GM:
~~~IC~~~

GM:
::it's ironically while waiting for the Pyre jumpgate to cycle through to BZII that Lan has his eureeka moment with the ciphers, and is able to apply them directly to Grig's notes::

Lan:
Wait, what the.... ??

Martel:
::looks up from his scripture:: hrmm?

GM:
::The information that comes pouring out, cached in the first letters of lines of text, obscure alchemical code in diagrams, and other sorts is the exact kind of thing that would supplement Martel's stuff, damning the Jakovians even further...

Lan:
Yessss! Uh... oh, nothing. Just... uh, found the info I was looking for. ::looking on maniacally::

GM:
but some of it is hints of what he's been looking for: actual chemical and biological equations explaining how different things were done... and the chemical structure of the green Selchaka is amongst them::

Martel:
Well, that's good. Anything we can use?

Lan:
Ooooh. Yes. I'd say yes.

Martel:
Hey, that is good news then. Anything we can use before we get to BZII?

GM:
((point of clarification, you're just going through the BZII gate on the way back to Aragon))

Martel:
((RIGHT, duh, move to change to record to say Aragon))

Lan:
Gentlemen.... ::looks up after a few minutes more of his face being illumined by the green monochrome readout:: I think I have the answer to the plauge at hand. I'm really going to want labspace and a chance to get to work on behalf of the afflicted Hazat. ::looks around at them:: We're going to be able to... set that up?

Martel:
We will be able to, if only because we have to.

An:
If money can buy it we can set it up. Or at least hire people who can.

Martel:
::shakes head:: Right, I forget about your deep pockets sometimes, An. Too self-effacing.

Lan:
Okay. ::not seeming reassured:: Well. Doubtless there will be interests near-at-hand who won't want this to be done. You know I don't know about that stuff. I mean, you know. Who we can trust.

GM:
::and by the time you're in Aragon's system, Lan has some very solid ideas for how to put together a variant of his methadone that should sooth withdrawal while deploying other chemicals to bond with the nastier stuff in the green drug and make it harmless, pulling it out of the addiction receptors... and while he's focused entirely on that, the rest of you are happy that you made it through the jumpgate when you did... about halfway into the system, a few days into September, you receive word that the Bursandra have turned right around and will soon by tying up the gate for days... Hira is under seige by the Kurgans::

An:
((Oh snapple!))

Lan:
((Hey... how much does Lan sixpack know about Hira? I never was clear on that. ))

GM:
((it's a contested planet on the edge of Kurgan space.. what more did you want to know specifically?))

Martel:
Hmm. This might be problematic. This is bound to draw eyes away from Aragon. Could open things up for us a bit, but it'll open things up for the mantis too.

Lan:
((I just meant IC. It's not totally unheard-of, IOW.))

An:
Its an advantage for both of our sides. Hopefully, we'll be able to use it at least as well as our enemies.

Lan:
Then we better move fast and stay low?

GM:
::over the next couple of days, you pass a portion of the fleet returning to the jumpgate from Aragon orbit, but by then you've heard the bad news... The Kurgan strike was apparently massive an coordinated, as if they were preparing somehow for Hira to be lightly garrisoned, and the Caiphate has conquered the world and has a presence at the gate beyond any that the Hazat are currently prepared to assault... for now, Hira is lost::

Tollosk:
So where did you guys want to set down? Isabella or New Barcelona?

Martel:
An? Maria? You know this world best.

Maria:
It's likely they'll be looking for me at either location.

Lan:
Where can we get lost in the crowd best?

An:
Where is the best place we won't be noticed? Someplace we can come under the radar where perhaps people will ask fewer question, Captain?

Tollosk:
I can get us to either location via back channels without too much notice, I'm just curious which will be easier for you to leave or work out of once we land.

GM:
::And and Maria have more potential resources and safe houses in New Barcelona, but An's recent spy network dealings have been out of Isabella::

Martel:
I vote Isabella. Resources can be moved, and safe houses can be arranged. A spy network is harder work.

An:
Lets go to New Barcelona, its safer. I can travel separate of the group to Isabella. The resources of New Barcelona will be easier to work with to get the lab in full operation.

Martel:
::shrug:: makes sense. Doc, you got an opinion?

Lan:
Where are we likely to find more hazat householder men on the verge of breaking from addiction? It might be worthwhile to make a few new friends on the fly before setting up shop? Not really. I don't need a full 2nd republic facility or anything.

Maria:
New Barcelona has some major garrisons, specifically those previously loyal to may father and cousins... And that's where the big S hit first four years ago

Lan:
Okay. I vote New Barcelona.

Martel:
Me too. That tears it.

Tollosk:
Alright, heading for NB then.

Maria:
An, do you have your own place in the city, or did you just stay with the Reeves? I know it's been a few years since you lived here...

An:
((I have my own place.))

Maria:
But a place not tied to me might be a good start

An:
(( ? ))

GM:
((sure thing))

GM:
((if you want))

An:
I have my own place but I don't know if it'll be the most safe place to be.

Martel:
Is it know to be yours?

Lan:
Well, but who's expecting us, anyhow?

Martel:
No idea, but I want to be ready if someone is watching his place.

An:
But I think I know where we could go.

Martel:
Oh do tell!

Lan:
We going to keep the rock onboard, too, then?

Tollosk:
This ship is not completely legit, right?

Martel:
True enough.

An:
::things for a moment tapping his chin:: Umm... probably not.

Tollosk:
I can probably get it stowed in a Scraver hanger where they're not inclined to ask too many questions... probably be safer there for a while, cargo included

An:
Good, lets make that happen.

GM:
::And you do, the midnight landing not quite as smooth as some of the pilots you've had before, but certainly more orderly... Tollosk steadily dictates a list to Martel of people that may need to be bribed, including likely amounts, minimums, and ceilings, and you're rolling off towards a run-down looking side of the starport as soon as you hit the ground... a side that you strangely have never needed to visit in your previous quests::

Martel:
See, this is why I try to travel legally. Better accomidations.

GM:
::the list of bribes reminds An that he may need to fill up the operating fund soon; his earnings from a few months previous are reaching their limit::

GM:
::certainly before any more major enterprises::

An:
::makes a mental note to do just that::

Lan:
::is good for a few exta firebirds maybe::

Martel:
::hopes he can let the reeze cover everything. sending for funds from the plantation would take time::

GM:
::the night is a bit chill as you step out of the scraver hanger, waiting for a cab since the trains don't run this late::

Martel:
((i think my fingers are drunk tonight. I'm misspelling one word every time I type))

Lan:
::gets an early start eyeballing anybody and everybody for signs of addiction.::

Martel:
::keeps an eye out for tails, in an unusually paranoid fashion

GM:
::the skeleton crew here this late doesn't appear to have that particular vice::

GM:
::though one of the hands seems to be very near an acute state of liver failure, to Lan's eye, but maybe that's just the amber track lighting in the hanger::

Lan:
::nudges An:: Can we get that guy's name? Fellah over there? Think he needs a good tonic.

An:
:: hails a cab / arranges for ground transportation.::

GM:
::a few minutes later, a run-down cab shows up::

Cabbie:
Youse a big bunch. Good thing I gots the van

An:
::looks over:: Have Tollosk get his name.

Lan:
I've been eating a lot of fried food lately. ::Ruefully::

Martel:
Farm food, growing up.

An:
Good thing indeed. ::gives him an address about half a mile from Elena's place::

Cabbie:
::begins moving your bags, trunks, and suitcases into the back of the cab::

Lan:
((Tollosk is w/ ship, ya?))

GM:
((yeah))

GM:
::assuming everyone boards up, the cab takes off towards the city::

Lan:
::piles in, makes highly random smalltalk::

An:
::gets in the cab and waits patiently in the passanger seat just looking around now and then::

GM:
::a few minutes later, you're coasting into a middle-class neighborhood - very much a place of starter homes, each fairly similar, but within the city proper::

GM:
::the cab stops under a street light where An directed him::

An:
::pays the cab driver and gives him an average tip, nothing special::

GM:
::the night is the dead of a working class suburb::

GM:
::full of right-thinking people asleep in their beds::

Martel:
::gathers up baggage:: Lead on.

An:
::picks up what he can and leads the way to Elena's hizzie::

An:
::also hates the damn P thing::

Lan:
::gathers up the rest of the baggage::

Lan:
((I think that smiley thing can be turned off.))

GM:
::A brisk five minute walk takes you to a small house that looks similar to the ones around it; it appears to be possibly a two bedroom, with not much yard to speak of, and, unlike the other homes, lacks a lived-in quality::

Martel:
Well, this place has got one thing goin for it. If anyone had followed us, it'd be damn obvious. ::he says in a hushed tone, while eyeing the empty streets::

GM:
::the streets are, indeed, free of visible followers::

Maria:
::lounging against the porch railing:: Do we have a key?

Martel:
::looks for the predictable mat or potted plant::

An:
::goes forward to the front path and kicks over a couple of rocks, finding the fake one he opens it up and pulls out the key::

An:
Ta-da! ::does a small bow::

Martel:
Heh.

An:
I don't think it will be very well stocked so I'll send out for food and the usuals.

GM:
::the key has something tied to it::

GM:
::in the dim light it's hard to be sure, but it feels like a tightly folded envelope tied on with twine::

An:
Also sleeping space is sort of limited. Maria can have... ::looks at the thing on the key::

Lan:
::cautiously searches the place for a likey sterilizable room.::

An:
Lets get inside. ::goes to the door and unlocks it::

Lan:
::once they're inside... that is.:: Good idea.

An:
::Leaves the front room dark and heads to a back room to turn on the lights and look at the envelope:: Bathroom is umm... in the hall I think.

Martel:
::starts checking the rooms::

GM:
::the power bill does appear to be current, as the lights come on easily enough, revealing what is indeed a couple's first home: two bedrooms, a decent sized kitchen, 1 and half baths, and a living room... maybe 1000 square feet::

GM:
::the place is furnished with utilitarian-style gear, and the most well-stocked portion of the residence appears to be the back bedroom that has a pair of desks with engineers' gadgets and tools, obviously a couple's office::

GM:
::everything is about five years out of style or more, if you keep track of the offerings at the local furniture stores::

GM:
::but the place is largely clean, only a thin film of dust covers the taller appliances::

Lan:
Wait, didn't you say this was your place, An?

An:
::looks around taking in the surroundings, a slight sullen look crossing his face, then smiling again::

An:
::chuckles:: My sister's. I have someone look in on it now and then.

Lan:
Ah. ::hunts around for a basement::

GM:
::meanwhile, An's mystery object does indeed turn out to be an envelope... it seems to be fairly crisp despite being folded tightly and stuck in a fake rock, as if it was added recently...

An:
And I am sure that she wouldn't mind us using it. I hope... ::crosses his fingers and looks up and smiles wide just in case "someone" is checking in::

GM:
"Griffen" is typed on the outside::

An:
::opens and hopes it isn't filled with bomby stuff of anthraxy stuff::

GM:
::there is no basement. there is probably a crawlspace accessible from outside::

GM:
::in the envelope, a single sheet of printer paper lists off a half dozen addresses in a fixed-width font. One of the addresses is local, and An recognizes it as probably a warehouse near the starport::

Martel:
::having done a once-over, Martel dumps his stuff on the sleeping room closest to the front door::

Lan:
::decides to get busy cleaning. Looks for a duster.::

GM:
::that is, in fact, the master bedroom.. it has a queen bed and a half-bath::

GM:
::his and hers nightstands sit to either side of the bed::

Martel:
::rethinks it, and moves his stuff to the room closesnt to the back door::

GM:
::an a large prefab dresser takes up another wall: divided into men's and women's drawers::

GM:
::the room closest to the back is the office where An is reading the letter::

GM:
::a couch is also in the main room, and it looks like it's seen use as a sleeping place more than once::

Martel:
::drops his stuff in an unused corner of the office:: What's the reeding material An?

Lan:
Hey, padre, could you open a window? ::dusting with an abstrcted expression::

An:
::hands it over:: Addresses. One nearby. A warehouse I think. Something to do tomorrow.

Martel:
::does so:: Huh, well someone obviously knows we are here.

An:
::calls out:: Hey, Doctor. I'll need a list of the things you'll need.

Maria:
::Walks into the back room and holds up one of Elena's dresses to her chest:: I'm pretty close to Elena's size, but do you think it would be more or less conspicuous for me to dress like an engineer?

Lan:
::Stops dusting and scribbles out a list of necessities::

An:
We'll get you some big glasses, cover you in oil smudges, rough up that hair a bit and you could probably blend right in. ::laughs making light of the situation::

Maria:
::smirks:: nobody touches the hair

Martel:
::grins:: not likely to matter either way. People don't bug a pretty mechanic.

Lan:
::shrugs, hands over list:: I dunno. I might bug a pretty mechanic. ::bland grin::

Maria:
Seriously though, I'm probably the biggest target you have on you right now, and anything I can do to make it harder to hit I'll give a shot

An:
Probably a good idea.

Maria:
::gets a puzzled look as she considers how forced that metaphor was::

Martel:
Hey, at least we know that, if the bad guys are hunting us, we're doing something right. Sure... meybe that something isn't laying low. But it's something.

An:
If there is anything I know about us. We excel at pissing off all the right people.

Maria:
So... should we let Lan and Martel share the bed, do you think?

Martel:
Sorry Lan, but I'm married to the lord.

Lan:
I dunno.... if I could sleep. ::sidelong glance::

An:
I think thats a great idea. Give them a little privacy.

GM:
::Martel is a big man that smokes like a chimney... does that mean he snores like a blast furnace?::

Martel:
::only snores when he's rooming with someone, and even then, only when he's not worried about being shot at::

An:
I guess well have to play dice on who gets the couch, Maria.

Martel:
You can have it. I want the spot by the back door.

Lan:
Besides, sleeping indoors... it's for ground dwellers. ::smirk:: So you guys can cut the comedy, Reeve, and move in already.

Maria:
I guess it's you and Lan in the bed then, dear.

An:
::touches his nose:: Not it!

Maria:
Well if you want me to sleep in the bed with Lan, I guess that's how it will have to work out...

Martel:
Not it! ::does same::

Lan:
What is this touching your nose crap? Anyway, seriously. It will probably look funny dragging hazat householders into this neighborhood. So you guys still have to find someplace for me to set up.

An:
No, of course not... The bed is me, Maria you can have the couch everyone else is on the floor. ::winks:: Indeed. We do. I have a plan with that. And plans are what I excel at. Sorta.

Martel:
Good. A plan which may or may not break down, requiring me to set everything on fire. I can live with that. G'night! ::goes to his napping station at the back door::

Maria:
::finds some spare pillows and linen in a closet and tosses them to Martel::

An:
::not feeling terribly tired he makes his way back into the office and sits down at the desk, just sorta looking everything over::

Martel:
Thanks! ::starts using them to make a sleeping dummy in full view of the window, while he spreads his coat out against the outer wall to sleep on::

Lan:
::finds someplace to pore over notes from Grigori's non-selchaka stuff::

Martel:
Hey Reeve, This place aint seen use for a number of years. Begs the question, where is your sister, then?

Maria:
::wanders back into the office and wraps her arms around An's shoulders, resting her head on his:: It's weird to think of all this stuff this way. Do you think Elena plans to come back?

An:
::looks up from whatever gadget he's fooling with:: I don't know. I really don't know if she'd want to. After... everything. I miss her though. But all of this stuff... I don't think its who she is anymore.

Maria:
Yeah. I don't know that she has many good memories here. She seemed happy with the Favyana. We're still getting you a farm when all this is over, right? You're going to work the land, and I'm going to make lemonade in the kitchen?

An:
::nods lightly:: She was. And truth be told, I don't know why I held on to the house. I could have sold it. I don't know yet. I've never been good with crops... and you make terrible lemonade.

Lan:
(( ::sings the lemon song:: ))

Maria:
Fine, I'll till the fields and you can make me and the other boys dinner

An:
What other boys? You get no hot sweaty farmhands.

Maria:
The harvest isn't going to get in by itself. We can hire some vorox if you want. But they shed in the tractor.

An:
We'll get them a space heater.

Martel:
Go with Grail-folk. Most of the workers are my farm are grail-folk, and they all do a fine job. ::leans his head back out of the room::

Lan:
What's that? We're farming on grail now? ::arranging silverware in geometric shapes on the table::

Martel:
Nah. I just grab the ones that come to Pyre. You can find Grail-folk anywhere.

Maria:
And you know what will be great when we have a nice big farmhouse in the middle of nowhere? ::whispers while nibbling An's ear:: We could possibly go days and days without our nosy friends in the next room.

Martel:
Whatever it is, I can't wait for it to be in your farmhouse in which I do not sleep in your hallway!

An:
::chuckles and looks up at Maria:: Lies... they'll find us. We'll have to go to some moon somewhere where we'll farm rocks.

Maria:
I think Obelia's from there. We should ask her and Ruiz for advice on moon properties.

An:
Where the best crop will be found.

Maria:
::grins, and kisses An on the forehead:: Don't brood too late.

An:
I'll try not too. ::leans in and kisses her on the cheek::

Maria:
::heads to the bedroom and sleep::

GM:
((five minute smoke and snack break if everyone is ready to fast forward to morning))

An:
::stays up way too late and eventually falls asleep at the table::

Martel:
((aye aye))

Lan:
((Oooh. Check out this cool picture of Lan dressed like a Castenada http://www.noos.org/mecs/joseph/jseph1.jpg ))

Martel:
((heh))

GM:
((hehe, poor guy's got it bad))

GM:
(("Honey, will you please put this bondage gear on for the party?" "yes dear"))

Lan:
((Fear it, padre. ))

GM:
((everyone back?))

Lan:
((back))

Martel:
((back))

An:
((bizack!))

GM:
::the next morning greets An and Martel with sore necks and other poor sleeping remnants... Lan, assuming he took the couch, wakes surprisingly refreshed... this couch was obviously picked for sleeping comfort::

Lan:
::is ready for anything!::

Martel:
::grunts as he sits up:: Just like life with the Muster... ::gets up and starts the tradition morning pot of Quaffei::

Maria:
::rummaging through the cabinets:: Do you prefer four year old coffee or four year old tea?

An:
Four year old coffee please. ::walks into the kitchen massaging his neck::

GM:
::the vile but caffeinated concoction served up, you sit around the breakfast nook planning your day::

Martel:
::seeing as how the coffee is being arranged, begins the traditional morning neck stretch::

Lan:
You guys look like you might be coming down with something. You understand sleep is the body's natural way of rejuvenating itself. ::clucks tongue::

An:
::grumbles something and sips the coffee:: Mmm... dead cat flavor.

Martel:
Yeeeeup. I also understand that people know where we are staying, and that we have a nasty habit of getting occasionally attacked.

Maria:
Strangely, it's the nasty habit that probably has had the least overall drain on our life expectancies, as a group

Lan:
::wags finger:: It's bad luck beating up physicians in their sleep. Anyway. Where can I... ::looks thoughtful:: So... about making contact with the people we want to detox.

Martel:
heh, it only has to drain my life expectancy once.

Maria:
"Yeah, they got attacked all the time... but it was the booze that did them in"

Lan:
I was wondering if that was really coffee.

Maria:
It's coffee, if it was four year old booze, we'd be in much better shape right now

Martel:
Ya know, if "they" wanted to kill us, poisoning the coffe would likely be by far the easiest way.

Maria:
What kind of idiot would gamble on people drinking four year old coffee? ::takes a sip with every evidence of distaste::

Lan:
Someone with a precision knowledge of your addictions and the tolerances thereof. ::slyly::

Martel:
Someone who knew us. ::drinks, wondering if this is what burnt Ka oil tastes like::

An:
So... this is the plan. We find a place.

GM:
::Martel has actually had ka-oil coffee on a couple of treks through Pyre; it's actually much more palatable than what you're drinking::

Lan:
((brb phone))

An:
Somewhere we'll be able to set up this lab and treatment center.

Martel:
::frowns and mutters:: I light people on fire with stuff that's tastier than this...

An:
::leans back in his chair:: I can set up dummy companies who will purchase needed items for reselling and then create dummy companies to buy these items. Working deliveries to various fronts around the city to get them to where we need them. We'll set up what we need in a secure lab. Once we have a cure and a location we'll go public. We'll treat the illness head on. Starting with the military. Working to the working class so they can make sure to get industry back running. In the mean time we'll need to investigate leads and figure out the rightful chain of command for the Hazat house.

Lan:
((Sorry for delay, this is major deal financial crap I have to deal with. estimate 1-4 more minutes.))

Martel:
((no worries man))

Martel:
I like it so far, but we also gotta cut out distribution, if we can.

An:
I have information gatherers working on that right now. With a strong leadership the Hazat will be able to build a strong line of defense with strong allies. As for finding and eliminating distribution. I'll leave that to you Martel. I feel that you have the skills to handle... the delicate situation. We want to make them hurt for it. We can assume this stuff isn't easy or cheap to manufacture. The more we take off the market the more they hurt to deliver it. When they discover we have a way of breaking the addiction it will be ill advised to keep producing it. We'll force their hand and make their move before they're ready. I just hope we'll be ready.

Lan:
I'm thinking that anybody we get off it that's a loyal hazat householder with a promise of forgiveness from a real, you know, noble and gracious Hazat sort...

Martel:
Heh. It's a race between me and the Doc then. I'll see if I can make producing it more expensive than he can, faster.

Lan:
... we should be able to count as a pretty clear ally, huh? ::having looked up from something that distracted him:: And maybe they can help us take down the network?

An:
Thats a good idea. I'll look into it.

Lan:
::shrugs:: I dunno, if somebody'd hooked me like that and I got out of it, I'd be well good and ready to stick it to 'em. ::thoughtfully:: Did we ever make any headway researching where the globe that was lost came to rest?

GM:
((no, you did not))

Martel:
Hey, that's a good question.

Lan:
::Sort of rhetorically, since he's pretty sure they didn't.::

Martel:
I'll keep an ear to the ground while I try to rout distribution. Meybe something will turn up, black-markety.

Lan:
Trail could only be colder now, but, yeah. May as well keep our eyes open.

An:
::rubs his hand through his hair and sighs:: I can't believe I forgot about that.

Martel:
We've been busy An.

Martel:
It'll show up, or it won't. Pancreator's will, and all that. We'll just keep an eye out for it, to help the Pancreator along.

Lan:
I can't believe something like that would stay out on the black market forever. And either it's useful in some practical way, or the greatest price for it would have been to have it returned, or in the posession of... well, you know

Martel:
::drains the last of the coffee-like substance:: Allright. Enough Dilly Dally. Time for work. ::goes to his "room" to grab his things::

Lan:
::considers anonymously sending Malena satirical Keddah poetry::

GM:
((at some point Lan became a creepy stalker. I'm not sure when it happened.))

Martel:
I'm headin to the poor district. ::calls cab::

Lan:
I... ::hopping up:: Have no idea how to mingle with Hazat householders on skid row.

Lan:
I'm going to leave that to you two. Maybe I can get some ... research done.

Maria:
I have a good chance of being recognized by any direct householders.

An:
::nods in agreement:: Your safest place might be with Martel. As strange as that sounds.

Maria:
I'll keep the poor padre from getting beaten up in an alley.

Martel:
Hey! I happen to be a wealthy Padre, thank you!

Lan:
He *is* rather a brute. But okay. ::shoulders his pack and follows Martel::

Maria:
Speaking of which... ::goes about trying to assemble an outfit that allows her to carry her sword::

Martel:
Wrap it to your leg, and pretend to limp?

Maria:
I only have my saber. It's longer than my leg and has a basket hilt.

Martel:
Listen, I'm not a details guy here.

Maria:
Who's checking out that address?

Martel:
::rubs chin:: probably would be pretty easy to do it on our way into town.

Maria:
We're in town, it's back towards the starport

Martel:
Errr... I knew that.

An:
I will be.

Martel:
...is what I meant to say. ::he says, lamely::

An:
::holds up the scrap of paper:: First thing I do this morning.

Martel:
Listen, it turns out to be trouble, you come get us, alright?

GM:
((alright, so who's going where?))

Martel:
((To the poor section, to find a reasonable place to produce the drug, based on our availible info, is where MArtel is going))

Lan:
((I think we're all going with Martel to harangue the locals, except An))

An:
((Address, then Reeves office))

GM:
::This neighborhood isn't too far from the poorer areas, so the three of you are able to walk downtown with little trouble... Maria (Knavery 0) is wearing peasant clothing with a nice cloak to cover her sword, and is wearing it far more fashionable than Elena probably ever did... she's also having trouble remembering that people in this town won't naturally defer right of way to her when she walks down the street::

GM:
::she does have a pretty good idea of the area, though, such that you're probably saving a lot of time navigating, since Martel and Lan have both only been here briefly before::

Martel:
::walks a little behind Maria, in the hopes that no one associates her with him:: You see anyone that looks affected Doc?

Lan:
::scratches his stubble, looking around. Unable to come up with any way of looking less conspicuous himself, as he's got roughtly the same knavery score:: I'm lookin', I'm lookin.

GM:
::at least Lan is a commoner through and through::

Lan:
::right, but nor a way to make Maria look less conspicuous::

Martel:
::isn't bothering to look unsuspicious. The locals can usually spot an Avestite a mile away anyways::

GM:
::so a slumming noble, an obvious inquisitor, and a scientific type staring at people wander through the 'hood...::

Lan:
::a genial looking guildsman who likes to take in the sights, you see.::

Lan:
::tourists with a bodyguard, for sure.::

Martel:
Yanno, we should probably try to think of a subtle way to get back to the safehouse after our business today.

GM:
::even in late morning rush, Lan doesn't see a huge spread of people that look compromised... possibly because they're staying home strung out::

GM:
::there are a couple that have one or two symptoms, but no way to tell without asking an offensive question::

Lan:
You suppose there's some sort of low-life pub that might have the worst off of the sort we're looking for, staying where it's relatively dark and quiet?

GM:
((you know, i think i need to move this plotline along, just to get past all the scenes of going downtown looking for junkies :)))

Martel:
((oh lord, you mean we get to skip the floundering around scenes?!?))

GM:
((I just want you guys to feel like you have something to do... we narrate your day if you'd like))

Martel:
((heh, normally I like it, but we suck at finding sick people :-D ))

An:
((We generally suck at plans. :)))

GM:
((poor people, you suck and interacting with poor people))

GM:
((at interacting rather))

Martel:
((right, those.))

GM:
::anyway, over the course of the morning and early afternoon, you start getting a few leads to follow up on later about possible dealers, but they're not really out this early::

GM:
::and nobody's really willing to toss a home address at the Avesti::

GM:
::meanwhile, An swings by a few offices to pick up paperwork on his way to the local warehouse address::

GM:
::it is, indeed, a warehouse in the shipping and storage area near the starport; while most of the warehouses are bustling this morning, your target seems quiet::

GM:
((and... An is idle))

Martel:
((woops))

An:
((back back sorry))

An:
::makes his way to the front door, if its a trap they already know he's here::

GM:
::it's a standard, solid metal warehouse door::

An:
::checks it to see if its locked::

GM:
::with an inset mini-door/spy window thing... and it is locked::

An:
::knocks::

GM:
::after a couple of sets of knocks and about a minute, the spy door pops open and a face far paler than is normal for Aragon peers out at you:: Da?

An:
Chief of the Reeves Guild. ::flashes picked up paperwork:: Here to speak to the owner of this warehouse. There is an interest in purchasing it.

Doorman:
No purchase. Fully paid. Wrong warehouse. ::his accent is thick, reminding you of Vasili's::

An:
This is warehouse 543 East Lane? Correct? ::gives the address for the warehouse next door::

Doorman:
No, 541. You want fish warehouse. Buy good. Nothing could move in that would smell worse.

An:
Oh, my good man. I'm sorry to have bothered you. Thank you. ::steps away from the warehouse and heads next door::

GM:
::the warehouse next door does have a suspiciously fishy smell::

An:
::knocks::

GM:
::the door here was ajar, and an older, burly aragonese man opens it in a moment::

Fishman:
You here about the Madoc order? It'll be in by noon.

An:
No I'm sorry. I'm here from the Reeves guild. There has been some interest in purchasing your warehouse. I have been sent to do an inspection, if you are the owner and are interested.

Fishman:
I'm not the owner, but I doubt Raph will care. Take your look around, gray man.

GM:
::he holds the door open, the scent of poorly refrigerated fish hitting you full-on::

An:
Thank you.

An:
::looks around seeing if there are windows facing the next door warehouse:: Any complaints about the neighborhood?

An:
Any problems with the people next door?

GM:
::inside, it's about what you'd expect from a fish warehouse. big insulated boxes sit on palattes with forklifts sliding around the floor and pickup trucks taking loads at the bay doors.::

GM:
::no apparent windows on this side of the building... the warehouses are all pretty much big slat metal boxes::

Fishman:
What people next door? The foreigners or the wood supplies warehouse?

An:
The foreigners.

Fishman:
Nah, they pretty much keep to themselves. Give us nasty looks now and again, though, keep complaining about the smell.

An:
I wonder what comes out of that place.

Fishman:
Nothin much. The most activity we see around there is those guys smoking outside. I stayed late one night, though, and thought I heard them taking a shipment. Probably some noble's piggy bank or something.

An:
::chuckles:: Probably true. If I wanted to get in touch with, Raph was it?

Fishman:
You can call here. He's usually in the the afternoon between big deliveries.

An:
Alright, thank you for your time. ::makes his way out::

Martel:
((rassum frassum AIM))

GM:
::An is definitely outside::

An:
::hails a cab::

An:
::waits::

An:
::scratches his nose::

GM:
::one arrives::

An:
::gets into the cab:: Reeves guild please.

GM:
::you head downtown and disembark in front of the stately office of the Reeves guild, an old and distinguished converted mansion::

An:
::make my way inside and set about replenishing accounts, bouncing money from account to account, set in place a series of accounts that can be drawn from a little at a time::

GM:
::Mid shuffle, an elderly Aragonese gentleman in tweed leans into your office::

Vargas:
Ah! Griffen! Been months, old bean. You haven't been keeping your old Director in the loop.

An:
::looks up and smiles:: Ah... Vargas you old dog you. Important business with the Hazat account. It must have just slipped my mind. How've you been? How's the family?

Vargas:
::nods solemnly:: Hard times. Hard times. Stash away the money before the upstarts find it, I say. Little Julia just got married. You remember her? Came to your senior auditing presentation when she was just a girl? I'll be a great grandfather soon.

An:
Well good for you. And good for her. A little bit of good news is what we need right now.

Vargas:
Some very serious men came looking for you last week. Said I should call them, if I saw you. But they had a Sutekh look about them, so we'll let them go hang, no?

An:
Yes, lets. Do you still have their number?

Vargas:
Or was it last month? Time escapes you when you're old! I most likely do, I'll go find that for you, shall I?

An:
Yes please. ::smiles widely:: Thank you.

Vargas:
::shuffles off and returns a few minutes later with a number on a scap of paper:: Here you are my boy. I have a meeting, I believe, but you should come to the house for dinner if you're around for a few days. By the way, I must say, something in your diet is suiting you. I've never seen you so healthy looking. Are you taking exercise?

An:
I've been exercising, and getting some sun. And a little lounging on the beach now and then, when I'm not too busy. If you know what I mean. ::snaps and smiles:: I'd love to have dinner. I'll be sure to call you and we can set up a date. What do you say?

Vargas:
That's the way! One of these years I'm going to actually retire and take in some sun. Tip top, my boy! Well, I must skedaddle.

GM:
::An is left to move some more money::

GM:
::assuming he doesn't try to call the castenda today, he eventually makes it back home with the rest of the group::

An:
::he does not::

An:
::walks in:: Honey, I'm home.

GM:
::Maria has very compassionately purchased take out::

GM:
::rather than subjecting everyone to her cooking, or letting Martel have a try::

Martel:
::Martel, thinking ahead, has purchased new coffee as well::

Maria:
I missed it here. You know you can't get this kind of tortilla anywhere else? The flour doesn't keep the same flavor in transit, even across planet.

Martel:
::digs in at the dinner table:: So, anyone find out anything useful?

An:
::lays out his situation at the warehouse:: I think its safe to say we've got an idea about who may be running the operation there.

Martel:
Hmm...I think we should stake that place out ourselves. Tonight meybe?

An:
Might be a good idea. As for the other locations on this list I'll check a few of them out soon, see if we can confirm they're all warehouse locations, and then from there figure what we'll do with them.

Lan:
Hey, can I see that list?

An:
::hands it over::

Lan:
::looks up from a local newspaper:: Thanks. ::checks it against the names of breweries & whatever that were in the stuff on the disk, just in case.::

An:
Also doctor, I'll need you scouting a good location for your lab. Something we can buy quickly and we need a list of what supplies and personnel you'll be needing.

GM:
::one match somewhere up the coast; the others were probably too new to be on two year old documents::

Martel:
Well, I'm gonna head out to the warehouse when this meal is done. Anyone wanna come with?

GM:
::long story short, after a couple of nights of staking the place out, you're pretty positive that it's the source of the Selchaka for this city. You've even followed a few dealers and found out where they live.::

GM:
((And we'll figure out what you do about that next time))

GM:
~~~OOC~~~