[CLOSED] Smoke & Mirrors: Kirkwall

[minrathousian]

WHO: CLOSED to those who signed up.
WHAT: Inquisition personnel work to identify Venatori agents who have infiltrated the Inquisition in Kirkwall.
WHEN: Early November.
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Violence, murder.

In Kirkwall, the threat to the Inquisition is more covert:  four Venatori agents have infiltrated the Inquisition's base of operations in the Free Marches, and have insinuated themselves well into the workings of the organization. Perhaps they have made befriended you, or established themselves as a quiet loner who prefers only to focus on their work, with little interest in socializing. Actionable intelligence suggests that they will take advantage of the Inquisition's reduced numbers in Kirkwall to attempt to seize valuable information. The trouble now is identifying just who the infiltrators are--and stopping them before they access vital information, or create further havoc.

Comments

INVESTIGATION; finding clues

[minrathousian]

[OOC: There are four infiltrators in total, but your characters will only identify three of them! The following threads are designed to give the individuals responsible for tracking them down clues to help them on their way.]

The barracks

[minrathousian]

[OOC: Closed to Araceli, Anders, and the Medicine Seller! You may create separate threads, or thread your investigation together as a trio.]

You have been tasked by the Division Heads with the unenviable responsibility of tracking down Venatori infiltrators within the Inquisition's base of operations in Kirkwall! It's hard to say how long these enemy agents have been operating within the Gallows, but the fact remains that they are here, and must be ousted, and quickly. So far your quest to uncover any hints to the identity of these infiltrators has yielded little fruit; nothing especially unusual has leapt out at you from perusing personnel records, or from examining shift schedules and project rosters. Now you have come to the mages' barracks--out of frustration, just to see if anything here catches your eye, or with a particular agenda in mind, that is up to you.

It is lunch time on a bright, sunny, and crisp afternoon, meaning that most everyone in the barracks is away for their afternoon meal, or perhaps taking some time for themselves in one of the private work rooms. The room is empty but for the personal belongings of the individuals who have left things behind.

It is your prerogative to look, as ethically dubious as it may seem to go nosing through the personal belongings of your brothers and sisters in arms. After all, someone here isn't who they appear to be.

[OOC: Your characters may explore the barracks as they see fit. Pay particular attention to surfaces such as bedside tables and the areas around chests. A DM tag will be provided in response to your investigation.]

MS - Open (he's helping rly)

[meds4sale]

The Medicine Seller had approximately zero compunctions about rummaging through other people's things. He was, after all, a terribly nosy man who liked to see what others got up to in their personal time. And it was for as good a cause as any - traitors in the ranks. Though if their actions were discovered, that could mean they wind up with a few more - people mutinied over things like this.

But those were problems that weren't his.

The scales, delicate looking white bejeweled things shaped like birds in flight, were gently levitated along one of the rafters, the bells dropping upwards from their little golden trays. It seemed his scale's had their own personal gravity and 'down' was whatever way their stands were facing.

They were there to detect any possible demons. The Tevinters did so love colluding with them after all. If they stumbled on something, they'd at least know if there was some Fade-y nonsense tied to it before it popped out.

It probably didn't make the scales any less odd.

The Medicine Seller was focused on browsing reading materials. Books were always a good place to hide little bits of information - things that could be passed off as bookmarks, or solving puzzles, or that sort of thing. Inconspicuous leisure material to ward off the hours of boredom on patrols or other duties that could be written off as just that when there was something far more sinister concealed in the pages.

Also he'd found one of the Randy Dowagers latest recommendations (four fluttered scarfs out of five!) and he was keenly scouring every page for some insidious code.

So far the only insidious thing he'd found is an awkward paragraph involving the delightful turn of phrase 'engorged bratwurst'.

[justice_is_blond]

Anders watches the scales, trying to push past the guilt he feels about going through mage belongings. They're already watched more closely than most members of the Inquisition. They've never really had an expectation of privacy in the Circles and here again is an invasion of that.

"Anything yet?" His voice is heavy.

This feels like a betrayal and yet he's gently opening a drawer anyway, looking for something tucked away that somehow screams 'I'm working against the Inquisition ask me how.' There are your average items and trinkets mixed in, a pair of poorly darned socks, a light scarf that's likely been swapped out for a heavier one, quills, pencils, a dented ring... Anders closes the drawer with a sigh and moves on to the stack of books on top of the dresser as well, skimming for irregularities.

"Likely a stupid question, as if either of you would find something and not say," he mutters. The quiet is probably important so they can get out of here if someone comes up while they search, but it's uncomfortable.

[foxsays]

Once a thief, always a thief. Araceli is careful with what she touches though no less curious for it, aware of where a thing sat before she lifted it so that she can put it back exactly as she found it. The difference between someone coming down the hall in the night. Combing through their home because the candlesticks were angled wrong.

Lux is outside since he'd be underfoot, ready to sound the alarm or be a distraction should she need him to do so.

Keeping out of the way of the scales, she shakes her head in reply. "Recipe for a balm in the second drawer by the bed with the nightgown hanging off thend, they must've adapted it on the road," she says of the newest pile. Thinks of being captured before--

Kneeling to open a chest with one of her lockpicks, she finds a locket with the reddest curl of hair tied with a blue ribbon. The face on the inside has long since worn away. Running her fingers along the sides, she tries feeling for any outer sign of hidden panels instead of having to go rummaging through the whole thing right away.

[minrathousian]

The exploration of the outside of the locket yields results: there is indeed a small catch indicating a hidden panel, and with a little pressure applied to it, it gives easy. (A delicate piece of jewelry, perhaps, but one that sports dwarven engineering of the sort not found in Orzammar, but in Kal-Sharok--the stomping ground of the Tevinter Imperium.)

Inside the hidden panel is nothing of immediate consequence to an untrained eye, but if this back panel is held to the light, it should immediately become clear that the emblem of the Imperial Chantry is emblazoned upon it.

Whomever owns this locket ostensibly comes from Tevinter.

[foxsays]

Part of bard training is in languages. Those that people speak when you need to, but the more careful ones too: what a bouquet given means, what someone gives away by standing, the way they set a table, the colour they wear or decorate their halls in.

The heraldry of Thedas of course was the beginning, the same as learning ships and their sails, so Araceli knows--

Recognises that sunburst for what it is but still she rises and crosses to Anders, the best placed after her to pass it over. "What a pretty thing," she says to mean I'd sooner be handling an angry viper. Nodding to the Medicine Seller too, she waves in the direction of the scales, the locket, unsure of what more might be told of the thing.

"It came from that chest opposite," Araceli adds, indicating with her free hand if that helps since it narrows down the search area at least. Probably gets them a name too.

[meds4sale]

The scales were, mercifully, silent. Well, they turned a bit back and forth, rather like weather vanes, but they never once tilted.

The Medicine Seller tucked the raunchy novel back under the pillow he'd found it under and approached Araceli, examining the locket.

...It looked like something to do with the Chantry - not that he really knew the ins-and-outs of the various iterations of the insignia.

"I take it the symbol is of significance," he said, and meandered over to the chest to go peer around for clues or anything to indicate who it might belong to while others more knowledgeable than him sorted more important matters out.

[minrathousian]

The contents of the chest that the Medicine Seller rummages through appear to be fairly nondescript, besides the locket that Araceli has found. There is, however, a book of scouting techniques buried near the bottom of the stack of personal belongings, and upon opening it to inspect it for other details, a name is inscribed in the bottom: Aglaos Eratosthenes.

That name, coupled with the subject matter, would be enough on its own to indicate someone worth investigating. However, when Anders picks up a book atop the dresser, a slip of paper comes loose and flutters to the ground. Written on it appears to be a hastily scrawled note indicating shifts in the Rookery. One has been underlined as significant, for whatever reason... and should someone happen to note the time, they'd notice that that time is fast approaching.

[justice_is_blond]

"It's for the Imperial Chantry," Anders explains to the Medicine Seller as he takes it from Araceli, frowning. "Teinvter."

He bends down to pick up the piece of paper that's fallen as well, expression grim. They've found something, all right. That it's in the mage quarters... Maker. Non-mage agents get forgotten, but mages get extra scrutiny. This is not what they need and he's tense.

"This has times." There's an urgent note in his voice now. "Shifts at the Rookery, and it's nearly to the underlined time. We may need to relocate and see if we can catch whomever it is doing whatever... Mm. Or if we get there before they send a message out, that might be preferable. Catching them after could be too late."

Downing a bird would be a bad idea.

[foxsays]

Cutting off the curse that almost threatens, Araceli looks at the times then away. It might be a gamble to split up but they'll be able to cover more ground if they do it, especially if there's now a time restriction being imposed on them.

"Do we all want to go to the rookery or does anyone want to keep looking while two of us go?" Araceli asks since that's going to be the biggest issue for them, the fallout of Tevinter symbols amongst mage possessions one that can come after. "I'd say I'd scout ahead but we wouldn't be able to stay in contact as easily, I'd have to stop to use the sending crystal if I'm climbing, and saying we're going on a legitimate reason looks better for going; extra details for a report that got missed from an assignment."

[justice_is_blond]

"I'd prefer if we all went. We might outnumber whomever is going, that way." And he'll no longer be skulking about snooping in mage quarters. It's definitely getting to him, demonstrated by the way he keeps looking at the door.

"What do you think?" It'll be the Medicine Seller's vote that decides it.

[meds4sale]

"If my inability to tell the insignia of the Tevinter Chantry from the Thedas Chantry is any indication..."

He narrowed his eyes as the scales flooded back into their drawer like a flock of white, jeweled starlings.

"...I will be quite useless staying behind here. Let us go."

A workstation within the library

[minrathousian]

[OOC: Closed to Simon and Myr! You may create separate threads initially if you prefer, but it would make more sense for this to remain in one thread.]

The Inquisition keeps careful records regarding its personnel, their schedules, and their daily duties. It follows, then, that the infiltrators themselves have noted down *a* name for themselves in the Inquisitions's record books--they just might not be their real names. What follows is a truly thankless and tedious task, for whomever is unlucky enough to acquire it: to go through the complete personnel roster and cross reference it against the division and project rosters, as well as their assigned schedules.

Look for discrepancies; does anyone manage to appear, suspiciously, as though they were in two places at once? Is anyone making odd trips to Darktown while on duty, or towards the project research offices?

[OOC: There are undoubtedly many, many rosters and schedules to be examined, but for the sake of facilitating interesting RP, the selection has been limited to three: a roster and schedule of personnel responsible for feeding/watering the prisoners; one for the day labourers, and one for new vendors looking to set up their wares within the Gallows. Examine each, and a DM tag will be provided in response.]

[paladingus]

Simon had not been clear what exactly being a member of Forces entailed, when he signed up for it, and he had thought it might have involved more...force. But even if he had envisioned more exciting work than guard duty and desk jockeying, a templar's training tends to leave its subject well-suited to doing excruciatingly boring tasks without complaint. It still beats having to pair up mismatched socks in the laundry room with Ser Mallorick.

The problem, as he soon discovers, is that what discrepancies seem to exist have so many potential alternative explanations that the important ones are difficult to narrow down. He's concerned about trusting his own judgment at the moment--it has not recently been working out all that well for him, and the spark of stubborn determination to prove Wren wrong about him is outweighed at the moment by the nagging what if I make it even worse, though?

He catches a fortuitous flash of red robe out of the corner of his eye, just in time, and jumps out of his chair to seize the opportunity. "Myr! Myr, c'mere a moment. I need another opinion on something."

[faithlikeaseed]

"What've you got?"

There's nothing he's doing that's so important it can't be interrupted to help a friend (not this friend, anyway)--and pacing the library between working on delicate spellwork is hardly important. Myr gravitates to the sound of Simon's voice, checking himself just shy of running into the other man. "--Ah, sorry. And what's it you're doing, anyhow? You don't usually haunt the library this time of day."

(There is a note in there that says you should more often, well-buried beneath the mage's usual overwhelming curiosity.)

[paladingus]

"Oh, no, you're all right--" From anyone else, that note might make him self-conscious about how few and far between his intellectual pursuits are, but from Myr, he can read it as an it would be nice to see you more often, and it warms him inside.

But there's work to be done, and he hastens back to it. "I'm supposed to be figuring out which of the million names on these rosters are fake ones for sneaking Venatori scum we might have lurking about. And I don't even know where to start. I've barely heard a one of them before. This one here, it's the list of everyone who's ever been tasked with bringing the prisoners food, and I just started with it because at least I could cross my own name off it and feel like I'd made progress. But I don't know what I'm doing. You're down in the dungeons often enough, too--"

So says the visitor log, anyway, and the rumor mill, and his own recollection on the rare occasions when he'd been on guard duty at the same time, but perhaps now isn't the ideal time to ask Myr why he's always visiting the Vints. (Or perhaps it is, but Simon doesn't want to include him even tangentially in the suspicion here.)

"If I read off the names, could you let me know if you know any of them? And what you know about them if you do?"

[faithlikeaseed]

Myr's usual pleasant expression fades to something altogether more serious as Simon explains what he's about; there'd been some word of the possibility, but it hadn't seemed real until now. "I have been," he volunteers, without any need for the question. "They're a resource for us in Research," which doesn't explain the frequency of his visits, but he's not even aware it might need explaining, "and I've been around a time or two during meals, so--sure."

The fact he's been busy making friends with everyone in the Inquisition might come in useful here. He edges closer to the workstation once Simon's seated again, leaning in with a hand resting on his friend's shoulder as if he could read along on the list as Simon begins working through the names. Many of them he recognizes, a few he doesn't but in passing, but he's quick to volunteer whatever he remembers--and his memory's long--that might be of use: When he'd last encountered them, what they did with the Inquisition, whether he'd ever met them in the dungeons...

Tedious work, but it needs done.

[minrathousian]

One name comes up twice--Guardswoman Lysaria Hendon--which in and of itself wouldn't be that unusual. It's the timing that is odd, and something that could easily be missed given just how many rosters exist, and how many different schedules there are throughout the Inquisition. However, Lysaria appears to have been in two different locations at the exact same time: bringing food and water down to the prisoners, while also out in the field... in Perendale.

[paladingus]

Research is not Simon's forte, and he would be inclined to take that response at face value anyway, but the warmth and weight of that hand on his shoulder somehow makes him feel even less inclined to ask questions. If he's a little more careful in his page-turning, just to make sure Myr doesn't feel the need to move--well, clearly that's just courtesy.

"Do you know anyone who's off on the Perendale mission?" he asks, chewing pensively on the end of a quill. "I don't know if I'd recall this Hendon woman by sight, but if you know someone who's there, we can ask them if she's where she says she is. If not, we'll know something's up."

[faithlikeaseed]

"Ser Coupe's out there," Myr answers, reluctantly taking his hand from Simon's shoulder and stretching to get a crick out of his back. Should've found a chair, he thinks ruefully; standing for the whole time it took to sort through all those records was not the brightest idea. "Warden Serra and my-- Enchanter Vandelin, likewise."

He winces, faintly, and hopes as faintly Simon's not looking his direction; he hasn't slipped up that way in years and though it likely doesn't matter now--

Keep talking. "Though I think Ser Coupe'd be the best bet of all of them, given her position. Want me to check with her? --Though," he adds, suddenly thoughtful, "if Hendon does happen to be out there, we still might have a problem on our hands."

[paladingus]

He scowls, unseen, at the mention of Wren, even if he has no choice but to admit grudgingly that she'd be an ideal person to call. Especially if Myr's the one to do it. Warden Serra is the one he'd rather speak to, neutral and businesslike and free of baggage as that discussion could be, but while he would ordinarily pull a face at the third option and move on--

"Your what?" he asks, unable to swallow the question. Myr sounds as though he's talking about a secret lover he ought not mention, and of course it doesn't matter if he is; there's no reason why he ought to share such things with a sparring partner, and if he is fooling around with a notoriously volatile rebel troublemaker whom nobody Simon knows has ever said a good word about, it makes sense that Myr would want to keep it secret. It's hardly important, though, especially at a moment like this. It's not as if it matters. Not even if he's never once seen that bug-eyed little prick at a Chantry service.

"Never mind. Yes, you'd probably best ask her, but--how so?"

[faithlikeaseed]

"Cousin."

Because he knows--while denying precisely why--exactly what that question had meant, and the thought of somebody confusing his relationship with Van that particular way is disturbing enough to overcome his native caution. Hopefully a shared background in the Circles will equip Simon to understand that caution--because Myr's not going to linger overlong to explain it.

"As I see it, there's two--well, three--potential ways to look at this. Least interesting: Someone screwed up the scheduling and Hendon's wherever she's supposed to be right now. Or, she's out in Nevarra and someone here is using her name as cover. Or she's here and the assignment to Nevarra is cover. Whatever it is, though, knowing that someone using the name's out in Perendale tells us something, at least." He reaches for his crystal at that.

[paladingus]

"...oh." Yes, he understands without a moment's hesitation, his sense of vague undefined jealousy reorienting itself into a very different series of questions that now is not the time to ask. He can sate his curiosity later about just how different Hasmal really was from any Circle he's known.

"All right. If you don't terribly mind, I'll let you do the talking here." Myr knows why.

[faithlikeaseed]

His smile takes a turn for the sympathetic, should Simon look back to see it as he takes his crystal in-hand and steps back. "I don't mind." He knows why.

Fortunately, they're mopping up in Perendale when his call makes it through to Wren. Their exchange is brisk and business-like--he passes on word of what they've found and the information necessary (name, rank, serial--division, duty, base of origin) for identifying Hendon; she goes silent long enough to ask around and ascertain the guardswoman's presence with them. Word returns in short order: Lysaria Hendon's yet among the living out there in Nevarra and they're to continue the investigation in Kirkwall, soonest.

"You heard her," Myr says to Simon, tone wry, as he shuts the crystal off. "We'd best go see what our 'Hendon' here at home is up to."