An Interrogation

A01: Jail Cells

A prisoner claims to be from the future! What secrets does he have?

---

An elf.

The time traveler, reputedly, is an elf. At the moment, adventurers from the city, knowledgeable ones, have been called in to speak to him. His interrogation isn't going particularly great when you arrive.

Dressed in simple clothes and absent his goggles and gear, the time traveler does not appear to be any different than anyone else. The watch is convinced he's loony, but well, they need to be sure.

"...telling you that you need to let me go. I can't be here. I need to return to my proper place in time. I only wanted to make sure that disastrous article didn't get printed."

Morgan walks in, sure she is not as well known as the other wizards and learned S-O-Bs of the city "Please relax, my friend. Please tell us the method you came here. I do know time travel is possible."

Astaren is making his way in and hears the words disastrous article and sighs, "Sigh... breaking a time construct to prevent an article? What is this, that stupid romance trend and how Mandy was the real one behind the lovers getting together, because she was some crazy evil chaos void lich?" tilting his head and sighing as he rubs his head, "Maybe I shouldn't have come."

Heinrich tells the time traveler, "Regardless of what they were printing, all your vandalism accomplishes is a delay in the publication. Whoever wrote the article still has your tale to tell, and now, you've provided enough sensationalism to ensure that everybody will read it. In any case, if you wish to prevent slander or untruth, there are courts from which to seek a legal injunction. Whether your motivation was just or not, your method was unlawful."

"...what on earth are you on about?" says the elf to Astaren as he arrives, as if none of that makes any sense to him whatsoever! "The article in question was -- I can't say, actually, but it was nothing like that. Have you today's tribune, any of you, by any chance? I'll know if I'm too late..."

He lets out a sigh.

The guardsman looks up, plaintively shrugs.

Astaren tilts his head, "So not one of those silly Crimson Pen articles. As for today's Tribune, we can have one fetched."

Morgan sighs "I don't read the tribune, I just preserve them when the libary gets a copy."

Heinrich handwaves the question, but nods and says, "The human is right. Let one be sent for." He looks at a watchman... "Sergeant?"

The Sergeant gets to his feet and then heads out the door, apparently intending to fetch a tribune, of course, or at least have one of his underlings get one.

Astaren glances to Heinrich and tilts his head, "The human?" then looks back to the so called traveler. "Has anybody arcane sighted him to see if there are any magics lingering from his time travel?"

Heinrich shrugs. "I mean no offense, master spellweaver."

Morgan leans against the wall, "When I did it, it did not leave anyone but me. But if you want me to cast it on him, I can."

Fraid not," replies the Sergeant as he waits. The 'time traveller' sighs.

And stays quiet. And waits. For the moment.

GAME: Morgan casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 10 DC: 17

Morgan's eyes glow bright blue. "Well, he has no magic on him, but most likely would not have any trace on him."

Astaren shakes his head, "Sad, probably to long then. Should've been done immediently, though something as powerful as time travel typically leaves a major mark. We could look at where he came in from, if he is willing to share. Otherwise, we can leave him here to ponder paradoxes. After all, he came to change the past, but by doing so eliminates his reason for coming to the past, which in turn counters out his coming back, creating a paradox. Meaning he cannot be successful by the very definition of time travel."

Heinrich turns to the sergeant and says, "Thanks." Then to the time traveler, "It appears you were successful at, at least preventing today's issue from going out, but that story is out there. The writer may yet publish."

"That depends on what you believe about the nature of time. I believe differently," replies the traveler, slitting his eyes in Astaren's direction. "Theories indicate otherwise, as well as... practical experience. But, ah, there he is!" The guardsman arrives and sets the tribune down in front of the elf.

There, it shows that... nothing particularly unusual happened today. Sure, the attack on the tribune is mentioned, as is other recent news, but there's not a great deal of anything else beyond the usual 'monsters spotted', 'rumors about Heth'.

The elf studies it for a long moment. Studies, frowns.

"Wait, no. This isn't. What day is this paper?" He squints down at it.

"No, no. This isn't right -- and no -- not what you're thinking."

Morgan nods to Astaren "Why not use a charm spell on him." She then nods to what Heinrich said. <Handspeech>

Astaren shakes his head, "If time travel were possible without paradoxical correction, we would see a great many problems not happening. Your own theories cannot be proven, because the occurrences simply do not exist. One can observe time, but not alter time." Shrugging his shoulders, "I say keep him locked up for a few weeks, serve his time for his crimes, and let him go."

"No one said that there'd be no correction, but you have a different problem, as do I. This isn't my past. I've travelled through time, but into a different past. That explains... actually quite a bit." The elven man looks up towards the ceiling, agitation growing.

Heinrich says, "Well, I don't know much about all this paradox stuff, but it seems to me that this is now our present and your present regardless of whether your past lies in our future."

Morgan sighs, "One time I was in an old mage tower, and I found a portal that forced me back two weeks in time. But to avoid paradox, I stayed in a cave by myself untill I'd seen myself enter the tower."

Astaren shakes his head slowly, "I see, so you performed the time travel, did you not? Explain to me the standardized co-efficient for the planer-temporal energy tranfer?" Clearly trying to test the guy's knowledge of magic and the planes. Eying him carefully to see if he is being honest.

GAME: Astaren rolls sense motive: (2)+19: 21

GAME: Astaren rolls knowledge/the planes: (14)+25+4: 43

GAME: Astaren rolls spellcraft: (10)+25: 35

A glance around.

"Obviously, this knowledge is very dangerous, but you seem smart enough to get it. Come here." He gestures for Astaren to draw close. "I will whisper something in your ear, and then you can tell me who the hell this 'Heth' that's all over the paper is."

Astaren glances to the guards, and then Morgan, "Watch for any magic. Don't want any funny business here." Moving over closer to the prisoner.

(Morgan still has detect magic up.) "Watch for teeth."

Heinrich draws his falchion. Says, "I'm watching."

The elf rolls his eyes at Heinrich, adjusts his spectacles, and then leans in to whisper something quietly to Astaren. His hand remains on the tabloid tribune as he does.

Astaren steps back and frowns, "My friend, you are indeed in the wrong dimension, not real, not time, but dimension. Let me ask you this, Animus isn't dead where you are from is he?" The Theurge has gone a bit pale.

"Not...dead?"

He peers at Astaren. "Don't be ridiculous. Gods can't die. That's part of what makes them gods. Am I not just in the past... but the wrong past? Even by my formula, that shouldn't be possible -- and if a god died, would that god not be dead across all time, across all permutations of time?"

Heinrich sees that Astaren seems okay, and so resheaths his blade. He asks Astaren, "Does he pose any serious threat?"

Morgan shakes her head "Multi-verse theory is bitch that we are not sure is real, but is a possibility."

Svarshan pokes his head out from behind the guard's desk. He'd been lying there, napping for a while. Or thinking. Either way, he walks slowly that direction, one foot in front of the other, on all fours. Then, drops down to his haunches.

Astaren shakes his head, 'Animus is dead, Heth is a void draco-lich, among other things. Eluna tends to the sea of Mana." reaching up to rub his head and glances to Heinrich, "He himself no, what he represents, yes. He told me of a formula that isn't viable anymore due to the shifting of the sea of mana. The equation is right, but he doesn't have the plane shift adjustment to it." tapping his chin, "Morgan is right, multi-verse theory is typically viewed as hogwash. This could be fractured time steams, a secondary reality that was created with the fracturing of Animus. So when he game back in time, he came back to the primary stream. Though that theory says the other streams will eventually fade as the energy flow stablizes and dilutes back into general material reality."

"Peasse to you," Svarshan says, in low tones. He goes quiet after that. Until, "Multi-versse...in all one's sstudy of the planes, one has not uncovered ...what iss this. 'verses'?" he asks, sounding solemn. "Time flow...hsss. One has sseen. Time flow. In different ways. It occurs around corrupt mana-pointss."

"Oi. A Sith-Makar. How about that," says the elf, eyes turning towards the paladin. "Waaaait a second," he squints at him a long moment. "You're familiar. Can't say I can place you, though." A pause, then he looks back at Astaren and gestures at him frantically, "Fractured! Compromised. That makes sense, I suppose! Are you telling me Animus is... dead? That doesn't make a lick fo sense! Not even possible. Unless I left before he died. Then he died forward and backwards in time. This doesn't make ANY sense to me."

Morgan ponders on this. "Not multi-verse but maybe muti-reality. I once summoned a Abyssal seeker, it said there are many realities out there."

Astaren shrugs his shoulders, "Impossible or not, it has happened. Fractured is probably more accurate. Wonder if the shards created different time streams." Tapping his chin thoughtfully and glancing to Svarshan, "Yea, I think Animus did more on keeping time stable then we might have known." Then glances to Morgan and raises his eyebrows, "Really? Interesting, still another reality, that a dead or absent god has allowed for things that could not happen before to happen. Svarshan, remember all those crazy incidents, the super sized golem, the coins from the past, could all this be related?"

Hss. Yes, one remembers. You place them together when thiss one would have overlooked them." Words. The reptilian slowly closes his muzzle. Then, thinks for a while. "...when one has seen time ssplit, it was under the workings of a. Bard. One might ask the..." pause. "...bards. A bard's magic taps into the Hymn of Creation. Perhaps Creation itsself flowss in different directions. This-one does not know: that falls outsside of his caste. This one only sspeculates on thingss he has seen."

"..." he lowers his muzzle then, and paces. Turns in a circle. Looks at the sildanyari, and just stares. Torn. "You challenge this one's oaths," he says, finally.

"But time is Navos' job. Or was," says the elf, quietly, blinking his eyes. He seems horrified. He slumps into his chair. A look at Svarshan. Studying him. A nod.

"...we must hope..."

Morgan thinks and says, "Tell us about the gods you know."

Astaren has his eyes closed as he thinks for a long moment, "Of Navos specifically." Opening his eyes as he looks to the man, "And tell me your name." glancing to Svarshan, "I think we may need to put all of the information we have on recent events together to see what we can piece together. Something is going on..."

"One took an oath ten yearss ago. But the mage here, your wordss tell me that things are fracturing. That Heth iss now part of the sseal on the Void--one that Althea Herself is hesitant to destroy."

"...Animus is in a sstate of. Scattered sstasis. This was kept ssecret out of His requesst and because He knew ssome mages as. Hungry for power above. All else."

"...Wizards in Rune and Alessandria attempted to co-opt His remaining power. Or saw themselves as impartial shepherds. This one sshares-truth: it was because of power-lust that these words have remained hidden. Animus could not trusst His own followers." Svarshan flicks his tail, not responding to much else at the moment.

"You think?" says the elf to Astaren.

"I won't give you my real one. I need a name." He rubs his face.

The guards are looking on in bewilderment. The dark haired elf is looking horrified at Svarshan.

Astaren pauses a moment, "Part of the seal..." at first he frowns, and frowns a lot, then smiles faintly, "We must talk later Svarshan, but that actually gives me thoughts we should follow up on. As for Animus in statis, yea..." coughing a moment, "I may or may not have seen one of those shards up close and personal." looking a bit sheepish, "While also telling Asumit he is an idiot and hypocrite." glancing to the man, "Which a part of me suspects that is who you are, just a different time line." He glances to the guards considering for a long moment.

GAME: Astaren rolls sense motive: (7)+19: 26

"Some of them stood in the Adventurer's Guild," low-pitched. "They were followers of the philosophy that magic exists for magic alone. That it is inherently neither good. Nor evil. There is great evil in such belief. And, greater pride." The reptilian remains focused on the sildanyari then. Chuffs, quietly. "What was your childhood like, ssildanyari?"

"I'm a little worried to say anything for fear of doing further damage. I only made this trip out of great necessity. A great unraveling was going to occur about my research into the nature of time and I couldn't permit it." Speaking of pride...

The elf clears his throat. "But if I'm in a different past..."

Astaren watches Svarshan thoughtfully, and then back to the elf, "In a time line where magic actually works differently no less." He offers and reaches up to rub his head, "but time may very well work differently too, but you may have trouble getting back to your home too. Because going forward from here may bring you to the wrong forward. I think our best option..." glancing to Svarshan, "is to start doing some serious tracking down of what is causing this temporal fracturing. May get Cesran on it, let him feel all big and important."

Morgan is listening to the others talking.

"Could I at least not have my hands behind me?" Delilah enters the jailcells, mostly because she's being prodded to go that way by a city guard who has his hand on the golden haired one's back. She has her hands behind her, not that she has much choice owing to a set of manacles that are rather forcing the issue. "I'm telling you, I'm innocent! Just because I am a sorceress does not mean I am the one who set the tavern on fire."

"..." words. Svarshan looks to Astaren, and listens. A thump of the tail. ...then looks to the sildanyari. "One undersstands and agrees with. Your caution. One kept hiss oath for ten years. ...perhapss it is worth thinking on. Why I relaxed a promisse to a god. ...One will sspeak to the guard to the far right. His aura, ssoftskin," he says. He gets up, slowly. Because he is slow, and scared.

Astaren smiles faintly to Svarshan, "As I said, I have seen one of the Shards in person, helped gather the pieces to restore it. There are forces in play working on bringing him back." being a bit more cryptic as he glances to Delilah. Then to the elf, "Chrono here, has been most insightful. There is much to think on, and we shall see what we can do to help you. There is much work to do."

A few of the guards are giving Delilah looks. "You'll get your manacles off when we get to your cell," they say, and indeed, they are setting out to do just that. Get the manacles off as they shove her into her cell.

The elf looks unhappy. Very unhappy. He's gone into a sullen, contemplative silence for the time being.

"Ssa. One doess not doubt your capability, old friend. One is only uncomfortable with..." Svarshan says to Astaren. The sith-makar does not want to be there. He does not want to be there in the area with this Chronos. With mages, and the Shards of Animus. Just how bad had it been?

A god, not trusting His followers. On general principle. An oath a decade long.

...So, a slow walk. A slow step, one in front of the other. And, words to share with one of the guards--who up close? Had one a nose for it, the aura smells...off. A little off. A slow blink at the man, then a nudge with his shoulder. Heavy, slow. Enough to set him off-balance, but only just. Just barely.

A look to Delilah, then the guard who has her cuffed. A long look. "...the oness with you are fine," to Delilah. Then, a warm smile. "Come ssee me. After. One could use a good. Drink."

Delilah half-stumbles as she's pushed into the cell, and shoots a look over the shoulder that would come accompanied with the gaze of death, were Delilah capable of such a thing. Luckily for the guard, she isn't, so she just waits while the manacles are removed, and rubs her wrists. "You've arrested the wrong person!" She snaps as the bars as slammed shut. "My sister's gonna be PISSED!" she adds, shouting at the guard's back. That done, the angry blond-haired one gives the door a rattle, then stalks up and down in the cell a few times, crosses her arms, and finally leans against the bars. She gazes outwards, waiting to discern just what's going on; a nod is given to Svarshan, too. "Sure," she replies, nonchallantly, as if nothing had just happened. "As soon as they work out that I'm not a pyromaniac and let me out."

Astaren shakes his head, "A promise well kept my friend, and trust is earned. I need to be off, I have a lot to think on, and some things to look up." Eyes glancing to the guard he nudged, "I shall leave that to you." then glances to Chrono, "We shall call you Chrono, I am sure you have realized that by now. I am certain you understand the implication." a faint smile to Delilah, "I hope you are proven innocent as you claim." then turns to head towards the door, "Keep in touch Svarshan."

"...one has faith in your truth. And in your ssister's righteous. Anger." For the first time, a trace of humor shows. A touch of Tarien. A reason to buy drinks, after. He looks to Astaren then; a thump of the tail. ...and then of all things, "One will buy the sspiced. Rum.

"...Chronos," Svarshan says then. Quiets. Words, words slow as he puts them together. "...for what it iss worth. One regretss the possition you are in. Every move you make--it is a risk. But perhaps the man who left--know his heart is clear enough. Perhaps, perhapss, working together, you may avoid further damage. ...But this one cannot tell you what to do. Light may only offer a path. It is your choisse to sset upon it."

Delilah leans against the bars, idly noting that this is the third time she's been in this jail and been stuffed into the same cell each time. "Yeah well I left out the fact that my sister's going to be pissed at me, this is the third time I've gotten stuffed in here. And the second time it hasn't been my fault, mind you." She sighs softly. "So... Chronos." She nods towards the strange fellow. "I guess we're both going to be here all night? What's happening?"

"...her heart iss fine. As well. Peasse to you both." Another, quieter look at the far right guard. One with a different, more watchful feel to it. Svarshan heads out then, presumably, to make a purchase.

With Astaren and Morgan departing, the elf has gone quiet. The guards are going to leave him to his cell for a time, though they're now distracted by Delilah and Svarhsan to eye them.

The elf is definitely not answering Delilah at this point. He seems to've just... gotten...really quiet.

Delilah sighs heavily. "Well this is exciting," she grumbles. "Hey c'mon, Chrono. Nothing to say? At all? I promise I'm not mean." She smiles pleasantly at the man, which she holds for a couple of minutes, then sighs softly. She shifts, moving to a different set of bars, so she can stare at the guard. "Don't suppose you'd like to go look into some evidence or something? Crowded bar. Surprise fire that starts in the back. Someone blames the sorceress in the front area. ...I mean really, what the heck?"

The elf has gone quiet. He's going to be shown to his own cell. Delilah, of course, is gonna have her own, too. It's going to be ugly.

Delilah sighs heavily, and starts walking up and down in her cell, pacing from one side to the other. There's a cot, of course, but she isn't ready to sit or lie down for anything; still far too much adrenaline and spite coursing through her blood. "You know I could just turn the bars into noodles!" she shouts. No, she can't actually. "I'm not you know! You know why?! Because I'm INNOCENT, That's why!"

"Were you or were you not DRUNK?" calls one of the guards as Delilah paces. He seems to find this amusing more than anything else.

"Actually no!!" Delilah steps up to the bars once again, fuming. "I was NOT drunk! I had consumed exactly two glasses of wine and believe you me, buster-fruit, I can hold my liquor!" She pauses, crossing her arms over her chest once more and spffting loudly. "And I could drink you straight under the table," she adds, at more of a mutter.

"I'm sure you could drink someone under the table, but that doesn't explain the REST of what happened," counters the guardsman, casually, from the hallway.

Delilah's hands snatch the bars, and she draws herself in close to them so she can argue with the guard properly. "You're damn right it doesn't! You know what it really doesn't explain? Why you people automatically assumed it was me who was responsible." She sucks in a breath, like she's preparing to breath fire of a literal, rather than figurative nature. "Could you explain that? Why me exactly? What about me is it that screams 'walking casual arsonist?' Please, I'd like to know."

"....eh, you matched the description," says the guardsman, "I mean, really. And you were there. And you insulted the guardsman. AND your breath smelled like alcohol AND you resisted AND..."

On he goes.

"Description?!" Delilah explodes, "What description? And of course my breath smelled like alcohol; it's a tavern! Everyone's breath smelled like alcohol!" The blond-haired firecracker breathes out a wordless expression of frustration. "And yes, I insulted the guardsman, and I stand by what I said, a pig really could beat him at chess. Easily. In five moves." She pauses, clenching her teeth together hard. "I didn't resist arrest, I just argued with the dimwit you're employing," she grumbles.

"Uh huh, sure. Right," says the guard, seeming to have his doubts about the veracity of Delilah's story. It's not very delightful, that's for sure.

He then goes back to his business.

"Hey, I'm innocent, too," yells a drunk from another cell.

"Me too," yells a second drunk.

Delilah sighs, and shakes her head. "Both of you shut up," she snaps, before moving to go sit on the cot and rest one elbow on her knee, and her face in her hand. "Aren't you supposed to prove I'm guilty? Not the other way around?" she yells, before sighing once more. "What's the punishment for people wrongly convicted of burning down part of a tavern anyway?"

"...no?" says one of the guardsman, "Have you NEVER been under arrest before?" He squints at Delilah through the bars.

"Actually I have been, and it was nonsense both times," Delilah replies. "...Okay I actually deserved it the first time, but the second time I only got arrested because my sister and I beat one of your people at dice." She pauses, and taps her fingertips together. "Not our fault he couldn't keep his eyes out of our cleavage."

"..mmhmm.."

The guardsman seems to have doubt. A great deal of it.

"Oh right, because I'm sure your guards always win at dice." Delilah sighs audibly. "When's breakfast? That can't be more than a couple of hours off." She taps her fingertips together once more. "The sooner I can go see a magistrate the better," she grumbles.

"You'll see one on the morrow. Until then, make yourself comfortable." The guard snorts.

"Well sure," Delilah replies. "Comfortable. Well, you've got my pack over there, maybe you could pass me my bedroll and nightgown, hunh? Then I might stand a chance." She picks a piece of straw out of the cot and pitches it through the bars. "Literally anything would beat this thing."