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Post by Catriona on Aug 20, 2006 14:10:45 GMT -5
The girl is already out of sight. He witnesses, however, two or three big men, likely to be marketvendors, giving chase, screaming and gesticulating.
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Post by Jakobim on Aug 20, 2006 14:15:24 GMT -5
Jakobim curses under his breath and runs after the vendors.
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Post by Catriona on Aug 20, 2006 14:25:42 GMT -5
It is a strange sort of race along the foggy streets of the city, but Jakobim manages to keep up, if only just. However, about three blocks down, he finds the vendors standing still, looking puzzled. There are a few apples on the ground, but there is no Fey anywhere in sight.
"I'll be a monkey's uncle..." one of them mutters, scratching his head.
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Post by Jakobim on Aug 20, 2006 14:29:40 GMT -5
Jakobim stops, raises an eyebrow, and begins to wander vaguely in the direction he was already headed. Curious, he keeps his eyes open for signs of Fey.
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Post by Catriona on Aug 20, 2006 14:58:21 GMT -5
There does not seem to be any signs of Fey. It is like she is gone up in smoke. The merchants eventually head back to the marketplace, shaking heads.
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Post by Jakobim on Aug 20, 2006 15:49:31 GMT -5
Jakobim, equally clueless as to her whereabouts, meanders down the street.
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Post by Catriona on Aug 20, 2006 15:56:32 GMT -5
There is still not much to do at this early hour, though by now some of the shops are opening. People are drawing up iron rolling fences and wooden shutters. A single guardsman hurries down the street, passing by him, trying to tie his boots as he runs. It does not look too successful. Jakobim nearly trips over a hobo who lies spawled out right in the middle of the street and who is breathing, but not otherwise moving. The man smells terribly like liquor. A nanny with five children, in a holding-hands-train, rush past. Off in the distance, a dog barks a few times. The rattle of a cart and horse's hooves in the fog. A man in dignified looking robes, which Jakobim can immediately identify as one of the Magisters from the Turris Hecateï, overtakes him at marching-pace, flanked by two goons.
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Post by Jakobim on Aug 20, 2006 15:58:45 GMT -5
Jak, curious, tails the Magister in a very vague sort of way-- that is, he speeds up a bit and continues in the same direction.
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Post by Catriona on Aug 20, 2006 16:04:00 GMT -5
The Magister is obviously headed away from the Turris Hecateï- even on the foggy, winding streets, Jakobim knows it is vaguely the other way. He seems to be heading for a bar, which is odd, because Magisters are not allowed to drink. He does seem like he has a chip on his shoulder about something, because when one of the goons points at a stray dog and intones "Look out, sir." the man nearly bites his head off. "I can SEE that just FINE, I'm not a complete idiot."
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Post by Jakobim on Aug 20, 2006 16:06:38 GMT -5
Now very interested, Jakobim is careful to keep them in sight.
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Post by Catriona on Aug 20, 2006 16:16:56 GMT -5
The Magister eventually steps into a bar called "Foggy Dew". It is open, larger than the one Jakobim had breakfast in, and a little better attended, though still there are not many people here, maybe ten patrons in total. A girl of maybe fourteen or fifteen is serving breakfasts and drinks.
The Magister immediately clears his throat very audibly.
"Ahum. AHUM."
The noise in the bar quiets down somewhat.
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Post by Jakobim on Aug 20, 2006 19:36:22 GMT -5
Jakobim, if possible, casually enters the bar after the Magister.
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Post by Catriona on Aug 21, 2006 5:07:47 GMT -5
It is very possible. The goons let him through easily, though he can feel their eyes drilling little holes in his back. None of the other people in the bar really pay any attention to Jakobim; they are staring at the Magister. The mage is a slightly chubby man of around fifty, balding at the top and greying in the moustache and short beard that rings his chin.
"Right." the man says when he has everyone's attention. "The Turris Hecateï is looking for a number of competent people to conduct a couple chores on its behalf. We will pay any who apply handsomely as some danger might be involved. If you are or know of any muscle and wit for hire, do apply or spread the word. Applications to me, Magister Halwerian, at the Turris, children under sixteen will not be considered."
He takes a notice out of his pocket which says approximately the same thing, and sticks it to one of the walls. Then he nods curtly at the patrons of the bar and heads back out into the foggy streets, followed by his goons.
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Post by Jakobim on Aug 21, 2006 11:38:37 GMT -5
Jakobim leans against a wall and listens. When the Magister leaves, he makes his way to the bar, taking a look at the poster along the way.
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Post by Catriona on Aug 21, 2006 15:11:46 GMT -5
The poster says approximately the same as the Magister just did:
TURRIS HECATEÏ SEEKS HARDY ADVENTUROUS TYPES for various odd jobs. Good pay, some risk involved. Applications to Magister Halwerian, T.H. Children under 16 and criminals need not apply.
At the bar is a man of around Jakobim's age. He is badly shaven and wears a bandana over his head, probably to look cool. He fails miserably. The man greets him pleasantly enough.
"Hello, good sir. What can I do for you?"
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