"That may be the best plan." Dahlia didn't want to tell Gyp of her appointment at The Lost Key with Shekou, but now she saw no way to avoid it, without making Gyp suspicious. She tells her companion about her conversation with Shekou, and his plan to help her. "Without this aid, these troubles can become worse." She concludes with suggesting they go to Gilly's, to see what information their contact has for them.
Gyp nods when he hears your reasoning to leave the D’Iderot estate, and head for The Lost Key tonight. "Fine by me. We scout tonight, go back tomorrow night for the hit." You leave the casino and head for your appointment.
When you come within twenty yards of Gilley’s, you smell the place. Gilley’s is a fish market, and the variety of scents from raw and cooking fish hits you in the nose with all the subtlety of a war hammer.
Inside, you find a roomy, open dining area filled with benches. A huge lobster tank sits along one wall, and a smaller tank holding crabs rests along another. Clean, raw fish sits on beds of crushed ice in display counters, and signs are everywhere advertising the day’s specials.
Gyp asks an attendant to speak with the proprietor, and shortly, out he comes. It’s Gilly himself. He’s a short human male, about 5’5” and beanpole thin, scarcely one hundred twenty pounds by the looks of him. He takes you into his office, where you can speak privately.
"I’ve learned something of this fellow, d’Iderot,” the diminutive Gilley begins... But what you learn will have to be drawn out of him, as trust isn’t something easily earned in Bastia, Corsica.
Make a 3/IQ + Charisma check. Keep rolling for them until you miss.
Sensing Gilley didn’t fully trust her, Dahlia tried to persuade him to let down his guard and speak freely. She couldn’t blame him. D’Iderot was well-known and respected, and perhaps had eyes and ears everywhere if his paranoia was as large as she was being led to believe.
11:23, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 16 using 3d6 with rolls of 6,4,6. 11:24, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 6 using 3d6 with rolls of 3,2,1.
As he speaks, you get the sense that Gilley is holding something back. Perhaps he won’t tell you everything, but maybe he’ll tell you enough. "Awright, now listen. This D’Iderot, he’s hiring more security the next couple of days because he thinks someone is after him. He’s right, of course. He has some kind of magic trick that tells him this crap. He’s amazing."
So far, his story jibes with what Sho’leil told you. He would appear to be on the up and up.
"There’s another reason for the added security. He’s having a ... party, of sorts tonight. There will be people at his estate he doesn’t know. He’s suspicious one of these guests may be his assassin, but he’s excited to reveal his next big thing--I don’t know what that is, he’s kept it quiet--so he’s taking a risk, but you know how these guys like him are? They love to talk about themselves, letting everyone know how brilliant they are. So even though he knows his life’s at risk, he’s not going to postpone this grand announcement of his.
"Now get this: you won’t know who D’Iderot is, not even inside his own house. He’ll be disguised by illusion, making himself appear as someone else. He’s done it before, I hear. He trusts no one. Hell, can’t blame him. Sometimes even his most trusted guards don’t know who he is at these little gatherings of his. The only time you’ll see him is when he reveals his latest, greatest thing to everyone. He'll give a speech, and show off. That will be the only time you’ll be able to strike--when everyone is watching him, listening to him."
He pauses, takes a breath, and leans back in his chair. "You’ll never succeed. It’s impossible."
Gilley didn't know the plan Dahlia and Gyp had sketched. He was assuming they'd attempt to accomplish the task the same way they went about other missions. He was in the dark and she saw no need to shine light on things for him.
"Well, you know the old saying, Gilley: Where's there's a will there's a way." As she said it, she was flipping through ways to accomplish the task in her mind. A few good ideas were coming to her. "Do you know anything about the layout of his place, where things are?" Is was the same question she asked of Sho'leil. She wanted to know if their answers were consistent.
Post by vladtaltos on May 14, 2015 10:19:03 GMT -5
Gilley shakes his head. "No, not really. I know it's a big place, with stables, a private lake behind the house, a library, anything you could ever want." It's something new, at least. Whether it causes additional worries or helps shape a plan will be for you to decide.
"Somewhere between 2200 and 2300 he'll give his speech, if he stays true to form. It'll last about ten, maybe fifteen minutes. After he's done, he'll step away, and everyone will think he's 'retired' for the evening, but he'll be there, somewhere, but disguised by illusion."
Gilley pauses here, to answer any questions you may have.
Dahlia didn't have additional questions. Things, she decided, would become clearer tonight, when she scouted the place. Hired as a guard, she would have access, she assumed, to places the guests wouldn't. She would take a secret excursion through the manse, she decided, and find out the best place and situation to conduct the hit.
"I don't have anything else." She turned to her companion. "What about you, Gyp? You have any questions?"
"Nah, I got no questions," he says. You stand to leave, perhaps ready to check into The Harbor Inn, the place you'll be staying the next two nights. But before you can stand, you recall Dog is still outside Pieces of Eight casino, being tended to by the youngster you promised to pay for holding him.
Like a jolt to the side of the head, Dahlia suddenly remembered her dog, Dog, had been left behind outside the gaming house. "Gyp, I forgot about Dog. I have to get him." Leaving Gilley's, Dahlia felt concern for her pet, and was kicking herself for forgetting about him. Concern. It was a feeling she hadn't felt or known in years. She wondered if this meant she was losing her edge, that steel in her emotions that allowed her to do the grim bloodwork she's commissioned to do. Not sure she liked this feeling, she arrived at Pieces of Eight, looking for Dog and the boy she left him with.
Post by vladtaltos on May 21, 2015 10:00:19 GMT -5
You find Dog and the boy have wandered away from Pieces of Eight, and are at a stand that sells tasty, icy drinks in small cups. "This is a real smart dog, miss," the boy says. "I tried to teach him a trick, but he already knew it, then he showed me a few others."
It appears Dog is full of surprises. Speaking of surprises, you’ve attracted the attention of the operator of the stall. A burly fellow, with graying hair and bushy sideburns and mustache, he looks at you the way one looks at a tax collector who’s knocked on their door--suspicion, confusion, maybe even a little anger. He asks unpleasantly, "I know you, don’t I?"
Post by vladtaltos on May 22, 2015 10:15:17 GMT -5
"Hey, thanks, lady." The boy takes the silver and scurries off, ready to spend it on something other than the tasty ice drinks offered by the gruff gent standing close to you.
You do recognize him. A job...was it three-four years ago? Maybe sooner. Palermo, a city of assassins. He ran a stand there, too. A rival guild. A competitor. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got caught in the crossfire. He pulled a crossbow to help the other side. He shot at you, and you at him. You wounded him. The sideburns, the angry face, the sharp, barking voice. It's him.
"I have a pretty good memory," he says. "Your face, very familiar." His tone is accusatory. His eyes try to drag you out of the deep well of his memory.
OOC: I've been doing that for years. Welcome to...<fill in the blank>
Last Edit: May 22, 2015 10:17:40 GMT -5 by vladtaltos
"I’m one of those people with a very familiar face, I’m afraid. I get mistaken for someone all the time." Dahlia took hold of Dog’s leash and began to walk away. "Well, nice talking with you."
She quickly walked away from the area, and headed for The Harbor Inn. The sooner she got out of range of vision of the pesky stall operator the better she’d feel. She looked around for Gyp. Where’s that little rogue at now?
Roll 3d6 <The encounter with the stall operator may not be fully played-out>
You look around for your roguish companion. Gyp stands a safe distance away, watching your conversation with the attendant. Who knows, really, what dark thoughts are going through his mind at any one moment?
The Harbor Inn, like so many of the businesses along this stretch of road near the sea, has a nautical theme. An anchor, fish netting, and spear decorate one wall of the lobby, and on the wall above the front desk, the customary mounted swordfish.
You’re given the keys to your rooms---simple affairs with a bed, a stand, a window and not much of anything else---and get settled in. Shortly, Gyp knocks on your door. "I’ve been thinking about all this, Dahlia. Wanna hear what I’ve come up with?"