The Fury of Siberys [IC]

[nothingforyou]

The Fury of Siberys

http://i.imgur.com/HyR52IH.jpg?1

Out-of-Character Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?388857-The-Fury-of-Siberys-OOC&p=18550511)
Roll20 Campaign (https://app.roll20.net/join/616413/RFOwUQ)

The Shining Beam Inn, Upper Tavick's Landing

The Silvergate district of Upper Tavick's Landing was relatively quiet compared to the rest of Sharn. There was soft music wafting out from the nearby restaurants, reserved chatter between passing aristocrats, and the gentle blowing of the wind reminding all those in the district that Upper Tavick's Landing was suspended high above ground level.

The towers of Sharn were visible from Silvergate. Indeed, Silvergate itself was a collection of platforms on the higher levels of some towers. Bridges crossed between platforms, and very far beneath the bridges one could see (and faintly hear) the commerce and bustle of the noisier Middle section of Tavick's Landing.

Silvergate was without question a wealthy district. The streets were paved with silver stone and lighted with magical lanterns, although it being midday with the Sun intersecting the Ring, the lanterns were currently dimmed.

One of Silvergate's businesses, the Shining Beam Inn, was located in a courtyard with a fountain. Its proprietor was 'Fair' Isa, who has a reputation for being well-connected. Nobody really knew whether her monicker 'Fair' was in reference to her appearance or manner of conduct, but in both she was said to be excellent.

Standing outside the Shining Beam's front doors was a party of adventurers from all walks of life. They were prepared to begin their next journey.

[gr8artist]

Vice half-staggered out of the tavern with most of a cup of ale still clutched in hand. He usually used his own cups, so that he could take the ale with him when he left. He'd been taught to not bring wineskins on long journeys, as they were often the undoing of perilous encounters. But how much danger could he encounter in the next few hours? He'd get drunk while he could, and walk it off on the way to... wherever the job was. There hadn't been much evil to vanquish lately, and Vice was feeling the need to cut something. Perhaps the group wouldn't mind a detour to the local prison, so he could strike up a trial by combat offer with the constable and a prisoner.
He looked around the elevated city again. He was getting tired of the dirty looks, and was eager to be on his way. He could make it a day or two before the darkness overtook him, and he wondered which of his allies would fight him to satiate his desires.
He took another swig, and doused his doubts in the act. "C'mon, crew. We gotta' job ta do, yeah?"

[Barbarian MD]

Rachana is waiting for him in the whirling dust outside the doors, hands planted on hips and a disdainful stare upon her face.

"You're late," is all she says before whirling about it a huff and stalking off towards the meeting point.

A shuriken flies from nowhere as she does so, impaling the cup and flinging it from his hand.

She continues on, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. And nothing has.

[DoctorGlock]

Verdun finished buckling down the tarp over his creation and wiped a grease-stained hand across his sweaty brow. He had drawn a fair share of stares on his trip, his creation like no warforged anyone had seen walking the city street. But not particularly out of place, given artificers' propensity towards flouting their works. He grabbed on of the packs that had been slung over its back and tossed it over his own with a merry whistle.

How long had it been since he was last in Sharn? A few months at least... far longer since he had seen his old friends and accomplices. A few years even. Heh, I've had a fair manner of sucesses since then! Drudge is going to be either astounded or appalled, and hell if I know which! He glances around the courtyard and a grin split his wiry-bearded face. They ain't changed one bit! Well, if Vice had, it sure as hell wasn't in a way that made him blend in any better with a crowd. And Rachana's temper shone like a beacon as far as the Eldeen Reaches. With a laugh on his breath he set out towards them at a jog.

'Vice, you old devil you! And Rachana, good to see you well and ready to spark another Day of Mourning!' He boomed as he got close. Any bite in the words was undermined by the grin plastered across Verdun's features. "What's been happening? Ready to make gold hand over fist?'

[Jeff the Green]

Merciful gods, how did I get saddled with this unprofessional lot? Davkhur thinks for a moment before ammending his query to the universe: Actually, if any unmerciful gods have an answer I'd be happy to entertain it.

Not receiving any particular divine insight, he instead attempts to stave off any fights involving his companions—whether with each other or anyone else. "Rachana, would you please try to remember that surikens are weapons and not generally accepted by alienists as a means of treating alcoholism? Vice, perhaps you could wait to act out your name until after we meet with our prospective employer? And Verdun, do you think that, just maybe, you could avoid accidentally suggesting genocide in a city full of Cyran refugees? I've been run out of town before and i didn't much like the experience."

A bit of sarcasm may have seeped into his voice by the end, in the sense that it takes a bit of ale to get a legion of dwarves drunk.

Nonetheless, he picks up Vice's dented cup and, with a few moments of muttered words and obscure gestures, fills it with a clear liquid that will taste like beer and smell like beer, but hopefully not contribute to any further appearance of unprofessionalism. Some days his job description was closer to mother than scholar.

Fun fact: 'alienist' doesn't mean 'someone who summons aliens', but instead 'psychologist'.

That's create water and prestidigitation.

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge had never been particularly good with directions. Everyone had flaws, but knowing yours and knowing how to counter act then was nearly as good as not having the flaw in the first place. Some people would deny it, and refuse to accept that they had a problem. Drudge had never been particularly wise, either but he recognized somethings people missed, though he missed much that others saw.

Perhaps that too was a flaw. Either way, he knew about that one as well, and he tried to cope with it. Today he coped by wandering until he found the poor part of town and offered a street rat a silver piece to take him to the Shining Beam Inn. The rest of the trip was filled with listening to the merry chatter of his guide, and the jabbering of the people around him. It was a sort of music, and he enjoyed it.

A voice caught his attention, as it disapproved of the flaws of those he would be a companion. That will be far enough. I can see my compatriots now. Here, take an extra copper for your stories.

The boy ran off, and disappeared so completely into the crowd, Drudge had no chance to see him after blinking just once. But that was no matter either. He approached the menagerie of humanoids that had also answered the call of Fair Isa.

Davkhur, I did not expect you. It would appear that perhaps one of the characters in your books is not fairing well? You are always in such a sour mood. Take heart, though, I'm sure things will work out. You always seem much more chipper after you continue to read. As Drudge spoke, he drew closer, until he rested a hand on the undead's shoulder.

And it is easy for us to tell Vice not to drink. The alcohol doesn't affect us the way it affects him. I cannot say for certain that I wouldn't over partake if alcohol was anything as good as some seem to find it. But, truly, be a little professional, and enjoy your pleasures when we are not about to accept a job. The reptilian flesh-like metal allowed a smile to creep across his face.

It is nice to see you again. l, though Vice. I look forward to your fervor in battle. Oh, Verund. Drudge's smile tightened, but a moment later, he chuckled a little to himself, and his smile was refreshed with vigor. This adventure, perhaps could you not try to attach any of your inventions to me? I'm top heavy enough as it is, thats all.

Drudge gave Rachana a curt nod. She was certainly useful to have around, but Drudge wasn't sure how annoyed she would be with him. He was always late. He got lost a lot. He was pretty sure she didn't appreciate that. Rachana, I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long. This place is a grand maze.

[Navian]

She steepled her fingers upon the stone table, brushed her temple, then reached out to stroke the crystal sphere, where it sat on its oaken stand. It was illuminated the golden light of the late afternoon slinking in through the south windows; the collection of scratches its users' gauntlets left on the sides of the ball gleaming like bright strands of her hair. The image held within it shifted, revealing another of the strange figures that had been engraved upon the tabletop.

The voice spoke to Vice, it seemed today was a day for pedantry. <Technically thinking, the job has not yet been acquired. 'Doing' may come later, but Fair Isa must first be impressed. She is an agent; the hiring manager is not yet within reach.> A note of enjoyment crept into the voice as it continued over the destruction and disruption of ale cups.

[gr8artist]

Vice paused, listening to the voice in his head. After a few moments, he responded out loud, in hopes that the omnipresent watcher could hear. "Well bugga' me if ya' didna' make it clear. I thought we's just meetin' here, an' findin' tha' work somewhere else." He stopped talking when Rachana approached and began speaking.
"Betta' late than neva', ya'kno--" he was cut short by the sudden flight of a pointed star, removing the cup from his grasp and dousing the contents against the tavern wall. Vice stared at the cup as it lay on the ground, bleeding out the last of its ambrosia like an impaled corpse. There was a mixture of chagrin and petty offense, as one might show when interrupted in a queue or told that the meal he'd ordered was unavailable and a new choice needed to be made. His feelings changed quickly as Verdun called out to him, an immediate sense of joy overtaken by the rage of the offended. "Devil?"
Either Verdun was testing his patience, or he honestly didn't realize what a harsh reminder that was. Grinning or not, Verdun received one of Vice's trademark judgmental stares, the one often imparted to the soon-to-be-condemned. The moment passed, and with it Vice's temper. He took a moment to catch his breath, curse the brewer who'd made his drink, and respond - calmly - to Verdun.
"Gold's always 'ppreciated. Not sure whatcha' mean by "hand o'er fist," but I'd guess it ta' mean "quick an' hard," or somethin' 'long those lines."
Vice soon found himself berated by yet another companion, and he turned to face Davkhur with a renewed annoyance.
"I ain't makin' tha' business my business. We all know, tha' less I talk, or get seen, tha' betta'. Naggin' ain't gonna' change nothin', an' drinkin' ain't tha' vice I'm named fer." He regretted the words when he saw Davkhur magically refilling his cup, and debated an appropriate apology. As he took the tin container, full with an ale-like brew, he opted instead to take the moment to chide Rachana.
"Ya' owe me a new cup," he declared as he placed a thumb over the small hole from which was leaking the conjured beverage. "or a pair o' gold pieces, for tha' hassle." He took a sip and found the brew satisfactory, though it didn't have the same delightful tang that the grog he'd previously enjoyed had possessed. This was finer stuff, wasted on his tongue. Everything was gonna' taste like smoke and rotten eggs anyway, what was the point in shelling out hard-earned coin for high-class chow?
Drudge, at least, seemed to be on his side, though Vice wasn't 100% sure what the golem had meant in reference to him and the differences in the way they appreciated alcohol. Must be a machine-man thing, Vice concluded, and stepped forward to greet Drudge with a firm handshake. He took care to not spill any of his drink, or remove his thumb from its awkward perch.
"Drudge ol' pal, take one good look at me. Does anythin' - anythin' at all - make this mug o' mine seem profesh'nal?" He gestured toward his face, to avoid confusion with his dented tin cup. "I'm hell-spawned through an' through, with all the grace of a' buggered badger, an' I stink o' sulfur comin' fresh out tha' bath. Drink's 'bout the only thing me 'n another gonna' have in common... 'Sides, I ne'er drink on tha' job, only while I'm gettin' the soddin' glances from these uptight city-folk... Yeah! I'm talkin' ta' you ya' little urchin! Run along 'for I give ya' somethin' nasty ta' look at!" He was momentarily distracted by a city-bred waif, too far from his mother's clutches and caught off guard at the sight of the dark-skinned tiefling. At his warning, the child turned to retreat, and Vice again turned his focus to Drudge.
"We need ta' find a way ta' make alcohol grease or oil, or whate'er you 'forged put on yer squeaky bits."

Just an FYI, Vice's accent is only partially due to his intoxication. He's not slurring his words as much as it may appear, and he's only a little off-balance. He's not overtly drunk at this point.
He speaks common fluently, but he has an orphan's gutter-tongue, which sounds a lot like Oliver Twist meets the Beverly Hillbillies

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge smiled, and chuckled a bit. The humor of using the word mug there was quite ... humorous. I suppose you'd never look quite as professional as a sleek metalic dragon-machine-man creature. But maybe if you put a bit of polish on your horns. You know, class it up. But then, I'd have to lose all respect for you. What kind of hell-spawn polishes his horns?

Drudge shook the offered hand with vigor, and then moved the same hand to rub his chin. It is my understanding that alcohol is a sort of poison, correct? I am not affected by poisons, even the mild kind that convince decent men that your mug isn't too ugly to share a beer with.

Drudge believed that Vice appreciated that sort of insulting humor. But, maybe he didn't? It didn't matter now. He had said it without too much forethought, and hindsight was as useless as an umbrella after the rain had stopped. But please, Vice, don't scare the children too much. If they wet themselves, who is going to pay for their fancy pants? Not I.

[Jeff the Green]

One side of Davkhur's mouth quirks upwards. "Yes, Drudge, it is technically a poison and wouldn't affect the likes of you or I.

"There's a warforged gentleman of my acquaintance who is not a little put out by that fact, actually. Spends all his time in his alchemical lab trying to distill brandy until it will affect him. He seems convinced that he needs to get it even purer despite having been banned from recruiting test subjects from House Kundarak."

That's the dwarven dragonmarked house.

[Barbarian MD]

Rachana gives the warforged a kiss on the cheek (after indicating that he should lean down) in welcome as the others converge on the courtyard. "Of course, not, Drudge. I understand." She smiles up at him in genuine concern. "I'm just glad to see you.

"Vice, I've told you time and again how I feel about you drinking when we're on the clock. Drink your liver to death on your own time, but we're about to meet a prospective client, and you're drunkenness costs us this job, you'll wake up to a surprise the next time I catch you unconscious from drink. She gives him an evil grin, a mixture of good humor and malice, then flips him a coin. Her glare is distracted by the arrival of the company's artificer.

"Verdun! Welcome back! We've missed you and your toys these last months. I'm glad you were able to rejoin us", she declares as she gives him a hug. "More than hand-over-fist, if our source is to be believed."

She nods as Davkur and Navian arrive. She had a large measure of respect for the necropolitan in particular, and was glad for the taller woman's profound skill with all things violent.

Was Navian actually speaking in Vice's head, or was that just a miscommunication about location as we get things rolling?

"Now can we please go in? We can't have been the only ones to hear of this job, and I'd hate to lose it to another company." She makes for the door, looking back to make sure they're following behind, and enters.

[darklink_shadow]

That was right, Rachana was kind to him, but still a little frightening at times. Drudge smiled down at her. Was it Rakael who didn't trust Drudge for whatever reason? Oh, but hadn't Rakael died in a pit of dire maggots two months ago? Drudge shrugged at his inner thoughts more than anything going on around him. I would be happy to go in. And I think I should be the last to arrive. I mean, who could possibly be later than me? It would be bad for our coffers if someone else took the job. Though... there was that one time Davkhur convinced us to just steal the book from the people who did get hired.

[nothingforyou]

The Shining Beam Inn

Soft piano music drifted through the air, calming and relaxing. The lights were romantically dimmed, the curtains on the windows pulled half-closed, with hanging crystal flasks of magical flames strategically distributed across the room to make each table feel personal.

There were mahogany tables, velvet-cushioned chairs, and silverware with gold-gilded floral designs. Expensive watercolors adorned the walls, with exquisitely fashioned frames complimenting the art.

Several groups of aristocrats engaged in muted chatter, dining on Brelish cuisine with elven Aleeian wine on the side. Servants and waiters moved gracefully and tactfully through the room, delivering food and drink. Several private rooms were hosted off to the side of the main hall, their furnishings even more luxurious.

At the bar was a warforged in formal wear polishing a glass. The warforged moved with the grace and manual dexterity normally associated with human or elven nobility.

As the front doors of the Shining Beam Inn swung open, a maitre d' greeted the strange party which entered. The maitre d' was a halfling man with perfect manners and a polite smile. Surprise quickly crossed his face, but disappeared with years of experience in hospitality.

"Good evening, sirs and madame," said the halfling with a bow. "I am Jerod, most humbly at your service. Are you here for lodging, dining, or business?"

The other guests of the establishment turned to face the party. They did not look too happy.

[Barbarian MD]

Rachana let out a silent whistle. She was impressed; this was not what she had expected. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she had to resist the urge to finger her shurikens standing there in front of the staring crowd.

The Vishkanya was the most socially-acceptable among their party (which wasn't saying much), dressed as she was in flowing silks, though the strange yellow eyes could be a little off-putting. Vice was somewhat more likeable, but she had the advantage of not being a tiefling. She stepped forward.

"Business. We're here for business. We wish to speak with Fair Isa. Could you direct us?"

Holy crap our party is pathetic when it comes to charisma and diplomacy. We're worse than the Guardians of the Galaxy. This campaign is going to be HILARIOUS.

EDIT: I keep forgetting about Verdun, since he doesn't have an actual sheet. With a charisma of 16 and of human race he probably needs to be the party face in most situations.

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge ground his teeth uneasily, but stayed silent. Thus merry band of adventurers seemed to like him, at least mostly, but he had always had a hard time of making friends who didn't need anything broken.

It seems to him that he was only likable once people really got to know him. It was better if they did that after they decided they already liked his friends. Silence was his best tool here.

[DoctorGlock]

Verdun replied to Vice glower with his usual ****-eating grin.

'Not gonna bring me down... see, I've got funding, and a backer, and oh-so-much to tell you all,' he turned to Rachana, grin even wider, if it were so possible, as he returned the embrace. 'And you can't wait to see my newest toy. I sure hope your source is right though, because I have something absolutely incredible planned!' he continued excitedly. Looking back to Drudge he said 'putting up with all my measurements and prodding paid off. You're gonna love this, I guarantee it. But yeah, not if some other bugger snipes our contract!' he says as he practically skips into the bar after Rachana.

Still, best to let them do the talking.

See, I have the charisma, but without having any social skill on the artificer list I couldn't do squat, otherwise I'd have taken it for contract negotiation. Nothing, since we are 3.p, can I take diplomacy but not up to the normal lvl+3 kind of like how PF does it?

[gr8artist]

"Calls me a devil, but don't take to his own kin bein' called toys." Vice pushed the thoughts from his mind as Rachana chided him again. "If I'd known we're gettin' a' job here, I wouldna' been drinkin'. I thought we was walkin' ta' tha' job from here. If ya' don't want tha' gang ta' drink, don't decide we shoulda' met up at a pub." He slammed the rest of the drink down in a single gulp, crumpled the damaged cup in the palm of his hand. He dropped a silver piece, and the copper Rachana had given him, into the folds as a present for whoever found it, and cast the wadded ball of tin as far away as he could manage, aiming at the lower terraces. If there was a fine for littering, he'd pay it without incident, but right now throwing something, and throwing it hard, seemed like the best course of action at this moment. He'd take up an argument about the cost of his cup when Rachana had earned her money from this upcoming "job".
Everyone else was apparently concerned with getting the money from the job, but Vice had more gold than he needed, and nobody'd mentioned anything evil waiting on the other side of the task, but he humored his friends and companions, and followed them inside. He'd been in the bar only minutes before, so he wasn't surprised or taken aback by its appearance. He spotted an unmanned flagon, and debated taking a swig just to piss of his team-mates, but decided against it. He wondered, again, why such a fancy establishment would have the troll swill quality grog he preferred, but surmised that it was likely for the benefit of Fair Isa's less respectable clientele. He took another look at the hodge-podge crew he travelled with, and smirked. They gave him all kinds of grief for the occasional drink, but they stood out nearly as much in this place as he did.
Some of the other patrons shot his group a suspicious glance, and he returned the kindness by sticking out his tongue, mocking them as a child might. The pink forks darted quickly, in much the same manner as a serpent searching for a meal, and retracted again between his lips with an audible, wet sound.
Rachana responded to the halfling's inquiry, and Vice added to the conversation quickly, "Get us some coffee, too, little man. 'Parently I'm s'posed ta' be sober right now." In truth he wasn't terribly drunk; he had an astounding resilience to anything that would make him sick, including alcohol, and despite the considerable coin he'd spent earlier that day he was only mildly buzzed at this time. He placed the request more for the discomfort it would cause his uptight companions than for any actual need of the drink.

Barby, you used "/purple" instead of "/color" in your post, which threw off the formatting. I have to resist using "/ooc" every time I use spoilers in a conversation. Also, what was the denomination of the coin you tossed me?

nothing, how much gold do you reckon Vice would have spent at the bar to get buzzed on grog?

I, also, have no idea where Navian is or what she's doing, exactly.

My Diplomacy modifier is +4, and that's with two full ranks in it. :smalleek: Out of curiosity, does anyone else have a better check? Not saying I should be the face, but simply pondering how humorous it would be if I was actually the most diplomatic character in this group.
If I don't get a chance to hurt someone each day, I start taking penalties to Diplomacy (as well as other skills) to the tune of -4 after the first day, -8 after the second, and -16 after the third. If I go more than 3 days without hurting something, then my Diplomacy checks drop so low that they're effectively impossible to use.
So yeah... not talking to NPC's is my primary strategy as well.

[nothingforyou]

The Shining Beam Inn

Most of the aristocrats looked to be various politicians, military leaders, and financiers. One certain table, however, were four aristocrats discussing Merrix d'Cannith in hushed tones. Rachana could not catch the rest of their conversation.

The Shining Beam Inn was a name familiar with Rachana. Its proprietor was 'Fair' Isa, formerly Isa 'Blade-in-the-Dark'. She was a well-known name in noble circles, having started out in the Karrnath military's special services. Few to none knew exactly what she did during her service, or why she left, but eventually she moved to Sharn and opened a bakery in Silvergate. Over time, the bakery expanded into a restaurant, and then an inn, and then developed a reputation on its own for quality.

However, it became clear to the members of high politics that Isa was no slouch when it came to shadow games. King Boranel eventually hired Isa for gods know what. Soon, Isa was once again a name in circles of intrigue. She was said to have contacts in every court and house across not just Khorvaire, but the whole world of Eberron.

Isa was reputed for her good will to others and her principled behavior, surprising traits for someone in her line of work.

Nonetheless, to the common man and woman Isa was merely a business owner. Few knew she was involved in anything beyond her inn.
Jerod said, "But of course, madame. Mistress Isa is in the backroom." Jerod indicated a door to the side. "Turn right at the hallway, it should be the third office to your left."

Turning to Vice, Jerod said, "Yes, of course, sir. Since you are here on business, the coffee will be on the house. Please enjoy your visit."

[Barbarian MD]

Cost of a cup is 1 gp, so let's say a copper piece just to irk him. Thanks for the heads up about the color.

Rachana thanks the man. She grudgingly waits for the coffee, though she doesn't touch the stuff herself; this whole business has her suddenly on edge. The promise of gold, though, is enough to keep her moving forward, though gods knew what the job was going to be to merit such a reward.

Down the hallway, third door on the left, she knocks.

[Previously]
Verdun's excitement is enough to pique Rachana's interest. "As soon as we're done here, I want to hear all about it.

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge began moving towards the backroom, when he realized he had already forgotten the way. Instead he turned around to face his companions, only to realize Rachana had head off in another direction.

Drudge was mildly suprised to find the man offer him a coffee along with Vice. He was certain coffee was a type of drug, and thus he would not be affected by it. But perhaps he was draconic enough that the man mistook him for a dragonkin. Thank you. He said to the man before draining the cup down his metalic gullet.

When they were down the hall a bit, he quarried Davkhur, This coffee does nothing to you, either, correct? But it does have a satisfying warmth, and a pleasing aroma. Vice, how does ingesting drugs reduce the effects of alcohol?

[Jeff the Green]

"It doesn't," Davkhur responds, then strokes his chin. "Actually, that's the answer to your other question as well. It seems like it does, but I made an ass of myself enough times when my heart was still beating to know the straight of it. I suppose since Rachana's already knocked we'd best catch up. Lord knows I'd never offend the woman, but I doubt she'll be any better at negotiating the deal on her own than a drunk tiefling berzerker." With the sort of grace displayed by few who had seen more than a century, he slinks up beside Rachana and checks himself for smudges in the same way someone with more conventional sartorial tastes might check for lint before an important meeting.

[gr8artist]

Vice took the coffee and made a great show in the drinking of it, before catching up to the others with a hint of annoyance. "Soddin' brew's bitter'r than the damned grog. Does tha' trick though, I'll give 'em that... In answer ta' ya' question, Drudge, coffee ain't a drug so much as tha' gods' gift ta' tha' weak 'n weary. It wakes ya' up when yer feelin' tired 'r unfocused, puts a lil' spring in ya' step. Yer right, though, if eatin' 'n drinkin' don't do nothin' for ya', then the bitterbrew ain't gonna' neither."
Vice waited in the hallway with the others, idly scratching his left arm. The barbs and the metal were pinching and pulling at his flesh, beneath the long woolen sleeve he wore, and he stretched his shoulder out to ease the discomfort. He wasn't a full-blooded kyton like his father - thank Raga - but the hellspawned blood that coursed through his veins allowed him to bond with the weapons of his childhood. He'd have cast the iron chains away in favor of a longsword or axe, but he'd never taken to the blades like he had the chains. He had an intuitive understanding of the way the metal moved and flowed, and at times he felt as though the hooked chain he used was an extension of his own arm. At least there was a little solace in the irony, hunting devils with a hellforged weapon.
His itch satisfied, he was prompted to adjust his pack and the shield he carried upon his back. It took little more than a moment to redistribute their weight, and he straightened himself when he was done. Heaven forbid he wasn't the epitome of professionalism when the sodding door finally opened. His mates would never let him live it down if he blew this job opportunity for them.

[nothingforyou]

The Shining Beam Inn

Drinks delivered, Jerod excused himself to attend to other guests.

The coffee was dark, without sweetener or milk added, and had a clean and sharp aroma bringing to mind the careful artisanship behind its preparation.

The door to the back open, the party proceeded through.

The Office

Navian's location being a mystery, I will point out that her crystal ball scrying fails to penetrate the office's magical defenses.
Isa was a woman hunched over a desk writing on official-looking documents with an ink pen and an abacus. She worked quickly but methodically, calculating numbers, drawing diagrams, and jotting down equations. By the side of her desk was a rapier gleaming in the sunlight streaming from the windows.

Isa herself dressed plainly. Working clothes, like a workingwoman from the Twelve Pillars who lived in Kenton: A simple but professional presentation.

Upon the arrival of the party, Isa looked up from her table and at the new entrants. She put her quill to the side and spoke.

"I hope you didn't use the front door," she said, "if you are here on secretive business; House Cannith likely saw you on your way in. Well, what do you want?"

[darklink_shadow]

How interesting. I learn so much from the trees, and the wyld spirits, and yet there is so much I do not know. But, I suppose I have an eternity left to discover the rest, and only moments before Rachana makes my eternity a little shorter than expected.

Drudge shuffles after Davkhur, resting a hand on Vice's should when he stops, but after a moment he pats the devilkin once. His eyes never leave the fave of the woman however. Something about her reminds the draconian golem about a certain sweet smiling girl, with poisoned darts; he wondered briefly if he'd sweat, if he were able. We did use the front door... Drudge said, surprising himself a little.

His head lowered slightly, but he kept his eyes on target. I don't think the ad... er, well I don't remember it saying anything about...

Drudge felt himself floundering, and decided to clamp his mouth shut and let someone else talk.

[Jeff the Green]

"No, nothing secret," Davkhur steps in with his 'negotiating voice'—smooth and pleasant and utterly bland. "We were just told you were the woman to talk to about something Sovir wanted done and would pay for."

[nothingforyou]

The Office

"I see," said Isa. "Excuse my misunderstanding. If you are here for the job, you must first demonstrate your abilities to me; neither the wizard nor I will be sending others to their deaths. I have a test in mind. Out in the dining hall are four of House Cannith. Something is troubling them, and I would like to know what it is. But you must not harm them, and I ask you do not cause a commotion, since the other guests have a right to dine in peace.

"But that's not all. I don't want Cannith to know that I know about them. Unfortunately, they have seen you lot enter the back to speak with me. No doubt if you approached them directly, they would have suspicions. Thus, your task is as follows: To discover what issues occupy their thoughts, and to do so without letting slip that I'm involved.

"Compared to the job you are signing up for, this should be trivial."

[Jeff the Green]

"Well, yes, it sounds so," Davkhur responds glibly. "Would you entertain a few questions about them, though, so we can target our efforts? Do you know their names? Their position within the House? Their general capabilities? What general category of things they might be interested in knowing?"

[gr8artist]

Vice sneered at the woman's request. Spying on some boring aristocrats did not seem like the kind of work he'd signed on for. The only option that came to mind was going back in the other room and finding some menial task to perform, as if he'd been hired to bus tables or somesuch, and hopefully overhear a conversation or two. That idea quickly fell from grace when he realized that no one in an establishment like this would hire anyone like him for a front-of-house position. No, he'd need another ploy. Drunken customer? He smirked at the thought, and knew that he could probably handle a few more tankards before getting too drunk to stand upright, but it'd be fun to try. His performance skills were terrible, though; he'd never been able to fake or mimic an activity before.
In the end, he opted to wait and see what course of action his team-mates preferred, and hope that he could assist them in their task.

[darklink_shadow]

Hesitant to do much of anything, Drudge left the room, and thought to himself, hoping to prose at that voice that sometimes spoke to them.

<Did you hear our task? I'm not sure I can be of any use.>

[nothingforyou]

The Office

"I've only just seen them," said Isa. "I don't know who they are. They can't be in upper management, otherwise I'd recognize them. They might not even know anything interesting or useful. The point of this is not them, it's to see how discrete you can be. Also, a lesser priority is that I want to satisfy my curiosity; they've been acting abnormal for the past few weeks now. I could probably live without knowing, but I still try to know as much as possible."

[Jeff the Green]

"Sounds manageable enough," Davkhur says. "I'll need a few minutes and a clear patch of floor out of sight. Could you possibly describe them so we know who we're after?" He taps his chin and adds, almost as an afterthought, "Oh, do you serve a drink that is particularly strong but rather vile-tasting? Or at least one that is very much an acquired taste?"

[Barbarian MD]

"I did overhear the name Merrix d'Cannith as we were walking in, though they were speaking too quietly to make out any more detail. I imagine we can learn more, though it strikes me as odd that you haven't already had one of your own, like the man at the door, listen in," she says with a knowing smile. "Do you by any chance have crawl space above the common room or under the floor from which one could listen in on conversations?

"Is there a private room that we may discuss a plan, so as to not trouble you any further?" she asks once the others have finished asking questions.

Once they are alone, she listens to the others' plans and offers her own suggestion. "I can listen undetected for perhaps three minutes. If we were to obtain a table a few tables away, I might be able to slip over at intervals and listen in. Vice might prove a good distraction. We will need to discuss business of another matter, to maintain the deception, however. Perhaps you might share your recent work with us over a drink while we are about our task, Verdun?"

I'm all ears for ideas. I don't have much to offer aside from Ninja Vanishing Trick.

[DoctorGlock]

Verdun grins. Or perhaps more accurately grins wider, as that damnable smirk never vanished from his face in the first place.

'I may be able to kill two birds with one stone,' he practically purrs, the telltale smug that comes with one of Verdun's patented 'ideas'. 'I suspect half the test here is finding my fine fellows, so I suspect I can lure them out and find out what's what in one fell swoop, and my most recent project makes just the lure we need. Find us a table where everyone can overhear us and the two of us will loudly catch up on old times, and I suspect our friends will come to us, rather than the other way around.'

[Barbarian MD]

"I already identified them as we came in. Their dress was distinctive."

My previous knowledge check told me about the guests in the common area.

[Jeff the Green]

Davkhur has to force himself not to smack his forehead with the heel of his palm. This, he thinks, this is why I should do the planning, and not wool-for-brains tinkerers.

He's a bit more diplomatic when he speaks. "Perhaps you didn't understand the fair Isa. They saw us come in and know we've spoken to her. Your House is not so overcome by brotherly love that they would not expect you to be playing them for fools." He pauses for emphasis. "Which is what you apparently plan to do. It will take more than a couple scrolls making you more charming for them to give up what they're doing. It would take true mind magic, and if we want to go that route I have a spell that's somewhat more direct."

[DoctorGlock]

'I wasn't planning on appealing to any sense of brotherly love, old friend, only greed and politics. Let's hear your plan-- preferably one that doesn't involve committing assault, murder and cannibalism all in one place.'

Eh, I thought we were a tad more discreet than that?

[Jeff the Green]

Davkhur is genuinely shocked and more than a little disturbed at Verdun's suggestion. Yes, he had that particular spell in his arsenal, but why would anyone think that anyone might consider that the first choice?

"I was thinking more of plucking the information from their minds," he explains. "In a metaphysical sense, that is, not an illithid one. I can make even the sharpest eye believe I'm doing nothing more offensive than flavoring an over-strong drink while I'm actually dipping into your cousins' minds and drinking deep. That way they can't associate the attack with our potential employer.

"Again, despite the metaphor," he explains wearily, "I do not intend to eat anyone's brains. My heart may not beat but my tongue and gag reflex work perfectly well and I'd sooner spare them the insult."

[nothingforyou]

The Office

"Feel free to use any of the rooms here," said Isa. "We do not have crawl space. As for drinks, you can always mix a disgusting combination of rum and cooking oil."

[Navian]

The first time I wrote my first post the internet ate it, there was more environmental information in that one. But it's worth noting that it's late afternoon where she is, and midday where the rest of the party is. They're pretty far apart, no matter how you look at it. She's only ever communicated with anyone in the party through telepathy..

Navian tapped the sphere several times as the party filtered into the office. Every view went blank, a spiral twisted into grey nothingness, the view useless, the connection non-functional. This was a rare and irritating occurrence, and for a first, every one of her charges was unreachable at the same time. It was difficult to relax; for all she knew a massacre was going on behind that door, and regardless of who started it, it would be very difficult to explain to her grandmother.

For some moments, she continued her vigil, finding nothing. Her gaze drifted to the window... most conveniently, it was officially tea-time. She stood up suddenly, and struck out into the hall, immediately opening the door to the main room of her little chapel. Work areas were in the wing opposite the living quarters. Inconvenient, but perhaps understandable, especially for those with a distrust for magic. At least the building was small, there were a total of seven usable rooms, and likely a few more that remained inaccessible.

The most difficult part of the journey was to cross the main hall. No one was there, of course, but there was a substantial hole in the south corner, which made for some fearsome drafts, even with the sky a clear blue outside. The play of light through the rubble was very pretty, at times, but at the moment it was largely illuminating what appeared to be a statue of her grandmother, as tall as the walls, and with a wingspan so great that the wings had to curl forward a quarter of the way down the exterior walls to fit within the breadth of the room.

At first sight it was impressive, and many found its kind and motherly pose to be comforting, but Navian always found it a bit suffocating. When the catapults had destroyed the south corner of the room, they had also broken part of the left wing. To Navian's dismay, while this had made the room's atmosphere considerably less stifling, it has also compounded the sense that the stones were alive, and that no one not born here belonged here. Worse, it felt like the 'statue' knew everything, including the nature of its injury, and did not mind overmuch, as it had agreed to be sealed here for the good of all.

Navian knew some of the story. This was not a statue carved from stone, but had been carved from some of the deepest heartwood of the world's greatest tree. It had been animated, and almost made flesh by a mortal work of magic that bordered on the divine. After her grandfather's rival in love found that he'd lost the contest, he set out to create a perfect replica of his beloved by any means necessary. He had almost succeeded, and he also almost doomed the plane in his effort to gather sufficiently potent tools and materials.

The result of his efforts had been emplaced as the centerpiece of the lonely, abandoned chapel that would later become Navian's home, and had remained here, in petrified silence, for almost fifty years. Navian knew this place held too many secrets, and briskly entered the northeast wing to obtain that hot cup of tea she was after. At least her husband knew how and where to shop for good tea. The common sort available here simply wouldn't be worth the trouble of brewing.

Navian returned to her scrying chamber a few minutes later, and relaxed as she warmed herself. Soon, she sought to return to watching over her charges, selecting each figure to locate them how she could, listening as they discussed their new task. It seemed simple enough to ask, so she spoke to Drudge. <The office of Isa is warded. All secrets are kept from me, there. If eavesdropping is what's needed, I may be able to help, for fairly obvious reason. Describe them to me, and tell me what you must learn, and I will attempt to surveil them. They may resist or be warded, however.>

Assuming Navian can help in this way at all, I'd estimate the Will save DC for someone she only has second-hand information about to resist scrying is around 15. It could be as low as 11, but it's up to you, since it's determined by the device. (I've been assuming that the other party members waive their saving throws every time Navian attempts to scry on them, since otherwise it would get pretty aggravating.)

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge moved over to Rachana, placing a clawed hand on her shoulder. The voice wants to know who we are looking for. Think to her, if you would. I have little certainty but you seem to be rather sure. Alert me if anything needs breaking. I am not made for tasks like this. I'm confident in the abilities of this party, however.

Drudge set his gaze to each party member, and then crossed his six arms and leaned against a wall, wings tucked back. His eyes slide shut.

[DoctorGlock]

Verdun shrugs, grin dropping for the first time since they were reacquainted. 'Look Davkhur, you think you can pull it off, go for it. But they get wind of what you're up to and I can already hear all that gold just rolling away, and since everyone and their mother knows a magic trick or two... well, I've never been a gambling man. Best grifts got two people, you want to be the knife, let some of us be the distraction. Skew the odds best we can. How do you want to play this?'

[Navian]

With a few more taps of her fingers, Navian refocused on Rachana. <I cannot read thoughts that are not projected in response to my hails, but hail to thee. All is well, I hope. I cannot see nor hear into 'Fair' Isa's office. As I was saying to Drudge, I may be able to help if eavesdropping is required--for fairly obvious reason. I only need their description to make the attempt, though it may be difficult to scry on such strangers.>

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge growls to himself and then lurches forward. You two argue any louder, and we might as well ask if our host needs any more busboys. Davkhur, we have another, unseen ally. I would have thought you clever enough to employ her first.

Drudge advanced on the undead's slowly, but not threateningly. Or perhaps you merely forgot she existed. Or perhaps you do not trust her yet? Regardless, it would be folly of us to bicker like... cats? However the saying goes. He chided hotly, but with his voice low.

Drudge turned to glare at the tinkerer, And you. I think your plan alone is folly. Just announce loudly about some great invention after we have left the warded room of their enemy? Better that we jingle some coin cheerfully, and let them suspect we have returned from turning in an assignment. Let them hear of your invention that is not yet ready, and have Rachana beg to see your prototype whilst another insists you keep it down. Then you leave to show her. It's not much better of a plan, but it's less obvious. I would only consider that plan C, but I think we are lacking in a good plan B. But... still, I wonder what massive flaw there is in my plan to employ the Voice, when neither of you suggest it. It seems doubtful that the both of you would overlook it. Any hostile inflection he spared the glowing deadman, he spared too the tinkerer, but his voice took on the quality of steel scraping dragonhide.

Drudge ground his adamantine teeth, and then slid his eyes away from them. His voice lowered further, all traces of frustration had left him, and his tone sounded more bored than anything. It was clear he was annoyed to be given a task he was so absurdly bad at. No, perhaps that is the right of it? There is a flaw in that plan isn't there. But I still think your tones could use some softening, lest they carry too far.

[Jeff the Green]

Davkhur grits his teeth at Drudge's suggestion. "No, I simply have a far more... restricted definition of ally than you," he explains. "One that doesn't include people who spy on me.

"In any case, I can do exactly the same thing as her. I doubt it will do much good, though. I somewhat doubt they'll talk about why they're here while they're here, and we can't even really expect they'll talk about it any time soon, either.

"In any case, I should get to the library." He rolls out a piece of black cloth that he pulls from his satchel and climbs into it.

[gr8artist]

Vice at least knew when to keep his mouth shut. Subtlety was not his strong suit, so he waited to see what plans the others came up with. Almost all of them seemed perfectly reasonable, until shot down by another... he had no head for rogues' tricks.
"Let me know how I can help, 'r else I'll just get another flagon o' grog and strike up conversation wit' each patron in the place. When I 'ventually get 'round ta' the Canniths, it won't seem 'spicious or out o' place."

[Navian]

Navian ran her palm slowly down her face as she listened to the voices floating in from the edge of the view she had of Rachana, before finally shaking her head, and attempting to refocus on Davkhur's image, despite his resentment. Tap, tap, tap. She picked up her tea mug and sipped on it, as she sought to think at him.

<Do what you have to do, Davhkur, but mind that a spy is one who secretly collects and reports information. Being quite upfront, I do neither, and if I were ever in a position where I did have to report what became of you, you would no longer be in a position to complain, and I would be very embarassed. I am here to help; I fail if you do.>

Rachana would know when the telepathic connection was broken. That goes for anyone else, when Navian shifts focus away from them.

[Jeff the Green]

"So if I'd just told the girls I was going to be watching them shower my father wouldn't have punished me?" Davkhur asks aloud as he descends the ladder to his library.

[Navian]

<Oh, indeed. Surely you were just keeping them safe,> comes Navian's wry response. She goes on dryly as Davkhur vanishes inside, <I doubt I'd watch you shower, even if ordered to do so by a divine avatar in poetic verse.>

With Davkhur inside, she returns to watching the others. It was true this task was not without its amusements, but it was still a trying one. There was only one man she wanted to see in the shower, and she would much, much rather be in that same shower than sitting here. She wondered where he was now. Riding a giant eagle across the world? Bartering for extraplanar artifacts in some exotic market? Pretending to snore, underneath a great oak tree? He wasn't predictable, but that was all part of the allure.

The distraction lasted a few moments, as she stared at the wall. There really should be a tapestry there, came an idle thought about it. I'll have to ask his mother for one.

[darklink_shadow]

Which... girls? Drudge asked, frowning. He didn't recall any girls showering.

Looking down into the library, he hummed his indecision before grunting and turning away from it. As much as he liked the library, Drudge decided the owner might want to be alone.

He considered following Vice, knowing that someone should keep him out of trouble, but he decided that perhaps Vice too would be irked by the metalic presence of a warforged. Instead he stood beside the pit, irked. Well, someone do it. As smart and crafty as you all are, I'm sure you figure out something. I hate this task.

[Jeff the Green]

"Before your time, Drudge," Davkhur calls from below. He grabs a fist-sized crystal currently acting as a bookend and brings it up one level to where he has set up a comfortable chair for reading. It takes him a few moments to call up his focus, but then he begins concentrating. The crystal's colors blossom and wilt and billow, and upon one face appear arcane symbols. They change rapidly as Davkhur makes page-turning motions in the air above it, the colors reflecting off what portion of his face isn't painted.

After quarter-hour of study Davkhur calls back up to the group. "I'm done," he announces as he climbs the ladder back up. "Do we want to try listening in before my magic? I don't imagine it will hurt."

[Barbarian MD]

As requested previously, Rachana stands stone still and concentrates. The four men at the table resolve from the mists of her mind, and she focuses to hold their images clearly behind her eyes. Little details, the fabric of one man's outfit, the crooked grin of another, the way the taller of the men held himself, all take shape as she remembers the little details.

"How's that?" she asks the voice.

[DoctorGlock]

'Personally or via our favorite voyeur?' Verdun responds with a raised eyebrow.

[Jeff the Green]

"Personally," Davkhur responds automatically.

[DoctorGlock]

'Got a spell for that or should I?' Verdun replies, palming a brass cartridge from one of his many pockets. 'Unless you mean the old fashioned way?'

[Jeff the Green]

"Both," replies Davkhur. "Or rather, one if the other fails. If Rachana could listen unseen and hear what they want, that would be best. Otherwise, I can listen or peer into their minds."

Specifically, I have two detect thoughts prepared and one spymaster's coin. I can also prepare scrying or clairaudience/clairvoyance.

[DoctorGlock]

'Ok, here's my idea. Vice and I take that table across from our friends to catch up on old times. Vice is pretty noticeable, so they won't have a chance to notice Rachana moving into position. That way both our groups can eavesdrop while you give their brains a good working over. All that fails, tell our eye in the sky to let me and Vice know-- he'll coincidentally notice a group of my fellow housemen behind me and I'll play mr charming and just ask. Then you hit them with the brain drain again, because whether they answer or not you can bet they'll damn well think it.' Verdun glowers. 'And if that fails we'll have Drudge beat the answers out of 'em'

[Jeff the Green]

"That would almost certainly tip them off to the fact that we're working for Fair Isa, or at least make them suspicious," Davkhur explains in his 'patient' voice. "We'd have to make such a prospect extremely unlikely for it to work.

"How do you feel about being thrown out?"

[DoctorGlock]

"That would almost certainly tip them off to the fact that we're working for Fair Isa, or at least make them suspicious," Davkhur explains in his 'patient' voice. "We'd have to make such a prospect extremely unlikely for it to work.

"How do you feel about being thrown out?"

'I suspect our patron gets many visitors over the course of a day, who often retire to the main venue to eat and chat... but I'm listening, what do you have in mind?'

[Navian]

I think telepathy in D&D is voice-only, but we don't need to go into all that. A description's a description.Navian listens to Rachana, and gently directs her toward a description of one target, before deactivating the crystal ball. She pauses a moment to recall a procedure she had not used in months--not since the before the device was left in her hands--before setting both hands to hold the ball--no 'tap, tap' this time--and concentrating on the described man, willing it to show him and his environs.
This is where you get to tell me if it works, and how. This boils down to trying to use it as an ordinary, unaugmented crystal ball, like it is when in Erin's possession, rather than the fancy device that her grandmother set up for her to observe the PCs with.
If it fails, she might try a couple more times, with more help from Rachana, targeting the other men in the group, depending on how it fails. Davkhur's gone for fifteen minutes, so the rest of the party, Navian and Rachana included, have that much free time to experiment.

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge perks up at the mention of his name, but he realizes it was a joke. Glancing around he mused aloud. If I hit them enough, they could get brain damage and not remember the interrogation. I'm sure that would go over well.

[nothingforyou]

The Shining Beam Inn

Fuzzy images and distorted sounds projected from within Navian's crystal ball. They quickly resolved into a recognizable scene: the dining hall of the Shining Beam Inn. The four Cannith members sat around a table, their conversation revealed through the crystal ball's magic.

"As best as I can tell, nobody knows anything we don't," whispered one. "Although I should probably halt my inquiries at present, otherwise Merrix will be suspicious."

"What have you done with your adepts?" whispered another.

"Guarding my residence. You?"

"The same. Though, I wonder: If Merrix asked them to kill me, where would their loyalties lie?"

"I wouldn't risk it," whispered a third Cannith member. "Send them to our enclave in the Dragon Towers. Tell them nothing."

"Or," whispered the fourth, "have them sow dissent. They aren't likely any happier about recent events than we are. Their loyalties to Merrix will crumble in time."

The first to speak scowled. "Do not underestimate Merrix. For my part, I will keep them around, as I expect that attempts from my life will come by means of assassin, not through a petty coup of sorts. By tomorrow I depart by rail for Fairhaven. I shall pledge my allegiance to the true heir, Baron Jorlanna!"

"Keep your voice down. If an agent of Merrix hears..."

"He will have to wait. Starting a fight under Isa's watchful eye is foolhardy."

"Maybe we should ask for her help?"

"Maybe she works for Merrix?"

There was silence. The four Cannith members absentmindedly stirred their cups of tea and chewed on their biscuits. For a few moments they sat in wordless contemplation. Eventually, one of them spoke.

"If we convince Baron Jorlanna to come, Cannith South will fall and swear their loyalty to her. Merrix will be on the run, and then we can see what reasoning lies behind his madness in the Forgehold. What is she like?"

"Jorlanna? She is beautiful, prideful, and diplomatic. She also lacks discretion, and seems to always be juggling easily-avoided controversies. But she has the strongest claim on the Cannith name. And after recent events, she's more likely now than Merrix to make good on that claim."

"Then let us go," said one of the members. "We cannot tarry any longer. I will be headed home, and tomorrow I depart for Fairhaven. And you?"

"I'm convinced by your arguments. I'll be headed to Fairhaven today, bringing only what is minimally necessary. Sharn is no longer the safe home I thought it was."

"I, for one, will stay and be your friend inside Cannith South's enclave. Should you need one. My loyalties are to Jorlanna. Please let the Baroness know this."

"I as well will stay. Good travels, old friends. This may be the last time we meet. Waiter! Bring us your finest wine."

A crystal flask of golden liquid was divided amongst the friends, consumed rapidly, and then they departed without a further word, leaving the Shining Beam Inn.

[Navian]

Navian concentrates and listens carefully to the whispering men, and slumps back in her chair for a moment as they drift away, ceasing their conversation. After a moment, and with a sly glance toward the fading sun, she reaches out to contact Rachana again.

Whoever was responsible for carving the graven images on the table had an amusing artistic sense. Of the five ranging from right to left, there was Verdun, shouting and brandishing his wands from atop some sort of war turtle, Vice, yelling and brandishing his chain and demon-faced shield, Davhkur, glaring and brandishing his staff and spellbook, Rachana standing quietly with her hands in her silks, and finally, Drudge, roaring and brandishing his many arms.
Curious indeed.

Navian wondered how she would have been rendered, in the final space opposite from where she was seated. With or without wings? Her husband, at least, was intolerant of most artwork depicting her where her wings were not shown, though he agreed it was not wise to spend thousands on a trip to Zachozgia to restore them in reality, or to pay hundreds of gold every week just to keep them from rotting and making her ill again. They would never be functional, in any case. At least, not for practical purposes. Her husband had more imagination than she did.

For now, Rachana's image was illuminated by a violet glow, and she appeared to Navian, who willed they make contact. <Thank you for assisting me, you likely know by now, they've departed. The main thing I learned was of this Merrix, Merrix, Merrix--the name is constantly on their lips. They seem very afraid of him. Afraid that his agents will hear them, afraid that he'll kill them or order their servants to do so, afraid that Fair Isa may work for him. They would like Isa's help if it's safe to ask for it.

<They are all loyal to a Baron Jorlanna, it seems. Half will go to her in Fairhaven, half will stay and hold out for her arrival. They believe she may be able to defeat this Merrix, politically. They referred to some 'madness in the Forgehold' Merrix may be responsible for. This is what I've gathered.>

[Barbarian MD]

"Thank you, dear. That was excellently done."

Rachana passes Navian's message along to the others. "Shall we go back to Fair Isa and report?"

[darklink_shadow]

The news that it was over with was pleasing to his ears, and so Drudge rumbled with a chuckle. Craven members of a house so divided. Then again...

Drudge recalled that his people, too, were divided. But they weren't divided over who should rule, instead they were divided about whether or not they should be friends with the fleshlings. The Lord of Blades would have war with House Cannith until no more marks of making existed in this world. Perhaps even then, he'd still war with humans.

The more conservative, and much more popular idea had always been to forgive but not forget the sins of House Cannith. They suffered plenty for their sins now. Though some less than others. Drudge agreed with this philosophy, he even adventured with an artificer with ties to that reviled house. But by and large, Drudge made no secret that he only trusted Verdun as an except to the rule that House Cannith was not very trustworthy.

[DoctorGlock]

Verdun looked at Davkur, shrugged, and made to follow Rachana.

[gr8artist]

Vice was relieved that the task was now behind them. They were one step closer to accepting the mysterious job, which would hopefully take them far from this upper terrace and the curious prying eyes of the commonfolk. For a moment he considered taking regret at his lack of participation, but he knew how ill suited he would have been at the task, and so he instead assured himself that his contributions in future tasks would be of considerable worth. He might not be suited to the task they'd completed, but as soon as their mission afforded an opportunity for combat, or the forced compliance of wicked men, he would eagerly leap to the forefront and prove his value to his team-mates.

[nothingforyou]

The Office

"Done so fast?" said Isa. She quickly flashed a smile of approval. "I am impressed. You have completed the task faster than I could have. Faster than I could have imagined. Might I ask how you did so?"

[Navian]

Navian offers Davhkur one last piece of information. <They were here to gather information, though it seems they did not learn anything they did not know already. As for what information, my best guess would be 'about Merrix'.> Once they returned to the office, it would be time to do idle chores... cleaning and dusting, and bringing candles. It was quite safe to stay up past midnight, she'd still have the morning to herself until dawn.

[Barbarian MD]

"We only just met," Rachana demurred. "But perhaps as our working relationship grows and a mutual level of trust develops..."

"So, what is the job?"

[nothingforyou]

The Office

I assume you shared the information gathered?

"This quarrel within Cannith is interesting!" said Isa. "Beyond what I expected. In any case, your tests have not finished yet. You lot don't look weak, but making sure you don't die on the job is my responsibility. Here is your next task. Down in the Sewers are a gang known as the Jackals, who have preyed violently on passerbys for far too long. The Watch wants their heads, but is unwilling to shell out the coin to hire competent specialists to do so. The leader goes by Hassht; she is a shifter.

"Oh, and here's fifty platinum for a job well done. The reward is not really commensurate with the task, but consider the sum to include the trouble of undergoing these tests."

A heavy bag of coins was thrown upon the table.

[Barbarian MD]

"I'm sure the sewers are a big place. Which parts, and where would be the best place to enter from? Do you know how many there are, or what sort we might expect out of them? Are you aware of any ways to get them out without resorting to violence?"

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge picked up the sack of coins, and placed it lazily into his bag. I am quite certain there is no way to talk a man's head off. If we want to find the Jackals, any street urchin will know how to avoid them, which means they know how to find them. We shouldn't bother the lady with questions beneath her station, that we can so easily buy for a copper in the streets.

[gr8artist]

A wicked grin crept across Vice's lips as he heard the news. He'd been eager to crack some skulls, and this sewer-dwelling criminal organization seemed like exactly the kind of opportunity he needed. He thought the reward was to be given after the completion of the second test, but Drudge apparently had understood it different, and Vice didn't feel the need to ask for confirmation. The second task, to him, seemed simpler than the first, and he had no doubt that it would be accomplished easily within an hour or two. Common ruffians rarely took more than a few blows before crumpling like a sand-castle, and he had no doubt that the scoundrels hiding in the tunnels below would fare any better.
Rachana's query pulled him from his gleeful thoughts, and he was glad that she at least was thinking ahead. He didn't have the patience to search each tunnel and offshoot, so getting a better direction before heading down would save some time and help him get to the fun part more quickly. He felt that she inquired about non-violent options only to be more prepared; knowing her, she'd likely prefer the violent solution anyway. Still, his other team-mates might want the second quest to be more like the first, and he could not fault them in this. He would have liked the first test to be more like the second, after all.
Drudge, as expected, seemed to be of a similar mind with Vice, eager to solve a problem with his fists... or claws, in Drudge's case.
"Isa, if you know tha' answer ta' Rachana's questions, we'd 'ppreciate your response. If ya' don't, or don' feel like ans'rin for whate'er reason, I'm sure we can find 'em on our own."
His oath required him to offer life in prison to those that would otherwise be slain, but that was a concern for later. First came finding the Jackals. Second would be the justice they'd receive.
He subconsciously scratched his left arm with anticipation, flexing muscles mortal men did not possess, and pulling the chain into a tighter spiral.

[nothingforyou]

The Office

"The sewers are large," said Isa, "but there is only one contiguous region known as the Sewer down in the Cogs. There are too many Jackals to run around massacring, but killing or capturing their leader Hassht is a good start, and really all I require. I don't know where you might find her, so consider it a part of your test to find out yourselves! There are many gangs down there, so be sure that you have the right one. I do not care how you handle this, just that you demonstrate yourself to be more competent than the Watch."

[darklink_shadow]

You said the watch wanted her head. Should we deliver it to your men or directly to the Watch?

Drudge noticed Vice's anticipation, and felt his own eagerness rise. Cracking some skulls, especially the skulls of some murderous ruffians, was the sort of task for which Drudge was best equipped. And there was some pride in a job well done or a skull well cracked. And he was much happier at the prospects of being useful.

[nothingforyou]

The Office

"To the Watch, please. I can't have customers seeing dead bodies..."

[DoctorGlock]

'As an aside,' Verdun says, after thinking for a moment, 'what would you say is the largest point of access to the sewer ways?'

[Jeff the Green]

"That's not an aside," Davkhur says acidly. He has remained sullenly silent throughout the meeting, unwilling to commit to information he cannot confirm. Or possibly unwilling to commit to information from someone he dislikes. "That is in fact a rather central question."

[nothingforyou]

The Office

"There are paths to the Purification Chambers in the Sewers from any of the districts in Tavick's Landing. These are your safest bets, as they are patrolled by guards. Once you enter the Sewers proper, you will only find guards in the Chambers. Elsewhere you will have to fend for yourselves. There are also more discreet entrances by Ashblack or Blackbones. Or any area in the Cogs, really; their infrastructure is only supported by the Council on the basis of necessity.

"Anyone who lives down there will know how to enter the Sewers. Mainly because they want to stay away, but some of the more illicit types may even know the nuances and subtleties of the wasteway paths. It's not hard to find, I have trust you will be able to do it without issue."

[gr8artist]

"While we're discussin' specifics," Vice contributed, "how we gonna' know which Jackal's Hassht? I ain't ne'er seen her face, an' while I'm confident I can pry an honest answer outta' any common thug, there's a chance we might get duped with a stand-in or fake. She got any distinguishin' features? Or will the guards know what she look like?"

[nothingforyou]

The Office

"I've never seen Hassht before either. Good luck, I suppose?"

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge grunted. Thats a good point. We can't just kill everyone. Well... that would be a lot of heads to carry to the Watch, at least.

[Jeff the Green]

"Well, you're not storing them in my libruseum," Davkhur mutters sotto voce.

"Thankfully, the same spells I was planning to use on those Canniths in the main room will work equally well on Jackals," he explains. "It'd rather difficult to avoid thinking about the answer to Vice's questioning, I should think, even if they manage to lie to us.

"I think, then, that you've answered as much as we need from you, fair Isa. We'll return when we've dropped of Hassht's head with the Watch."

[Barbarian MD]

"Perhaps we won't need to kill her..." Rachana mused.

"Shall we be going, then? Out the back entrance?"

[DoctorGlock]

'More central to me than you,' Verdun answers Davkur, mocking smile on his face. 'My, one little voyeur watches you take a dusty crap and you get so catty...'

The smile is impervious to Davkur's inevitable scowls.

'We can take the back way out, but I need to swing around the front and it is going to be bloody conspicuous anyway. From there we just need to find a sewer entrance we can drive an ox-cart through and then interview every scoundrel in the sewers looking for a murderess we have less than zero leads on, all in a day's work. Honestly, I'm partially with Drudge on this one but I assure you we are quite capable of hauling the whole lot of scalps back with us.' He sighs. 'Lets at least stop by the watch-house and get a description first.'

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge patted Verdun shoulder. I suppose it is the least the Watch could do to give us a picture of the head they want so badly. I will head to the Watch now. We are wasting time, hers, and ours. She clearly doesn't know much about the task she gave us. She knows there is a threat to be handled, and she knows we can handle it. Let's handle it.

Drudge put a claw on Vice, and offered him a wide grin. Our turn. With that he left the office.

[gr8artist]

Vice paused for a moment, before making his intentions known. "Reckon I'll follow tha' metal man, get a description o' the wench we're lookin' fer. And yeah, maybe we don't need to crack her skull open, but that don' mean for a second we can let down our guard. If she'll come 'long peacefully, I reckon we can throw her in chains and drag her topside easy enough. I 'spect her to resist, though, 'specially if she's some kinda' gang leader 'round here."
With that, he turned and followed Drudge.

[nothingforyou]

The Office

Isa returned to her work promptly without looking up again, emanating from her relaxed but firm posture a complete trust in the party's abilities.

Tavick's Landing

Tavick's Landing law enforcement had their base of operations in a massive and officious-looking building which took up several blocks. Walking from one end to the other looked like it would take a few minutes. The sharply-sculpted masonry and marblework was somewhere in-between a military fort and a bureaucrat's office. It was an imposing building, which made the watcher feel small and unimportant. Indeed, one could say it represented the strong hand of Sharn's justice: intimidating and unyielding.

Guards were posted at every entrance and corner. More guards were a part of the general incoming and outgoing traffic, armed to the teeth and carrying an air of importance. Intermingled among the crowd were civilians, likely those who had business with the law.

The party drew quite a bit of attention, and the guards looked somewhat suspicious, but their trust in the stability of the Garrison won over, and they did not harass the party. Nonetheless, civilians gave the party a wide berth. The party must have looked like criminals to them, or perhaps like dangerously unapproachable people.

Tavick's Garrison

The entrance hall of the Garrison was a busy mess of people, civilian, bureaucrat, and military alike. Not too different from Terminus Station in terms of size. The party was still nonetheless given a wide berth, even in here, which helped immensely as they did not have to push through the crowd in order to move about.

"Oy," said a sharp voice. Two guards walk up to the party, accompanied by an elderly bureaucrat. The bureaucrat was speaking. "What's the deal? You lads don't look like you're here to report some stolen trinket."

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge rumbled with mirth for a moment. I suppose not. We have lost something, though, and we were hoping you'd know where to find it.

Drudge shifted his eyes between the two guards, and smiled. His attempts at humor were more likely to come across as a threat than as the intended effect, and so he nudged Verdun, who was closest to him besides Vice. Why don't you see if these gents have spotted our quarry, eh? Middle one looks to be a smart fella.

[gr8artist]

Walking through the city, and into the crowded areas, Vice began to feel uncomfortable. After the 5th or 6th dirty look, he cursed his gathering sobriety and glanced longingly at the wild country in the distance. Towns were not a good place for him and his kind, and he wanted to be away from all the people as soon as possible. He pulled back the leather pauldron that covered his right shoulder. His holy symbol, a tatoo that burned with the intensity of a torch, immediately cast a strange glowing light on his face and arm. The light was handy for a variety of purposes, though at this time it served two... "Light" was typically a power or element associated with goodness and purity; by bearing a mark that held such power, he made himself seem more a paladin, and less a fiend. Second, the light was yet another feature added to his strangeness and standoffish demeanor, and its presence immediately informed others that he possessed uncommon powers and experience. This, in turn, made him less likely to be harassed or disturbed by common folk. Nevertheless, crowds made him uncomfortable, and it was perhaps this discomfort that made him more curt with Drudge than he needed to be, when the 'Forged's humor seemed to run amiss.
"If they'd spotted her, they'd have nicked her." Vice quipped as he arched an eyebrow at Drudge. "Keep yer talkin' simple, mate, I think you're givin' tha' guards tha' wrong idea." He turned to face the guards, a look of annoyance and impatience upon his face. "We're lookin' for tha' wench Hassht, down in tha' sew'rs. Where'd ya' advize we try searchin', and how'll we know it's her when we catch tha' old hag?"
He pulled his pauldron down as he spoke, covering the light in the absence of throngs of common folk. While it could be used as a symbol to separate himself from simpleminded and uneducated commoners, attempting to do so in the presence of a knight, aristocrat, or other community leader had often gotten him more attention than he desired.

To be clear, the tattoo doesn't have any actual crowd control or influence powers. But, it stands to reason that having a glowing/burning rune etched into your skin, or having a chain spliced into the flesh of your arm, or any other curious physical trait, could be used to subtly influence crowds of people, at least as easily as wearing a tabbard or carrying a shield of a particular order. There might not be a mechanical benefit, but there could be a social one.

[Jeff the Green]

While the two toughs visit the police, Davkhur retreats to his hole again. He spends a few minutes perusing his notes and scouring his memory, and then works on preparing a few more spells useful in combat.

Knowledge (local) for information on the Jackals, using the Tome of Worldly Memory and MW tool: [roll0].

[nothingforyou]

Tavick's Garrison

"Huh?" said the bureaucrat. "Hassht? That's not a name I've heard in a while. You lads know there's no reward for this, hmm? We don't have the time or care to deal with her kind. She stays down in the Sewers, that's her own business. So I don't know if there's any portraits of her lying about. Hmm, there's an informant down in the Cogs who knows her face, but I'd like to keep him secret, for obvious reasons. Sorry lads, don't know what you're after, but can't help you here."

Jackals is short for Red Jackals, the full name of the gang. They are a violent and chaotic group, composed mostly of shifters and half-orcs. They are distributed widely among the Sewers, and often get into fights with the other gangs in the region, such as the crafty Quiet Folk, the cunning Grave Diggers, and the ferocious Rats.

The Red Jackals are run by Hassht in a very non-traditional sense. She is merely the strongest warrior, and so the Jackals group around her. Her authority likely does not expand much further than her personal strength.

[DoctorGlock]

[roll0] diplomacy, buffed by Guidance of the Avatar

Verdun steps forward, expression on his face friendly, but serious (possibly for the first time all day). Look, it's a name you haven't heard of in a while, and too small time to really add up in the grand scheme of policing a city this size. We aint looking for a reward, strictly third party here, but I think I have a solution that will help.

'Vice here is one of those duty bound types, all gung-ho and save the innocents, uphold the law. Temporarily deputize him-- I know that law enforcement agencies can deputize people of strong moral character when necessary-- he becomes one of you, you can suddenly share that info. Drudge', he gestures to the metal man, 'and I will leave the room while you tell him and it stays watch business. When everything is done you guys get to take the credit, keep within the laws and regulation, and expend nothing but the ink used to temporarily deputize Vice. Your informant is still working with you guys, everyone goes home happy.' Verdun finishes, hands spread palm up.

[gr8artist]

"Can't say I e'er been deputized before," Vice offered with a hint of interest, "but I don' see no harm in the act. I un'erstand if'n ya don't want someone with a face 'n bloodline like mine to stay on an' join forces on a regular basis. Rest assured, I wouldna' wanna hang 'round 'ere more'n a day or two anyhow. Sign your papers, lemme take tha' oath, and let us get to work."
He chuckled for a moment. "Our other option is a lot more challenging, disruptive, showy, and will require a great deal more explaining by you an' yours. If we gotta' go down there an' bring you back the heads of e'ry wench in tha' tunnels, its gonna' be a righteous soddin' bloodbath, an' I wouldna' be surprised if'n tha' gangs got pissed and came topside to make your lives a livin' hell. So... How's it gonna' be?"

[nothingforyou]

Tavick's Garrison

Navian could not scry anything within the garrison.
"Now that I can't help you with," said the bureaucrat with a sigh. "I do appreciate that you're willing to clean up the mess at no cost to the Watch, I appreciate it very much for justice must be omnipresent, even down in the Cogs. But this is out of my authority. See, I don't know who this informant is, just that he exists. You'll want to speak to Commander ir'Talan about this, yes? She's the head of this here garrison. If she okays it, you guys can skip the red tape. Follow me, if you will."

Assuming you follow the bureaucrat.

The bureaucrat motioned the party to follow him, and proceeded to walk off into a hall adjoining the entrance. He quickly navigated the complex lattice of hallways, pushing past the crowd of law enforcers which got thinner and thinner as the group moved to less-traveled parts of the garrison.

The hallways were plain and spotless, with wood and stone walls and tiled floors. There were no windows, and brass lamps lighted the way.

There was what looked to be a massive hollow column built into the walls of one hall. Inside the column was a floating platform, and the hollow center went from the bottom floor to the topmost.

"This is a lift," said the bureaucrat. "Thank House Cannith for it! Walking up all eight floors would be impossible at my age."

There was more than enough space on the lift to hold ten people. The group stepped in, the bureaucrat pulled a lever, and immediately the platform began to ascend. The floors rushed by as the platform raced to the top.

Abruptly, the platform stopped, and the group got off at the eighth floor. The hall up here was lighted by large windows, and the walls were decorated with trophies, accolades, and murals. There were very few people about, other than some important-looking bureaucrats and battle-scarred warriors. At the end of the hall was a set of large, wooden double-doors. Two fearsome-looking guards in half-plate were posted there.

"Those doors are what you want," said the bureaucrat. "I must go now. Good luck getting the informant."

[darklink_shadow]

After grudgingly enter the lift and aggravatedly waiting for the box to rise, Drudge thanked the man with a simple nod of the head and marched towards the doors, wordlessly. He stopped and stared at the guards, letting his companions take the lead on conversation again.

Perhaps it was clear that he would have preferred the stairs to some dingy box carrying him up. With his weight, the box probably would have preferred that too.

[Barbarian MD]

Rachael follows the others silently. Being surrounded by the Watch made her nervous. She'd speak up if needed, but the boldness of the others' plan surprised and impressed her.

[DoctorGlock]

Verdun sighed. Of course it could never be easy. Gods, he was burning money here! He slipped the empty brass scroll case into a pocket and palmed another. He turned towards the paladin in the hall before they went any further.

'Ok Vice, help me out here. You have any documentation beyond that tattoo to show you are a verified evil smiting bad ass who upholds the law and doesn't fear anything? I reckon this is about to get political and I want to cover all our bases. I'll do the talking, but I need to be able to do the walking here too.'

[Barbarian MD]

Rachana continued to follow in silence, palms sweaty with tension at being even deeper in this citadel.

She grimaced at the reactions that Vice produced, as she did everywhere she went with him. Maybe they could find a stage actor that they could pay to talk to people when they were in the city... Her mind was wandering when the group knocked on the door, and she had to bring her attention back to the matter at hand, preparing to follow the others in.

[gr8artist]

"Doc'mentation?" Vice chuckled lightly. "I don' think so. Burnin' tats us'ly get tha' trick done, or the vouched-fer opinion o' local clerics. I 'ain't cast no spells yet, but people what seen me fight before can feel cour'ge an' valor when I'm near. If'n all that fails, I can heal wit' a touch, which 'least shows I ain't evil." He smiled crookedly, his pointed teeth poking into his lip. "Course anyone trained like me can tell that wit' a glance."

[nothingforyou]

Tavick's Garrison

The guards looked uncomfortable as the group approached, but nonetheless they stood quietly and did not interfere. Knock, knock. A pause, then the doors swung open.

On the other side was a waiting room, and on the far end of the waiting room was another door. The waiting room was comfortably furnished with tables, couches, books, and art. A gnome in the room looked up and ushered the group in.

"State your business," said the gnome in an officious voice. She looked like a bureaucrat, but had the mannerisms of military.

[Barbarian MD]

"My team has been hired by a private party to clean up the sewers. Our associate here wishes to be deputized that he might obtain sensitive information about the Jackals. We were told downstairs that Commander ir'Talan's office could help us."

[nothingforyou]

Tavick's Garrison

"Very well," said the gnome. "Wait a moment."

The gnome left and quietness set in. The office was well-insulated; the normally audible bustle of Sharn did not penetrate the walls. After a few moments, the gnome returned.

"Through those doors," said the gnome. "The Commander will see you now."

...

Commander ir'Talan was an aging but fierce-looking and battle-scarred woman. Her presence gave off a strong impression that she was a champion of good.

"My assistant has told me of your plight," said the Commander. "We have an agent working down in the Cogs who knows the faces and names of the Sewer gangs. Unfortunately, we can't risk our agent's cover being blown. There's no guarantee that you won't be captured and interrogated, or that you won't be shadowed to your meeting with our agent. Or that you are yourselves untrustworthy. This is the best I can do: If you swear to secrecy, we will have our agent contact you by means of dead drops. The drops will contain details of the Jackals and their hideouts.

"Now swear upon your gods, or offer an alternative. Understand, our agent is involved in far larger things than just gangs. If his secrecy is compromised, there will be trouble."

[Barbarian MD]

Rachana is taken aback. That went much easier than expected.

"Certainly, I hereby swear upon my faith to secrecy. You have been more than helpful, and we thank you.

"Since we're going to be down there already, do you have any work that you would like to contract out, so to speak?"

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge put three fists to his chest and bowed slightly. I am bound by oath to secrecy before my gods and yours.

Drudge turned an eye to Rachana, but he didn't say anything. Side work was always welcome, but their current employed might frown on it.

[DoctorGlock]

Verdun scratches his head and shrugs. 'I don't really hold much stock by gods, but,' he says, pointing a thumb at both Rachana and Vice 'I reckon I can swear by these two to keep me honest. hey're a hell of a lot closer too, with more pointy objects.'

[nothingforyou]

Tavick's Garisson

"That is sufficient," said the Commander. "Your tiefling friend has an aura of good. I trust that he will support us in our endeavors."

She stood up and gazed out the window. Sharn's massive towers and busy plazas were filled with people going about their everyday routines.

"Here," she said, "is what you will do. Go to Clown's Tear Inn in Khyber's Gate. Stay there a while and deflect suspicion. When our agent feels it's safe, he will contact you with the message 'it's five in Breland', followed by further directions. Our agent will not contact you if you are being followed, or if some other danger presents itself. If he doesn't message you in two days, assume the worst: You may still pursue the Jackals, but do not expect his help. Do not attempt to locate him. Most of all, do not return here. I imagine your group drew attention on your way in? Unfortunately, that's out of our control now. You should avoid giving the denizens of Khyber's Gate further reason to suspect you of working with the Watch.

"This will be the last time we meet, probably. If you have anything to ask of me, ask now."

[gr8artist]

Vice paused, incredulous. He let out a raspy chuckle, the smell of ash filling the air. "Khyber's Gate, Clown's Tear, Five in Brelan... no shadows, an' wait two days ta' be safe..." his lip snarled at the thought. "I was hopin' this'd go faster 'an that. I'll have meself a... mighty need in two days." He scratched his chin, his apprehension making him anxious. "Reckon we'd best head out quick, then. C'mon, mates, one o' you blokes lead the way."
Vice turned to leave, eager to get this project underway.

[Barbarian MD]

Rachana follows, and exits the building with the others.

"I think I'll go straight to the Clown's Tear. Does anyone want to come along or have other ideas?"

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge shrugged disinterestedly. I would prefer plan B. I bet we can carry a lot of heads... one of them is bound to be the right one.

[Navian]

Navian stood outside, observing the far horizons and the setting sun, on the cliffs near the dusty yard she used for drilling. It was a bit overgrown, and the racks of training weapons were not in such good order, but it still saw enough use she did not feel compelled to scrub the lot. She'd tired of attempting to re-establish contact by the minute, and of the dust and silence indoors. Somehow, it felt easier to find solitude outside with the wind, than inside with the stones that almost seemed to sing.

The day was hazy enough that only the upper canopy of the Great Tree was visible, hundreds of miles north by northeast, as a shadow looming as high as the tallest mountain. In the orange light, its greenery seemed a dim purple shade. It lay in a lush valley, she knew, but little could be viewed from here aside mountains, hills, and wasteland. Despite the somewhat disappointing view, Navian liked living in the mountains. Much of the world was beneath her, and much less was above, save for the roosts of dragons and spirits. The Heavens were no closer, but the downdrafts tasted a bit like the air of Mercuria, and in the late afternoon, sometimes she could almost imagine she was there.

Though, if she really thought about it, after a few weeks she'd probably turn around and start wishing she was back here. The Heavens had their charms, but the Great Tree, and for that matter, even the dwarf-wrought desolation here to the south of it, was a much more comforting thing, in Navian's opinion, than towers of silver and gold, with rivers of milk and honey threading beneath them all in a harmonious and dare-she-say picturesque fashion. The novelty was not everlasting, or at least, not for everyone.

Navian crossed her arms at these thoughts, and continued to ponder such matters, until the sun had set, and the chill of night came to the air. In a similar way, it was refreshing at first, as it drew the warmth from her armour, but then became unnerving as the chill seeped through to her bones. Navian swept herself back inside, where conditions was no warmer, but a great deal less windy. She was relieved to discover, upon resuming her task, that her charges did not seem to have entered a bloody altercation--least of all with the city guard--while she was blind and away.

She wasn't in the loop, but it seemed preferable to observe and make deductions than to request a full summary, when they already seemed to be making progress. She did seek to comment on Drudge's suggestion, though: <Perhaps you could have the heads tell you which one of them you want to take with you, beforehand.>

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge startled at the voice, then ground his adamantine teeth in thought. <I don't think I can trust them to be honest with me. Why don't you scry on who we are looking for and tell us what she looks like and where to find her?>

[Navian]

<I'd need to know that information myself, first: The horse must go before the cart. As for honesty, I've heard fear of death can produce results, with enough trial and error, so long as each interrogation is independently handled. Not that I'm an expert. Hopefully, at least one of you has some way to detect lies, as well.>

Not that I'm an expert. Very funny. It had been a while since Navian had interrogated a bandit gang, years since she'd last ordered a sailor keel-hauled, and nearly a decade since she'd threatened to remove a gutter rat's vital organs and present them for the pleasure of his or her personal viewing. Still, she had a reputation, and it had, at times, bled over into the pilgrims she rescued being almost as frightened of her patrols as they were of the dwarven bandits and slavers.

Though that wasn't exactly uncommon for any patrols in this region, she'd mostly avoided the stereotype of humans being easily susceptible to bribes. ...In comparison to what? Dwarves and half-elves. Sometimes it seemed like she was on the opposite side of the world from her home kingdom, many things did seem to work backwards, here.

Compared to Sharn, though... She shook her head. She'd heard about cities like it, but could hardly believe it. It made the largest city she'd ever seen look like a collection of hovels in comparison. Tracking unknown persons within it, that was more than a little out of her depth, no matter what came to mind.

[Barbarian MD]

Rachana patted Drudge's giant arm. "Don't worry. I imagine there will be quite a bit of killing before this is over with. And we have to satisfy Vice, for that matter.

"Vice, my dear, what are you going to do for two days cooped up in an inn? Do we need to find you a distraction on the way?"

Rachana will go to find the inn herself and reserve enough rooms for the lot of them before night falls and the inn fills up. She'll make small talk with anyone that tags along, and make plans to meet the others at the inn once they've picked up the remainder of their company. "Hand me a few of those coins from earlier and I'll have dinner waiting for you at the bar and baths drawn for anyone that wants one."

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge reaches into his bag to pull out the bag of coins they had made. He hands Rachana a pair of golds coins before putting the bag back.

I won't need my own room. Bunk me with who ever, and I'll spend whatever times in the room I have to, but likely not much.

[gr8artist]

Vice shot Rachana a thoughtful, predatory glare as she queried him. "I wouldna' mind a bareknuckle brawl in a back alley, if ya'd like ta' balance the debt o' my cup 'n grog. If this soddin' contact don' find us fast, we'll have to impr'vise, either wit' a run-o'-tha'-mill hoodlum, or wit' one o' you blokes, in exchange fer some healin' after. I outta' be good for a day or two... I'm a'ready gettin' tha' itch, but I got ample time 'til tha' visions set in. Even then, wit' tha' fevers an' dreams, I can hol' meself back an' not do anythin' unholy. I'm just a damned disagreeable cuss when I cannae' get a fix." He wasn't much for small-talk, having little in common with "civilized folk," but he did occasionally comment on architectural features, or the sharp and pointies in the shops they passed. His opinions of weapons were often uncomfortably explicit, pointing out the pros and cons of different edges when applied with particular pressure on specific portions of the body.
"Yer welcome ta' bunk in my room, Drudge. I got enough coin ta' foot tha' bill, if needed. I might wanna' save some for expenses... smoked a whole bed in my sleep one night, fallin' down tha' rabbit hole. I don' us'lly mind someone sharin' tha' space, if only ta' keep me from burnin' everything tah' crisp if tha' nightmares come."

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge nodded at Vice. If you start any fires in your sleep, I'll give you a sharp knock on the noggin to convince you to stop, and then smother the fire as best as I can. Though I may wander a bit at night. Waiting for you all to sleep can be maddeningly dull.

[DoctorGlock]

Verdun grins at the others. 'Plenty of time to bust heads later, we'll see if I can keep up this time. I'll swing back by Isa's to pick up our favorite corpse as well as the crap I left there before we scrambled. Meet you at the Clown's Tear.'


***

'Oi dusty!' came Verdun's voice, along with a rapping on the wooden floor at the edge of the portable pit filters down. The noise is followed by Verdun's grease stained face and disheveled hair appearing at the pit's mouth. It came with the faint smell of alcohol. 'I hope you enjoy some down time, because it looks like we are going to be sitting on our thumbs for a couple days. But hey, I got us a lead! We're heading downtown, need a ride?'

[nothingforyou]

Khyber's Gate

Winding tunnels caked with dirt and filth, wide enough to fill with caravans, spacious enough to echo, but dark in color and rocky in composition, and very much claustrophobic. The tunnels were periodically lit with torches, and smelled absolutely foul. The traffic was composed of denizens different from those above: Poor, ragged, and wretched, sometimes of monstrous races, and always minding their own business. Not one eye was turned to the direction of the party. Apparently strange races were not uncommon down here. Or perhaps they were too afraid to make eye contact.

Caravans traveled through the place, carrying raw ore and other industry material. This was not the Gate proper, but rather some transitory region between Ashblack and Blackbones.

Soon, the caravans disappeared and the tunnels widened into a large "cavern". The foot traffic increased, and lights became more commonplace. The smell nonetheless lingered.

Buildings began popping up. At first in small quantities, but then in large groups like a miniature underground city. The traffic was heavy with downcast faces and hooded heads. The place was poverty-stricken, and garbage lay around uncollected on the grimy floors.

This was now Khyber's Gate. A residential district to serve those in abject poverty. Keep them out of the upper levels, and the Council was satisfied!

Rachana spotted small hands, those of a child, dart into Drudge's pockets.
Drudge felt some hands in his pockets. (Hint: The hands were not his.)

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge halts suddenly. Metallic Dragon Men rarely carry bread. We don't eat the stuff.

Drudge turns to scan the crowd quickly. And metallic dragon men with six arms, accompanying a half-kyton as they waltz through the part of town where another dead body can show up, and every citizen will tell the watch they saw nothing make poor marks as it is.

I would rather accept your apology and move on with my day than do anything else... but my good friend here was just telling me how he'd like to crack some skulls.

He's probably poor and hungry... and it's probably a child... I wonder how little these people can afford...

Try as he might, Drudge sounded more sad than angry.

[Barbarian MD]

Rachana draws her blowgun and moves it to her lips as she takes a step toward the youth. "Stop right there or you'll regret it. Don't run away and I swear I won't hurt you."

Ready action to fire a sleep-poisoned dart.

[gr8artist]

As they entered the seedier area of the city, Vice suppressed a wry smile. His concerns in regard to his pressing desires would be easily satisfied in this place, and likely without drawing any unwanted attention. He made sure to keep his leather pauldrons pulled down, and the black silk scarves bound tightly over his tattoos. He unrolled a plain black tabard, pushing his head and horns through the hole and tucking the cloth under his belt. Armor with gilded starburst centers would seem out of place in the area they were approaching, and he didn't want anybody in the Gate to know he was in a holy order before he was ready to make his affiliation known. He was thus fully cloaked when they entered the Gate proper, and fit in more naturally with the common thugs and brigands that likely prowled the alleys.
Drudge's abrupt response startled Vice, and unnerved him as he observed the golem's intentions; he then shared his distaste with his metallic companion. "Oy! Don' be scarin' kids wit' thinkin' I'm gonna bus' 'em up just fer try'na pick a pocket 'r two. I might be a devil, but tha' don' mean I'll bleed a snot-nosed kid..." Vice deftly plucked a silver coin from his belt, and turned to lean closer to the little thief. With a sadistic, intimidating grin, he snarled, "...unless they been 'specially bad."
He tried to make eye-contact, holding the coin out between two fingers, gauging the response and nature of the would-be thief. A child down on his luck would receive a silvery turn of fate, but an adult halfling in disguise would get a far more unpleasant reward.

If the events unfold in such a way as to render my 2nd and 3rd paragraphs moot (if the kid gets away before we can confront him, or if something interrupts us or whatever) then I'll edit this post.
I'll remove this spoiler when I know the outcome of the exchange.

EDIT: yet again, Barbie sneaks in a post while I'm formatting my own.

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge growled, a sound like gravel rolling down a hill. I don't see how age matters. Apologizing or getting a cracked skull... seems like a fair experience to follow a failed theft attempt.

[nothingforyou]

Khyber's Gate

The small thief looked up, laughed nervously, and scratched her head. "Ya got me." She had a strong accent.

It was a young girl, covered foot-to-head in dirt and otherwise indistinguishable from a boy unless one heard her voice. She had a cheery grin.

"Don't worry Snake Lady," said the girl. "I ain't gonna run. I'm sorry for stealin' from y'all. You guys outsiders?"

The girl did not accept the coin from Vice.

"Hey, red guy," she said. "I'm gonna get stabbed if I take that coin, y'know? It's gonna pay for some thug's lunch. Stealin's one thing. Getting money's another. Don't go flashing around your wealth, it ain't smart! Well, maybe you guys can fight for yourself, but I'm pretty small, so I gotta stay low."

[darklink_shadow]

Sizing up the small girl, and deciding she wasn't much of a threat to any one, Drudge relaxed. I accept your apology, little dirt creature.

Shifting his weight, he put a hand over his magic bag, and let his eyes sweep the area, before returning his gaze to the girl. He would let the others take point in this conversation. He knew, though, that little balls of dirt like this one knew everything there was to know about the underbelly of their home city.

[Barbarian MD]

Rachana leans in close and keeps her voice low. "You want to earn it? Meet us at our hotel after dark tonight. Don't be seen. We need information and I expect you have a lot of it."

[gr8artist]

Vice pocketed the coin and instead pulled out one of his rations, breaking off a child-sized portion for the girl. It was tough, like salted leather in an herb-and-granola crust, but
"I don' like it, but I cain't argue wit' ya' 'bout it. Have a bite, at least. No one'll mug ya' fer chow ya' a'ready ate." He took a bite from the remainder of the brick, ripping at it with his hooked fangs. It was overly seasoned, he knew, but he found normal food to be bland and tasteless. "Meet us later, like me companion said, an' I can hook ya' up wit' a lil' more..." He chewed, and ripped off another bite, "an' point me in the d'rection of the neares' thug, 'n I'll buy ya' some grog ta' wash it down wit'."
For all of his faults, Vice considered himself something of a guardian over children. He'd never admit it, and he rarely knew how best to act upon it, but the guilt he felt when he saw a child living a life in misery was gut-wrenching, and he inevitably found himself going out of his way to lend them a hand.

[nothingforyou]

Khyber's Gate

The girl tilted her head quizzically. "Your hotel? Where y'all staying?"

She gratefully accepted the bread from Vice and took a bite.

"Thankths Mithster," she mumbled with a full mouth. "Anyways, dunno if meeting's smart. Eyes everywhere! Maybe one o' their scouts already tailin' us."

[darklink_shadow]

Scouts tailing us? Whose? Drudge didn't bother looking again, he knew he'd never be able to tell who was staring because he was an impressive hulking sight, or because they were spies.

[Jeff the Green]

"One moment," Davkhur calls up. He replaces A Chance Mating in his bookshelf and begins climbing back to the inn.

"Alright," he says as he pops his head up and begins carefully folding his hole to stuff in a pocket, "where exactly are we going?"

[DoctorGlock]

Verdun grunts as he walks out of the Shining Beam, assuming that Davkur will follow.

'Well, rather than tossing around divinations, relying on the peeper or using our fingers to comb every square inch of sewers, I figured the watch would be more helpful... but didn't realize we'd be operating in bureaucratic time.' he said, stopping in front of a large tarp-covered mass in the courtyard. As he knelt down and began to unfasten its clasps, he continued. 'We have a lead who will help us get our mark, but we are going to have to wait a couple of days for them to contact us. I figured I'd celebrate our rousing success and not pay attention to the promise of money likely being snatched away by someone faster with a little drink.' He stood up and wiped his brow, stripping the tarp off of the steel plated construct beneath. He reached under his shirt to where a small bag was holstered under an arm and pulled it out, beginning to stuff the tarp in. Something inside pulled it in the rest of the way. It did not show. Grunting again, he re-holstered the bag underneath his clothes.

'Probably an appropriate pregame, since we are heading downtown, to a tavern no less, and one with ****ty drink given the locale. Ever hear of the Clown's Tear?' asked Verdun, slipping a foot into a protruding rung and hauling himself up onto the vehicle, where he popped a hatch open and took a seat. He reached down and offered Davkur a hand. 'Which brings me back to my original point... need a ride?'

[nothingforyou]

Khyber's Gate

"Any o' the gangs," said the girl. "Rats and Jackals mainly. Sometimes the Folk. They target outsiders and the like, ripe for picking! This place'll be poor forever, 'cause nobody rich's gonna come down here. The Diggers are good, though. They don't go after innocents, y'know? They help me keep safe."

The Clown's Tear Inn was a nondescript living quarters in Khyber's Gate. There was nothing about it which set it apart from all the other inns in the district; it was exactly as dirt-poor as the others, no more, no less.

Davkhur knew of rumors circulating among high Watch officers that said the Inn deliberately maintained its mediocrity. Indeed, the place was made for those who wanted to stay out of sight in plain sight. Its proprietor, the half-orc Polymus, maintained an impressive physique common to business owners in the Gate (necessary to dissuade criminals), yet at the same time behaved with mild, informal courtesy, such that no one would find offense.

Furthermore, Davkhur had heard that the Inn was regularly used by high level groups to host agents in the Cogs. The Inn's carefully-controlled reputation made it popular. Other similar inns include the Dark's Rest, the Lost Horse, and the Cinder Smoke.

Information about any of these inns was very hard to come by. Davkhur was greatly aided by his magic, his studies, and his good luck, and he knew it.

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge turned his whole body to face the girl, and decided he believed what she said, but not everything she said. The Diggers do not prey on the innocents, you say. But you tried to steal from me. What am I guilty of? Being an outsider? Sounds like you are a member of the Folk. That's too bad. I wouldn't mind meeting the Diggers.

[nothingforyou]

Khyber's Gate

The girl laughed and scratched her head. "I ain't a Digger. They just like protectin' kids. It's a part o' their honor code, see? They would na' let a human like me in anyhow. They're all dwarfs."

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge grunted. Dorfs? I see. Honor too? Interesting. Where are they?

[Jeff the Green]

Davkhur looks doubtfully at the "ride" but lets Verdun haul him up. "The Clown's Tear would make sense, I suppose," he murmurs. "I do wish I'd known this before I'd gotten spells ready, but I suppose there wasn't actually a way to avoid that. Let's go."

[gr8artist]

Vice finished his meal, and pondered.
"Drudge, Rachana, I'll meet up wit' ya at tha' Tear inna hour'r so. I feel tha' need for a stroll, stretch my... legs... a bit, ya' see?" He stretched and shook one leg, and cracked the knuckles of both hands. They made a painful, stacatto pop, and the links of his chain clinked ever so quietly as he moved. "Kid, if I was lookin' for a coupla' thugs ta' hire for a mean an' dirty job, where'd I be most likely ta' catch one in tha' act o' demonstratin' his skill?"
He'd learned from past experience out-and-out asking a commoner to point him toward the nearest dark alley, illegal gambling den, or thieves' nook, would as often as not lead him into a trap or dead-end. If he wanted to find criminals, he'd have to pretend like he wasn't hunting criminals. Fortunately for him, with his shoulders and armor covered, he looked nothing like a typical crusader of the common good, and he rarely had a hard time fitting in with thugs and criminals.
He was eager to find a criminal to punish, to satisfy his needs and obligations in one sweep.

[Barbarian MD]

Rachana nods to Vice, understanding on her face. "Let's not linger here." She looks at the kid. "Come, or don't. We'll be at the Tear. Just don't be seen." She makes to continue on, hiding her blowgun once again into the folds of her silks.

[DoctorGlock]

Makes two of use without answers,' Verdun cracked, savage grin splitting his bristling beard. 'You without knowing everything and me without being able to use overwhelming force as a stopgap. On the subject of answers, I don't actually know where to go, I hope you can give directions.

Verdun clapped his hands together quickly. 'Armor, Advance!' he snapped, and with a grumble and a whine unseen engines snapped to life. The construct shuddered and lurched before rising up and beginning to chug forward, each 'foot' striking the ground with mechanical precision. He put his left hand on a small wheel, and with a twist the sloped frontal plates traversed forward, a worked bronze and steel figurehead turning to face forward. The end product looked like an ungainly mechanical centaur, arms flung back, with robes of sculpted steel forming an effective armored wall for the front rider. An ominous slit gaped open in the centaur's humanoid belly, a short and stubby brass cylinder protruding slightly.

As the construct picked up speed, Verdun turned his seat around and leaned back against the armor, facing Davkur. He gestured proudly and said, almost an an offhand, 'By the way, I finally figured out the creation sequence.'

[Jeff the Green]

One of Davkhur's eyebrows quirks upwards. "I noticed this one's a bit more advanced than I usually see," he says, his voice displaying far more interest than he actually has. "So did you manage it just by tinkering or did you have to delve into the books?"

Bluff to exaggerate his interest: [roll0].

[nothingforyou]

Drudge, Rachana, and Vice - Khyber's Gate

Dorfs? I see. Honor too? Interesting. Where are they?

The girl contorted her face, straining to remember. "The Diggers? Eh, I don't actually know where their base is. You can find 'em easy, though. They'd be hanging 'round the mines and stuff. They usually help protect, see? An' sometimes they own the mine, and big wigs from upstairs pay 'em for rights."

Kid, if I was lookin' for a coupla' thugs ta' hire for a mean an' dirty job, where'd I be most likely ta' catch one in tha' act o' demonstratin' his skill?

The girl giggled. "Everywhere! I ain't the only thief in this crowd, no sir. And the fellas who run 'round beating people, they drink 'emselves stupid in bars before doin' their jobs. Uncle calls it 'liquid courage' for a reason, I guess! There's a scary place near here, the Spiked Flagon or somethin'. Popular for the big guys, everyone gets picked on, lots o' fights go down there. Don't mess wit' the guards, though. The Flagon's got more'n enough muscle to keep itself safe, I reckon."

Davkhur and Verdun - Dragoneyes

The two riding the strange contraption had finally passed the wealthy and middle class sections of Sharn. There they got plenty of looks for their exotic vehicle. Well, even in Dragoneyes, on their path to the Clown's Tear in Khyber's Gate, Verdun's construct still stood above the rest of the crowd. No doubt they attracted attention. But at least the looks were no longer accusatory, bordering on "you don't belong here". Now they were merely the looks of interested locals.

Dragoneyes was a red light district. It was somewhere between low and middle class, and surprisingly busy in the afternoon. Despite its reputation for being a place of vice, there were still plenty of businesses running during the day, primarily lodging and food. The crowd was thick and mostly composed of plain townsmen and poor folk. The gambling quarters and brothels were open, though as customary had few visitors since it was still light out. There were also pawn shops, almost as numerous as restaurants. Some looked decent, others downright shady.

Davkhur and Verdun - Clown's Tear Inn

Khyber's Gate was a hundred times poorer than the poor folk in Dragoneyes. If Dragoneyes represented the lowest rung on the social ladder, then Khyber's Gate represented a dead body buried five feet below the ladder. The change from regular poor-ness to industrial, living-in-soot-and-sewage poverty did not occur smoothly. It was as though the civilization underground had been forgotten by those above.

A true shame, indeed, for on the way to Khyber's Gate both Davkhur and Verdun witnessed many carts of material being transported up from the Cogs. No doubt the Cogs were the industrial centers for most of Sharn. Indeed, House Cannith seemed to have a few carts of their own.

But now, at Clown's Tear! It was a medium-sized inn, with moderate traffic, and very slightly above average maintenance compared to its nearby peers. That level of maintenance, of course, was still quite shoddy. The building had walls discolored from damaged foundations, and patches of roof-work were falling at irregular intervals.

Entering through the doors, the insides were messy but bearable. The main hall was clearly meant for drinking, eating, and socializing. Crude slabs and blocks of wood passed for tables and chairs, although they looked to be splinter risks. There was a bar made of rough, uneven stone, and behind the bar was a large half-orc absentmindedly wiping a glass with a surprisingly clean rag. The walls were adorned with torches made from poorly carved... something. Stairs led up to what was presumably the lodgings, and a door behind the bar led to some backroom.

The traffic today was moderate. Some people sat about dining and talking. Two, in particular: A man and woman, both dressed poorly in rags, were talking in hushed voices. Despite their attire, they did not seem like they belonged to the social class of the Cogs; their faces were too clean, their nails too trimmed, and the rags they wore... too new.

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge looked around to see if he could spot a mine from where he stood. If not he turned back to the child and demanded, Take me to them, and your crime will be null and void in my eyes. Any mine with diggers is fine.

[DoctorGlock]

When it comes down to his inventions, Verdun often speaks simply to hear himself. Consequently, he missed Davkur's display entirely and carries on as if nothing is amiss. Besides, it filled what would otherwise be an awkward silent journey...

'If only there were books available! Cannith burned them when they shut down the Forges, banned knowledge and whatnot. You wouldn't believe the various ****holes I had to delve to piece together the basic principles... but I am closer than anyone has been since old Arren himself. See, if you bribe the right people, they'll let you into the silent Forges... between that and some prodding at our Drudge, I made myself a Forge of sorts.'

The capital letters just drop into his speech. It's obvious he means the now very much illegal Creation Forges. About to continue, he pauses, noting that the AFV's speed has brought them downtown faster than expected.

'Hell, I'll finish the story later, no use having to blab it twice, looks like we're at the dump,' he says, sliding down the sloped steel armor skirts to the ground before offering Davkur a hand again. He turned back to the construct and clapped once more. 'Anti theft protocol; extreme prejudice,' he said sharply, before turning to Davkur and stage whispering 'that means anyone else tries to mess with it and it squishes them against the pavement.' His words were meant to carry.

When they enter the inn, Verdun ushers them to an open table away from the conspicuous figures, Sitting down, he jerks his eyes in their direction. 'So what's happening?' he asks Davkur. To anyone listening, it would seem like old acquaintances just catching up. But between the eyes and the obvious out-of-placeness of the two his meaning is clear to the Illumian. Who are they?

[Navian]

After a struggle to keep up with the scattering party, Navian settles on observing Davkhur, for the moment, though something's telling her Vice might need her help soon. Still, it was best that she put it off, she'd rather not be in the mood to encourage the tiefling to start a ten-man armed brawl, after all.

@Davkhur: <I still can't believe wagon-sized automatic killing machines with trap modes are street-legal in Sharn. ...Ah, that's right. Bribery. I keep forgetting.>

[Jeff the Green]

Davkhur snorts in spite of himself, and then resolutely returns to ignoring the voice.

"Not much," he replies to Verdun. "Had a run-in with some toughs, thought I was selling something that belonged to someone else. No idea how they got that idea. Not sure exactly who they were, either. Watch irregulars, agents of some church or political group. Lots of those I've managed to annoy, I suppose. Suppose I should try to find out who?"

That's Bluff to deliver a secret message. Taking 10 is 21, succeeding even if it counts as complex, and listeners other than Verdun must beat that to understand it.

The message is that they could be members of any number of groups who use this inn to house their agents, and asking whether it matters enough to try figuring it out.

[DoctorGlock]

'Might have got that idea from you being a rogue and a scoundrel. But I reckon you should,' Verdun replied, cracking his knuckles. 'Be a shame if any of that crap caught up with us. I hate unpleasant surprises.'

[nothingforyou]

Drudge - Khyber's Gate

"Okay!" said the girl. "You wanna see Diggers? Follow me!"

She darted into the crowd without hesitation. Through the mess of dirty robes and hoods she would disappear, then resurface some ten feet away, grinning at Drudge. Following her was not easy, especially for someone of Drudge's size, but nonetheless she periodically slowed down so that Drudge would not be lost.

The tunnels, which to the average person would be confusing and winding, were nothing to her; she navigated them with the practiced ease of a local. Slowly, as the two progressed, the tunnels began sloping downwards, at first gently, but then steeply, and the walls became covered in more and more soot. The air smelled less like trash and more like smoke. Potentially a welcome change.

Drudge - Blackbones

A new feature of the Sharn underground presented itself: Lava. Fiery red, skin-meltingly hot, with the viscosity of thick molasses. Streams, rivers, and lakes of lava filled the massive caverns and tunnels. This was no doubt Blackbones, Ashblack's cousin directly under Tavick's Landing.

The place was significantly less claustrophobic. The caverns and tunnels were so large, it felt as though it were outdoors. There were few artificial lights and almost everything at ground level was illuminated by the lava's glow.

Down here there were few human, elf, dwarf, and gnome faces. Indeed, for the most populous demographic in Blackbones were the warforged, comprising at least nine-tenths of the population. Uncountably many walked about, fulfilling duties as laborers, technicians, and managers.

Colossal refineries, forges, and mines occupied the cavernous landscape, forming a backdrop of steel and stone, against which any living creature seemed like ants in comparison, small figures crawling about the harsh industrial underworld.

"Like this place?" said the girl which a cheery grin.

A warforged carrying a large log walked up to Drudge, stared at him blankly, then said to the girl, "Hello, Fanny. Who is your friend?"

"Hi, Rhombus! We're lookin' for them Diggers!" said the girl.

"They're guarding the Pool," said Rhombus. "Smith hired them to protect Blackbones."

"Thanks, Rhombus!"

"Be safe," said Rhombus monotonously, adjusting the log he carried over his shoulders. Without further acknowledgement of Drudge's presence, he walked off.

"Follow me," said the girl.

Drudge - The Pool

The Pool appeared to be a massive forge. The girl led Drudge through the front entrance, although no longer moving quickly and recklessly, on account of all the dangerous heavy equipment being carried by the warforged worker traffic. Nonetheless, the warforged were polite and yielded way to both the girl and Drudge as they passed by. Along the way, Drudge noticed several dwarves. The dwarves stood around like guards, though with significantly laxer mannerisms than the Watch. They did not move, greet, or otherwise interact with any of the warforged.

"Hi, Jorzdi! Hi, Kordar!" said the girl, waving to two guard dwarves.

The dwarves stared at her and said nothing.

"They're just not talkative," whispered the girl to Drudge.

The girl went down a series of hallways, although now she would stop once in a while to gather her bearings. Nonetheless, she did not get lost. There was no indication yet as to why the forge was called the Pool, yet as it were, Drudge was not led very far in. The duo stopped at what looked like a manager's office.

There was a grim-looking dwarf in the office. His face was heavily scarred.

"Hi, Capt!" said the girl.

The dwarf raised an eyebrow. "Who's this?" He had a heavy accent.

[darklink_shadow]

I have no name, save the one I gave myself: Drudge.

He looked at the little girl with a smile and then back to the dwarf. I see many warforged working here. I suspect some of the work is hard, and tiring. But it is still some manner of kindness to employ so many. This puny thief told me that you take care of her, or help to do so, anyways.

Drudge ground his teeth for a moment. I wanted to see why the Digger have a reputation for helping children. What benefit do you gain from such apparent charity? It is important that I know the truth. And then, depending on the answer, I have one of two other questions.

[Jeff the Green]

The Clown's Tear

Davkhur winks at Verdun and then begins a coughing fit. Or, at least, it seems that way to the outside. In the gesticulating and rasping are hidden the necessary formulae to cast a spell that will reveal the strangers' intentions to him.

Cast detect thoughts, using Sleight of Hand to disguise the casting. Viewers/listeners must beat his Sleight of Hand (take 10 for 19) to recognize it as casting.

Then he focuses it at the strangers (without looking directly at them) and concentrates. DC 17

[gr8artist]

It took Vice a short time to make his way toward the Spiked Flagon, with instructions of varying clarity gained from passersby. He finally entered and looked around, before beckoning to the barkeep and ordering a flagon of grog, offering a gold piece for the stein, and as many refills as the 'keep thought fair. He tried to keep his wits about him, watching the others to see if any seemed suspicious. In particular, he was looking for anyone with the tell-tale signs of a criminal background, or anyone who tried to steal from another.

[nothingforyou]

Drudge - The Pool

The dwarf shrugged. "Well, first thing to clear up. We don't own this mine, we just protect it. Second, we didn't give the 'forged jobs. Our client did. Lastly, we're not protecting this little human 'cause we like her. The Cogs need improvement. It's time some civilization was brought down to this cesspit. This means not letting other gangs run amok. And sometimes it means helping the people. Now, this girl gets in trouble every other day. If she keeps stealing, one day she's gonna steal from the wrong guy."

Davkhur and Verdun - Clown's Tear

IIRC concealed spellcasting or false theurgy explicitly requires a skill trick. I don't see that you've taken it on your sheet.

Vice - Spiked Flagon

Two burly guards stood in front of the Spiked Flagon. They looked more like gangsters than guards. Nonetheless, they let Vice pass without a second look.

The inside of the Spiked Flagon was a noisy mess. A dense crowd of people inside were chatting, yelling, and throwing... things. Not all the people were one of the standard races. Some were slightly monstrous. There was a stench of vomit lingering about in the air.

The tavern barkeep was a burly human. He was fairly rough-mannered but nonetheless did all the serving on his own, delivering drinks and meals on-time with respectable efficiency.

Everyone looked like a criminal. Next to Vice, sitting at the bar, was a group of four human males, middle-aged, but quite scarred and with athletic physiques. One of the men was clearly the leader of the group, drinking and laughing loudly, with the other three only laughing after he did. All four exerted a dominating presence over the room. Despite the lack of class in the establishment, it was clear they were the Big Dogs. Others, who looked no less criminal than the group did, went out of the way to avoid them, and appeared to pay them respect while passing.

The leader of the group was squat-faced and had a large, bloodthirsty grin. A tattoo of a skull was somewhat visible under his shirt.

Also...

Not quite a criminal, but there, in the corner, was a cloaked human not engaging in the violent revelry which surrounded him. The human had an untouched glass of ale and was as still as a statue, staring ahead at nothing with a blank expression. Vice could barely make out the shadow of a longsword hanging by the human's side, hidden from view.

Vice could see he was not the only one to notice the human. There was a group of eight half-orcs eyeing the human with a predatory glance and whispering among themselves.

[nothingforyou]

Davkhur and Verdun - Clown's Tear

Davkhur's spell failed to penetrate both the man and woman's defenses.
The man and woman sat upright abruptly. They glanced at one another, stood up, and moved to leave the tavern.

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge rumbled. It sounded like a cross between a cat's purr and an avalanche, but it was really a laugh.

Had she stolen from me when certain people were around, and not others, she'd have been lucky to just loose her hands. I know plenty of people who would kill to protect their coin, and I just so happen to have had it on me at the time. How lucky for her, I was with a different group, who is far more forgiving.

Drudge gave the little girl a gentle pat on the head. Still... even though I appear to have been wrong about all of my premises, my conclusion is the same with your telling. You're good people. I have probably a week between now and when I need to do a job. Maybe some little things I have to do here or there during this time. Most of it unaccounted for. How can I help you help the slums in that time? I'm strong, and I'm tireless, just as any of my kin. But I am also fairly intelligent. Though I am best suited to tasks that require strength. To be honest, I am best suited for violence.

I wouldn't require much in compensation. A little information, and perhaps a token of friendship. No money, or anything. Just information, and friendship. If you find yourself unable to answer my questions, later, that's fine. At least I'll have made friends with the diggers.

[gr8artist]

Vice's lip curled into an excited smile. The four thugs were interesting, but the quiet man with the longsword piqued his curiosity more. Taking his grog in hand, he made his way to the man's table, and sat down facing him, while keeping an eye on the majority of the room. Eight orcs were a far more pressing concern than four humans, though if the quiet man was their target then Vice's presence would turn the skirmish into a four-to-one challenge, roughly the same odds he'd find if he pressed his luck with the four humans. He was arrogant with the courage of youth, and many small victories in his short life; perhaps he should have been more careful in choosing his path. Vice was an impulsive creature, eager to take on the challenge of a few simple crooks.
"You look a lil' lost, friend, like ya' ain't know where ya' are or what's goin' on in this burrah'." He took a pull from the flagon, still struggling to seem calm when every fiber of his being was giddy with excitement.

[nothingforyou]

Drudge

The dwarf snorted. "Friendship with the Diggers? Instead, let me ask you, outsider, what's this job you need to do here? The only folks from upstairs who give a damn about the Cogs are miners, smiths, and criminals. Seems to me you are none of the three, and somehow this spells even more trouble. Mercenary? Sent to clean up the dirt down here? Or perhaps recruiter, looking for someone with special talents? Or even private investigator, hoping to find some clues?"


Vice

Vice greeted the cloaked human male.

The man stirred. His blank expression disappeared and was replaced by mild surprise. Sitting opposite the man, Vice noticed two peculiarities: first, the man's cloak, though plain, was clean and well-maintained, unlike what most in the Cogs wore; and second, the man was light-skinned and looked to be a regular bather, also an unusual appearance in the Cogs.

There were heavy shadows under the man's eyes, in strange contrast to his relaxed mannerisms.

"I'm just daydreaming," he said. He offered a small smile. "I will rest a bit more, and then head out afterwards. Can't say this district is much fun to be in. How are you doing?"

If Navian follows Vice's progress.

Navian noticed something interesting. She could see Vice sitting down at a table and greeting someone, but she could not see who he was greeting. It looked as though Vice was speaking to nothing but empty space.

Rachana

Feel free to insert yourself into Vice's scene, if you're nearby. I don't know what you're up to at this moment.


Davkhur and Verdun

The half-orc behind the bar approached Davkhur and Verdun's table. "Here fer somethin'? You can jus' sit 'round and do nothin', o' course, but if ya need food or roomin', I'm the guy ta ask."

The traffic in and out of Clown's Tear remained steady. A young man walked in, sat at a table, and waved at the half-orc.

"Polymus," he said.

The half-orc waved back and gruffly replied, "Nice ta see ya, Davey. The usual?"

"Yeah, man," said Davey. "Any my friends come over?"

"Nah," said Polymus. "Been quiet lately. Sounds good?"

"Yeah, it's good. Thanks for the help, man."

"No problem." Polymus turned back to Davkhur and Verdun. "Sorry 'bout the int'ruption. Did ya lads want somethin'?"

[Jeff the Green]

The Clown's Tear

"Ah, no, not for me," replies Davkhur, wearing a deliberately fake smile and stripping all erudition from his voice. "I'm afraid I haven't had much of an appetite lately. Maybe I could get some information from you instead? We're new in town, thinking about setting up shop, and I figured it'd be best if we got the lay of the land, figured out the powerbrokers and such. If I'm going to annoy someone I'd rather it be on purpose and not because I'm stumbling around blindly."

Bluff: [roll0]

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge opened his mouth and then shut it, shaking his head. I was going to tell you that I wasn't a mercenary, but I suppose I am. Only, not really. I work to help the world be less miserable, but I do take payment. I need better equipment to defeat better equipped evil.

Drudge shrugged. But I need help. I cannot defeat all the evil in the world without allies. I am looking for the leader of the jackels. If I bring her head to the Watch, a third party will trust me to help them. Plus, removing one bad person from the world is always good. I am not a redeemer of lost souls. I am a reaper. But I know my place in this world, and I know how to use it to make the world just a little safer. A gang that looks after children is one I'd like to fill the power vacuum that will sure form when I am done cutting through the Jackels to find their leader.

So, that is the job I have down here in the cogs. And I will accomplish it. It would be best if you were ready for it. And I've some time before I am ready to play the reaper. Until then, I'd like to get some charity work in.

With a grunt, Drudge shook his head again. No matter. Give me work, or don't. I can find some other trivial job to do while I wait, if the Diggers do not need my help.

[gr8artist]

"I'm doin' decent, I reckon. Hopin' it's 'bout ta--" he paused mid-sentence, Navian's voice echoing in his mind. His eyebrows rocked in confusion and discomfort; he wished that Navian would follow someone else and stop meddling in his mind. Nonetheless, the eye-in-the-sky had relayed some interesting information, even though she didn't know it.
"Uh... where were I, stranger? Ah, yeah, talkin' 'bout this burrah." He leaned close, lowering his voice slightly but not entirely whispering, as he was unsure of Navian's omnipresent perception's limitations. "This 'ere, best as I kin make out, seem ta' be a low-end, purse-cuttin', clock-n'-daggah kinda' hood. What'd bring a clean-dress'd wandrah' like yerrself down 'ere?"
He hoped Navian got the message. He wasn't crazy, but he couldn't think of any way to tell her without doing something really stupid in front of this stranger. And, whatever magic this man possessed intrigued Vice greatly.

[nothingforyou]

Davkhur and Verdun

"Oh?" Polymus raised an eyebrow. "Well, ya ain't gotta tell me what ya here for. I know we all got our secrets. Lessee... The power down here be the Daask. No question 'bout it. We also got the Circle and the Cult o' the Dragon Below. Sometimes the gangs from tha sewers come 'round. But the Daask are the real power. They hang 'round the Temple o' the Six. Cavallah's their boss. If ya wanna deal wit' the Daask, you gotta talk wit' some o' them in Shamukaar."


Drudge

"Power vacuum? Oh no, no chance. We're small fries. We're only around a few places. Anyhow, if you want some work..." The dwarf leaned back and went quiet. It looked as though he was thinking. After some time, the dwarf sat back up and said, "There's some jobs. First is... some forges and mines down here been sabotaged. People going around killing the workers. A week back there was a raid here, in the Pool. Lost ten of our men, and some twenty warforged. Also, there's a House Cannith mine across the lava from here. They got hit harder. But I don't know much 'bout their situation. Their wand adepts cleaned up real fast.

"But this kinda work's dangerous, I know you're a mercenary, but this ain't some random gang violence. The Daask and us have an agreement, the Rats got no reason to hit us, and the Jackals never attack mines 'cause they're always down in the Sewers. Anyhow, the raids are bein' done by some dangerous people, especially considerin' they killed so many of Cannith's soldiers. I don't know if you know, but Cannith's got some pretty tough mercenaries themselves. But if you want this job, it pays well. You gotta talk to the boss, though.

"So there's another, probably less dangerous job. One of our Digger smiths, Plorisk, went missin' like, two days ago. We sent fellas to investigate but nothing's turned up. You may have more luck. We'd pay three hundred gold for information about his whereabouts."


Vice

The man absentmindedly played with his untouched mug of ale, swirling the liquid inside by spinning the mug. Once again a blank expression settled on his face.

"I guess I stand out," he said. "I don't particularly enjoy being in this part of Sharn, but there's a forge I need to inspect. It can wait, though. Seems you aren't from the Cogs either. What brings you to this lovely establishment?"

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge pulled out a piece of paper, and a stick of charcoal. Can you write down any details of the two tasks? Some of my colleagues would be willing to aid me with the first task, at least. The others could be hired to do anything, so I suppose if I need help with that one, I will ask them.

Drudge tapped his chin with the charcoal. Rachana will help, I am sure. She was always rather nice. Vice will help if I tell him he will get to beat up evil people, and help good people. Verdun might help... since they also attacked House Cannith. I wonder if Navian could help? Davkhur probably won't help. Maybe if I told him ... No, he'd never believe any story I made up. I'm no good at stories. Realizing he hadn't handed over the charcoal yet, he offered that and the paper.

Please include everything. I can't read, though... But Rachana will read it to me. Thanks.

Once the paper was returned to him, Drudge turned to the little girl. Can you take me to the Crying Clown... or... the Clown's... Clown's... cry? Clown's... Tear? I don't know where it is. If you take me, maybe I will buy you something to eat from the bar. What sort of food do you eat?

[gr8artist]

Vice pondered his words with care. "I'm sumthin' of a bodyguard fer hire. This here 'hood kin get danj'rus if'n ya' don' kip a keen eye out fer trouble." He leaned close, and spoke more softly. "Fer 'xample, you gotcha' self some seven 'r eight tusks eyein' ya' coin purse pretty close, ya' see? I'll 'stend an offer ta' lend ya' a hand, folluh ya round the burrah 'til we know they ain't gonna do ya no harm, or 'til they try an' we teach 'em a lesson in manners."
He leaned back, pleased with the exchange. "Whatcha' say, friend?"

If he seems suspicious, I'll point out that even if I were on the side of the orcs, my presence would only turn an 8v1 into a 9v1, and he'd be in the same boat as if I weren't with him. The potential help in turning an 8v1 into an 8v2 (4 to 1) far outweighs the risk.
If he asks for what I want in exchange, I'll tell him I only want the weapons of anyone who accosts us, to be sold at the nearest blacksmith.

[nothingforyou]

Drudge

The dwarf jotted down a few lines with the charcoal, and handed it back to Drudge. "Take care. Don't die." He leaned back on his chair and shut his eyes.

"Well," said the girl, "guess it's time to go! Let's see, what do I wanna eat. Hmm."

As Drudge and the girl traveled back, Drudge noticed some newcomers in the dark tunnels. In addition to the regular traffic of industrial workers and downtrodden residents, he also saw five soldiers in good-quality armor and clothing, definitely not from the Cogs, marching through the tunnels. From the looks of it, they were patrolling. Their weapons were definitely of high quality. A few carried wands on belts.

They were attracting a lot of attention.


Davkhur, Verdun, and Drudge

If Drudge and the girl continue on their way, they witness this. Otherwise it's just Davkhur and Verdun.

The Clown's Tear's front doors swung open, and Drudge and the girl walked in. At the same time, a figure from behind hurriedly pushed through the two and rushed straight to Polymus, who was serving Davkhur and Verdun.

"Ey," said the figure, a goblin with an eyepatch. "You wanted somethin'?"

"Yeah," said Polymus. "It's gettin' dark now. We got a client. Time ta deliver."

"Who and where to?"

"Outsider. Spiked Flagon. Human, black hair, brown eyes, a real ladies man."

The goblin chuckled. "Ain't no ladies at the Flagon. Well, I know what I'm lookin' for now. A pretty boy in the Flagon, huh? You sure he ain't shanked yet? Anyhow, what am I deliverin'?"

"You ain't deliverin' anythin'. You just find the outsider, he's gonna tell you ta bring 'im somewhere. You're gonna do just that."

"Whoa, that sounds dangerous. What if he wants ta head to the Temple?"

"Yer gonna risk it. He's an important client, ya hear? You'll get triple salary. Besides, I don't think 'e's gonna do anythin' like that. He's a nice fella, ain't gonna put you in danger for no reason. Also..."

"Outsiders kinda troublesome. Invites all sorts of thieves. Ya want me ta protect him?"

"Yer gonna be a good guide, you hear? Well, he's been down 'ere before. 'E can take care of 'imself."

"Whatever ya say, boss." The goblin turned and left the building.


Vice

"Oh," said the man. He turned his head and made eye contact with the half-orc group across the room. Most of them returned his stare, though some transferred their stares over to Vice in an accusatory, hateful manner. The man waved at them, with the slightest hint of a grin on his face.

He returned his attentions to Vice, his face again without a trace of levity, and continued. "Our half-orc friends? I appreciate the offer, but I'm trying to avoid violence, especially of the pointless sort. On the other hand, if you're looking for mercenary work, I have a task available. The pay is very high. Do you have companions? I don't know how capable you are, so I won't offer you the mission unless you have backup and they seem satisfactory. If you are willing, bring as many as possible. Failure would be... bad. I cannot stress enough how bad it would be.

"Think it over. I'll go speak to our half-orc friends. Thank you for bringing them to my attention, by the way. I do appreciate not getting jumped in some dark alley."

The man stood up and, with a quick and subtle motion, he brought his longsword to his side. He kept a low profile and deftly navigated through the room to the half-orcs' table.

They stared at him in disbelief.

"Let's talk," said the man.

A moment of silence passed. 'Silence', that is, as silent as the table could get with the cacophony of the rest of the tavern.

"...Okay, human," said one of the half-orcs.

The man pulled a chair and sat at their table.

"Do I know you?" said a half-orc.

The man shrugged. "Possibly? It's not important. What is important is: Are you interested in making some coin?"

The half-orcs leaned forward, attentive.

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge avoided the soldiers, but so did everyone. He only paused for a moment, and then nudged his guide to hurry.

Once they arrived, Drudge noticed his companions, and walked over to them, clearly disappointed to not see Rachana. He pulled a chair out for the little girl, and then picked her up and sat her down, before pushing in her chair and getting a chair of her own. Davkhur, Verdun. was all he said before turning his eyes to the man who was clearly serving his friends.

Barkeep? The girl can have one unit of food. Please supply it. Nothing crazy.

[Navian]

Navian watched as Vice crossed the room... and then, more twisted grey nothingness. No connection, for the third time today. What were the odds? Higher in Sharn than anywhere she'd been, certainly. She leaned on one arm a few moments, considering who to choose next, when the view returned suddenly. Vice was sitting at a table, looking back across the tavern again. Perhaps an intervention was in order.

<A word of warning: Your new acquaintance is in hiding,> was her only comment to Vice. She could have elaborated, but Vice was rebellious, so explaining would not likely have the intended effect. Meanwhile, she resented the very idea of reverse psychology. Navian tapped the image of Drudge, and watched for a while. It was probably best not to say anything ominous to him.

This is the new version, in light of the mysterious man's established status condition.

[gr8artist]

Vice sat at the table, stunned in disbelief. "People don't work that way," he thought. "You can't just... when they're... Gahh!" He stood angrily as Navian narrated something in his mind. He wasn't sure how exactly her powers worked, but he thought a response, loud and clear, in case she was able to read his thoughts.
<Some blasted human with a fancy sword and a clean look about him. Not sure what his story is, but he either don't understand danger, or he's got some naive ideas 'bout how dangerous a pack of thugs can be. Says he might have work, though, but I'd need to bring the gang.>
Vice downed his drink. Then rose and moved to leave. He'd travel slowly from the area, in the hopes that he could find someone committing some manor of crime. But, he figured he should also be getting back in touch with the others, if for no other reason than to let them know the strange human had a possible job for them. He walked lazily back toward the Clown's Tear.

[Barbarian MD]

Rachana walks from the restrooms, having been here the whole time, and welcomes Drudge to the Tear. Conspicuously to the others, she has inverted her silks, now in much more muted colors than the bright thing she had worn in the nicer parts of town, and she's wearing her swords openly now. Seeing the excitement on everyone's faces, she asks, "What did I miss?"

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge grinned at his friend, the ninja. Rachana! Here, I have a piece of paper for you to read. It's charity work, but I was hoping I could convince you to help me with it while we waited for our friend to get here.

Drudge grabbed a chair from a nearby table, whose residents moved to complain, but seemed to think better of it, and decided they didn't need the spare chair after all. Drudge pushed the chair into the table Verdun and Davkhur were sharing, and seated himself again.

[Barbarian MD]

Rachana glances over the paper and arches an eyebrow at Drudge. "What is this and where did you get it?" she asks.

"And what was that all about? she wonders aloud, nodding in the direction of the rapidly disappearing flunkey.

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge smiled and laughed, a little nervously at the end, at Rachana's reaction. From some thugs. Good ones though.

Watching the little man go, he shrugged with an earnest grin. Some thug. A different one though.

[DoctorGlock]

'No idea,' shrugged Verdun. 'Someone else's money I presume. When did you get here?' he asked Rachana. 'Also I don't do charity, it's bad for business,' he said flippantly to drudge. He grins at the kid. 'Unless you're looking to buy a bunch of armored battlewagons, then charity takes the form of a five percent discount on orders of twenty or more.'

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge looked at Verdun and narrowed his eyes. I found a paying job too. But I didn't ask for your charity. Rachana and I will be plenty. Vice might help too. But you might still be interested... the jobs involve a certain group of war criminals you like so much.

[Barbarian MD]

Rachana lays a hand on Drudge's arm after reading the notes. "This first job sounds pretty serious. This says a lot of people died. I don't know if we're up for the distraction right now, but we may be able to tackle it at some point when things quiet down a little. We may not be able to fight whatever this turns out to be, but we may be able to investigate it.

"The second job, on the other hand, sounds like something we might be able to do without going out of our way too much. We can keep our eyes and ears open while we're down in the sewers.

"You did well, Drudge. This is good work, and both jobs pay, so it's not charity."

Does Drudge's sheet say where Plorisk went missing, or provide any details about where we might start looking for him?

"So where's Vice? Did he say anything about where he was going?"

I can't recall if he mentioned the Flagon, which Rachana would have just overheard the name of, which might be a connection. Otherwise she's oblivious to whatever all this activity is that seems to be brewing outside the Tear. Unless either a knowledge roll or a sense motive roll would provide something that would draw her attention? [roll0]

[DoctorGlock]

'Ah, paying charities is my favorite kinds, especially when they ain't much outta the way,' Verdun nods sagely. 'Though I could use a twenty battle wagon commission right now, all things considered, that funding would go pretty far...' he mused. 'Actually, tell me about the first one... a proof of concept test might be just the thing for securing that sort of contract...' he stops for a moment. 'And what's all this about about war criminals?'

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge's voice rumbled wordlessly before he spoke. House Cannith has been attacked. One of their mines. I bet we could get paid twice to find out by whom.

[DoctorGlock]

Drudge's voice rumbled wordlessly before he spoke. House Cannith has been attacked. One of their mines. I bet we could get paid twice to find out by whom.

Verdun's eyes widen a bit at that. He bore no particular bonds of kinship with his countrymen, but the idea of double billing rubbed him in just the right way. And his own house would be a windfall benefactor should his war machines perform well in a live fire demonstration...

'Ok, old chum, you've convinced me to become a humanitarian,' he concludes.

[gr8artist]

The door swung open quickly, and Vice stomped into the room with an angry scowl, cursing in the dark speech.
"Ragga shi'sansi ko rakka mol-" he paused, seeing his allies nearby. "Oy gang. Tell me we gots some luck, yeah? I'm pract'lly dyin' ta' crack some skulls or sommat, I tell ya. I dun hike all 'round this soddin' town lookin' fer a crook, even hangin' me purse loose onna' side, see?" He jingled his coinpurse and rolled his eyes. "Buggah' these spineless thugs 'n rats. Not a one of 'em even thought 'bout tryina' take it."

[DoctorGlock]

'Good news!' Verdun beams. 'Drudge found us good paying charity work that involves cracking someone or something's skull, and possibly war criminals!'

It was possibly that the alcohol was starting to get to him.

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge frowned at Verdun, and opened his mouth, but shut it firmly before shaking his head. Looking at Vice he smiled. I found some good people who need our help. They were willing to pay a little to find a missing person, find out who has been causing problems, and crack skulls along the way. And Verdun may be drunk... and confused.

[Jeff the Green]

"That's not exactly unusual," Davkhur mutters. "I'll come along. Pay is nice, but Nine Above I'll be bored if I have to wait around three days. I've only got so many books and I think I'm up to double digits on each of them this year."

[gr8artist]

"Count me in, mates. I'd take a job waxin' a gorrillon's nutsack at this point, ra'er than sittin' round this soddin' town twiddlin' me soddin' thumbs." Vice's trademark malicious grin crept across his lips. "Spec'lly if'n it might include crackin' skulls. Lead tha' way, boss."

[Barbarian MD]

"Wait a moment. We're supposed to keep a low profile. We can tackle the side jobs after we've met our contact," she hissed.

[darklink_shadow]

Sitting around doing nothing seems more suspicious than working for gangs. But... well... I don't know, I guess. Is sitting around doing nothing not suspicious?

Drudge rumbled, and rubbed his jaw. I'll do whatever you say, Rachana. You're a lot better at this than I am, I guess.

[gr8artist]

Vice grumbled, but didn't try to argue. He walked to the bar and ordered a flagon of the cheapest swill, before returning to the group with a stein full of bitter grog. "I ain't likin' the 'dea o' sittin' round wit' our thumbs in our bums any longer than's necess'ry, but I don' wanna' miss tha' job we been 'ired for, neitha'. Maybe one o' two stay 'ere an' meet tha' contac', while the rest chase down anotha' lead? Cov'rin all our bases, yeah?" He took a pull from his drink, choking down the bitter brew before brushing the froth from his lips with the ball of his thumb.