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I think I am here.

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  1. I think I am here.
    Rob nodded at everyone talking. They all had their own issues. And every order was different, too, he thought. Which meant everyone had their own different ways of solving their issues. Shana, Nym, Cassie, Doc, and Rob himself. They all had different ways to deal with things. Rob’s... well, maybe Rob’s way was just to let it happen and wait for it to pass. But that hadn’t failed him so far. He looked to Nym and tried providing his own way of comfort. “I think most of the school thinks I’m ‘whack’ too, because I’m not too big on emotions.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter unless you let it matter. Like everyone else said, we don’t mind.” He looked to Shana. “And we’ll help you with your test. I’m not bad at math. But yeah, sleep is important. Even if it’s hard sometimes.” His mind drifted to nightmares of fire, sleepless nights dominated by the bald sphere. That had been new, Rob realised. The black sphere keeping him up. It’s enigmatic nature was alluring, and yet, unreadable. Rob still hadn’t told Doc or anyone but Shana about it. Somehow it felt... natural to want to keep it for himself. Hold it. Watch whatever was inside swirl. He felt oddly at peace when that happened. “But we’ll get through it,” he concluded on a happy note. “We always do.”
  2. I think I am here.
    “Oh,” Price said, found himself smiling. “Thank you.” It was an odd thought, to imagine himself with a sword rather than a quill, but his hopes were his hopes, and Sagitta spoke earnestly. Price was going to be trained, like a soldier. A warrior. And then, maybe he wouldn’t have to rely on guards to open heavy doors and would be able to command with real authority — proper authority. Looking at the new set of clothes, new hair and weapons all ready he nodded. “You look good. Not like a slave, but a solider. Or mercenary.” He smiled and looked towards the large sword. “Is it good enough?” He asked.
  3. I think I am here.
    I notice Raphael take a sip of his wine and it redirects my attention to the cup of whiskey I’ve been neglecting. I’m seldom known to smoke and drink at once, but storm it, it’s not like it’ll have an effect on me anyway. Tilting my cigar hand a bit to the side I puff out another ring of smoke and reach for my whiskey. “It was, as a matter of fact,” I respond to him and lean back in my seat. A part of me feels like it’s against my nature to so openly admit to giving out a compliment, but I’m no longer in my home alley. A sip of my whiskey cools my throat and yet warms my up heart, and watch Raphael. Even now, his position looks like a pose, a subtle show of his body and it clicks. That’s probably why he cares so much how his body looks and how clean it is — he refers to his body as an artwork, a masterpiece. Definitely not the vocabulary of an Aimian or Kandra, who switch bodies too quick to care about any particular one. But whatever body he has now, he appreciates enough to want to make sure nothing bad happens to it. The signs were there from the moment he walked into the bar, and now it feels I’m going back and connecting the dots in my mind. Which only leads me to go the other way, to go into the future and extrapolate into the dark. His switching of bodies, his cleanliness and care for neatness seems to be a core part of him, I wonder if it has anything to do with what he wants to show me. He did say he was a doctor. Something surgical? I blink. Surgery — is surgery what he means when he says he’s not in his original body? It would have to be some special kind of surgery I’ve never seen before — but maybe. And yet... his previous comments about fairy tales throw me off. What was he alluding to there? I curse internally. I still don’t have enough information. But I will. And the prospect is alluring. I decide I need to test my current hypothesis before leaping to further observations. I take a sip of my whiskey. “Surgery is an impressive thing,” I say causally, try to judge his reaction. Hopefully his reaction will say enough. “I don’t know much about it myself, though. Too complex for me. Though, I suppose you would know a thing or two about it?” At the end I find the ends of my lips flickering upwards in a telling smile as I meet his eyes.
  4. I think I am here.
    For maybe the first time tonight silence grips the conversation. His pause seems different than all of the times before, and I notice his gaze transfixed on the fire, the long shadows now framing his face, his hair, the body he claims he was not born with. Maybe the pause is different because it’s honest. Not for effect. The look to the fire is honest. I draw out another puff of my cigar and as a small pillar of smoke rises from my Churchill I feel a pulse of satisfaction. Real actions. Quid pro quo. I shared a bit about me, and now Raphael’s shares his. And while I feel like it’s a step forward in getting to know this enigmatic figure, it’s only a piece, a branch of wood in the fireplace of my mind, ready to be consumed and for the next to be given. Only then will I have the full picture. “Well, you carry it well,” I say, my mind whirring. Another Returned? It would fit with his perfect appearance. Or something else? Not a Kandra or Aimian, surely. But, who knows? I was just talking about having the full picture. “I have to say, I would have never guessed.”
  5. I think I am here.
    Home. Brillin assumed she parlour. A parlour that might not be there in a few nights, he thought. Despite protection being bought from the Farriers. And Lance had for some reason refused to help their cause — not surprising. Honour among thieves seemed something Brillin could only ever find in fiction books, between the pages of Allomancer Jak perhaps, not in the dreariness and stone-cold reality of the place he lived in. Another thing that only lived in novels, he noted. The concept of the good guys always winning. By the beginning of this gang war, Brillin would have considered leaving this rusting city as a success. But now, with each day and night he found himself slipping down the very slope he’d hoped to avoid: he was connecting to people. Nerin wasn’t a simple Soother he’d met in a parlour, she wasn’t a one-dimensional character in his memoir. She was Nerin, a woman who’d offered him a place to rest, had watched her home become endangered, had placed her hope in a gangster who’d turned his back on her. Attayl wasn’t a faceless extra who’d showed him to the dance hall, she was Attayl. A strong, woman, stronger than Brillin certainly, with her own demons and stuck in the spider-web of the underworld. Now, simply leaving wasn’t a success. Well, it was, but not the one Brillin preferred. Now, he had... Brillin frowned. Was it too presumptuous to say “friends”? And certainly leaving them and fending for himself wasn’t an option. “We could kill them all, you know,” he said to Nerin, flicking his eyes up to her. “The gangs.” “Send a few well-written notes to each of the gangs, pretend to be a third-party. Lead them to a meeting: rig the spot with explosives.” He shrugged. “We’ll find a way.”
  6. I think I am here.
    Rob looked up, and like with most emotional things was completely oblivious to the fake smile. “Yeah,” he said. “I won my debate. I’m guessing it’s going well for you too?”
  7. I think I am here.
    Nice
  8. I think I am here.
    I feel like a fish caught in a stream, or perhaps one caught in a net, except it’s a net of my own making. I feel pulled to Raphael’s words. The way he tempts me with the answer right around the corner, just after we finish smoking — it’s agonising, in a good way. I follow his example in using an ashtray, though I couldn’t care less about ash on my attire. It would just fit in. Fairytales, having truth to them? He says he uses them as inspiration, and whatever he’s thinking of I can feel it’s something big. Something connected to what I hoped to find when I followed him here. The grand reveal. But only given to me in bits and pieces. It’s alright, I decide. I rather like how things are going, the conversation, the tempting. As I blow smoke away I see how the firelight casts long shadows, giving a vaguely ominous look to our arrangement. He asks about me, and the question seems direct enough to pierce through whatever aura of mystery I’ve cultivated. Usually jobs are no questions asked — from either side. But I suppose this is far from a usual job. Still, it’s been a long while since I’ve been the main focus of my own analysis. “I have a scar on my right shoulder. I’ve broken almost every limb at least once. Got a small burn mark on my back.” I stop as I realise these are probably not the things Raphael’s looking for. These are facts, just there to divert the attention off of me. Who I am, truly. A tidbit. “My name’s not really Sloane,” I say, let the little fact slide. “I don’t know my real name.” Let him nibble on that fact, I decide. “And now, something about you.”
  9. I think I am here.
    “Fairytales?” I ask. I hold the cigar in my mouth one hand and bring up my lighter with the other. As I light my cigar I wonder if Raphael meant ‘fun’ in a different manner. Maybe it isn’t subterfuge or alluring to something. Maybe he finds fairytales fun. I can’t say I wouldn’t find it loony — but no. He doesn’t seem like that kind of man, from my admittedly little experience. I have the inkling he’s building to something so — storm it — I oblige. “Kids’ stories. Bedtime tales.” I shrug and take a puff of my cigar, my lighter slipping neatly back into my pocket. “I was never too keen on them myself. World’s full of enough lies already.”
  10. I think I am here.
    Brillin was still at the point where the ladder descended into the warehouse. Everyone had gone, and after hearing Lance’s voice and some conversation he’d decided to stay watch on the roof, just in case anyone was thinking of returning, so he’d be able to warn the others below. The ending points of the conversation weren’t lost on him, though, as he heard shouts and screams before seeing someone climbing back up the ladder. He looked down and saw Nerin. “What happened?” He asked. It hadn’t seemed like there was any fight that had broken out.
  11. I think I am here.
    I look up at Raphael. The cigar box is held in the air and I glance down at what’s within. Lonsdale, Churchill and a handful of other brands look up to me. It’s been a while since I’ve said hello to any of them. I raise a hand to pick a cigar but my thoughts are replaying the last few seconds over again. The professional and calculated movement, the careful phrasing and pause — his delivery is spot on, but it’s what he offers that really gets my heartbeat up. I have a choice. Lonsdale. Known for a light, flavoured smoke. I could quit now. I could leave, or I could do some detective work, get some money — serious money, by the looks of it, and be on my way none the wiser. It’d be a wise enough decision, alright. Quit while I’m ahead. Stay to what I know. And yet, the allure is strong to resist. Churchill. Known for a thick, heavy smoke. Not recommended for first-timers. I came to Raphael’s house to discover who he was. What he does. To unveil the curtain and see the man within, behind the cleanliness and good clothes and careful perfection in his gestures. To discover Raphael, truly. I look into his eyes, make sure to articulate my words properly as I move closer to him to reach for a Churchill-brand cigar and reach in my pocket to take out my lighter. If he thinks I’ll be wooed off of the trail with the offer of work, there’s another thing coming. “Then let’s have some fun, Raphael,” I say quietly.
  12. I think I am here.
    “Quality over quantity. I like the smoky taste,” I explain and nod to the peat-heavy bottle. My eyes gravitate to the glasses. Perfectly clean. I assume a servant would help in that regard. And he must be skilled, too. The seat I sit in is comfortable, soft fabric meets my roughly cut trousers. I’ve only been in a seat this comfortable once before, and it was while I was being tortured by a high-level mafisoso. He also liked his theatrics. But he lacked a certain... sophistication I see in Raphael. I scoff at my use of big words. No matter how fancy I talk, I’ll never be Raphael. I know that. My job isn’t to be Raphael. My job is to be Mr. Sloane, detective for hire. And if playing the conversation game will lead me further in understanding who Raphael is, then that’s what I’ll do. I feel a prick of excitement, and then another. It’s like the moment of suspense before the bullets fly through the air, but somehow different. “Then I guess you’ll have to tell me how,” I respond to his earlier comment. His comment that I’m special. “There’s only a handful of things a person like me can do for a person like you.”
  13. I think I am here.
    Alask quietened. A failure. They had an idea to scout out the place, but that was as far as they’d gotten. None of the fabrials were working and they had no motivators. But, surely they would have had something to use in defence? Like a whisper in his head, Zyn’s words repeated themselves. He’d heard they’d defended against the Ghostblood attack. Which meant they had tools to defend themselves with. “It’s a tragedy,” he said to the woman, gesturing to the broken fabrials. “How the attack broke your equipment. It’s a good thing you guys managed to fight them off, or more students would be at risk, I imagine.” His real disappointment mingled with his fake concern. “I imagine you must have had good security, to be able to take on a Great Guild invading like that.”
  14. I think I am here.
    “Of course,” the stablehand said and smiled at the horse munching on her hair. As he explained how to take care of the horse and tools to help do it, which were in a pouch by the saddle, Price was looking to the scribe gesturing to him. He walked from his horse to the scribe, who was holding a list. “All supplies, obtained. It’s waiting outside.” He showed Price the list, and Price frowned. “Where’s the sword?” He asked. The scribe eyes widened and he gestured to another scribe carrying a large longsword. Price smiled. “Get a change of clothes and then give the clothes and sword to that woman over there,” he pointed to Sagitta and then walked over. “The stables have a private room you can change in,” he said.
  15. I think I am here.
    “No man has all 10 surges,” Rob agreed, quoting something he heard from Doc once. “We each have a role we play, and together this will be a breeze.” He looked up at the group Shana waved at and waved at them too. “I wouldn’t expect the Voidbringer to tell us the truth, though,” Rob said. “We’ll have to fact-check what he says. Or give him a large incentive to tell us the truth.”
  16. I think I am here.
    The stablehand turned to her and looked at the horse. “Oh, Sunny?” He said without needing to look at the name. He walked over to where she was being kept was and opened the lock. He opened the doors and stepped back, and the horse remained where it was, moving forward only slightly. The stablehand smiled at the horse and looked to Sagitta. “Sure. Just bring her back okay. She’s a good horse,” he looked back to Sunny. “Quiet, but she’s got the power where it counts.” He turned and looked at Price. “What about you?” He asked. Price had his eyes on a dark horse named Grapefruit. “Why’s he called Grapefruit?” The stablehand shrugged. “It’s his favourite thing to eat.” “I’ll take him.” “Okay,” The stablehand said and unlocked the box for Grapefruit too.
  17. I think I am here.
    “I’ve done it a couple times as well, but I’m a beginner,” Price said. He was more sued to travelling around in carriages than having to ride a horse himself. The stablehand nodded, as if he expected the answer and led them deeper within the stables. On each side were horses kept individually. Sagitta’s happiness didn’t seem to have diminished. Maybe she liked horses? Price wrote something down. “So, the number one tip is to make the horse comfortable. They are the ones doing the running. Picking the right one goes a long way in that regard.” The stablehand shrugged. “Other than that, don’t slouch, don’t grip too tightly on the horse with your legs, and don’t push too hard on the stirrups. Balance is more important than grip. So,” He spread his hands out, gestured to the stable. “See any you like?”
  18. I think I am here.
    Rob nodded. “Movement sensors would work.” He sighed. Shana was right with how she described it. It was a bit like a game. The Voidbringer, invading, being fought off only to return. Except in the real world real people were at risk, real people died, and the Voidbringers seemed to have the express goal of dismantling the Radiants, while Rob and the others had their normal lives to deal with. “It seems as though there are really only two options to stopping them for good,” Rob continued. “Killing them all, or curing them all.” Rob knew which one he wanted to be the outcome. He remembered what Shana said about having a Voidbringer in the cellar. “I forgot we captured one,” he said. It was actually something that could help them in the long run. Never before had Rob seen them try to communicate with the Voidbringers, or interrogating them. Maybe... Rob’s thoughts focused on the dark sphere. Would the Voidbringer have answers for what it was? Would he have answers for what a cure could be? “And maybe a lightning rod? To attract lightning they throw to that point instead of hitting the house?”
  19. I think I am here.
    “If you have whiskey, I wouldn’t mind it.” Some part of me feels justifiably cautious about accepting alcohol and cigars from someone I’ve met just tonight and who I know is shady company, but thankfully being a Returned has taken care of my worry of toxins, even if it means I can never get drunk again. It’s fine. In my spare time I’ve found other hobbies. Detective work. Occasionally gun practise. “First one, huh?” I remark, try to keep a fine line between amusement and suspicion. I shouldn’t discounts Taron because he’s the servant. As far as I know he may be even more conniving than Raphael, though somehow I doubt it. Doesn’t mean he couldn’t be dangerous, though. In most murder cases, the butler is the culprit. “I guess I’m one special person.”
  20. I think I am here.
    Price blinked some more until he was accustomed to the light as well, and finally looked around at the surface world. Trees stood just beyond the main fencing, and it felt like a long while ago when Price remembered the antics that had happened in the forest. Meeting a Cahayan. Meeting the gods. “Come,” Price said, looking to Sagitta. She seemed the happiest she had been in a while. Price could understand, the surface level was relieving for someone who hadn’t spent most of their daily life underground. After months of work in the catacomb-like tunnels and chambers, Price found everything to be so... open, out here. He walked a short distance to where the smell of horses kicked him in the face. The stables. A stablehand hopped up from a stool and waved at them. “A scribe already told me that you need horses for the nomad lands,” he said, looked over at Sagitta and Price. “Any of you ridden a horse before?”
  21. I think I am here.
    “Oh, we definitely will,” Price agreed, stepping up another flight of stairs and watching as the scribes walking past looked more new and the guards looked more like soldiers from the army. Sagitta didn’t seem to have any problem with the mercenary explanation, which was good. Usually the term was met with frowns around here. To be a mercenary meant you worked for the coin, not for your nation. Although in the current state of the war the government was hiring as many as they could against Cahaya. Finally Price stood at a large door. He looked to Sagitta. “This part is always disorienting.” Gesturing to the guards posted at each side of the door, he stepped back as they heaved it open, and sunlight spilled into the hall, blinding Price. He was never prepared for it in all his time as a researcher.
  22. I think I am here.
    “That’s a good idea,” Rob said. “But we need to make sure it’s hidden really well. Or it might turn into a way to secretly enter the house, or ambush us. Maybe a perpetual light weaving, with some spheres to charge it?” He frowned, thought about what she said. Shana was right, some Voidbringers had the surge of gravitation and could fly. “Some can even teleport,” he said. “Go into Shadesmar, walk forward, and reappear within our home.” For a moment he found himself annoyed at the Voidbringers and how difficult they were to stop. “Have we ever considered following a Voidbringer to its base?” He asked, changing the topic. The sphere in his pocket pulsed. “And invading their home? It’s like a cockroach infestation, sometimes you just need to...” To what? Rob trailed off, shook his head. “I don’t know. Bad idea.”
  23. I think I am here.
    “Sure can’t,” Aoryen replied. He crossed his arms too, tried to think of a way to steer the conversation in his favour. He looked at the bread and then at the price tag. “But yer’ charging way too much for the bread. It’s bread. In fact, I think we can make you a better offer.” He grinned.
  24. I think I am here.
    Hi! You’re in the right thread. And great character Skill at haggling, bargaining, bluffing and seeing through lies. Can talk her way out of a conflict. The closest I could match to it is being Intelligent, which is 30 points. Soother = 35 points Amateur with a knife = 10 points Weaknesses I would say add up to 15 points. All in all, a score of 60, which is well within the limits. If you want to see the index from which we find point scores from, you can find it here. Character approved
  25. I think I am here.
    “I don’t doubt it,” I say. Just like everything else his timing is perfect. I’ve never seen him smoke before, but an assortment of cigars certainly sound appealing. “And I might take you up on that offer of smoking more than a cigarette.” I allow myself to follow Taron deeper into the establishment. On my way I hang my hat and coat by the wall, admire the taste in the house, and walk up the stairs. As I follow Taron my mind can’t stop thinking of Raphael. Who is he? What does he imply? I feel as if the answer is just out of sight, a tantalising morsel for which I can only obtain by saying here, around Raphael. Which is fine by me. “Does he have a lot of visitors over?” I ask Taron, wonder what type of person he is to be serving someone like Raphael. But I can’t quite place it.
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