@Hikari You scan everyone who is nearby in search of someone with the Sight. There's an old woman fetching her mail who seems relatively normal, a pair of fellows trying to fix a pickup truck... hm, there's a strange-looking woman waiting for the bus nearby who has very violently pink hair and seems out of place, but you can't place exactly what feels weird about her. There also appears to be an incense and chakra store nearby that has odd, magicky vibes to it.
The teenagers on their phone just seem like your everyday rowdy teens.
It's weird because when you look at her to try and gauge it, she seems mid-twenties from her face, and yet feels... not that? You just get really confusing mixed vibes from her and it's hard to pinpoint why.
"This is totally random but... Do you know any good clubs? Ones... out of the ordinary maybe?" I subtly pull back a wisp of my hair, revealing my pointed ear.
Her mouth crooks up in a smile, and she blinks a few times; just for a moment her eyes seem oddly slanted, and catlike, and yellow? She blinks again and they return to normal. "I think I know quite a few," she says, slyly. "What sort of experience do you fancy?"
Her eyes light up with glee at that. "Oh, is that so?" she says, in a purring voice. "Why, then surely you know the Grande, where the Siren sings. You have to be on a list to get in - quite exclusive, cha."
You head off down the street following the mysterious woman. Along the way you catch the teenagers arguing about whether Team Mustard, Team Ketchup or Team Mayonnaise is best; the clouds continue to skate across the sky, and pigeons and sparrows flit by alongside invisible whipplebirds and cloudskippers.
As you approach the destination you see you're heading for a run-down looking old Marriott hotel, with a parking lot out front and glass doors leading inside. It's one of those hotels that has a restaurant built into the side, with a plate and fork logo reading: RUTH AND SONS STEAKHOUSE. The place looks like it's been closed for several years, and there are vines growing on the windows. The woman makes a beeline straight for the front door, walking with bouncy steps and humming to herself.
The instant you cross the threshold and step into the old, abandoned hotel lobby, everything changes. Suddenly you are surrounded by chandeliers, crystal glass, beautiful red velvet carpets, golden hallways - it's as if you stepped right into a Las Vegas luxury casino, a stark contrast to the exterior. The old counter transforms into a gorgeous check-in desk, behind which a young man in a tuxedo stands waiting for guests.
You hear distant music filtering from the ballroom in the back, jazzy piano and some accompaniments.
"A very nice club it is, cha?" says the woman behind you. She has been replaced by a very sleek-furred, jaguar-like tabaxi, with bright yellow cat eyes.
The man blinks in polite silence, as if that doesn't compute.
The filtering music from the back rises, led by a hypnotically beautiful male voice: "...Ain't that a shaaaame / You're the one to blame. You made me cry when you said goodbye / Ain't that a shame!"
The man peers over at the badge expressionlessly, blinks twice, and then says, "Right you are, sir," as if he's seen that badge a million times. "If you would be so kind as to wait a moment for him to go on break?"
He nods politely and walks off towards the ballroom. You hear the piano finish off the second song with a delightful glissando, and loud enthusiastic rumbles of applause and cheering.
The ballroom door opens and lets in some applause, as you see a warm-looking older man with a grey felt cap and fine suit jacket emerge and shut the door behind him. He notices you two and wanders over merrily, eyes twinkling. “Well, well. Welcome to the Grande. I’m assuming you’re colleagues of mine?”
“That’s me, all right. They call me the Siren around these parts, but that’s just a fancy title. You can call me Piers.” He tips his hat to you in a gentlemanly fashion. “How can I be of service?”
He goes a bit serious. “Yes, I do. I investigated one down by the railyard with Agents Hanako and Laurent. We got there too late to catch it, and I brought a kenku who was on the scene in for questioning. What’s the occasion for asking?”
"We were investigating a similar incident." I catch him up on everything we know about the incident, complete with pictures of the burnt grass, footprints, and the grill
“Hmmm.” He studies the pictures and thinks for a moment. “Well. The style of the portal writing seems to be a common trend. Written in Infernal and Ignan in both cases, right?”
“Might imply either demonic involvement, or the involvement of a fiendish warlock. We’ve seen a couple of those in my day...” He frowns. “Laurent was involved with a notable one, I believe.”
“Could be devils, too. It’s just speculation. Could also just be a wizard who really likes Infernal runes.” He thinks for a moment. “Was there anyone on the scene of your park attack?”
"Other than the people who made the footprints, the only person aware of the Otherside we found on scene was a man who seemed pretty new to the magical world, we got a phone number for follow ups if necessary."
“Interesting. So it seems like whoever laid that portal hasn’t been caught in the act, at least not yet. Seems like we need to predict where they’ll strike next.” He looks back at the door to the ballroom. “I’m still on the clock for another few hours. Is there a chance we could meet later? I might pull up that file of Laurent’s old warlock case.”
“I’d be honored if you stayed!” He opens the ballroom door, the sound of clinking glasses and layers of conversations filtering out; it sounds like the place is packed to the brim. “I can’t promise you’ll find a seat, but you can stand off to the side - if you’re with me they’ll leave you be.”
The ballroom is absolutely full, with all sorts of people dressed in fine suits and dresses drinking wine and plucking at appetizers. In the front of the room is a stage with a gorgeous concert grand piano, and Piers ascends the stage to the riotous applause and cheers of the crowd. He bows politely and sits down at the piano.
He starts playing and singing mesmerizingly. I am going to need both of you to roll Charisma saving throws.
As Piers sings, this soft warm feeling washes over you as his voice hits your ears - it’s full body goosebumps and you are absolutely hypnotized. After a moment Adrian manages to shake it off, but Seline, you are now under the charmed condition. It’s the most fabulous music you’ve ever heard.
Around you a few other people get this same, glassy-eyed look and start zoning out in their seats.
After a few songs he finishes with a glissando, which must be his signature, and stands back up and bows. The spell is broken and the charm ends, and a few people snap out of it around you like they're coming out of a trance and cheer enthusiastically. It seems like charming the audience is actually part of the appeal of the show.
Piers bows modestly at the applause, and then descends the stage and exits. The audience goes back to eating and murmuring contentedly about how positively magical his music is.
Pulling up a file implies he needs to go back to headquarters and go through the whole paperwork and approval process to get access, so it’s safe to assume he meant like tomorrow.
As an aside, you note the man in the tuxedo is walking swiftly away down the hallway with a walkie talkie, murmuring: “Some silverware and jewelry has been reported missing, shall I check the entry logs for pickpockets?”
