In Nomine Rome: Episode 2 - The Doings Of Small Things

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Episode 2 - The Doings of Small Things

Second verse, same as the first, a little bit louder and hopefully less on fire. It's been a little less than a full day since the Tenement Incident, and the scattered group has regathered for another attempt at completing their tour of Rome. The tenement in question proved a convenient point to mark where they should meet again. It's no longer smoking (with either fire or evaporated ice), and has already been repopulated. A man on a rickety ladder is daubing over the soot stains on the windowsills of the third floor.

Pelagia spent the morning in her rites: tutoring a student and treating patients, regaining 3 essence. Her duties to the temple of Vejovis done for the day, she left the cat in charge of the library and met back up with her celestial co-conspirators.

Pelagia asks "My briefing came through Eli, not Raphael. I was told to show up and meet Blasjari because it would be, and I quote, cool. Did anyone else get..."
"I don't know, more information? Guidelines? An objective?"

Blāsjarī ki himdcha abruptly lands behind Pelagia, producing a loud *thud* and a moderate cloud of dust.

Pelagia is used to briefing dossiers. On paper. With an index and quick reference tabs.

A pigeon flutters in and perches, and looks as apologetic as a pigeon can look.

Decimus looks thoroughly at sea, and also that he would much rather be at sea.

"To be honesty, I do not know why anyone would tell any of you to meet me." Blāsjarī ki himdcha rubs his eyes, having just woken up from a long rooftop slumber.

Pelagia says, "Eli has his reasons, he just likes us to figure them out for ourselves. Raphael provides written instructions. With bullet points."

Blāsjarī ki himdcha says, "I am here to give and receive message from Himalaya Mandala to what you call "The Alps". Neither have said much of Angels."

Pelagia says, "Stylistic difference. I asked Eli for written instructions once. My fault for not specifying which language. It was a shame to dismantle the paper scuplture so I could read it, The poetic style was new to me. I'm still trying to work out what some of the metaphors mean."

There's a thunk and a thud over at the tenement building. The painter dropping his plate for fresh plaster to the ground, and then scrambling down the ladder beside it. "Learned physician!" he calls, panting a bit. It's the man who was unconscious in the attic room last night, looking far better now than he did when anyone in the group first saw him. If rather more concerned than he did yesterday while still sobering up.

"Hello," Pelagia greets him, according to her training seminar.

"Learned physician," the man repeats, ducking his head. He must be somewhere over forty and under eighty, with the hard-worn look of someone who was certainly not born into a wealthy family, nor acquired any such wealth in the many decades since. "I give you many thanks for tending to me yesterday, and I was wondering... have you seen my wife? Did you take her to your temple? For, well, for treatment, or for..." He stumbles off awkwardly, staring at the ground.

Decimus gives the others a glance, trying to convey "I don't remember seeing a woman up there, but I was mist adrift in a fire and could only cover one not-really-an-entrance, so what did all of you see?" with suggestive eyebrows alone.

The pigeon lands on Decimus’ shoulder, sympathetically.

Pelagia says, "Several people escaped the building. Describe your wife?"

The man makes a hand gesture. "About this tall, a gentle woman of forty-five, always found with a spindle in hand and a babe on her hip, one eye wandering, with a straight nose and broad lips. Not a gossip or nag like most wives, but most virtuous! She, ah..." He looks around, and lowers his voice. "She watches the rent money, and the owner's freedman will be here to collect tomorrow. Even if you have taken her, her body, I must know where she is."

Somewhere down the street, a wandering seller of rags raises his voice in annoying cries regarding the superlative qualities of his used cloth pieces.

Blāsjarī ki himdcha says, "A woman with a babe left the building as we were going in. I did not notice eye or lip or nose."

"I've asked all the tenants with infants," says the man, turning to the Tall, Wrapped Barbarian he had been politely ignoring beforehand, "and none of them left one with her this morning. Did you see any bodies? A woman in the alley behind? A woman drinking a, a very small amount to calm herself after the fire, perhaps?"

Blāsjarī ki himdcha says, "I saw no corpse."

Pelagia says, "No fatalaties we are aware of."

"Please, good people," says the doorkeeper, desperation all through his voice. "Do tell me if you see her, and send her home. I checked already with her sister, and where she prays to the mountains, and in the tavern where, where her brother works. I'll have no place tomorrow if I do not find her, or the rent money she holds."

Decimus says, "I will pass along your message if I see her."

Blāsjarī ki himdcha says, "Where does one... pray... to Mountains, in Rome?"

The man pauses, a hand on the ladder. "My wife came from the mountains, when she was young. She went to a shrine near the Temple of Diana. They said she was not there yesterday, though some of them expected her. That's where /she/ would have gone for healing, had she been injured. She prays to strange gods." He shrugs, as many people pray to strange gods. It comes with urban living.

Pelagia asks, "How may we contact you if we find her?"

"I will be here," says the man, beginning to climb the ladder, "so long as you do not come the day after tomorrow."

The pigeon departs Decimus’ shoulder, leaving it politely clean, and circles the Yeti’s head twice before flapping lazily off in a particular direction.

Pelagia asks, "What is your name and her name?"

"Primus Aemelianus," says the man, mounting the ladder slowly. "She is Aldegund."

Pelagia is going to look them both up at the nearest bascilica, like a good servitor of Knowledge.

Decimus idles off away in the same direction as Pamphilos, though a far enough distance for this to be potentially unrelated if pressed.

Blāsjarī ki himdcha rumbles to themself like distant thunder. "If she was not here when we came here, and has not been back, did she leave before the fire, or did no one see her?"

"How did the fire start," Pelagia asks.

Blāsjarī ki himdcha says, "When I put it out, something small fled the room faster than I could follow. If something was there, and did not flee until AFTER the fire..."

"We have no cats," says the man, who has climbed back down the ladder now. "My wife is small, but you would see her as a woman, not a small thing! The fire..." He shakes his head. "It must be one of the tenants, though they all deny it, that I've asked. I don't remember. I was... sleeping... and I woke to fire in the attic."

Blāsjarī ki himdcha asks, "Where is the shrine she... prays at, from here?"

The man points off towards the Aventine. "Near the Temple of Diana," he says patiently, for the sake of barbarians who might not know the location of such things yet.

The pigeon did not fly far, and is right in line of the pointing finger, waiting and watching. A man with a much-scarred face approaches from a side road; the side and back of his tunic are soaked in blood but he does not seem badly wounded. “This way, friends,” he says, gesturing along the same vector as Aemelianus.

Blāsjarī ki himdcha appears nonplussed, but shrugs and heads towards the pigeon and, presumably, the shrine.

Decimus says, "Question for a local. What's... _down_ from here?"

Pelagia thinks. "Sewers?"

Pamphilos says, “Fathoms and fathoms of shit, friend Barbatus.”

Decimus says, "There's something happening down from us. There is something going on in the shit."

Pelagia notes the blood. "Does your posession need healing?"

Decimus says, "A disturbance. Something discordant. Something in the wrong key."

The bloodied man waves a hand. “Need is a strong word; he will not die. Unfortunately, ensuring that is why we were so late to join you properly, please forgive us.”

Pelagia asks, "Where is the disturbance?"

Decimus waves a hand vaguely at the ground. "Down."

Blāsjarī ki himdcha looks at the ground and stomps experimentally. They look at the ground again, which presumably remains solid. "I do not think there is much to be done about that here."

The ground did not crack beneath the yeti's feet, but there was a certain shudder and echo that suggests it gave the option some serious thought. Also, that there are hollow spaces somewhere down there.

"Mmmm..." Pelagia mutters. "Drains. Follow me."

Decimus follows

She leads the party to a small concrete opening half a block away. "The pipe is wide enough to admit our vessels, but the opening is not."

Pamphilos says, “If we might offer some advice: the disturbance was not a large one, and may be entirely unrelated to finding our poor friend’s spouse.”

Decimus gives Pamphilos an odd look. "I'm not looking for his spouse."

Pelagia says, "If you can lift the top slab up intact, we might avoid disturbance of our own."

Blāsjarī ki himdcha says, "I have no particular interest in disturbance and little interest in his spouse, but I should introduce myself at the mountain shrine as a formality, and Bona Dea may wish me to look into the matter of her devotee. But if you would like this slab lifted...."

Pamphilos says, “Surely you don’t mean to abandon him to his creditors!”

Decimus says, "I can do a great many things. But there's no call for all of us to follow one fool's errand. You've shown me where down is, and I can take it from here."

Blāsjarī ki himdcha reaches down and flips the slab entirely off, kicking up another cloud of dust. Their scarf ripples as a small gust of steam wafts out.

A number of women at the cistern with buckets or jugs stare at the barbarian's mighty feat of prowess. One applauds enthusiastically, and whistles.

"Don't take an injured man into the sewers, but there should be plenty of rats," Pelagia advises, before jumping into the pipe.

Blāsjarī ki himdcha leans towards Decimus. "Is it... usual, to travel beneath the ground here?"

It is either very clever or very lucky of Pelagia to land on one of the dry bits of stone down in the sewer, though the central channel is... not. Something bright, about the size of a cat, flickers further down the tunnel from where she has entered.

Pelagia chases the shiny thing.

Decimus shrugs. "When in Rome."

Pamphilos’s mansuit shakes his head. “It’s quite unusual, doubly so in daylight. If you’d leave them to their folly, friend Crinitus, we will see to this mountain shrine. We seem to recall which one it might be, though sadly we have forgotten the name.”

The small shiny thing is sitting around minding its own business, being small and shiny. Pelagia has run close enough along increasingly moist concrete to see that it's a flickering /creature/, and not even inhabiting a proper body--that's something's celestial form!--when it finally spots her.

The shiny creature, which looks rather like a toad and a brazier had a horrible child together, screeches out a sound of alarm, and flees. Upward.

Thus, said toad-brazier pops right /through/ the ground onto the narrow city street, not far from the cistern, and looks around wildly.

Blāsjarī ki himdcha says, "That is definitely not usual for Rome."

Pelagia turns around to run back to the pipe.

Decimus pauses right before heading into the sewer and manages a very dignified "bwer" as he sees the... thing.

The women continue to chatter and draw water and admire the very strong barbarian and wonder why all these respectable-looking Romans are suddenly climbing into the sewers. Perhaps they're working for the aedile who inspects the sewers around here? Plenty of people did complain about the drainage, over the winter. Maybe the aedile has finally sent someone to look into that.

The Romans are masters of obscenity, and Pamphilos has spent a great many years working around sailors. Their verbal reaction to this turn of events is best left untranscribed.

Decimus's bewilderment continues and grows into an entirely new level of confusion, one for which there are no words.

Blāsjarī ki himdcha leans against the cistern and stares at the toad thing, which is foreign to their experience even moreso than everything else that has happened this week.

"No trouble," the toad-thing tries, in awkward Latin. "No trouble!" It begins backing away down the street very slowly, paws still raised. "Good dreams! Good shades!"

Pamphilos says, “Is that so?” A pointed look at Decimus.

Pelagia clambers back up the pipe, only moderately smellier for the wear.

Decimus says, "Pfft. Okay, anyone have any idea what this thing is?" He has not taken any steps toward it, not sure exactly how to proceed, and hoping someone else has some inkling of what's going on. If they don't, he's going to do what he can to not let this thing get all the way away.

Pamphilos asks, “Is it _sincere_?”

"Fire imp", Pelagia addresses it. "Did a woman with a wandering eye run away from the building you burned yesterday?"

Decimus scowls. "No, Pamphilos. No it is _not_."

A woman at the cistern leans over to her friend and murmurs, "Isn't that the physician from yesterday? Is she a prophet, too?" Her friend shrugs, in a way that implies you never know when people with too much time spent reading scrolls will suddenly start leaping in and out of sewers or talking to the air. It's a very evocative shrug.

"...not run yesterday?" tries the toad-thing, hesitantly. "Good fire. No trouble." It edges a few more steps backward, trying for an air of nonchalance.

Pamphilos sighs. “Try to get them away from the crowd, at least.” And turns to face that selfsame crowd, putting on their most disarming smile. In a brutalized face. And a blood-soaked body. “Friends! There is a terrible miasma! For your own safety, stand clear!”

Pelagia attempts to reduce her chalance, but seems to have a surfeit.

The toad-thing is, unlike the woman with the expressive shoulders, not doing a very good job of projecting that hoped-for nonchalance.

"When did she run then?" Pelagia asks?

With great alarm, the women at the cistern hurriedly pick up all their buckets and urns and begin clearing the area. "I knew it," one says to her friend, as they stride briskly away. "Aediles! That sewer isn't right. All the noises it makes at night, and those smells. You tell Marcus, you tell him, I was right about the miasma."

"Not runned," says the toad-thing, in entirely the wrong construction of the perfect tense for that verb. "Taken! Not by me!"

Pelagia says, "Taken where by whom, when?"

Blāsjarī ki him̐ḍcha looms behind Pelagia, not actually doing anything, but looking Large and Cold.

The toad-thing cowers. "By... uh... them!" It points at Blāsjarī.

"You are lying to us." Decimus takes a step forward. "You are lying to us because you think you can get away with it."

"Treaty, treaty!" wails the toad-thing, falling onto the ground. (Though not through it, so far.) "Not kill! Good me!"

Decimus takes another step forward, jaw set. "You are lying to us and trying to pin your wretched actions on one of us, on my _friend_ here, because you think you have something _else_ to be frightened of. You are going to tell us exactly what happened and what your part in it is, and you are going to tell us every word of the truth, and if you do not tell us every word of the truth, I will tell you the truth that you do not know, and then you will know a great many things, _but you will only know them for a very short period of time."_

Pelagia says, "Be a dear and point us at the other thing you're scared of. Scary things should deal with each other directly."

Decimus says, "Blasjari?"

Blāsjarī ki himdcha looks over at Decimus with some interest

Pelagia says, "By the way, accusing a blizard of using fire to kidnap a woman? You might have hurt his feelings."

Decimus walks over to his significantly-taller friend, and lowers his voice so none but the two of them can hear. "I know that I'm betraying my own ignorance here, but; are you familiar with something called the Bona Dea?"

Blāsjarī ki himdcha rumbles like distant thunder. "Of course. The Mountain Who Is Fond. I have not spoken with her yet, though it would be polite of me to do so. Probably it is her shrine the woman... prayed, at."

"It shame to me, it shames to me very," babbles the toad-thing rapidly. "Very to me it shames? There, there!" It points toward the aqueduct overhead.

Decimus says, "Run away."

"Off you pop," Pelagia adds. "We'll find you if we need you."

Blāsjarī ki himdcha turns to the imp and pulls down their scarf, revealing an apelike muzzle tufted with whiskers of purest white. They smile, revealing teeth like a mountain range, and tiny wisps of steam blow from the corners of their mouth, crystalizing in the air into ice.

The toad-brazier runs. Shrieking like an anachronistic teakettle. Trailing tiny sparks that wink out as they hit the ground, existing as they do only on another plane of reality.

Blāsjarī ki himdcha pulls their scarf back into place. "Nervous thing."

Decimus says, "I know where the man's wife is."

Pelagia says, "Adorable little fiend. I do hope something happens to it."

Pamphilos says, “Excellent! Where might she be?”

Decimus has the decency to look sheepish. "...she's at the shrine that we were going to go to before, um, that. Or at least the reason she's not here will be there, with the Bona Dea."

Pamphilos says, “Well then, it seems fortune has seen fit to cease pissing upon us. Shall we, friends?”

Blāsjarī ki himdcha says, "I did not realize that she had a shrine in this city, but it should have been expected. She cares much about the doings of small things, for a mountain."

Decimus will carry on in conversation with Blasjari on the way, as he very much wants to know the information behind the truth, to better understand the truth.

Pelagia got to teach a young demon that angels are not to be trifled with. Teaching! It was a good day.

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OOC featured: the Mercurian being hated constantly by the dice! The Kyriotate rolling Savoir-Faire for the most culturally appropriate cussing possible! A small toad-thing demonstrating what happens when you fail your Lying roll with a CD of 6!