. There stands a man of darker countenance than you expected, and of intensely serious expression. He looks not angry as he surveys the two of you—you especially. He just looks… Disappointed.

“Good evening, Father,” says Edwin.

“Hello Edwin,” he says. “And…?”

How do you introduce yourself?
>Edwin’s girlfriend, Ismena (but he can call you Izzy if he’d like) [DC 12]
>Ismena, a friend of Edwin’s who desperately needs a place to stay [DC 12]
>Ismena Rosgard, hedge-witch and illusionist, looking for a patron [DC 15]
>Ismena, soon to be of Engel, since you’re his son’s fiancé [DC 18]
>Kamunu, the night’s entertainment [DC ???]
>None of his business, unless he wants to introduce himself first like a proper gentleman [DC ???]

[I’ll be rolling a diplomacy roll no matter what for first impression. Choose wisely.]

>>4777392
>None of his business, unless he wants to introduce himself first like a proper gentleman [DC ???]
This. What kind of gentleman is he? Does he think we're some kind of a whore?

>>4777392
>>Ismena Rosgard, hedge-witch and illusionist, looking for a patron [DC 15]

>>4777392
>>Ismena, soon to be of Engel, since you’re his son’s fiancé [DC 18]
kek

>>4777417
We are, are we not?

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>>4778076
it was me, different ID
Yes, but Ismena doesn't have to act like and introduce herself as such. Especially if she is to "social climb" and Edwin's father is giving him the look.
The reason I went with that particular option is to establish ourselves a better position rather than let him think we're some random hoe he can expect a name from without proper introduction.

>>4777392

>None of his business, unless he wants to introduce himself first like a proper gentleman [DC ???]

manners maketh the man

Rolled 9, 17, 17 = 43 (3d20)

>>4778154
>>4778146
>>4778076
>>4777964
>>4777818
>>4777417

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>>4778265
“You firsst,” you hiss. “What kind of gentleman assks a lady her name before making hiss own introductionss? What do you take me for?”

Edwin and his father both look taken-aback, but father recovers more quickly than son… And he looks impressed, perhaps.

“My apologies,” he offers, though he doesn’t sound apologetic. “Fynn of Engel, master of this home and of the Engelson Storehouse Company.”

“Issmena,” you reply, with a slight dip of the head—only slight. “Issmena Rossgard.”

“Wherefore do you come from, to be with my son?”

Edwin gives you a nervous look, but you can already tell by the shift in his father’s posture, by the way he even now steps down the stairs to be on even footing with you… You’ve impressed him, cast off some of the disparaging thoughts which accompany your brothel-borrowed cloak and your appearance. You’re just grateful you changed into a peasant dress before arriving, and green was clearly the right choice. You see the older man’s eyes roam your body, and are grateful his son doesn’t notice… But that doesn’t mean you can’t use it to your advantage.

What do you do?
>Ask to stay here, to keep safe from dark forces
>Ask to stay here for a time, but offer your services as a dancer
>Ask to stay here for a time, but offer your services as a mage
>Ask to stay here, but offer your services as a ‘dancer’ [seduction]
>Ask to stay here, as Edwin’s consort
>Ask to stay here, as Edwin’s bethrothed [bluff, diplomacy roll again]
>Write-in

>>4778274
>Ask to stay here, to keep safe from dark forces
make a big show of flattering Edwin's chivalry, and suggest he must have developed his sense of chivalry from his father with some ambigious flirting

(let's not cuck Edwin to his face, but if Daddy Engel seems receptive in private, why not?)

>>4778274
>Ask to stay here, to keep safe from dark forces
>Offer your services as a mage
But mention we're just learning and our specialization is illusion. Who knows, he might have some use for our talent.
We might make a better first impression on his wife, too. Since she's a Tower dropout and regrets it.

>>4778926
Chivalry? Sure. Fucking Edwin's old man? Pass on that one.
Legit couldn't do that to our boy.

>>4778274
>>Ask to stay here, to keep safe from dark forces
>>Ask to stay here for a time, but offer your services as a mage

>>4779005
>Legit couldn't do that to our boy.
we already fucked and sucked a whole rat gang, and if his dad is looking for a mistress, better to be his arm candy than the mediocre son.

edwin is a good kid but he isn't our ticket to power, we'll need to cast him off eventually for someone of superior prestige

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>>4778926
>>4779005
>>4779372
>>4779378

You quirk an eyebrow, and you find that Edwin’s old man has the presence of mind to focus on your face long enough to pick up the signal that you aren’t necessarily appreciative of the gaze.

“So,” he asks, “what brings you to my manor, Miss Rosgard?”

“Your sson hass been most chivalrous, and hass invited me to sstay here for the evening.”

Fynn of Engel nods. “I’d gathered as much, but… And forgive me for saying this, Edwin… It’s not terribly typical behaviour of him, bringing a young woman home to meet his father.”

Edwin flushes at the implications, but remains silent.

“I’m afraid that I’m not here on happier businessss,” you say. “There are dark forcess at my back.”

“Now that’s a story,” Fynn says. “Come with me, Edwin, Miss Rosgard. Elspeth, fetch us some brandy!”

The servants step to serving, and before long you are guided by Edwin’s father to a side room which looks to have nice been sued for entertaining. If so, it is no longer. Dust-covers are atop each piece of furniture, every fine couch and no-doubt valuable curio. The servants don’t even pull them off, but rather bring chairs for each of you, and pour each of you a couple fingers of a fiery-smelling brandy. You resist the urge to scrunch up your nose at this human poison—you have never drank alcohol before, let alone something so strong

Do you drink?
>Yes
>Refuse
>No, but make up an excuse
>Pretend to but dispose of the alcohol subtly with illusion
>Write-in

>>4779630
“I am a mage, of a ssortss,” you explain, working a simple streamer of illusory light to lend credence to the claim. “A hedge-witch. I’ve gotten into a sspot of trouble with an occultisst who mentored me, and who hass… Become ssomething other.”

“And you think that I can somehow shield you from… What? Demons?” Fynn seems skeptical.

“I wass actually wondering if perhaps we could make this mutually beneficial,” you sggest. “I could offer my sservicess as a mage, where you might require them, and receive ssome guidance under your wife? Edwin tellss me that she once studied at The Tower.”

A silence falls over the room, and you realize almost immediately by the pallor which falls across the faces of the two Engel men that you have misunderstood the situation. It occurs to you that Edwin ahs only ever referred his mother in the past-tense.

“Ah,” you say quietly. “I’m ssorry, I didn’t realize…”

“She needs help, father,” Edwin says seriously, speaking up for the first time in some time, before your diplomatic misfire can compromise your opportunities her. “We might not be able to protect her from… Well, demons or anything like that… But there are physical threats. Undead birds and rat monsters! Our guards can protect her from those, surely?”

“Demons,” Fynn says, swishing his drink, and taking a deep swig before another is poured. “Rat monsters. Undead birds. Why not go to the Paladins with this, Miss Rosgard?”

“I apprenticced with an occultisst,” you remind him. “They may not take kindly to that.”

“Will they then take kindly to my sheltering you?”

You remain quiet, thinking it over… When Edwin leaps to your defence again, sort of.

“She could… Maybe she could help with the business in some way? With presentations to business partners?”

Fynn snorts. “What, a light show to accompany a business discussion? Huh. Waste of a mage, isn’t it, to sell warehouse space? No, if I was hiring a mage, it would be to help with the pirate trouble out past the ports…”

Edwin pales again. “What, fight pirates? Father, she’s just starting out at magic…”

And such a task would take you away from Hawksong—your work, your studies, and your contacts—in the midst of all this trouble you’ve just stirred up. A possible positive and negative, for you would be safer, but unable to guide how events unfold.

What do you do?
>Demonstrate the sheer spectacle you can produce, as evidence that you can handle a few pirates
>Suggest that your skills as a negotiator might be more valuable than your magic
>Suggest that you can call in a favour with Janus, a young merchant you know, you facilitate a business deal to house dwarven relics
>Tell Fynn about your ‘other talents’ [seduction]
>Attempt to blackmail the House of Engel with scandal
>Forget this, they ask too much and you can find other accommodations
>Write-in

>>4779630
>Yes
>>4779632
>>Suggest that you can call in a favour with Janus, a young merchant you know, you facilitate a business deal to house dwarven relics

>>4779630
>Do you drink?
>>Yes
>What do you do?
>>write-in

tell him we'd be happy to help entertain guests and clients. negotiations aren't just about board room meetings and the point of sale. let him know, subtly, that we're skilled in all manner of 'entertainment' and hosting duties.

essentially somewhere between an escort and a geisha.

[Will wait until the end of the evening (or until a third vote to break the tie) to post]

>>4780589
I'll support this one.

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>4781119
>>4780589
>>4780619

>>4781143
[Will post tomorrow, just realize I'm too drunk for coherency]

>>4779632
>>4780589
>>4781119
Guys, Ismena assaulted Janus and that's how that relationship ended...

>>4780619
+1

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>>4780589
>>4780619
>>4781119
>>4781143
>>4781260

This is the opportunity you’ve been waiting or, and you dare not squander it. You toss back your drink, gagging slightly at the taste and the burning sensation… But you’ve swallowed worse. If either of the human men notice your inexperience in this field, they make no comment, and you immediately return to a realm more familiar to you.

“I don’t know about piratess on the high sseass, but there are other wayss I can be of ssservice,” you say. “Negotiationss aren't jusst about board room meetingss and the point of ssale.”

You tilt your head down, making eye contact with Fynn, and you smirk suggestively. His eyes widen a little bit, nostrils flare.

“I entertain professsionally,” you state simply.

Edwin attempts to cut in, saying “Hey, Ismena, you don’t need to—”

You cut him off though, adding, “I have ssome connectionss in your indusstry no lesss. Were you aware, Misster Engel, that King Archoss and the Magess’ Tower are engaged in ssizeable excavationss of a dwarven ruin. I wouldn’t be ssurprised if they needed somewhere to sstore their ssurpluss…”

Fynn sips his second glass of brandy, even as you feel the warmth of your own begin to flow through you. You feel dizzy, woozy… But you’ve held it together under worse pressure. You smile, perhaps a bit too widely, as a second glass is poured for you.

“Edwin,” he senior Engel man says, “I think I like this one.”

“Thank you, father,” Edwin mumbles, looking altogether uncertain about this whole affair.

You spend the next couple hours drinking with the two men, and conversation turns increasingly informal, even improper at times as you innuendoes cross the line between subtly and overt flirtation once or twice. The brandy is boiling in your gut by then, and while you cut yourself off from drinking more, you realize too late what an effect it is having on your judgement. You ask to be excused, and a bedroom is proffered.

Where do you sleep?
>The guest bedroom
>Edwin’s ben
>Fynn’s bed
>Before bed, you want to explore the home a bit unsupervised [stealth roll]
>Before bed, you want to report back to Roth
>Write-in

>>4781990
>Fynn’s bed

>>4781990
>>The guest bedroom

Let's not destroy whatever advance we've made here.

>>4781990
>The guest bedroom

Better not drink next time if Ismena has such weak head. Don't wanna compromise ourselves by an accident.

>>4781997
>>4782078
>>4782246
You have the presence of mind to accept the guest bedroom, despite a few untoward thoughts to the contrary. This fiery human brew has had an effect on your recently-developed libido, but the lingering effects of the wererat negotiations would preclude anything truly enjoyable, even if you were to risk provoking family drama.

Edwin offers to help guide you to the room, but you simply pat the man on the cheek and allow a servant girl to lead you on a weaving stumble to where you will spend the night. Torpor is pulling you down towards the bed like a riptide shortly thereafter. You couldn’t read or plot right now if you wanted to. All you can do is unashamedly enjoy the embrace of the slightly-too-soft mattress and the abundance of decorative pillows so clean that nobody could have ever used them before you.

Around your neck, the silver chain and moonstone charm guard mind and soul… You hope.

What do you dream of?
>Your mother
>Your gods
>Your foes
>Edwin and Fynn
>Janus
>Roth
>Write-in

>>4782551
>Your gods
>Roth
focus on the important stuff

I meant important in general. Enemies are temporary, Reptilian Conspiracy is eternal.

>>4782551
>>Your mother

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>>4782951
>>4782610
>>4782579
Whether it is a result of the amulet, your mystical meditations, or the lingering paranoia brought on by the Devil-Zivic’s invasion of your dreamscape a few nights prior, you are immediately aware that you are dreaming. That’s all you are definitively aware of, though.

You feel warm, you think. You see not darkness, but a faint uniformity of light, like a wide orange-grey expanse of sameness that is so complete that it might as well be inky black. You try to hold out a hand, but you either cannot, or it is obscured from vision and feeling. You understand yourself to not be disembodied, but then you might as well be for all the difference it makes. You deep in a sea, adrift and immobile, yet without even the tangibility of restraints to struggle against.

“Honoured Masters,” you hear a voice say, faintly and distantly and yet from all around you, “please reconsider.”

You would jump if you were able—you feel the impulse. It is a strangely echoing voice, but you recognize it. It speaks your Reptilian tongue with a smoothness and a graceful fluidity characteristic of good Silkscale breeding and Infiltrator training. It is your mother.

“There is nothing which requires further consideration,” says another voice, more distant still. You have to strain to hear it clearly. “This foolish harlot is a race-traitor. She has endangered our entire operation, after all my hard work. Who knows what she has wrought? Who knows what it may yet cost?”

“What do you propose?” asks a third voice, though you cannot tell whether it addresses the first or the second.

“I still yet have connections in Hawksong,” your mother calmly explains. “The humans trust me. They can be persuaded of the righteousness of our cause, through indoctrination or misdirection and half-truths. They can be made to support our efforts even now.”

“Absurd and pointless,” the second voice counters. “I propose those connections be severed and scorched down to the root, and the Degenerate egg smashed the moment it is laid.”

Ah. That’s where you recognize that voice from. The second voice is… Roth’s?

And the egg, you instantly understand, is your own.

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>>4783587
“Masters of All the Cosmos, Direct Channels to the Dark Gods Below and Beyond,” you mother kowtows, “we cannot. We must not. To destroy such a noteworthy bloodline among the humans would draw scrutiny we cannot afford. Let me return and mitigate the damage.”

“We will not,” comes the third voice. “Your contact is correct. There is no way to hide your identity, and to reveal ourselves at this juncture is perilous. It is not in the plan.”

“And am I?” your mother asks quietly. “Is my child?”

“Insolence!” Roth roars. “They will tell us, slut, if you are. But why should you be? What place should there be for you in The Grand Design? Are you so important?”

You feel yourself bristle at this, at hearing Roth speak to your mother—briefly as you knew her—the way he until recently spoke to you. Her own heritage was much closer to the stature of his own than yours, albeit still subordinate. His right to do so is not so unquestionable, and you resent him taking the liberty so freely.

However, even as you internally revolt at the tone and harsh invective, you find your anger abated and diverted by distraction: the orange-grey expanse around you begins to swirl, to congeal… To take on disparate shapes and forms, the separate out to different colours. You feel tingling spread through you, and when you instinctively attempt to move your hands into your field of view to see what is happening… You can. They are your adult hands, in front of (you presume) your adult face!

From the shapes emerges a single great orb, like a celestial sphere or a great, smooth gem, or an egg. It rolls and tumbles towards you, and you futilely try to brace for impact… But against what? You still over in intangible void, suspended in a water without even wetness or current. It is an unearned mercy that it stops short of hitting you, instead rotating over itself to reveal a single great eye.

“Maybe not for her,” the third voice—the voice of a Serpent priest—finally replies to Roth, as the eye stares unblinking. “But the Degenerate child… Curiously enough, yes. There is a small elemnt of The Grand Design to which it will fit.”

You stare back at the eye—across time and space, across two and a half decades. You dare not blink, dare not look away. It gazes into your past, your present, your future. It gazes into your soul.

“Infiltrator,” the Serpent Priest says, and you feel the word reverberate through the strange medium, vibrating the spheres like the rumble thunder of a True God’s voice.

“Yes?” you and your mother answer as one.

“Congratulations,” the divinely-deepened voice of Faith Itself continues. “The stars are right for you to live.”

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>>4783593
You awake in… Well, not a cold sweat, but you think you understand what the phrase means when humans say it. You grope and grasp at your limbs, at the pillows and sheets, making sure you are once more in your body, in a physical space, in control of yourself and in surroundings you can manipulate.

You wonder at the meaning of your dream, at its accuracy. Was it truly a memory from before your egg was even laid? Was it just the drink? You consider swearing off brandy if so. The words you heard should be reassuring… And yet you feel supremely discomfited. The burgeoning headache—a hangover, as the stories portended—doesn’t help.

You also realize that you forgot your bag in the entertainment room and, furthermore, you left your beautiful new leafweave armour at your apartment.

What do you do?
>Go looking for Edwin or Fynn (specify if you have a preference as to which)
>Find a servant to go fetch your bag
>Explore the House of Edwin unsupervised, and retrieve your bag yourself
>Grab your things and leave the manor for the streets of Hawksong
>Get some food and drink from the kitchens to fend off the hangover
>Write-in

>>4783596
>Explore the House of Edwin unsupervised, and retrieve your bag yourself

>>4783596
>Explore the House of Edwin unsupervised, and retrieve your bag yourself
>Go looking for Edwin
We owe him ssomething for the help.

>>4783596
>>Explore the House of Edwin unsupervised, and retrieve your bag yourself

>>4784023
>>4783674
>>4783598
You opt to go grab your bag yourself. It’s the perfect excuse to explore the House of Engel without supervision, anyway. If you’re caught, well, you were just looking for your things and got lost! As such, you affect no stealth, but simply stroll idly through the manor’s rooms and halls in the early-morning half-light.

You dodge a few servants who seem to be tidying up, dusting more of the ornamentation you’d seen last night. The more of the Engel manor you investigate, however, the more apparent it becomes that it is a façade. Oh, it’ s a large estate by the standards of the human residences you’ve seen so far, and kept up well by a dedicated staff, but those conspicuous curios thin out and dissipate the further you get from the areas where a guest might reasonably be hosted. In their place you find unopened crates, bundled up items, rolled-up carpets, and more. The vast majority of the rooms of this house seem to be given over to storage space for the Engelson Storehouse Company.

Eventually, though, you find a curious room. It is being used as storage, as with the other, but within it you find a truly massive portrait on a young couple. The man looks like a darker, squarer-jawed Edwin; you gather this to be his father as a young man. That would make the woman, of course, his mother. She was fairer than father or son, with eyes that somehow seem knowing, even sadly aware of her current state as a museum piece. In the picture, she holds a swaddled infant: Edwin, wrapped in a cloth egg of his mother’s devising.

You shake your head. The dream last night must have addled you, to be thinking such strange thoughts.

On the other side of these storage rooms seem to be the kitchen and servants’ quarters, kept out-of-the-way of visiting nobles and merchants. You turn away from this place to fetch your bag proper. When you reach the entertainment room, though, you find that another ahs already beaten you there.

Edwin of Engel is standing near your bag, and in his hands his holds an open copy of ‘Protocols of the Learned Elders of the Coming Race” by V.Rilney, dog-eared where you left off.

What do you do?
>Lambaste Edwin for going through your things without permission
>Make a joke of it, downplaying the book
>Ask him what he thinks of it
>Distract him with a ‘thank you’ for helping you out [seduction]
>Avoid the possible discussion altogether by doing another lap of the house before he notices you, giving him a chance to put it away
>Write-in

>>4784212
>Ask him what he thinks of it
>Make a joke of it, downplaying the book
>Distract him with a ‘thank you’ for helping you out [seduction]
Ask jokingly, as if we bought it just for amusement and think the author is either taking the piss or crazy, like the thought that any of it could be real never even crossed our mind.
That's what Ismena thinks of the content with how inaccurate it is, after all.

>>4784212
>Make a joke of it, downplaying the book
>>Write-in
"Did you know V. Rilney is actually old lord Yosef? I could hardly believe it mysself, gods bless his ssanity!"

>>4784237
support

but also gently reprimand him for going through our stuff

>>4784478
Yeah, but not in a way that would show we're overly upset he has went through our shit/found this book.
I'd rather not mention it this once than have Edwin come to a conclusion that we're deliberately hiding shit and actually care about him finding Rilney's shit on us.

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>>4784522
>>4784478
>>4784405
>>4784237

You easily slip into place behind the distracted human, standing on tiptoes to peer over his shoulder. Then, right in his ear, you whisper:

“Sso? Reading anything interessting, Edwin?”

He yelps, the sound amusingly high-pitched, and nearly drops the book. You laugh, but also give him a poke in the ribs.

“Sservess you right, going through a lady’ss things like that. Not very hospitable of you, Misster Engel!”

Edwin flushes, and turns his eyes downward. “I… You’re right. My apologies. I just realized I didn’t really know much about you is all, and when I saw the book sticking out of the corner of the knapsack, I…”

You pat him on the shoulder. “I’m an open book,” you say, but you can tell he is skeptical.

Fair enough, you suppose—even without knowing the truth about you, and only this curated version of Ismena Rosgard, he knows you have been studying with occultists in private and fighting a war against dark forces, and that’s AFTER he discovered you were an exotic dancer and probably prostitute. He has little reason to trust such a statement, even if it gives this ape-man no right to rifle through your things.

“I bought that in Ssparrowton,” you say casually, changing the topic as you nod towards the book. “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure,” Edwin says, closing it and looking seriously at the cover.

You affect a laugh. “Come on, I bought it as an amusssement! The author iss either taking the pissss or crazy, clearly.”

“Says the woman chassed here by demons, undead birds, and rat monsters,” Edwin fairly points out.

“Well… Demonss are real. Everyone knowss that. Necromanccy is a documented field. But shapeshifting lizard-people?”

“Lizardfolk are real,” Edwin says with some earnestness. “And if rat-people live in our sewers… I don’t know.”

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>>4784564
You’re not sure you like how critically Edwin is thinking about this, but luckily, you know his weakness. You take the book gently from his hand, setting it face-down on your bag, and you slip your arms around the tall human’s neck, pulling your body flush against his. That blush returns to his face, and he looks around frantically, as if worried a servant will catch him canoodling.

“Well, be it ssnakess or dark wizardss, I’m glad I have you to protect me from them,” you whisper. “You know, I never did get a chance to thank you properly for what you’ve done for me…”

Before too long, your passionate makeout session has led you the two of you, stumbling over each other, into one of the storage rooms. Edwin’s height is to both your advantages, as is your impressive rate of healing; he props you up on a storage crate and (to your relief, without discovering any sort of rash to indicate infection) goes to work servicing your surprisingly-intense need. To your delight, the rush of endorphin-inducing activity even relieves your hangover, though it leaves you hungrier than you already were.

“Izzy,” he moans, leaning over you. “Wow.”

You pay him on the cheek. What a useful resource this lanky mammal has proven to be.

What do you do?
>Break your fast with Edwin, and ask about his family
>Break your fast with Edwin, and ask about his father’s business
>Excuse yourself to tend to other matters, and go get meat at your usual vendor
>Excuse yourself, and go seek out Fynn of Engel, to talk shop
>Skip breakfast, as you have more urgent matters to attend to in Hawksong
>Write-in

>>4784565
>Break your fast with Edwin, and ask about his father’s business

We should visit library to talk to Bianchi about Zivic, amulet is only a bandaid while the actual source of danger is still out there.

>>4784565
>>Break your fast with Edwin, and ask about his father’s business

>>4784565
>Excuse yourself, and go seek out Fynn of Engel, to talk shop
figure out just what our expected duties will be

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>>4785215
>>4785184
>>4784599

You clean yourself up and adjust your dress, smiling at Edwin.

“That worked up my appetite,” you say. “Care to join me for breakfasst, Edwin?”

“Well, it’s my kitchen, so I do hope that’s alright,” he counters, smiling back.

You sling your pack over you’re shoulder as he straightens himself out—you’re not leaving it unattended again—and you let the human guide you to the kitchen where servants are busily cooking up food for he and his father. In occurs to you that this is the first time you’ve seen Edwin in a morningcoata nd breeches rather than a robe, though he still insists upon the pointy hat.

“Will Fynn be joining uss?” you ask.

“No, Father prefers to eat in his office,” Edwin says, raising an eyebrow slightly. “You too hit it off surprisingly well.”

“Well, brandy will do that,” you say, without really knowing the truth of that.

Breakfast is a hearty affair, which explains how Edwin grew so tall. However, it also includes a fair amount of fresh-ish roast vegetable, and a big chunk of bread. Your stomach revolts at the thought, and you prioritize the sausage.

“Sso,” you ask Edwin through a mouthful of bread, which you chew unenthusiastically in the hopes that thoroughly grinding the grain-product will help you predigest it before your carnivorous stomach has to handle it, “Tell me about the Engelsson Sstorehousse Company, ssince I guesss I work for it now.”

“I don’t know that father agreed to that,e xactly,” Edwin gently corrects. “But, yes. You might! Unfortunately, I… Don’t.”

“But your father’ss been training you up for that, you’d ssaid?”

“In spite of my preferences and proclivities… Yes, he has.”

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>>4785309
Edwin sighs, then shrugs and continues as he slowly eats his way through his own food.

“Well, it’s a simple enough business in some regards. Father buys up land that’s cheap, or host derelict buildings. He has anything on the site torn down, builds up a simple, box-shaped building with lots of space and easily defensible entry-points. Then, he hires men to march around it or stand inside it. People pay for the privilege to keep big or awkward things there, or to temporarily store things there between journeys. The biggest customers are traders moving goods from ship to caravan, or vice versa.”

“And he needss a negotiator for that?” you ask. That IS what you volunteered as… More or less. You realize with some embarrassment that you made more than a few unsubtle innuendoes about how persuasive you can be, even in ‘group negotiations’. You wonder if Edwin forgot, or simply was too oblivious to pick up on the implication.

“Well, it’s not exactly a difficult industry to get into if you can afford the start-up capital for a big building and a few guys, and it builds rapidly from there,” Edwin replies. “There’s a fair amount of competition, and especially for crown contracts or when dealing with the dwarven corporations, there can be a lot of competition to underbid one another.”

“Sso the Paladin King usess your father’ss sservicess?” you ask, leaning forward and actually eating a vegetable in your in your distracted excitement.

“Well, yes, sometimes,” Edwin says. “It’s probably why Father was so interested when you mentioned a big joint venture that wasn’t currently going through him. But, then again… The Tower’s involved.”

“Doess that make a difefrencce?” you ask.

“The Tower prefer to handle their own security, Edwin says, “and a lot of the things they transport require special handling and facilities. A big box and some tough-looking orcs doesn’t always do the trick.”

You frown a little at that, as it complicates the matter of exploiting Janus a little. Still… You ARE a mage, after a fashion. Maybe your talents can be put to use after all, to earn such a contract?

What do you do?
>Talk to Edwin more (about what: Family? Relationship? Magic? Other? Please specify)
>Excuse yourself to go talk shop with Fynn of Engel
>Excuse yourself to go focus on your spy activities, solo
>Invite Edwin out on a date to solidify the relationship and have his assistance on your tasks today

[If choosing one of the bottom two, please also specify if you have a specific destination in mind, such as the library to see Bianchi, The Grey press to give your promised interview about the wererats, The Pretty Kitty to talk to Mina about the conflict with the rats, your apartment to get your armour, etcetera.]

>>4785311
>Excuse yourself to go talk shop with Fynn of Engel
why talk to the pup when the wolf is upstairs?

>>4785311
>Excuse yourself to go focus on your spy activities, solo
Zivic and Tokunbo are still out there. Let's seek Lord Bianchi and his occult research.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4785323
>>4785452

>>4785942
You excuse yourself from the breakfast table, leaving your bread and the accursed vegetable portion partly unfinished. You cite a delicate constitution after last night’s revels, which causes Edwin to chuckle.

“You know you only had three glasses, right?” he asks.

You actually flush slightly at that, embarrassed at your apparently-weak constitution. You’re not sure you like this turnabout with the teasing. Still, all the more reason to seek out Edwin’s father. Perhaps you have damage to repair, and impressions to smooth over.

You duck and dodge servants along your route, almost automatically. No need to explain who you are or what you’re doing every few steps. However, as perhaps should be no surprise given what his company does, you are eventually stopped by a pair of big, burly mammals: a human and a half-orc, by the look of things.

“I’m looking for the massster of the house,” you explain, and when that doesn’t seem to sufficem, “I’m a guesst. Isssmena.”

“Let her pass,” comes a voice from the other side of the door, and the wall of muscle parts for you.

You slip inside past the two goons, and find Fynn of Engel leaned over his ledger. He looks up, meeting your eyes for just a moment before looking down and holding up a finger, requesting another moment before you begin to speak. You oblige, looking around at the spartan little office space.

“Sso,” you eventually interrupt, “thiss iss where the magic happens?”

“I’m surprised to find you so chipper and ready to joke. I expected you to be a bit worse for wear this morning.”

“You haven’t worn me out jusst yet, Misster Engel,” you say.

He laughs, and asks what brings you to his office. You explain that you've been discussing the company’s affairs with Edwin over breakfast, and that you think k that your status as a burgeoning mage might help in securing the contract to store artefacts of the dwarven excavation, if your connections don't.

“Bessides,” you add, “mosst of what they’re excavating iss apparently jusst sso much architectural material.”

“Right,” Fynn says. “And you got this information…”

“From ssomeone I met through work,” you reply.

“Right,” Fynn says, standing up and rounding the desk. “Look, I'm a direct man. I'm no noble or silver-spoon brat, so I come out and say what I mean. I'll do so now.”

>>4785978

You nod, awaiting a question.

“Several of the things you said last night while… Under the influence… Seemed to be implying something. And now you’re involved with my son in SOME capacity, and acquainted with young nobleman who share business details with you, and seeking employment as a ‘negotiators on the back of this.”

“Iss there a quesstion coming, Misster Engel?”

He meets your eyes levelly. “Are you a prostitute?”

What do you say?
>Yes, unashamedly
>You prefer the term “escort", and the higher class of clientele it implies
>Formerly, but no longer, if you can help it
>No, just an exotic dancer
>No, and how DARE he?!
>You're whatever he wants you to be [seduction]
>Write-in

>>4785979
>You prefer the term “escort", and the higher class of clientele it implies

>>4785979
>>Write-in
"A prosstitute, a mage, an exotic dancer, and a few things besidess. But my interesst in Edwin iss not related to my work, even if he had sseen me dance to the crowd. It'ss genuine between uss. Sso is my offer to repay you for your help... In one capassity or another, ass you deem necesssary."

>>4786200
On second thought, let's add "an acquitance of certain ratty folk" to the list. Let's see his reaction. Most likely, he's heard of the wererats and will be impressed.

dear lord

>>4785979
>>You prefer the term “escort", and the higher class of clientele it implies

>>4785979
>>No, just an exotic dancer

>>4785979
>>You prefer the term “escort", and the higher class of clientele it implies
also this, minus the prostitute part

>>4787072
meant to link
>>4786200

>>4785979
>You prefer the term “escort", and the higher class of clientele it implies
'its about more than just the pleasure of the body'

>>4787081
>>4787075
>>4786757
>>4787072
>>4786757
>>4786616
>>4786204
>>4786200
>>4786023
“Esscort,” you correct him. “It impliess a higher classs of clientele.”

Fynn narrows his eyes slightly. “Then you and Edwin…”

“Your sson is chivalrouss, and profligate with gold… But he'ss never paid for my sservices, no. My interesst in Edwin iss genuine. Sso is my offer to repay you for your help... In one capaccity or another, as you deem necesssary."

“And does Edwin know?” Fynn asks, pointedly.

“Yess,” you assert. After all, you've discussed it, if not in those exact words.

“Does he know you plan to continue prostitution yourself, as an ‘escort'?”

“It'ss about more than jussst pleasuress of the body,” you say. “I AM a mage, a dancccer… And sskilled at what I do, with many contactss.”

“Then you can earn your keep by proving that,” he says. “Get me a meeting with the excavation company you spoke of.”

“By any meanss necesssary?” you ask, smirking and batting your eyelashes.

“I don't care to know,” the older male lies, abruptly turning back to his work and moving behind his desk.

You contain a chuckle, and leave the office with a nod to the men who guard it.

Where to next?
>To The Pretty Kitty, to get intel in Janus from the girls
>>To the wererats, to have them kidnap Janus for you
>To Roth, to report back
>To your apartment, to fetch your remaining things (such as your armour)
>To The Grey Press offices, to give a formal statement
>To the library to consult with Lord Bianchi if possible
>Write-in

>>4787306
>>To your apartment, to fetch your remaining things (such as your armour)

>>4787306
>To your apartment, to fetch your remaining things (such as your armour)
>To The Grey Press offices, to give a formal statement

We can ask about the excavations there as well to find a lead other than the one guy we tried to fuck up.

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>>4787732
>>4787936
Your first instinct is to secure your belonging—or, rather, those not already in your pack. This includes your simple clothes you wore to Hawksong, your other peasant dress, your rope and especially your beautiful new suit of leafweave armour. You spent quite a lot of coin on that, after all!

You suppose word must be spreading about you, since nobody moves to intercept you or question you as you leave the House of Engel. It being broad daylight, you have no trouble with rat-like rapscallions, either, if they even yet know of your machinations against them. It’s a fairly quick jaunt to the apartment, and a pleasant enough one at that.

However, when you get there it becomes an entirely different tale: one of anxiety and vengeance. The door was locked upon your arrival, yet your apartment immediately shows signs of someone disturbed your things and searched through it. They left your armour, obviously not there for mere valuables, but every drawer has been open sheets and pillows overturned and unstuffed, and more. It is a mess, and you get the feeling the foolish interloper was seeking evidence against you, or leverage.

You fume as you set right what you can, looking for evidence of your own. Who did this thing? Roth, looking for his book of contacts and dates? Nothing has been lit ablaze, but it’s conceivable. The wererats? Not if they didn’t take your single most monetarily-valuable possession, or any of the nicer furniture, surely.

You find the window in your bedroom open, just a crack, and you realize the most likely culprit: Tokunbo’s bird!

You shut and latch the window, for what good it will do, and gather your things.

Do you…
>Don your armour for protection before you carry on with your day
>Pack your armour up and stay in more casual clothes, to avoid any strange looks
>Switch to your stealthier, more practical menswear
>Write-in

What do you do?
>Visit the wererats and Tokunbo to criticize their security and to ask for Leo’s assistance in locating Janus
>Visit Roth to report back and seek his aid in locating Janus and dealing with the wererats
>Go to The Grey Press offices to give your statement against the wererats and to see if you can drum up any information on the excavation
>To the library, to consult with Lord Bianchi on occult defences
>To The Pretty Kitty, to get intel in Janus from the girls and to talk to Mina about this home-invasion
>Write-in

>>4787306
>To your apartment, to fetch your remaining things (such as your armour)
>To The Pretty Kitty, to get intel in Janus from the girls

>>4788273
>Switch to your stealthier, more practical menswear
>Go to The Grey Press offices to give your statement against the wererats and to see if you can drum up any information on the excavation

>>4788273
>Don your armour for protection before you carry on with your day
>Go to The Grey Press offices to give your statement against the wererats and to see if you can drum up any information on the excavation
If it's possible, could be go to Roth's place to tell him that someone went through our things for evidence, and that the same could soon happen to him? His 'hidden' stash wasn't all that hard to locate, after all

I chose armor since there are adventurers wearing combat equipment in the city, so it's not all that weird.

>>4788273
>Don your armour for protection before you carry on with your day
>To The Pretty Kitty, to get intel in Janus from the girls and to talk to Mina about this home-invasion

>>4788273
>Switch to your stealthier, more practical menswear

>To The Pretty Kitty, to get intel in Janus from the girls and to talk to Mina about this home-invasion

>>4788273
>>Don your armour for protection before you carry on with your day
>To The Pretty Kitty, to get intel in Janus from the girls and to talk to Mina about this home-invasion

[I will be posting tonight, but work was a doozy, so I'm walking the dig and getting a beer first.]

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>>4788392
>>4788379
>>4788375
>>4788314
>>4788291

You slip into something a bit more comfortable: a suit of quasi-leather leafweave armour. And by The Dark Gods, is it comfortable! You steal a quick pivot in front of the mirror, admiring how it molds itself to you, while still offering the protective buffer zones around vulnerable organs which other, more cleavage-y adventurer-chic just can't achieve. The decorative leaf-tips look a little yellow, though, and they are starting to wilt. You make a note to splash some after on the suit, and to rub some if the alchemical liniments into it next time you are piling your scaly patches away. Something about this makes it feel even more like an extension of yourself.

Well equipped, and with dagger strapped to your side in plain view to complete the look, you step boldly into the street. There are other adventures or adventurer-immitating fashionistas around town… But not many in any given public space, even in a city as cosmopolitan as Hawksong. You attract looks, to be sure. You can't help but revel I it a bit, though. Even as you approach The Pretty Kitty in the red lantern district, it's nothing compared to the catwalks you were getting in your fluffy coat—admiration, occasionally amusement, but no harassment. You could get used to this.

When you reach The Pretty Kitty, Felia laughs. “Really liking that new outfit, huh? Bit early for your shift, though, hun.”

“I’m actually here to talk to Mina,” you say. “And to see the girlss.”

“Socializing outside work hours?” Felia teases gently. “Whatever will they make of that?”

You smirk and shrug. “They’re got ssomething elsse planned?”

“Maybe some, but prob'lynot many. I'll wake up the ones that are still sleeping in.”

You assume that means Manuela. Regardless, you thank her, and you stride up the stairs to meet with Mina.

The outfit garners a double-take there, as well, once she invites you into her office.

“Why so armoured-up, Kamunu?” she asks. “That rich boy of yours got a soldier kink?”

“My home wass invaded, while I wass at Edwin’ss,” you say.

That gets a pause, and then Mina is packing her pipe and his tail is swishing low and fast—agitation. “Tell me everything,” she says.

You do… More or less. The bird, it’s connection to the wererats.

“Never took him for a birdkeeper…” Mina trails off, puffing slowly away. “Tell you what, while you’re at work tonight, I’ll sort this out. Describe that bird to me again, and I’ll pick it out of the sky myself.”

>>4789535
You hesitate. A part of you, trained to compartmentalize, tells you to limit how much information you share with any given pawn. Mina has been good to you, though. You feel some respect for her, insofar as you can respect a primitive beast of furry face like a cat-person or a human. Operating on partial intel, without knowledge of sorcery at play, leaves her vulnerable.

What do you do?
>Warn her about Tokunbo and Zivic
>Leave well enough alone; you can’t risk your own cover further
>Give Mina false intel to render her still more vulnerable; if she falls next, you’ll be ruling this roost in now time
>Change the topic to Janus, and what she might know about him
>Ask about your job for the night
>invite her to the girls’ day out Felai seems to be planning
>Write-in

>>4789540
>Write-in
>Give Mina partial intel that won't compromise her too much. Instead of being knowledgeable about Zivic and Tokunbo, or being involved with them — you're merely aware, as a byproduct of your time in the sewers, that the wererats found themselves an occultist, whom they seem to browbeat into providing them with dark magic and undead servants. You've had nightmares even since you've been kidnapped, too — and you believe it's the occultist's work as well. Not because there's anything unusual about getting nightmares after being gang-raped by shapeshifting horrors from down below… but because your kind doesn't dream at all.

This lets us describe the bird in proper detail, and gives us plausible deniability in case the rats rat us out, without eventually blowing back in our face too much. We don't need to overthrow Mina — how does that even work? We have no qualification at all to run a brothel — nor do we want to tell her everything, of course.

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>>4789908
You speak up, telling Mina that there’s something else she should know about the bird, about those she faces.

“The rat-creaturess… They have captured or found an occultist of ssome ssort. They sseem to browbeat him into providing them with dark magic and undead servantss. The bird iss one of them.”

“Magic?” Mina says with a start, he ears going back and her tail stopping. “Is that why thy captured you, maybe—your recent magical ‘awakening’?”

You tell Mina that you don’t know, though they were obviously just as interested in your body as your spirit. You also tell her a redacted version of the Devil-Zivic nightmare, explaining that this is especially troubling because your mother’s race doesn’t normally dream. As you go on, elaborating as to the expanding scope and darkness of this threat, Mina simply stares. Her expression is unreadable, but you think you detect, for the first time, fear. How can a brothel madam, even one with claws and a steely spine, face down what you describe?

“I’ll handle this,” she says, either too proud and stubborn to back down, or with some trump card yet to call on.

You bid Mina farewell, thanking her for her support and aid. You have a function to attend with a few of the other girls, after all. Mina, for her part, seems brightened in mood to hear this, but tells you to keep an eye out for birds, and to alert her if you see any likely spies in the sky or otherwise.

When you return to the lobby, Felia has donned a coat, and assembled a small cadre of dancers and/or prostitutes. Among them are a yawning, sleepy-looking Manuela LaPert, Grendelia in a surprisingly demure and conservative-looking frock coat, and Red Annie, plus a few former roommates from the ‘other side’ of the business who youv’e not had much interaction with before.

“Shall we?” Felia asks.

“I’m ssurprissed you got sso many,” you say. It’s a lot of people, including some not yet swayed by your speechcraft, to start asking probing questions among.

“Well, how am I gonna’ say ‘no’ when The Dazzling Desert princess herself asks to hang off-shift, right?” Manuela says, giving your butt a playful pinch.

What do you do?
>Suggest grabbing a bite to eat
>Suggest a trip to the library to hang out
>Invite them back to Edwin’s place
>Attend the traveling fair you’ve seen some flyers and heard some chatter about
>Play up your emotional trauma to request that you just have a quiet visit with those girls you know (and who may have intel on Janus) alone
>Write-in

>>4790406
>>Suggest grabbing a bite to eat
>>Attend the traveling fair you’ve seen some flyers and heard some chatter about

>>4790406
>Suggest grabbing a bite to eat
>Attend the traveling fair you’ve seen some flyers and heard some chatter about
>Find a good moment to only talk to girls we know

>>4790470
+1

>>4790406
>Attend the traveling fair you’ve seen some flyers and heard some chatter about

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>>4791391
>>4790470
>>4790510
>>4790431
You make some introductions to the back-room girls—Robin and Vivian, with dark and light brown hair respectively, one a touch thick in the middle and one a little thick in the head. This accomplished, you quickly take the lead from felia. There's no reason to lose momentum on your ascent to alpha female, after all! You suggest that you all get a bite to eat at a fair which had come to the middle-town area of Hawksong. You've see flyers for it on your travels around town, and it tangled your curiosity. Plus, with all the commotion and distraction, you can easily get those girls who can provide you useful intel alone.

Your suggestion is met with enthusiastic approval from all quarters. The weather is starting to warm slightly, especially at mid-day, so you find yourself the armored vanguard to a pack of revealingly-attired young ladies of the night, an odd sight which doesn't go unnoticed. You once read a book on human culture which made mention of a harem guarded by a eunuch, and you feel a strange and amusing sense of kinship with the castrated male from the tale.

When you arrive at the fair, you find a phantasmagorical and truly world-class scene, even by the standards of Hawksong. There are beastmen of varieties you've not even heard of, menagerie of caged beasties from foreign lands, and at times you cannot tell who are the keepers and who are the exhibits; some sapient monsters clearly do double-duty as both. Most in attendance are humans, though, albeit a diversely-coloured mileu of humans, while the ringleaders of this particular circus seem to be a number of slightly inbred-looking beige halflings in gaudy clothing.

Given the ownership, perhaps it’s no surprise that Manuela is immediately smitten with the place; she dashes off almost immediately, with Grendelia close behind attempting to wrangle her feisty little friend before she blows through her pay trying to win prizes at the games.

The others join you for some rather overspiced meat stew, with the others further loading their portions onto foreign flatbreads. You opt for a bowl made from some strange, thick and shiny parchment which is apparently unique to this place or wherever its proprietors originate. You impress the girls with your spice tolerance—you physiological Cally are not wired to much notice the compounds which set their faces to a full flush and their eyes to watering—and you eventually turn the conversation subtly towards clients.

From there, it is a simple matter to ascertain which of the girls is familiar with the flashy young men who were your repeat clients in your room, and who attracted some attention the night to ousted Janus for affronting your sensibilities.

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>>4791689
“Ugh, surprise anal is the wooorst,” Red Annie says, to a chorus of agreement. “Serves the bastard right, shoving him off. One time, he tried to rent me for a night. Told the fucker no, and he tried to get a finger up me and mine. The ass, too! A man obsessed, I tell you.”

It seems she has some experience with Janus. Felia, as bookkeeper and lodger, knows of him also; he was a regular until you put some fear into him. By the time Manuela comes back—all but broke, with Grendelia dangling her by corset as she complains about rigged contests of skill stealing her hard-earned coin—it seems she has had some more ‘intimate’ dealings with him herself.

“Wasn’t bad” she says frankly, “in either hole, if I’m being honest. Bit pushy, though, yeah. I guess I just don’t mind ‘em forward, or backward for that matter!”

What do you do?
>Talk to Felia about Janus’ residence: suggest that you could maybe earn him back as a customer with a private call
>Get Manuela on-side with promises of helping her win a prize, in exchange for info on Janus
>Privately ask Red Annie if she wants to help you get some payback on Janus
>Forget about the mission for now, and just enjoy the fair
>See if you can find any sort of occultists or mystics to aid with your ‘other problem’
>Write-in

>>4791693
>Talk to Felia about Janus’ residence: suggest that you could maybe earn him back as a customer with a private call
>Wink at Grendelia and ask her to help you get used to being fucked in the ass since she sounds good at it
based anal quarter-orc

>>4792192
>Wink at Grendelia and ask her to help you get used to being fucked in the ass since she sounds good at it

[I realize that I engendered some confusion due to grammar. MANUELA is the one who is good at butt stuff. Grendelia has remained silent on the subject, merely having brought the rather forward little halfling back.]

>>4792229
oof, fixing >>4792192 then:
>Talk to Felia about Janus’ residence: suggest that you could maybe earn him back as a customer with a private call
>Wink at Manuela (a rowdy halfling dancer and prostitute) and ask her to help you get used to being fucked in the ass since she sounds good at it
based anal halfling

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>>4792326
“I didn’t realize that Januss wass a regular,” you say, pretending to be saddened and shamed by the news. “I would have been… Lesss aggresssive in my refusssal.”

“Oh, hun, I don’t think anyone can hold it against you!” Felia is quick to reassure you. “I mean, damn, how many of us have ever brought in a GOLD COIN?”

There are murmurings of support from all the others, and grindelia rests a hand on your shoulder and offers a smile. However, you won’t be dissuaded! Not because of loyalty to The Pretty Kitty or anything akin to remorse, naturally, but because you need the excuse to get Janus’ address from Felia.

“We-ell…” Felia hums and hahs over it for a spell, but you can be quite persuasive when you have your mind on the mission. “Alright, Kamunu. But what are you gong to do when you get there?”

“Pay him a housssecall,” you say, and your turn to Manuela. “Maybe with ssome help from a tutor?”

“Huh?” Manuela says through a mouthful of meat-and-flatbread.

You wink at her. The halfling swallows her food and cackles, understanding what you are getting at. “Oooh, Professor LaPert! I like the sound of that… Even if it’s, you know, not my actual last name or anything!”

With the address and a cover story acquired, you and the girls finish your food. Conversation quickly reverts back to trivial banter unrelated to complex webs of Reptilian conspiracy or anal sex. It’s late afternoon, but that leaves you plenty of time to work with… If you were ina rush to get the socialization over with.

What do you do?
>Stay at the fair a while longer (specify if you do anything in particular while you’re there, such as visit the menagerie, attempt to win a game, etcetera)
>Get some ‘tutelage’ from Manuela
>Ask Manuela to come with you to pay Janus a housecall right away
>Slip away to go report back to Roth
>Write-in

>>4792680
>>Ask Manuela to come with you to pay Janus a housecall right away

>>4792680
>Get some ‘tutelage’ from Manuela
>Ask Manuela to come with you to pay Janus a housecall right away

>>4792680
>>Get some ‘tutelage’ from Manuela
>>Ask Manuela to come with you to pay Janus a housecall right away

>>4792680
>>Get some ‘tutelage’ from Manuela
>>Ask Manuela to come with you to pay Janus a housecall right away

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>>4793406
>>4793383
>>4792758
>>4792709
“What, like, NOW now?” Manuela asks.

Felia is equally surprised. “Hun, you don't gotta'—”

“I've already waited dayss and dayss to sset thiss right,” you insist. “But I may need that advicce ssooner than exxxpected. And… Maybe ssome asssistancce?”

Manuela frowns. “What, for free? Look, I'm easy peasy, but I ain't CHEAP.”

“Not expensive either, though,” Annie quips, at which Manuela blows a raspberry.

Luckily, you have a gold coin straight from Edwin's purse to persuade her, which she snatches up eagerly—better to blow tomorrow at the fair, you suppose.

Along the way to Janus' address—distant from Hawksong central as with Edwin's home, bit thankfully at a different latitude—Manuela gives you a crash course on the finer arts of ‘backalley relations'. A lot of it boils down to psychological preparation, breathing exercises, and lubricant. Luckily, you never travel anywhere without oils. To your surprise and minor irritation, Manuela is excited at the sight of the bottle of scented oil you brought along from Sparrowton, which she apparently has used for this purpose before. That swindler at the general store sold you a common prostitution aid without alerting you! You suppose it's fortuitous that you chose this cover identity.

When you arrive at the estate of Janus' wealthy merchant household, you find something unusual to the wealthy class of Hawksong: a smaller plot of land with a fence. Thus far, even the Engels' nouveau riche abode has fallen into a general pattern for sprawling estate with, at best, patrolling guards for security. The older estates didn't even have that, though you suppose Zivic and Yosef both had reasons to be distracted from matters material. Janus' family—The Zikas—are apparently not of the same sensibility. Their plot is comparatively small, their estate hidden by hedges and a tall, ironwrought gate. Stationed at the front entrance sits a single, rather large part-orc of some description.

“Welp,” says Manuela with a merry defeatist, “guess we might as well head back to work, huh?”

What do you do?
>Agree to turn back
>Just announce yourself and ask to be let in
>Sneak in
>Bluff you way in (specify a bluff)
>Intimidate your way in
>Seduce your way in
>Sneak in over the gate
>Write-in

>>4793543
>"Hun, we ARE going to work."
>Sseduce your way in

>>4793543
>>Just announce yourself and ask to be let in
>>Seduce your way in

I'm 99% sure this will bite us in the very part we're offering (in vein of someone we know visiting right as we barge in, or someone later recognizing us in, say, Edwin's presence as "that whore who makes house-calls offering anal", or someone on the staff being an off-duty wererat), but oh well, in for a dildo, in for a dick. Beats switching our priorities back and forth, I guess.

>>4793543
>Sneak in
surprise the motherfucker in his own bed

Rolled 14, 15, 7 = 36 (3d20)

>>4793946
>>4793964
>>4793969

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>>4794461
“We ARE here to work,” you remind Manuela, with a wink. “Come on, let’ss get to it.”

The two of your stride up to the gates, attracting the orcblooded guard’s immediate attention… But perhaps not for the usual reason. Too late do you realize that rather than approaching as a coin-and-silk swathed exotic dancer, you are sauntering towards his post in a set of armour and with a dagger strapped to your hip. He begins to draw his own weapon, a mean-looking mace, in return.

“Woah, eassy there,” you say, lifting your hands. “We’re not here for any trouble…”

“Well, maybe some,” Manuela chimes in, stepping out from behind you and ogling the muscular brute. “But just the fun kind.”

“Who are you?” the guard demands, snorting a little and not really lowering his hand from his mace. “State your business.”

“We’re here from The Pretty Kitty,” Manuela says, “with a very special offer for a loyal customer.”

“The brothel?” he aks quietly after a moment.

“We’re here to ssee young Masster Januss Zika,” you say, smiling and fluttering eyelashes, “though it’ss not sso bad laying eyes on you first.”

“We could make it a two-for-one deal…?” Manuela asks, stroking a bar of the gate suggestively.

The big lug looks between the two of you clearly more put-off than aroused despite your best efforts. “I don’t know ‘bout this… Gonna’ have to ask Janus. What’d you say your names were?”

“Manuela and Kamunu!” the halfling says before you can decide whether you want to announce yourself by your actual names.

The gatekeeper departs, leaving you feeling… Uncertain as to what to expect. The last time you saw Janus, you’d rocked his world (and that of a few of his merchant friends), but then you’d also refused him further service, snapped at him, physically assaulted him, and demanded information from him on his family’s dealings. Now here you are, at his home (the address of which he never gave you), with a companion, and armed and armoured as if for battle. Will he really let you in based on a hireling’s repetition of your sensual promises, or will the orcish-looking man return with back-up to detain you?

“What’s the play, Kamunu?” Manuela asks. She clearly picks up your rising anxiety.

>Wait here, and hope for the best
>Scale the fence and use stealth and illusion to slip inside
>Leave before they return, this was a mistake
>Write-in

>>4794477
>Wait here, and hope for the best
>Try to hide the dagger and make armor more revealing with the illusion
>Put up a good front for Manuela so she's less anxious

>>4794710
This.

>>4794477
>Scale the fence and use stealth and illusion to slip inside

Rolled 16, 20, 16 = 52 (3d20)

>>4794710
>>4795358
>>4795489

>>4795589
“Don't worry, LaPert,” you say, “I've got thisss under control.”

You unintentionally slip into a more formal diction worthy of Reptilian handler, even in this primitive tongue; it's all you can do to avoid calling Manuela ‘small mammal’. Still, she must respond well to your confidence, for she neither asks questions nor makes to escape. More's the better, as this let’s you focus on what you need to do to make this work.

Unwilling to relinquish your dagger or armour—there are many places an undead bird could hide in these tall hedges, and who knows what else—you instead opt to hide the imposing armaments behind an illusion. You focus on beauty, sensuality, non-threatening and friendly thought of feminine pleasure. You close your eyes and let this version of yourself fill you to the brim and the n you let this feeling burst out to envelop you like a scabbard over your true, knife-edged threat.

By the time the orc-man returns with his cohorts and young Janus, whatever thoughts they had of strongarming you seem to melt away into slack-jawed stares. You can see your dulled reflection in one man’s chestplate, and to your eye you look just the same, but you can tell that this is not the case for those you have ensorcelled. You can't be certain, but you believe you have worked what is termed a ‘glamour’.

“Hello, Janussss,” you whisper low and sensual, playing to type. “May we come in?”

“Uh,” Janus stutters, some part of him trying to resist the obvious urge to invite you in and give you all that you desire. “Wh-why? What did you…”

“I’m ever sso ssorry for ssnapping before. I wass jusst sscared. I'd never done… THAT before. But Manuela here hass offered to show me how to accccept what you were offering.”

One of the guards swings the gate open at Janus' nod. Manuela glances between the two of you, and on tip-toes she waves a little hand in front of one guards face. He hardly seems to notice.

“Woah,” she says, plainly less affected than the males, but suitably impressed.

You smirk. ‘Woah' indeed.

You follow Janus into his family’s estate, the halfling dancer closer at hand and the guardians of the manor trailing not far behind like so many overgrown puppydogs. It's not unlike the dream you had, once, of your future as ruler of this place. You like it.

What next?
>Get Janus alone and ‘pumps him for information
>Really win him over, and put Manuela anal advice into practice
>Screw screwing him: with Janus in this state, you can get any info an assistance out of him that you desire with words alone!
>Why even ask Janus? You have your run of the place for the time being—loot and plunder for valuable items and jewelry tied to the dwarven excavation
>Write-in

>>4795694
>Get Janus alone and ‘pumps him for information

>>4795694
>>Really win him over, and put Manuela anal advice into practice

We coomed for the wererats, why stop at one more indignity when it can secure us an ally?

>>4795694
>Really win him over, and put Manuela anal advice into practice
Let's not forget to convince him to meet with Engel.

>>4796130
>>4796087
>>4795710
Janus leads you and your pint-sized prostitute ‘professor’ to his sleeping chambers.

“Where iss the resst of your family?” you ask.

“Out,” Janus says, voice dull as if hypnotized. “Not for long, though. Father is at a meeting, but mother is only out shopping.”

“I ssupposse we'll have to make it quick, then, won't we?” you ask teasingly, shoving him back onto the bed with a smirk. “Manuela, would you mind sstripping our handssome client down?”

“Hahn?” Manuela asks, mouth already full.

Damn, she works fast. And with some skill and considerable enthusiasm, you can't help but notice. It makes sense--Manuela's been at this a lot longer than you, or at least with greater frequency. Janus’ eyes roll back and he groans, a guttural sound… But his attention doesn't leave you. Your glamour remains in place.

It would be a simple enough thing to simply extract information from Janus this way. You know it. But the feeling of power over this male, this newfound magical manipulation… It's intoxicating. You can't help it: you're aroused, too. You strategically strip off a few pieces of your armour—the glamour is such that your rather sad attempts to make it a sexy striptease are sufficient to make Janus gasp—and before long you and Manuela are both enjoying this mesmerized mammal to the utmost.

Embarrassingly late, you realize that you have let your actual mission objective here slip your mind. You extract the male from you, and flip up the leafweave ‘skirt’ of your armour to reveal your rear. Janus utters a few growled profanities of appreciation.

“You want thiss tight assss?” you ask him “Then you're going to do me a favour. You're going to introduccce me to your parentss when they get home, and help me arrange a little businesss meeting.”

“H-huh? My parents? A business… What?”

This odd request seems enough to make Janus snap out of it… Almost. The sight of Manuela beginning to apply the oil vigorously and generously to your proffered orifice—not altogether an unpleasant sensation after the shock wears off—seems to erase his doubts.

“Oh fuck! Yes, sure, anything you want!”

You smirk. Perfect. However, as you sink down into Janus’ lap, your smile disappears. Even taking it slow, staying in control, with Manuela helping you and guiding you… You're not sure anal intercourse is ever going to be a staple of your harem when you rule this land. You have no idea how Manuela can find this enjoyable.

>>4796594
When the deed is done and you and Manuela re both dressed and as cleaned of fluid and lubricant as you can be, the halfling whispers to you:

“What was all that about a business meeting?”

You reply cooly—or as coolly as you can with an aching backdoor—that she needn't worry about it. You can feel your glamour's effects beginning to fade, but luckily Janus is melting into his bedspread in a pool of endorphins.

“Sso, Januss, do we have a deal?” you ask. “All earlier incccidentss are forgiven?”

“Forgiven and forgotten,” he sighs happily. “Gods Above, Kamunu. Wow. And you too, Manuela!”

“So, we taking off? We have work, remember?” Manuela asks.

What do you do?
>Manuela can tell Mina we're working Janus tonight; you want to seal the deal with his parents
>Leave with Manuela and the coins and promises you've earned here, for now
>Ask Janus for information on any major developments in the excavation
>Ask Janus about valuables in the home which you could investigate or steal
>Write-in

>>4796598
>Manuela can tell Mina we're working Janus tonight; you want to seal the deal with his parents

For future reference, does Ismena carry her other clothes around?
We should probably change if we decide to stay here longer.

>>4796656
[She normally has at least one change of clothes in her backpack, but the leafweave atmour does not nicely fit in that same pack.]

>>4796826
We could leave it in his room and then put it back on before we leave. I don't imagine our first meeting with his parents should be in a full set of lewd armor.

>>4796869
[Certainly! Just a note, however: while the glamour you worked made it appear lewd, it is normally just a rather stylish and reasonably-svelt set of leather-like armour that completely covers your cleavage and has a modest gender-neutral Roman-like skirt of leaves.]

>>4796944
I know, but it's lewd for now c:
We better not remove the illusion from it for now or Janus/guards might start asking questions.
Speaking of illusion, how does our magic exactly work? This cast-and-forget on armor seems different than Kamunu's performances or illusion cast on rats/Tokunbo.

>>4796992
[You're a hedge-witch operating on intuition and limited training from publically-available books, so you can't be certain. What you have read tells you that some beastfolk and fey beings like elves can erect a 'glamour', affecting perceptions of them and stirring specific emotions in those they interact with. It doesn’t so much change your form as alter what people jotice about you, though a strong enough glamour by a practiced mage might make a deadly Eastern fox-woman appear to be a beautiful human long enough to eat a man's heart. Your own seems to have made you appear non-threatening and sexy enough to get what you wanted from the men here for a time, distracting them from your armour and your dagger. Further research or experimentation would be needed to learn more.]

>>4797082
Thanks for answer. We do have to research more.

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>>4796656
“Tell Mina that I’m working here tonight,” you say.

“But—”

“She’ll undersstand,” you say.

You hope this is true, but you’re confident you can devise some elaborate excuse if it comes down to it. You have a job to do here, though, and it takes precedent over entertaining or pleasuring some other rich asshole. Plus, with your OWN asshole feeling a little sore, you’re not in much shape for dancing or further deviancy just yet.

Manuela shrugs, and gives you a s slap on the saddle-sore posterior. “Good luck, Kamunu. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

With that, the halfling is gone, leaving you and a gradually-more-alert Janus alone. You get changed out of your armour and don your brown peasant dress, stowing your armour neatly with your knapsack in the corner. After a period of awkward silence watching you, Janus asks:

“Sooo… Do you want to go for round two?”

“No,” you reply sharply, and he goes silent. You can’t tell how alert he truly is, between whatever residual effects your glamour might be having and the effects of your recent ‘team-building exercise’, but this must be starting to seem an odd situation.

“What sort of business were you looking to discuss, precisely?” he asks after another quiet spell. “That excavation again?”

“Yess,” you say, and nothing more. He gets the message.

It isn’t long before his mother returns from her trip to town, as he anticipated. She announces herself with a loud crow: I’m HOOOO-ooome!”

Janus looks to you, and he seems… Wary? Embarassed?

“I can’t tell mum I have a… A whore here. What do we tell her?”

He raises a valid point. It’s not as if she or her husband will be likely to talk shop with a sex-worker, anyway.

How will Janus introduce you to Lady Zika?
>His new girlfriend
>A representative of The Engelson Storehouse Company
>An independent hedge-witch offering security services for their excavated materials
>A prospective employee with excellent negotiation skills
>Write-in

>>4797604
>A representative of The Engelson Storehouse Company
>Tell him we might go for round two if he helps us get a deal here

We really need some better quality "business" clothes. Hope she doesn't mind the peasant dress too much.

>>4797604
>A representative of The Engelson Storehouse Company

Rolled 17, 14, 8 = 39 (3d20)

>>4798107
>>4798097

“Eassy,” you say. “I’m a repressentative of the Engelsson Sstorehousse Company.”

“You’re what?!” he demands. The spell you wove is well and truly broken. “I knew it! I knew there was something about you! What did they pay you to beat me up—to come here and do… Whatever it is you’re doing here?!”

“Down, boy,” you say coolly. “Have you been sso hard done-by in this exxxchange?”

“You attacked me, you robbed me, and now you’re invading my home and blackmailing me into, what? Helping you trick my parents into some awful deal?”

You narrow your eyes. “Remember our agreement, Januss. ‘If you want a piecce of me, you pay in information.’ Did you forget that when you INVITED me into your lovely home? While you were thoroughly enjoying yoursself a few minutes ago.”

He hesitates, not understanding exactly what DID come over him to allow you entrance, to forget about the dangers you pose. You pay his cheek affectionately. You can see a mix of fear and confusion gradually taking root, and you decide to strike now before terror drives the foolish human male into doing anything rash.

“Let’ss not keep mommy dearesst waiting, shall we?”

You straighten your spine, take a deep breath, and try to put yourself into a meditative mindset to reinvigorate what remains of your galmour. Perhaps it can help make your attire appear a touch more elegant in the eye of Janus’ well-to-do mother.

[Part 2 incoming, depending on how this DC 17 roll to continue the glamour goes]

>>4798492
Wew, could to explain what did you roll for?

>>4798492
The lady of the house is dressed in all the finery one might expect from a social-climber of less-than-illustrious background: tacky colours paired with fine fabrics, ballooning out around her hips, while the slight pudginess of fine foods on demand are brought in by tightened corsetry.

“Hmm? Who is this I see?” she asks, as you descend the stairs. She looks you up and down, and you instinctively glance at a nearby decorative mirror. Your dress is hardly a thing of upper-middle class aspiration, your hair is still slightly mussed from her son’s hands grasping at it for leverage. You smooth yourself out a bit, and pray to The Dark Gods that your novice magic will hold.

It seems to, for as Janus steps out behind you, his mother’s face opens up into a wide smile. “Janus! Don’t tell m—you’ve finally stopped galivanting about and brought home a nice young woman?”

“Ah—” he says, whatever warning or excuse was on his lips dying as he looks between the two of you. Yes, you’d say your magic is still having an effect of some sort.

“I’m a repressentative of another local Hawkssong enterprisse, actually,” you tell her primly.

“Yes, that’s right,” Janus says, hesitating a moment. “This is… A representative of The Engelson Storehosue Company. She’s here to talk to us about the company’s recent excavations right?”

You nod. “Issmena Rossgard, at your sservice.”

Janus mother, Nasia, proves to be a bubbly woman. She seems nice enough and hospitable, but positively ignorant about the workings of the business which pays for her lavish lifestyle, for the servants who attend to you and the guards who protect the manor as you, she and Janus indulge in a bit of sugary confection and tea. You keep the food down and appearances up, while you wait for the man of the house to return—any attempts to talk business with this thoroughly-domesticated female mammal seem doomed to giggling ignorance and abrupt topic changes. Several time, she asks after your marital status, seemingly determined to set up her ‘youngest and last to leave the nest’, Janus.

>>4798509
[To see if the glamour held up. It did!]

>>4798512
When Janus father arrives, he cuts a very different figure. He has proportions which would suit the dwarves whose underground realm he excavates, if only he were not so tall. He is portly, bearded, robed in fine black-and-white silk and fur with a gold trimming and button-clasps. It his eyes in the hardness of a seasoned veteran of… Something. He is flanked by hard-nosed, grim-faced human males whose stature is not quite the equal of his own.

“Oh, dearest!” Nasia greets him. “Meet Miss Rosgard, Janus’ young friend. She’s here from The Engelhouse Storage Facility—”

“Engelsson Sstorehouse Company,” you softly correct.

“—and she is JUST lovely!”

He appraises you as he ought to, but as you hoped your magic would preclude: a danger. But perhaps also an opportunity?

“What brings you here, Miss Rosgard?” he asks.
>You want to offer your magical security for any artefacts he has which he’d rather sell on the open market, rather than to the Tower
>You’d like to offer some of the facilities of Engelson to house the huge collections of dwarven architecture and art he is excavating
>You are seeking a specific artefact on behalf of your employer: a large dodecahedron covered in runes
>You want to know why the Crown didn’t offer your company a crack at the contract, and your employers are feeling litigious
>Write-in

>>4798513
What sort of magical security could we really offer for those artifacts?

>>4798526
[Probably not much, though you didn't know you could erect a glamour prior to trying. Then again, you don't really want to protect the artefacts so much as uncover and/or sabotage the city defences, if you're still on-mission.]

>>4798513
>You’d like to offer some of the facilities of Engelson to house the huge collections of dwarven architecture and art he is excavating

>>4798533
Thought so, but wanted to ask since "offer magic" choice shows up a lot.

>>4798547
>"offer magic" choice shows up a lot.

[As with seduction (and, briefly, mugging) before it, it's a skill you fine folks put a lot of effort into cultivating and exploring. It wont' always work, and overreliance could definitely create... Complications... But in deference to the players' interest and therefore The Infiltrator's, I try to include seduction and magic options whenever vaguely viable.]

>>4798513
>>You’d like to offer some of the facilities of Engelson to house the huge collections of dwarven architecture and art he is excavating

>Surely such valuable items deserve better security than that which he hired to protect his own family... It was quite easy even for you, an unskilled hedge-mage, to charm your way in past his guards, son and wife. It would be a shame if a real mage took interest in the excavated relics.

>>4798626
Maybe it's better if we don't mention that we, supposedly a representative of Engelson SC, have charmed and fucked our way through his son and into his house. It's our hidden advantage and as long as they don't know about it...

>>4798641

He must have some arrangement he's reasonably happy about, though. And he's wary of us at it is. We need more than asking nicely to convince him to switch to Engelson.

Showing some of our hand by our own volition can be agood play in itself. It might garner us some respect and give our words some weight. Or it might get us thrown out of the house, of course, but then what other angle do you propose we play?

(I agree we should leave fucking out of the story, though.)

>>4798513
>>You are seeking a specific artefact on behalf of your employer: a large dodecahedron covered in runes

>>4798663
Guess you're right, but I say we leave fucking AND his wife out of the picture. Janus has *some* incentive to let our manipulations go, but openly admitting that we tricked lady of the house into thinking we're looking better than we actually do (as a representative, we should be dressed properly in the first place) is not worth it and could make her upset or even cause a scene.

>>4798513
>>You’d like to offer some of the facilities of Engelson to house the huge collections of dwarven architecture and art he is excavating

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>>4798831
>>4798696
>>4798626
>>4798547

“I’d like to offer ssome of the faccilitiess of Engelsson to housse the dwarven architecture and art your company is exxxcavating, Misster Zika,” you say.

“Oh?” he says, sitting down and beckoning the staff to bring him a plate of food. His accompanying attendants are dismissed—though not far, you note—with another gesture. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you. “How’s Engel know about that?”

“It’ss a big dig,” you say. “Lotss to sspace needed for it, and he’ss in that indusstry. He would have learned about it eventually… But if you musst know, he learned about it from me, and I from Januss.”

“And how do you know Janus?” he asks, eyes flitting briefly to his son, who stiffens in his seat and looks away.

“Well, we met out and about, at a bar,” you say, technically telling the truth. “Through a mutual friend, I ssuppossse.”

“What’s with the accent?” the elder Zika asks, taking a bite of confection and chewing it rather rudely. It's an incongruous sight, the huge man taking tea and munching down bite after bite of bite-sized cake and cookie. It's like a bear has been sat down at a high court.

“I’m foreign,” you say simply, and matter-of-factly. “Ssurely that’ss not novel to a man as worldly as you are?”

“Hm,” he grunts. “And what can you offer that the Tower can’t? That the crown can’t?”

“Do they really pay for all the facilitiess to houssse all that dwarven detrituss?”

“They will by the end,” he says, certainty in his tone. “Everything gets billed in the end. Rule one, girl.”

“So much talk of business at the table,” Nasia whines. “And I only just got you back from that last trip… Those ruins are taking all your time!”

Janus, too, seems a bit uncomfortable—not with business being discussed at the tea-table, but as if the glamour is beginning to wane. You can feel your own mind and body growing hazy, weary, fuzzy at the edges; to redouble the effort of your glamour would be possible, but tiring.

What do you offer?
>Magical protections against people, like you, who can charm their way past guards [persuasion, DC unknown]
>A three-way meeting with he, Fynn of Engel, and the Tower representatives to negotiate a better rate by opening up competition
>Your ‘personal services’ [seduction, unknown DC]
>Nothing more than you already have—just with more magical behind the words this time [illusion, DC 18, failure breaks the glamour]
>Blackmail him with Janus' dirty private dealings [intimidation, DC unknown]
>Simply request a meeting between him and Fynn tomorrow, and take your leave before the illusion wears off
>Write-in

>>4798918
>>Magical protections against people, like you, who can charm their way past guards [persuasion, DC unknown]
>>A three-way meeting with he, Fynn of Engel, and the Tower representatives to negotiate a better rate by opening up competition

>A three-way meeting with he, Fynn of Engel, and the Tower representatives to negotiate a better rate by opening up competition

>>4798918
>A three-way meeting with he, Fynn of Engel, and the Tower representatives to negotiate a better rate by opening up competition

>>4799961
>>4799457
>>4799044
“Issn't better to have that coin on hand now, rather than to have to sspend, or borrow, and hope that you can bill for it later?” you ask.

Mister Zika says nothing, listening.

“Neither the Tower nor the Crown are in the sstorehousse game,” you point out. “They’re alsso paying their own guardss, and other ssuch expenssess. Not all that coin iss going to find itss way to you. It sstill might not, but if there were other sstorehousses available, competing for the bid, it would bring down the priccce of the sstorehousses elsewhere. And one way or another…”

“We need the space,” he finishes, understanding what you’re getting at. “We’ll need to bring in another company anyway, or wait for them to expand or buy out others.”

“Sso why not arrange a meeting between my employers, yourself, and the Tower?”

He considers your proposition. “We’re supposed to be playing this pretty close to the chest.”

“We already know about the project,” you point out.

“Including its purpose?” he asks, watching your response.

You remain unruffled. “We jusst sstroe thingss. What they’re used for after doessn’t matter in the elasst to uss.”

“Hm,” he says, nodding. “My name is Kohei Zika.”

You hold out your hand, and after staring at it a moment, he shakes it.

By the time that this late tea has finished, it is almost dinnertime by human standards. You full on non-meat foods, are uncomfortably bloated. Furthermore, your maintenance of the glamour ahs left you exhausted… And, glancing through the window, you can see the sun has nearly set behind that fence and hedge. Even if you were to hurry, you wouldn’t make it to The Pretty Kitty in time for whatever entertainment Mina had planned, and to travel back to Edwin and Fynn’s home under cover of night…

Well, one never knows what dwells in darkness. What of Tokunbo’s spy-birds? What if Mina’s ‘negotiations’ with Boss Leo went poorly?

What do you do?
>Ask to spend the evening at the Zika residence
>Head to The Pretty Kitty to make what apologies you can
>Head back to the House of Engel, to discuss the negotiations
>Go to Roth’s home, somewhat closer, to report back
>Seek out the wererats directly, to aid Mina in negotiations if they are ongoing
>Write-in

>>4800681
>Go to Roth’s home, somewhat closer, to report back
Let's tell him someone went through our shit and the same could happen to him as well. Except that we don't hide compromising things at our place, unlike him.

>>4800681
>>Head to The Pretty Kitty to make what apologies you can

>>4800681
>Head to The Pretty Kitty to make what apologies you can

>>4801121
>>4801012
>>4800805
Thanking your most generous hosts, and possible business partners, you take your leave of the Zikas. Nasia is adamant that you should stay, or at least take a guard, but you politely refuse. After all, how can you offer security to them, you say, if you can't protect yourself? In actuality, you just prefer not to have a witness to whatever activities your overlapping missions require of you, limiting your options.

You opt to hold off on your report to Roth for now, until you've made more progress. While you have no doubt that the raid on your apartment bodes I’ll for him and his ‘hoard, he's been in this city for decades, and he was recently assaulted and kidnapped in his home. Surely he's sensible enough to hide his compromising tchotchkes away more carefully now, if indeed they're even on-site any longer?

Instead of visiting your contact, you head for The Pretty Kitty. You know that making progress on the mission to investigate the Tower and their plans for city defences was the higher priority, but you also know your repeated inability to ‘performance for the clientele is unlikely to sit well with your Madam, who already thought you flighty. Perhaps the extenuating circumstances of the last few evenings will buy you some leeway? Failing that, there is always gold…

Your walk to The Pretty Kitty is a trek through darkness, but it is a clear night and you are accustomed to dark dealings. Still, you find yourself troubled by small sounds, eyes darting to every flutter for bird wings or skitter of kicked stones. Once or twice, you could swear you see rats—not wererats, not giant rats, just the usual garbage-fattened city sort—watching you from atop refuse piles or drainpipes, but they always vanish before you can ascertain if their attention or demeanor is unnatural.

When you reach The Pretty Kitty, it is well and truly night, and you are unharmed and unmolested. You can immediately tell something is wrong, though for it is not Felia who greets you, but Helga. She seems frazzled, the admittedly business-minded dancer still struggling to keep up with an unfamiliar set of duties.

“Kamunu!” she says, forcing a smile and twirling her fake beard in a compulsive manner. “There you are! Mina says you're on the stage again tonight, or you're out of here tomorrow! Hurry up, we're so short-handed now..”

“Ccertainly. Where'ss Felia, though?”

“Mina sent her out on your job, and then the blasted cat padded off somewhere for some unknown reason! Just left me here to try to keep a client log and direct everyone… Not an ounce of training in any of the duties, no management…”

>>4801814
It seems Mina has gone to her rendezvous with the wererats already, to advocate on your behalf for crimes only half-committed in truth. However annoyed she is at you, she clearly still cares enough to do as she pledged, and to try to resolve the wererat situation. Can she really do it alone, though? Can you be certain she will remain safe, or safely ignorant of your true purpose in Hawksong?

What do you do?
>Take to the stage, trusting in Mina to resolve the situation as per your machinations thus far
>Ask after Felia’s whereabouts, so you can make it up to Mina by completing the task originally assigned to you
>Skip work and descend into the undercity to aid and direct negotiations
>Write-in

>>4801818
>Take to the stage, trusting in Mina to resolve the situation as per your machinations thus far
Damn, we're constantly late.

>>4801818
>>Take to the stage, trusting in Mina to resolve the situation as per your machinations thus far

>>4801814
>>Skip work and descend into the undercity to aid and direct negotiations

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>>4802375
>>4802601
>>4802813
You do as instructed, allowing Mina to take point on the matter of the wererats while you take to the stage. You slip into your coin-covered Kamunu costume and meet with the other dancers in the backstage area of the lunge. There are fewer than even the last night, of course: Helga is working the back counter, Red Annie has assumed Mina’s announcer duties, and Estellia is still missing. By the sounds of Laskar Endinghray’s playing, the twins have taking the stage; he favours a lot of flute-playing and cymbal-crashed for their sinuous, almost gymnastic routine. Even while this jaunty bardic melody is playing, the unease you felt the previous night has returned, albeit calmed and brightened by your return.

“Hey, Kamunu!” Manuela greets you with a crooked grin. “How’d dinenr with the new booooyfriend go?”

You roll your eyes and give her a smirk. “It wass a sssuccesssful bussssinesss meeting.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these day?” Red Annie asks, snickering. “How’s the butt, babe?”

You wince a little. It’s still not feeling as good as BEFORE a human male jammed his genitalia into it repeatedly, but it’s not half as bad as the aftermath of the wererats’ pleasure. “I’ve had worse.”

“I could go for another round,” Manuela muses, meanwhile.

The girls laugh at the halfling’s casual lasciviousness, and your own circumstances, but it is a laugh of tension breaking and solidarity building. You join in, strategically of course. Then, with the twins’ music dying and your own starting up, you step out to take your place on the stage. You smile at the twins as you pass, and Tricia and Alicia smile demurely and nod.

You step smoothly to the centre of stage and bow low, letting your hair fall and distractions slip from your conscious mind. Then, flipping your hair up and striking a pose with arms behind head, you begin a gyrating dance, scintillating the usual crowd. No Janus, unsurprisingly, but also no Edwin. The usual guard is still there, three empty mugs stacked on his table in front of him and a fourth in his hand, and a crowd of less-recognizable attendees of the usual social groupings…

And scurrying among the patrons’ feet and under their chairs, largely unnoticed, rats. Not many, hardly a plague, but you’ve never seen a rat inside The Pretty Kitty before. Certainly not three! You spot at least that many as you dance, watching the stage with intensity equal to the adoring crowd and ducking out of view if you fix your gaze on a spot for too long.

>>4802977
What do you do?
>Just focus on dancing; they present no threat, yet
> Attempt an intimidating display of illusory fire and light [DC 16, due to exhaustion from earlier]
>Attempt to affect a glamour to charm and befuddle all observers, rodents included [DC 17]
>Abandon the stage entirely; this is a threat, and you must prepare
>Draw your hidden dagger and hurl it at a rat [DC 15, but you’d be rolling a lot fewer dice]
>Write-in

>>4802979
>>Write-in

Finish the dance, then, as you leave the stage to mingle among the patrons — "notice" the rats and do what a not-involved-with-wererats human dancer would plausibly do in your place: scream "RATS! RATS! HORRIBLE HUGE FUCKING RATS GET THEM OUT OF HERE SSOMEONE PLEASE!"

One way of another, that will get them out of the building. At the cost of the establishment's reputation, maybe, but it seems you've got a war on your hands; you can't just let the rats stay, now show your hand with regards to magic. This way, only you, Mina and the rats themselves will be on to what's really happened.

>>4802979
>Just focus on dancing; they present no threat, yet
Can we focus on preparing for illusion so next DC (if it comes) is lower?

>>4803013
Sure, let's tarnish The Pretty Kitty's reputation for no reason. Nobody would come here after that.

rats =/= wererats

It's either tokunbo's new method of following and spying on us (they were on the streets), or because Mina, a literal catperson, isn't around tonight.

[If the tie isn't broken in a few hours, I'll roll to resolve it and post.]

>>4803111
supporting trips

>>4804321
>>4803111
>>4803013
You continue dancing, unwilling to risk the reputation of the establishment over what you take to be Tokunbo’s little game—or even a side-effect of Mina’s absence. Perhaps the area is especially prone to rodents, being in a rather dingy area of a major humanoid metropolis, but the presence of a catwoman like the madam kept them at bay? You decide there is no need to jump to conclusions…

But all the same, you centre yourself. You may yet need your illusory abilities in the near future. You can feel your mind and soul strain with the effort of summoning the power, but focusing upon Laskar’s music helps reinvigorate you somewhat. A rest will likely be necessary before you work a great, lasting glamour again, but a lightshow might yet be possible.

You finish your set and take a bow that shows off a flash of cleavage and jangles your coins, and a rain of coin greats you as lusty patrons send them skittering and rolling across the stage. You scoop up and few and wink to the audience, giving them a god view of the sway of your hips as you leave. There are few other performers tonight, so you make sure yours counts. You can tell the haul is less than that amassed during your more mystical performances, though. You can’t say for certain whether this is because they have grown to expect the waves of colour which accompany your dances or because those colours affect their mood and steer them towards generosity. You still ave so much to learn…

You return backstage, indulging your coworkers in some mindless chatter and some idle speculation about where Mina went and what she’s up to. You keep your mouth shut, of course. As the final line-dance approaches Mina is still not there to announce it. Red Annie does a passable job of hiding her concern and the sheer oddity of the madam’s absence behind bravado as she warms up the crowd with some jaunty and raunchy pirate jokes, but there are hushed whispers in the crowd as well.

What do you do?
>Take over hostess duty
>Mingle with the crowd
>Go looking for Mina
>Tell the girls where she is
>Make up a comforting lie
>Write-in

>>4804461
>Go looking for Mina

>>4804461
>>Go looking for Mina

>>4804461
>Make up a comforting lie
>Go looking for Mina

How healed should be Roth by now? We might wanna bring him along if we're planning to descend into sewers at night.

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>>4804664
>>4804463

While the other girls are milling about with customers or chatting amongst themselves, you make an excuse slip away to get changed not something more appropriate for the possible dangers ahead. You can wait no longer—Madam Mina may be in-trouble, and whether it is because she provides you funds and a cover story or for some other, less tangible reason, you feel compelled to help.

What do you wear to the occasion?
>Your simple traveling outfit
>A peasant dress
>Your menswear, for stealth
>Your armour, for protection

You dip out the back entrance of the club, dodging around those who might question you as to where you’re going or why. The undercity awaits, and you decide to head straight for the most direct entrance you know of into the belly of the beast: Boss Leo’s filthy little lair, and Tokunbo’s prison. However, you don’t get far before a further complication arises.

The entire way there, you have been aware of the presence of beady, red-reflecting eyes in the dark. The rats have followed you, or others have emerged to keep an eye on you. You no longer feel it can be coincidence. They aren’t exactly a swarm, but the sheer frequency with which you are noticing them cannot be easily explained by paranoia, or an absence of catfolk.

What do you do?
>Stand your ground there, demanding to speak to whoever is responsible for this
>Continue onwards towards Boss Leo's lair
>Go retrieve Roth to aid in the night's work
>Attempt to stay to wide-open areas where rats would be more conspicuous
>Write-in

>>4804734
>How healed should be Roth by now?
[Your own, more superficial scratches and bruises have mostly mended, leaving only itchy welts. Roth was much more badly injured, and even a full-blooded Reptilian would probably require another day or two to be back up to full fighting force. However, he's still got fire-breath, muscle, and more combat experience, and he'd probably still be eager to take vengeance.]

>>4805318
>Your armour, for protection

>Attempt to stay to wide-open areas
>Go retrieve Roth to aid in the night's work

>>4805318
>>Your armour, for protection

>>Go retrieve Roth to aid in the night's work

Fuck the noise. Sure, they can evacuate their lair and everyone they're holding hostage (Tokunbo and possibly Mina) faster than we get there, but if they're going to openly antagonize us we'd better put them on the defensive.

>Roth won't care about Mina, so let's brief this to him as rats kidnapping one coworker of yours after another and openly preparing to go after you — and then, before he recovers fully, after him.

>>4805318
>>A peasant dress

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>>4806217
>>4805946
>>4805331
You stay to the wide open areas where you can, thankful for your suit of leafweave armour and the safety it offers. No rats, man-sized or regular, step out into the lamplight to trouble you, though you think you hear tiny nails skitter closer where you pass through patches of relative darkness. There's no definitive signs of wererat involvement, but it’s not difficult to imagine that Leo’s powers over vermin might extend to the nonsapient sort.

You detour from your route to head uptown, to Roth's residence. Once there, you knock with a bit more frantic energy than is becoming of a cold-blooded operative like yourself. Damn rats are making you jumpy. He answers, and is slightly less abrasive than usual when he invites you in, though you notice he now answers his door while discreetly holding a sword in his other hand, just out of view.

“What is it, Infiltrator?” he asks, not exactly sounding enthusiastic to see you but at least using your proper rank.

You explain the situation: that the occultists and maybe the rats are kidnapping your coworkers one my one, eroding your cover identity, and that they're likely to come for him before too long.

“I thought you said the mess was handled,” he says, tone accusatory.

“I may require your might and the brilliance of your flame, Dragonblooded One” you admit deferentially.

Roth snorts. “You're too used to flattering mammalian males. Your submission will not buy you aid.”

You narrow your eyes.

“…But very well. The Grand Design must not be compromised by pestilence monsters. I would see them hurt for the indignity they foisted upon our race that night.”

That's more like it! Roth dons some chainmail of his own, sheathes his word in a leather scabbard of his own devising, and the two of your set out for the sewers as a team.

What approach do you take?
>Stealthy and indirect; take any guards by surprise and slay them swiftly
>Direct and confrontational; intimidate the rats into compliance
>Affect a glamour, and handle this diplomatically under a cloak of mood-affecting magic
>Set a trap; lure the rats out with illusion and make them talk
>Split up (specify who does what)
>Write-in