Cracking the Code: Investigating the Cult's Tagging System
On any other day in Visentia, a half-elf was making his rounds on the edges of the Cadre's territory within the walls of the city. The fellow checked in with his posted agents, making notes in his specific shorthand code. Scribbling in his pocket journal, he moved from street to street as he marked objectives off his list. Ephraim kept a keen eye out as he traversed the streets. He tried to take a different route every time lest he was being followed, hardly ever a problem, or to perhaps catch his posts unawares. Ephraim knew he was only one half-elf, with his sister now missing, and there was much work to be done.
3rd of Kirn, 537 PGS
Quarter past 2 - Everything seems to be in order. 3 visited post on 6th St was slacking, but otherwise in order. Fresh agents needed, old ones need rest. Next, I plan to
Ephraim paused in the back alley where he stood, his left hand freezing as he scribbled. He blinked, his brow furrowing. What...? He did not finish his thought as his hand reached out, brushing against the crumbling brown stucco. Three small black lines lay painted on the wall. Those weren't there the other day Ephraim noted, prodding at the marks. Not paint... Tar. The half-elf's nose wrinkled in distaste and he looked around, attempting to find something amiss. He was the only one around, so he began to investigate.
He circled the abandoned shop, noting the dingy broken windows blocked up with old papers and boards. The half-elf carefully tried the handle, finding it boarded shut from the other side. Pursing his lips, Ephraim searched for an alternative route in. He spotted a few leftover barrels and settled for those, dragging them under an open second-story window before tossing his grappling hook up and over the window sill. Precariously he climbed the rotting barrels, grateful for his light frame for a moment. Despite this, when his feet lifted off the barrels they splintered and created a terrible din. Ephraim gritted his teeth and started climbing.
The half-elf hauled himself up, sitting on the sill and looking into the building as he moved his hook to the other side and let the rope down. The chewed up insides of the abandoned shop obscured much of the view, but he could hear more than one thing moving around inside. He smoothly dropped down, being careful not to land on any debris that might create noise, and began to creep through the dusty remains with his hand on his weapon.
He spotted a curious sight, one he did not expect. A little old man sat next to the wall, using some of the old debris to start a fire in a self-made pit. A bit of meat and bread was readied for toasting with a bottle of cheap wine to keep it company while scruffy little dog waited patiently on the man's bedroll. In the same moment that Ephraim realized there was a second bedroll next to the fire, he heard the clatter of rubble behind him.
With one swift motion, the half-elf drew his shortsword and held it to the ambusher's throat. Another elderly human slowly lifted his hands, dropping the old dirk he held.
"Easy son..." he rasped, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "We don't got nuffin worth stealin'..."
Realizing that he may have made a mistake, Ephraim very cautiously lowered his blade but did not sheath it. "Forgive me. I did not come to steal from you, sirs. I was not even aware anyone was living here," he admitted, his ears twitching as he listened for any other inhabitants he may have missed.
"Aye," the bum sniffed and his posture relaxed a bit as if he was used to having weapons waved in his face, "well it ain't much but it's home, laddie. Wot's a fine dressed blond fella like yous doin' in these parts o' the city?" His voice was like sandpaper, grating against itself. Ephraim watched as the man's eyes greedily fixed on his glinting sword.
"I'm looking for someone," he replied without missing a beat and he slowly sheathed his sword as a show of good faith. The stranger's eyes flickered for a short moment in recognition.
"No one comes 'round these parts. 'Cept us and now you," he lied as he gestured in Ephraim's direction and waved to his companion as the other bum finally caught wind of the interaction. The half-elf smoothly turned himself so he could keep an eye on both men. The other making a fire began to approach, an obvious look of worry on his weathered face. Ephraim addressed both of them as he spoke, keeping his palms up and in the open to ease them.
"Someone who might have left those marks on the corner of the building? I'm supposed to contact them. Is that one of you?" He watched the two of them twitch, knowing it was neither of them. The first bum tried to lie again, but the second one interrupted him.
"No, no. Weren't neither of us," he shook his head. Behind him, the scruffy little dog started to growl at the half-elf. His friend hissed, cussing for him to shut up, but the man came clean. "Some real odd folk came nosing around the other night. We was jus' mindin' our business when they broke one o' our windows," Ephraim noted the distress on the first man's brow and the nervous sweat on the other's brow. "They said they jus' was havin' a look around and wanted a place to rest. Didn't cause no harm aside from the window breakin', asked to break some bread and shared their food wiv us." He shrugged. "Dressed and act like normal lookin' folk, but talked odd like there was a double meanin' to every word."
The half-elf raised a brow, looking between the two of them. "What aren't you telling me?"
The two bums looked between each other anxiously, but Ephraim held his gaze. They both shook their heads and the half-elf could tell he would not get anything else of use out of the two of them without pressing, so he let it drop.
"Did they say anything about where they were going or where I might find them?" He asked the two, noting how they averted their gaze when he tried to make eye contact.
"All I 'eard was somefin about taggin the rest o' the block," the first man finally gave in, shrugging a little. His friend shushed the little dog that continued to growl.
Ephraim nodded, accepting this answer. At least it was a start. "Thank you. My apologies for breaking into your... home." He gave a short bow at the waist. "Is there an easier way out than the window I climbed in?"
"Aye, this way, laddie..." they lead him out a concealed exit hidden behind an old stack of crates and Ephraim was careful to watch them both and slipped them a fair bit of gold to keep their mout's shut before bidding goodbye. The moment he was alone back out on the street, he pulled out his journal and began to scribble in the Elvish dialect the Cadre used.
3rd of Kirn, 537 PGS
Almost 3 - Odd markings found tagged on the building. Further investigation required. I suspect foul play. I daresay this reeks of the Cult.
The half-elf snapped his book closed and tossed the rest of his day out the window. Combing the streets, he found more and more symbols painted on corners of old buildings, under windows and next to doors. Not all of the symbols were the same, but all of them were pained with the same black tar and thick brush. They seemed to be around every corner and the moment he thought he found the end of them, a new patch cropped up a few streets over. He recorded every symbol that he found. They were all equally simple and none contained words. Lines, X's, diamonds and circles that were empty or solid, as well as more. His head seemed to be reeling at this discovery and the agent wondered how in the world he could have missed something like this or if it was new. It was like lifting the rug, only to find cockroaches go scurrying when the light hit them.
Ephraim scowled, the foul tar smell beginning to burn his nose in the late afternoon heat. It was not until dusk when the street lamps were being lit that he noticed what time it was and how far off of his route the search had taken him. This gives me a bad feeling... he thought as he realized how far from his starting point he had been taken and how he was still far from done. The agent noted the spread of the symbols, scribbling a rough map of his route. Symbols cropped up on everything from abandoned buildings, general stores, to aristocrat's homes. He shook his head and opted rather go report in than get caught out here alone at night.
His footsteps echoed down the damp sewer halls as he made his approach known to the guards outside their chapter base. The male and female paused their quiet conversation to salute and step into his path.
"The spark that lights the fire?" she inquired in their encoded tongue of Elvish.
"The first strike in the dark." He waved them out of the way as he answered the password.
"Welcome back, Spymaster," the young male greeted the Cadre councilman as Ephraim entered the iron doors. The two gave a respectful bow.
"Come with me, all of you!" he hastily rallied every Cadre member in earshot, despite the fact dinner was being served in their repurposed mess hall. "There is work to be done..."
3rd of Kirn, 537 PGS
Quarter past 2 - Everything seems to be in order. 3 visited post on 6th St was slacking, but otherwise in order. Fresh agents needed, old ones need rest. Next, I plan to
Ephraim paused in the back alley where he stood, his left hand freezing as he scribbled. He blinked, his brow furrowing. What...? He did not finish his thought as his hand reached out, brushing against the crumbling brown stucco. Three small black lines lay painted on the wall. Those weren't there the other day Ephraim noted, prodding at the marks. Not paint... Tar. The half-elf's nose wrinkled in distaste and he looked around, attempting to find something amiss. He was the only one around, so he began to investigate.
He circled the abandoned shop, noting the dingy broken windows blocked up with old papers and boards. The half-elf carefully tried the handle, finding it boarded shut from the other side. Pursing his lips, Ephraim searched for an alternative route in. He spotted a few leftover barrels and settled for those, dragging them under an open second-story window before tossing his grappling hook up and over the window sill. Precariously he climbed the rotting barrels, grateful for his light frame for a moment. Despite this, when his feet lifted off the barrels they splintered and created a terrible din. Ephraim gritted his teeth and started climbing.
The half-elf hauled himself up, sitting on the sill and looking into the building as he moved his hook to the other side and let the rope down. The chewed up insides of the abandoned shop obscured much of the view, but he could hear more than one thing moving around inside. He smoothly dropped down, being careful not to land on any debris that might create noise, and began to creep through the dusty remains with his hand on his weapon.
He spotted a curious sight, one he did not expect. A little old man sat next to the wall, using some of the old debris to start a fire in a self-made pit. A bit of meat and bread was readied for toasting with a bottle of cheap wine to keep it company while scruffy little dog waited patiently on the man's bedroll. In the same moment that Ephraim realized there was a second bedroll next to the fire, he heard the clatter of rubble behind him.
With one swift motion, the half-elf drew his shortsword and held it to the ambusher's throat. Another elderly human slowly lifted his hands, dropping the old dirk he held.
"Easy son..." he rasped, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "We don't got nuffin worth stealin'..."
Realizing that he may have made a mistake, Ephraim very cautiously lowered his blade but did not sheath it. "Forgive me. I did not come to steal from you, sirs. I was not even aware anyone was living here," he admitted, his ears twitching as he listened for any other inhabitants he may have missed.
"Aye," the bum sniffed and his posture relaxed a bit as if he was used to having weapons waved in his face, "well it ain't much but it's home, laddie. Wot's a fine dressed blond fella like yous doin' in these parts o' the city?" His voice was like sandpaper, grating against itself. Ephraim watched as the man's eyes greedily fixed on his glinting sword.
"I'm looking for someone," he replied without missing a beat and he slowly sheathed his sword as a show of good faith. The stranger's eyes flickered for a short moment in recognition.
"No one comes 'round these parts. 'Cept us and now you," he lied as he gestured in Ephraim's direction and waved to his companion as the other bum finally caught wind of the interaction. The half-elf smoothly turned himself so he could keep an eye on both men. The other making a fire began to approach, an obvious look of worry on his weathered face. Ephraim addressed both of them as he spoke, keeping his palms up and in the open to ease them.
"Someone who might have left those marks on the corner of the building? I'm supposed to contact them. Is that one of you?" He watched the two of them twitch, knowing it was neither of them. The first bum tried to lie again, but the second one interrupted him.
"No, no. Weren't neither of us," he shook his head. Behind him, the scruffy little dog started to growl at the half-elf. His friend hissed, cussing for him to shut up, but the man came clean. "Some real odd folk came nosing around the other night. We was jus' mindin' our business when they broke one o' our windows," Ephraim noted the distress on the first man's brow and the nervous sweat on the other's brow. "They said they jus' was havin' a look around and wanted a place to rest. Didn't cause no harm aside from the window breakin', asked to break some bread and shared their food wiv us." He shrugged. "Dressed and act like normal lookin' folk, but talked odd like there was a double meanin' to every word."
The half-elf raised a brow, looking between the two of them. "What aren't you telling me?"
The two bums looked between each other anxiously, but Ephraim held his gaze. They both shook their heads and the half-elf could tell he would not get anything else of use out of the two of them without pressing, so he let it drop.
"Did they say anything about where they were going or where I might find them?" He asked the two, noting how they averted their gaze when he tried to make eye contact.
"All I 'eard was somefin about taggin the rest o' the block," the first man finally gave in, shrugging a little. His friend shushed the little dog that continued to growl.
Ephraim nodded, accepting this answer. At least it was a start. "Thank you. My apologies for breaking into your... home." He gave a short bow at the waist. "Is there an easier way out than the window I climbed in?"
"Aye, this way, laddie..." they lead him out a concealed exit hidden behind an old stack of crates and Ephraim was careful to watch them both and slipped them a fair bit of gold to keep their mout's shut before bidding goodbye. The moment he was alone back out on the street, he pulled out his journal and began to scribble in the Elvish dialect the Cadre used.
3rd of Kirn, 537 PGS
Almost 3 - Odd markings found tagged on the building. Further investigation required. I suspect foul play. I daresay this reeks of the Cult.
The half-elf snapped his book closed and tossed the rest of his day out the window. Combing the streets, he found more and more symbols painted on corners of old buildings, under windows and next to doors. Not all of the symbols were the same, but all of them were pained with the same black tar and thick brush. They seemed to be around every corner and the moment he thought he found the end of them, a new patch cropped up a few streets over. He recorded every symbol that he found. They were all equally simple and none contained words. Lines, X's, diamonds and circles that were empty or solid, as well as more. His head seemed to be reeling at this discovery and the agent wondered how in the world he could have missed something like this or if it was new. It was like lifting the rug, only to find cockroaches go scurrying when the light hit them.
Ephraim scowled, the foul tar smell beginning to burn his nose in the late afternoon heat. It was not until dusk when the street lamps were being lit that he noticed what time it was and how far off of his route the search had taken him. This gives me a bad feeling... he thought as he realized how far from his starting point he had been taken and how he was still far from done. The agent noted the spread of the symbols, scribbling a rough map of his route. Symbols cropped up on everything from abandoned buildings, general stores, to aristocrat's homes. He shook his head and opted rather go report in than get caught out here alone at night.
His footsteps echoed down the damp sewer halls as he made his approach known to the guards outside their chapter base. The male and female paused their quiet conversation to salute and step into his path.
"The spark that lights the fire?" she inquired in their encoded tongue of Elvish.
"The first strike in the dark." He waved them out of the way as he answered the password.
"Welcome back, Spymaster," the young male greeted the Cadre councilman as Ephraim entered the iron doors. The two gave a respectful bow.
"Come with me, all of you!" he hastily rallied every Cadre member in earshot, despite the fact dinner was being served in their repurposed mess hall. "There is work to be done..."
Phonology
No words are used in the Cult's tagging system, only symbols to denote meaning. Open shapes such as diamonds and circles are used to denote objectives that have yet to be completed, such as meetings or services, while filled symbols indicate these objectives have been completed and the tagged site has previously been used.
Morphology
The symbols used are simple and small, never bigger than a single stone or brick, so a viewer must know what to look for to spot these symbols.
Common Phrases
- Three black lines ≡ neutral territory
- Open diamond ♢ active safe space
- Filled diamond ♦ expired safe space
- Plain ‘X’ ✖ unwelcome territory (often Cadre, Regent’s Watch, or other hostile faction establishment)
- Full moon (open circle) future meeting place. Half moon (half filled circle) upcoming meeting. Crescent moon (open sliver) eve of service. New moon (filled circle) ongoing meeting - an opaque square means that a meeting was held here previously
- Inverted triangle ▽ hostile, potential target. This is used for specific enemies rather than establishments. (A business unfriendly to the Cult would receive an ✖ while a political figure would receive the ▽ inverted triangle.)
- Filled triangle ▼ target is dead or converted
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