RP:Scouting Exhibition Part I

Part of the The End's Not Near Arc

Part of the Put Up Your Dukes Arc

Summary: Under Jaize's orders, Siroche arrives in Chartsend without Vestra to scout the war - torn city and take stock of it's current state. While prodding the townsfolk and various establishments for intelligence related to Wilhelm's disappearance, she stumbles upon his nearly empty mansion. What else can a naga do besides infiltrate, turn into a dragon and steal all of Chartsend's gold from their vault?

Wilhelm Manor, Chartsend

It had been nearly a week since the riot at the festival. Patron Wilhelm had been wounded and brought to his manor for healing. Despite his insistence on staying, his bodyguards and his manservant had begged him to flee the town until the pressure was off, and he relented. His guards spirited him away in the middle of the night the next day, and his manor had been left with only a pair of guards to chase off vandals and thieves, and his assistant to try and keep affairs in order. Tension was in the air in Chartsend, leaderless and adrift.

Siroche hadn’t agreed to come, so much as ordered to. She’d gone well ahead of Vestra, who she was supposed to wait for. The female naga is shifted into a suitable land dweller. She’d studied all the tomes and drawings in order to make the journey, per the instructions of Jaize and the Ha-Naga council. Word had reached the Naga Queen through whatever grapevines she’d been able to plant in her short time on the throne. Mayhaps she’d hired little birds to do her bidding. Whatever the cause, coin or trades had to be involved. No one would work for Jaize out of the kindness of their hearts. Siroche had been there, the day she murdered the male in the streets. They’d been cursed by a terrible fear of water, some said a punishment from Aramoth to show them how weak and cowardly they had been to accept this woman as their Queen. In the whispers of taverns, talk had come up of someone opposing her but none dared. On this particular evening, Siroche is striding about the town as a boxum young lass with fluffy golden locks and an inappropriate amount her shoulders exposed. These are modest times, Miss. Keep it together! She’d been making small circles around town, picking up bits of gossip. No one seemed to mind talking to a beautiful lady. Especially young men, quick to impress. Oh yes, they’d been there the day of festival. Saw everything that happend! Wouldn’t stop boasting their strength or heroism. The shifted naga just listened, patiently. Smiling widely and playing the part of innocent bystander. That’s how she found out about the manor. And that’s where she currently stands, cloaked in shadow, her cat like pupils dilating as she watches the guards from a safe distance.

The guards were bored. They had only about half an hour left until they could get out of there, but time moves slowly when your job is to stand in one place for hours on end. One of the two, an elven woman, yawned. The other one, a human man, followed suit. So bored. So tired. Inside, Royston, a pudgy human with glasses, was looking over the paperwork and feeling more than a little overwhelmed. He was Wilhelm's assistant, but hadn't realized quite how much work Wilhelm himself did until he was gone. Currently, Royston was trying to calculate how much money the treasury (i.e., Wilhelm's vault) had. There was plenty, and Wilhelm's business deals meant more was coming in regularly. Still, Royston feared revenue would drop when people decided they didn't have to pay rent to an absentee patron. While Royston fretted inside, the guards continued their cycle of yawning.

Siroche kept an eye on the bored guards. It wouldn’t be too hard to sneak around the back. Shift into a tiny mouse and make her way inside under their noses. Though, it would be much more fun to try and get inside with their permission. Extra devious. Ah but...Vestra said they didn’t have time for games. Really, she should just leave. Report back what she’d found. That Chartsend was wide open to attack. It would only take a small faction of the naga army Jaize had amassed to put the proverbial boot to this place. All these bored little townsfolk were in for a surprise! Siroche could practically taste the human meat they’d get to eat! Sacrificial bonfires! You don’t even have to eat it raw! A shiver of delight coursed it’s way up her humanoid spine as she slunk around to a quiet, equally shaded side of the manor. She hung her clothes in the nearby bushes before shifting. Folded them maliciously and tucked them into the underbrush so they couldn’t be easily found. Just in case! Once that’s taken care of, she inhales and begins shifting. It’s less a force of magic. More a force of concentration and willpower. You could never shift if you didn’t -want- to. Apathetic shifting wasn’t a thing. Once she’s a tiny copper colored rodent, her whiskered snout wiggles, seeking out the best entry way into the dark building. Each hall or room she saw was painfully vacant. Only one candle burned in the entire place! And another human was near it too! She stood on her hind legs, little paws pressed to her furry mouse chest. Nose and whiskers wobbling in the air curiously, on the end of the vault. Was that -gold-? Piles and stacks and CHESTS?? A fortune, guarded by two lazy creatures and this man. She could probably place him in her intel. Royston, the assistant to the Wilhelm.

Royston didn't even notice the little mouse as he ran through the calculations again and again. Wilhelm never went cheap on anything, but with the risk of losing revenue, they'd have to make some changes. The roads were fine, at least, but the university had asked for more funding to reduce tuition costs. And the clinic wanted to expand, hire more healers. Could they afford both? And what of the guard? The ones who'd sided with the council would have to be replaced. Would they have to bolster ranks to quell dissent? Decisions, decisions, and no council to help. Wilhelm had really screwed the pooch on this one. That idiot elf loved theatrics a bit too much. Royston sat up straight and attempted to crack his back. He'd been bent over that desk too long. He needed a refreshment. He stood and headed for the door. If Siroche wasn't careful, she'd be trod upon!

Siroche rubs her little paws together before darting out of the way. Her little brown mouse form ducks behind a stack of cobwebbed papers that had been here for quite a while. Maybe parchment receipts for when the mansion was built! She felt a small sense of pride in the fact that she was likely more ancient and terrifying, if a stack of papers could even –be- considered terrifying. It’s still up for debate. Now she has to construct a plan! Certainly, she could just move to pull the vault door shut in one fell swoop, locking the tired human out OR she could play the waiting game in her little hidey hole and sneak out the proverbial back door with all this loot! It would cause a ruckus for her to just outright fight the two guards and this one humanoid…it sounds more fun than waiting, ugh. But then, how mad could Jaize be when they came back with news of this town AND the storehouse of gold she’s hauled home! Oh yes, Siroche is in for a promotion all right. Maybe then that blasted Vestra wouldn’t be her superior! Even if she was a Ha-Naga. The mouse sneezes, a tiny sound, nose twitching as she hunches over to watch Royston’s path a second or two more.

Royston stopped at the small sound. He looked around, listening, searching for the source. The house was... relatively new. Like most of Chartsend. It didn't generally make noise, at least. But he was tired and needed a drink, so he told himself it was nothing and continued toward the kitchen, leaving the intruder alone.

Siroche had no idea then why this stack of papers has anything resembling dust or dirt. Possibly real mice? She didn't bother to check. Once Royston is out of the area, she skitters towards the vault's door. HOW FUN! How would she do it? There was no clear way she could see to sneak around the guards or the previous occupant. Hmmm. If only there was a trap door! A sub cellar! Her tiny mouse frame slides across the floor, searching for nooks and crannies that would reveal a hidden door or panel. Alas, she could find none and sighs in her tiny mouse voice. Ah well. Grand theatrics it is! The naga shifts quickly back to her naga form, listening all the while in the direction of the kitchen. She slithers towards the door of the vault, pulls it shut and locks the mechanism, a spray of acidic venom to melt the lock so it can't be reopened. Isn't she so clever?! Patting herself on the back, she gathers as much of the gold in sacks as she can, binding them all with lengths of rope securely. Why did she know anything about ropes? She's well trained! Siroche straightens, rolling her shoulders forward to stretch the muscles out. Inhale, exhale. Then she starts to shift again. It's unusual for so many different shifts to occur in a short time span. She's tired, but it won't stop her from trying. She hunches forward, large black wings sprouting from her scaled back as the rest of her limbs move to follow. A massive dragon grows exponentially from INSIDE the vault, breaking through the internal structure of the mansion. The vault gives way to the dark starless sky as Siroche's wings spread like heavy storm clouds. Her dragonoid claws reach for the bundles she'd made, the unruly claws slicing through two of the gathered bags as her wings pump to lift her off the ground. As soon as she's overhead, gold from the two torn sacks rain back down onto the manor and spill into the streets. And like that, she's off towards the ocean - where pursuit, if any should arise, would be quickly snuffed out by the tempestuous waves near the port caused by the gusts of her massive wings.

Royston had barely gotten the whiskey out of the liquor cabinet when Siroche burst from the vault, shaking the manor. He dropped the bottle and stumbled into the table, banging his hip. Outside, the guards could only stare as the dragon flew away, gold raining down upon the city. Royston ran outside to ask what happened, only for one dumbfounded guard to point to the dragon and for the other to point to the massive hole in the roof. While Royston and the guards inspected the now mostly-empty vault, people had noticed the gold falling from heaven and had run into the streets to pocket as much as they could. And so began Chartsend's crippling budget crisis.