[Moran wouldn't be Moran if he did wish to put his fingers on the metaphorical political pulse of a city as soon as they arrive.
He has no qualms about surrendering his sword - in a pinch, he can more than defend himself with his bare hands, and no one seems to consider his hairpin a weapon. And once inside, he quickly makes the rounds with an ear to the ground.]
... This happens daily? So there is a still a lot of contact between the two cities, even with their sundered state.
[When given the potion, he hesitates only a second before drinking it, because he truly wants to get inside and listen to what is going on here.
If you want him to be truthful, now is your chance.]
II.SLEEP, CHILD, SLEEP
[Moran barely has the time to wonder at the strange haze that seizes people before bullets start flying.
He manages to remain mostly unscathed, but witnesses the strange terrors of some others, and he does get pushed out of the way by someone in the grips of such and bumps against a wall quite heard, leaving him dazed for a second or two while finding his bearings.
Still without more knowledge of the situation and the locals clearly taken at unawares, there's only one logical solution.]
We need to the get the Lady Arabella out of here. A coup on our first day is far from ideal, and we've done that already.
III.MINARAS a. accommodation [network]
[Two days in the shared accommodation and Moran is about ready to tear his hair out. it's lucky he doesn't require much sleep. What he needs, though, is peace and quiet to hear himself think. It's bad enough that after 48 hours, he'll send a cry for help on the network.]
Would anyone be willing to pool resources for slightly more private accommodation? I fear I may murder someone if not.
b. daily life [Moran is actually doing his fake job, because, as it happens, he knows exactly how to do it and it allows him to spend time with some of the political elite of the city. So on any day, he can easily be found on his way to the House of Sigil or on the way back, usually with a droid in tow carrying mounds of books and papers.
After a few days, the droid gets dressed up with a wig and robes, because while he's used to being stared at, people are being annoyingly embarrassed about this when he himself isn't.]
c. What rots you?
[The question is honestly... weird. But the place's obsessions with staying healthy might explain it. Still, truthful as he has to be, Moran ends up with a tattoo that says 'too much or too little knowledge'.
.... Good luck with that, to whoever wants to help with this.]
Beitang Moran || Minaras
[Moran wouldn't be Moran if he did wish to put his fingers on the metaphorical political pulse of a city as soon as they arrive.
He has no qualms about surrendering his sword - in a pinch, he can more than defend himself with his bare hands, and no one seems to consider his hairpin a weapon. And once inside, he quickly makes the rounds with an ear to the ground.]
... This happens daily? So there is a still a lot of contact between the two cities, even with their sundered state.
[When given the potion, he hesitates only a second before drinking it, because he truly wants to get inside and listen to what is going on here.
If you want him to be truthful, now is your chance.]
II.SLEEP, CHILD, SLEEP
[Moran barely has the time to wonder at the strange haze that seizes people before bullets start flying.
He manages to remain mostly unscathed, but witnesses the strange terrors of some others, and he does get pushed out of the way by someone in the grips of such and bumps against a wall quite heard, leaving him dazed for a second or two while finding his bearings.
Still without more knowledge of the situation and the locals clearly taken at unawares, there's only one logical solution.]
We need to the get the Lady Arabella out of here. A coup on our first day is far from ideal, and we've done that already.
III.MINARAS
a. accommodation [network]
[Two days in the shared accommodation and Moran is about ready to tear his hair out. it's lucky he doesn't require much sleep. What he needs, though, is peace and quiet to hear himself think. It's bad enough that after 48 hours, he'll send a cry for help on the network.]
Would anyone be willing to pool resources for slightly more private accommodation? I fear I may murder someone if not.
b. daily life
[Moran is actually doing his fake job, because, as it happens, he knows exactly how to do it and it allows him to spend time with some of the political elite of the city. So on any day, he can easily be found on his way to the House of Sigil or on the way back, usually with a droid in tow carrying mounds of books and papers.
After a few days, the droid gets dressed up with a wig and robes, because while he's used to being stared at, people are being annoyingly embarrassed about this when he himself isn't.]
c. What rots you?
[The question is honestly... weird. But the place's obsessions with staying healthy might explain it. Still, truthful as he has to be, Moran ends up with a tattoo that says 'too much or too little knowledge'.
.... Good luck with that, to whoever wants to help with this.]
IV.WILD CARD
[Hit me up!]