The Forbidden Land of Sundara: Dissention IC

[Plushie Arz]

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/Evercursed/Header/1343209524_6.jpg


“After all, why should I only tell you half the story?”
-Cwaedra Darkenspire, Guildmaster of the Nightsong Guild

The occupation of Kiiska had entered into its sixth month and a fragile peace seemed to hang over the city like a dewglass web on a summer's morning. The first trade caravans had arrived from Farlaen, bearing barrels of strange ales, slabs of marble and chestfuls of trinkets that glimmered like spun glass. The last of the rioting had quelled. Kiiskan guardsmen patrolled the platforms alongside Order recruits and the insurgency seemed to have stayed their hands under the weight of High Justiciar Jacob Helarm's ceasefire.

The city was built within the deep jungles of southern Sundara and it very much formed part of the landscape. It was layered in tiers. In the forest floor, between columns of hollowed out trees was the Undercity, where the paved streets and laneways winded under a canopy of timber decks and vine webbings. It was the domain of half-breeds, beggars and those deemed unworthy of scaling the dizzying heights of elven society.

Above the Undercity, the elves crafted a network of timber platforms and walkways between the branches that was connected to everywhere but led nowhere. The lower trunks and branches were reserved for citizens and artisans and the apartments within the hollowed out trunks were designed accordingly. In this sense, hundreds of elves could live within the trunk of a single redwood. As the branches ascended and the trunks narrowed, the stature of their inhabitants rose. The highest platforms were home to the most privileged. Politicians and the nobility lived a life of hedonism and luxury, protected by mighty spellwards and far from the morass of the Undercity.

At the centre of the city was the White Monarch; a vast whitewood almost three hundred feet high with trunk of over fifty feet diameter. When the old Council ruled, they held court on the highest platform in the White Monarch. The upper tiers now lay abandoned and spell-damaged while the lower sections serve as the stronghold for the new Kiiskan government. The new regime shares their stronghold with the Order of the Morning Sun, who had established a fortified safety zone around perimeters of the inner city. It is from there that they conduct their operations while keeping the city under constant vigilance.

MALCOLM
- Day five of Helarm's Ceasefire
Captain Malcolm O'Mallory of the Silent Stings Company looked down from the timber platforms to the city markets below. He saw the morning crowd of elves conducting their affairs in the throng of trade wagons, snack stalls and artisan goods that would have put the guildmasters of the Rivercroft Jeweller’s Association to shame. He watched as the members of the Kiiskan guard, in their green leafweaf armor and wide spearheads help maintain order in the streets.

Not even five months ago, those men and women would have been the wide-eyed beggers that wandered the streets of the Undercity while the decadent nobles drank above, oblivious to their plight. It was something he had seen in far too many towns and villages across both human empires and it tore at him that the same treatment of half-elves had been part of Kiiska’s immortal history.

Of course, it was the half elves who helped win the city when the Order army were finally at the west gates after nine months of jungle fighting. Once word of the undercity uprising had reached the commander, it was said that he threw down his arms and opened the gates of Kiiska for the Order army to march through unopposed.

Malcolm grimaced at the irony. Perhaps despite all the atrocities and bloodshed, the chance for the half-elven people had been worth it after all.

“Sir.” Alanna’s voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned to his lieutenant. Her coppery red hair ended in two braids behind her pointed ears and her yellow eyes were cast down at his feet. He had conscripted her from a dungeon in Stonewater, where she faced charges of theft from a larcenous yet gullible magistrate. She demonstrated her skills with the longbow and proved to be a stalwart soldier and a good friend. She handed Malcolm a scroll of vellum bearing the blue waxed seal of a dragon pierced by a greatsword. He recognised it as the personal seal of Colonel Victorine Monterone, of the White Mercy battalion.
“Was told to pass this to you by some stiff shirt.”

FIRVAIN
– Day eleven of Helarm’s Ceasefire
All was quiet in the lower reaches of Kiiska and the shadows of the overgrown bayans crept along the streets, reclaiming the shacks and treehouses for the evening.

The moon elf named Firvain waited, watching the candles burn lower as he ground the tips of his quarrels into a razor sharp point. A row of ammunition was already arrayed neatly on heavily gouged teak table, the black covering the droplets of burgundy wax that stained the surface. He crinkled his nose at the earthly smell that filled small space and glanced at the dark stains that saturated the mildewed walls. He was told the safehouse had once belonged to a high ranking lieutenant of the Midnight Syndicate, before his untimely demise. The heavy iron door that led up the narrow set of wooden stairs was covered with gratified scrawls of unholy symbols to fell entities he did not know.

"I wish you'd stop cleaning your weapons every time I visit."

He looked up from his crossbow to see the slight high elf standing opposite, looking at his display reproachfully. Her outlines seemed vague and her body was translucent. A projected image. He knew the girl wouldn't leave Hightree, the primary stronghold of the Serpent's Fang and it was for the best. Not many could stomach the methods he employed in his line of work.


AIREA
– Two Months Earlier

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/Evercursed/Header/Poster_MTG_RTR_Swamp_lg.jpg

Nine miles deep, and eighty miles to the south-east of Kiiska, underneath the fetid K’naan Swamps was the drow settlement of Chauvalaum. It was the last outpost where the Deep Council exercised their influence and a stopover for rothe driven trade caravans before they reached the surface world. Spindly stalagmites like the remnants of a petrified forest reached for the rippled ceiling of the cavern, beneath a jewelled waterfall that filtered the few rays of sunlight into a source of food for clumps of phosphorus fungus and neon coloured lichen. From a verandaH overlooking the waterfall, Airea'lac'koorth, the Nascent Blade of the Deep Council watched as the woman filled another goblet of the rich mushroom wine from a glass pitcher and handed it to him.

"Pah, Kiiska. Don't even know why they'd want you to go there." She scoffed, throwing back her mane of silvery white hair fixed with a single spider clasp. Her name was Qilana Di'Tanaz'riit and she was a procurer of wares from the surface world. Despite her lithe figure and refined features common to most highborn, her skin was a deep shade of aubergine. He had heard that her bloodline was less than pure, a tryst by Matron Melazin Di'Tanaz'riit with an exceptionally virile Tuh'raan that produced a litter of purple skinned hedonists. He knew better than to repeat such tale to her face. He had seen the price of loose lips in the Underdark.

"Full of darthiir and rivvil. I heard the sun worshippers sacked it to the ground and fed the city to their gods."
Surface elves, other races

[bcool999]

FIRVAIN
– Day eleven of Helarm’s Ceasefire
All was quiet in the lower reaches of Kiiska and the shadows of the overgrown bayans crept along the streets, reclaiming the shacks and treehouses for the evening.

The moon elf named Firvain waited, watching the candles burn lower as he ground the tips of his quarrels into a razor sharp point. A row of ammunition was already arrayed neatly on heavily gouged teak table, the black covering the droplets of burgundy wax that stained the surface. He crinkled his nose at the earthly smell that filled small space and glanced at the dark stains that saturated the mildewed walls. He was told the safehouse had once belonged to a high ranking lieutenant of the Midnight Syndicate, before his untimely demise. The heavy iron door that led up the narrow set of wooden stairs was covered with gratified scrawls of unholy symbols to fell entities he did not know.

"I wish you'd stop cleaning your weapons every time I visit."

He looked up from his crossbow to see the slight high elf standing opposite, looking at his display reproachfully. Her outlines seemed vague and her body was translucent. A projected image. He knew the girl wouldn't leave Hightree, the primary stronghold of the Serpent's Fang and it was for the best. Not many could stomach the methods he employed in his line of work.


Giving her his wolfish grin, made even more so by the teeth he had filed to points, Firvain spreads his arms wide and says, "Calthera my friend, I know you would rather see me cleaning rather than drop by and see them dirty." *Elven How different this man was from the one Calthera had known even a decade ago! What was once a proud elven warrior, with high honor and head over heels in love with his beautiful wife, was now living as a savage, hair tangled, teeth sharpened to points, and likely a stench that could be smelled from where she stood... if she were actually standing there.

"But now the moon rises, as must I." Firvain says as he puts down his gear and listens to his last remaining friend, "What prey does this lonesome spirit have to entertain him this night?"*Elven

[Thokk_Smash]

Sitting with his legs dangling, Malcolm observes the bustling city below with keen eyes. One woman buys a slab of beef; a dinner meal for her family, perhaps? A man in fine clothing picks up a vase and looks at it critically as the shopkeep smiles unctuously beside him. Hopefully the man doesn't get taken in by the offer.

So many tiny, normal interactions going on below. People trying to go about their lives amidst the terrible business going on around them. He cannot decide if he approves of the actions of the Kiiskan half-elves, or if he wants to condemn them for it.

He sighs, and runs his hand through his silver hair. Shifting on the ledge, he adjusts the quiver on his back and the one on his belt to sit better on his lithe frame. This situation is bad for all concerned, and he is caught between warring loyalties. He's known it all his years: Life can be so cruel.

Thank you, Alanna, he says, getting to his feet to stand next to his lieutenant. Taking the scroll, he notes the seal before breaking it. He considers what he knows of the Colonel as he reads through the contents of the message. Give me the sitrep on the condition of the Company. How is morale? I've been in enough meetings these past few days to last a month.. He truly regrets having to partake in so many meetings after the ceasefire. He would have much preferred to train with the men and women under his command, to overview their training and continue to gain their trust and loyalty. First on and last off the training field is what he had lived by when he became captain of the Silent Stings.

Of course, soldiers can only do so many combat drills before they begin to lose focus. Especially during an extended ceasefire like this one. Perhaps a rest day would be in order.

Knowledge (Local) on the Colonel: [roll0]
Knowledge (Nobility) on the Colonel: [roll1]

[Sylvaen]

AIREA
– Two Months Earlier

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/Evercursed/Header/Poster_MTG_RTR_Swamp_lg.jpg

Nine miles deep, and eighty miles to the south-east of Kiiska, underneath the fetid K’naan Swamps was the drow settlement of Chauvalaum. It was the last outpost where the Deep Council exercised their influence and a stopover for rothe driven trade caravans before they reached the surface world. Spindly stalagmites like the remnants of a petrified forest reached for the rippled ceiling of the cavern, beneath a jewelled waterfall that filtered the few rays of sunlight into a source of food for clumps of phosphorus fungus and neon coloured lichen. From a verandaH overlooking the waterfall, Airea'lac'koorth, the Nascent Blade of the Deep Council watched as the woman filled another goblet of the rich mushroom wine from a glass pitcher and handed it to him.

"Pah, Kiiska. Don't even know why they'd want you to go there." She scoffed, throwing back her mane of silvery white hair fixed with a single spider clasp. Her name was Qilana Di'Tanaz'riit and she was a procurer of wares from the surface world. Despite her lithe figure and refined features common to most highborn, her skin was a deep shade of aubergine. He had heard that her bloodline was less than pure, a tryst by Matron Melazin Di'Tanaz'riit with an exceptionally virile Tuh'raan that produced a litter of purple skinned hedonists. He knew better than to repeat such tale to her face. He had seen the price of loose lips in the Underdark.

"Full of darthiir and rivvil. I heard the sun worshippers sacked it to the ground and fed the city to their gods."
Surface elves, other races


The goblet exchanged hands with a silent nod of thanks from the wiry male. He didn't say anything for a moment, savoring one of the last views of Underdark for months to come. The air was cool and smelled of stone. The smell of Underdark's endless caverns. Airea'lac'koorth was attracted to it just as strongly as he was repelled. For over a hundred years, he had been a nobody - not a member of the drow nation, not a person, just a weapon to be tempered and honed. Underdark didn't feel like home. It felt like his natural habitat, he was comfortable in its endless caverns, but it wasn't home.

The first time he ever laid his eyes on one of the drow cities he felt a sense of dread, not security. Ever since that first moment he kept the first question that came to his mind a secret. His trainer would be proud - damned be his name - but it only showed how twisted an upbringing was given to him:

"How come all these folks don't just kill each other?"

He came to understood much later that the common folk didn't feel the need. Their thoughts upon entering a guesthouse were of comfortable seats and good wine, while Aire's training made him take stock of flawed defenses, escape routes, and possible threats. Ever since, he knew he didn't belong there, among the common people he was sworn to protect. He didn't belong anyplace. He would go elsewhere, anywhere the Council would send him, and all the places would be different and yet so very same. He would never belong.

Aire turned his back on the view, raised the goblet up in toast, and smelled the wine briefly, studying the woman out of the corner of his eye (*). A drow doing business with surface world was always skirting the edge of legality, and had to be one of ruthless nature and strong will. Those were good traits, but could be very dangerous when mishandled. Aire liked that.

"Velve anika'erg'les l'rah nindel zayfe ol(**)," he repeated an old mantra taught to him by his late trainer. How hollow it sounded, he winced inwardly. Like many of Urrith's tenets, this one was supposed to reinforce obedience, but held little meaning on its own. He caught Oilana's amused glance and shrugged, a hint of boyishly mischievous smile dancing on his lips.

"Your guess is as good as mine, my lady. Possibly better, since you are more likely to have heard of latest events in the area. I have learned never to underestimate the power of a beautiful woman and the knowledge of a smart one (***)," Aire smiled and took a small sip of the rich wine.

---
(*) Sense Motive 1d20+7
(**) Drow: "A blade doesn't question the hand that wields it"
(***) Diplomacy 1d20+5

[Sylvaen]

Making the rolls..

(*) Sense Motive [roll0]
(**) Drow: "A blade doesn't question the hand that wields it"
(***) Diplomacy [roll1]

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
Alana shrugged. "You're the commanding officer."

"The Company is at full strength sir, at two hundred and twenty soldiers. Fresh recruits are being shadowed on patrol by more experienced handlers to avoid further incidents, in accordance with the High Justiciar's new handbook. Magistrate Jarren has countersigned the transfer slips, formalising this company as part of the United Kiiskan Guard."

The Monterones were an old family hailing from the barony of Eastcliff, three days to the north-west of Farlaen. They were descended from Sir Gabriel Monterone, the Slayer of Aurimanthor the Brazen, a gold wyrm that reputed plagued the lands around the Bay of Life in an era before the Unification of Churches. The current patriarch, Lord Victor XVII was fifty six years old and a soft-spoken critic of the Order's increasing militarisation. He also had a seat in the Farlaenean House of Representatives, the lower house where petitions were voted on and put forward before the powerful Farlaenean senate.

Lord Victor's oldest daughter, Victorine Monterone is the youngest woman to achieve the rank of Colonel at the age of thirty five. She was a former captain of the third White Mercy company, the Blazing Furies, and was promoted after the death of Colonel Eric Brownlow at the hands of Midnight Syndicate cultists in the lower reaches. Malcolm hadn't met the Monterone heiress but knew she had an impressive service record. The Blazing Furies had been involved in several major skirmishes during the nine month campaign and were yet undefeated in the field of battle.

He opened the letter and saw the cursive handwriting with the large exaggerated D and Cs.


Dear Captain O'Mallory,

I have heard of your exploits and your recent transfer to the Kiiskan Guard. I would wish to privately discuss cooperation between the Silent Stings and the White Mercy at my office.

I would be pleased if you may advise of your attendance at a convenient time.

-Colonel V. Monterone

Meetings were an inevitable aspect of officer life in the Order. After attaining a certain rank, promotions were attained on pedigree as much as prowess. Malcolm knew his half-elven status limited his prospects at the former and as a newly minted Colonel, Victorine would be looking to expand her network of contacts and allies.

FIRVAIN
Calthera bit her lips as Firvain revealed his filed teeth. He knew despite her distaste for his methods, she was no longer the idealist who spouted long-winded dreams of valiant knights and peace while in Kae'ris. The charges laid against her in Farlaen of treason, homosexuality and accessory to the murder of Sol Jonas Bradford had seen to that. However, unlike him, she had not yet traded hope for vengeance.

"We're leaving the city in a few days to defend a lizardfolk temple." She said. "In the interim, the ceasefire must stand. Sources have said there's a new group that's made their way into the city that threatens our position. There's not much information but they seem to suggest they're flocking around a figure called the Rat King. We need to know more about them."

[Plushie Arz]

AIREA
Airea could see that Qilana was a ruthless woman of enterprise and she was observing his reactions to her words as if to gauge his loyalty. He remembered that while the Deep Council had arranged their contact, he had little idea of her true agenda. The accommodation at her manse was peerless and so far she hadn't tried to kill him.

Qilana laughed, her voice like a sweetened wine laced with poison. "Flattery takes you far." The purple woman leaned over the small table and his glance momentarily drifted to her chest, barely covered by the backless gown of silvery spidersilk. She took sip from her own goblet and wiped her lips. "But it is a dangerous blade that develops its own will. It seems the Deep Council is too slow. My sister told me Tellista Jam'hal has also set up a group there. Yes, Tellista. Galem's bitch. A ruined city provides much pickings no?"

The name of Lord Galem, the Grandmaster of the Deep Council was familiar with most drow. A powerful arcanist, he led the drow in an alliance with the darklings and the goblinoid horde of Warchief Avaraxus Kull in the Second Darkstar War. Tellista served as his lieutenant and concubine but when the army faced its shattering defeat at the Battle of the Obelisk, she was nowhere to be found. He had heard that she since renounced her allegiance to the Deep Council was marked as a renegade.

[bcool999]

FIRVAIN
Calthera bit her lips as Firvain revealed his filed teeth. He knew despite her distaste for his methods, she was no longer the idealist who spouted long-winded dreams of valiant knights and peace while in Kae'ris. The charges laid against her in Farlaen of treason, homosexuality and accessory to the murder of Sol Jonas Bradford had seen to that. However, unlike him, she had not yet traded hope for vengeance.

"We're leaving the city in a few days to defend a lizardfolk temple." She said. "In the interim, the ceasefire must stand. Sources have said there's a new group that's made their way into the city that threatens our position. There's not much information but they seem to suggest they're flocking around a figure called the Rat King. We need to know more about them."

"Ugh!" grunts Firvain as he takes a seat once more, "Typical, you call me to a city full of Order soldiers during a cease-fire, and you ask me to hold the peace rather than break it."

He casts a canny eye her way and says, "This isn't yet another of your attempts to 'save me' is it? I already told you, the man you knew died a valiant death protecting his wife and unborn child. I am merely the remnants of his hate and betrayal, left to do what he could not... But, seeing as how you are going to be out of town, I suppose I can wait until you get back."

Firvain looks to his gear and starts packing it up, without looking up he says, "I don't suppose you will invite me out to whatever fun you are getting up to with the lizards? No matter, with luck this Rat King will keep me entertained until you return and then we can paint the town red." Firvain looks up with the toothy grin and asks, "I suppose you left someone around for me to share what I learned with correct? Someone to keep me in line?"

[Sylvaen]

AIREA
Airea could see that Qilana was a ruthless woman of enterprise and she was observing his reactions to her words as if to gauge his loyalty. He remembered that while the Deep Council had arranged their contact, he had little idea of her true agenda. The accommodation at her manse was peerless and so far she hadn't tried to kill him.

Qilana laughed, her voice like a sweetened wine laced with poison. "Flattery takes you far." The purple woman leaned over the small table and his glance momentarily drifted to her chest, barely covered by the backless gown of silvery spidersilk. She took sip from her own goblet and wiped her lips. "But it is a dangerous blade that develops its own will. It seems the Deep Council is too slow. My sister told me Tellista Jam'hal has also set up a group there. Yes, Tellista. Galem's bitch. A ruined city provides much pickings no?"

The name of Lord Galem, the Grandmaster of the Deep Council was familiar with most drow. A powerful arcanist, he led the drow in an alliance with the darklings and the goblinoid horde of Warchief Avaraxus Kull in the Second Darkstar War. Tellista served as his lieutenant and concubine but when the army faced its shattering defeat at the Battle of the Obelisk, she was nowhere to be found. He had heard that she since renounced her allegiance to the Deep Council was marked as a renegade.


"I am but a plain man, and my voice speaks plainly, my Lady," Aire bowed slightly. The reason why he was still alive while many others have fallen was his ability to recognize when he was outmatched. Time to pull back and regroup, he thought. Oilana was a master of smooth talk, and seeing through his clumsy flattery was no challenge for her. For some reason, though, it seemed to have sincerely amused her, just as the effect she knew she had on any man.

Upon hearing the name of Tellista Jam'hal, his brow furrowed and he paused in the middle of another sip of the excellent wine. For a brief moment, the merry sparkle in his amber eyes died out, only to be replaced by a fire much deeper. He was partially familiar with Tellista's story. He most certainly knew she had once been a powerful woman, now a sought-after criminal. The Council certainly couldn't afford to allow appear complacent towards Tellista's betrayal, and that alone was enough to send a handful of Executors her way. That wasn't the only reason, though, why she had shared. There had to be more to this, Aire thought, a personal favor to ask, a vendetta to carry out...

Aire carefully swallowed the wine, licked his lips and put the goblet down. He weighed the words carefully when he spoke again: "As a carcass in the open, Kiiska appears to attract carrion eaters. I appreciate the information, my Lady, regardless of whether Council was aware of it or not. Kiiska is a cauldron from which new order would rise. To allow a renegade force to form at the very root would threaten safety of every drow, regardless of their affiliation."

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"The Company is at full strength sir, at two hundred and twenty soldiers. Fresh recruits are being shadowed on patrol by more experienced handlers to avoid further incidents, in accordance with the High Justiciar's new handbook. Magistrate Jarren has countersigned the transfer slips, formalising this company as part of the United Kiiskan Guard."

The Monterones were an old family hailing from the barony of Eastcliff, three days to the north-west of Farlaen. They were descended from Sir Gabriel Monterone, the Slayer of Aurimanthor the Brazen, a gold wyrm that reputed plagued the lands around the Bay of Life in an era before the Unification of Churches. The current patriarch, Lord Victor XVII was fifty six years old and soft-spoken critic of the Order's increasing militarisation. He also had a seat in the Farlaenean House of Representatives, representing Eastcliff.

Lord Victor's oldest daughter, Victorine Monterone is the youngest woman to achieve the rank of Colonel at the age of thirty five. She was a former captain of the third White Mercy company, the Blazing Furies, and was promoted after the death of Colonel Eric Brownlow at the hands of Midnight Syndicate cultists in the lower reaches. Malcolm hadn't met the Monterone heiress but knew she had an impressive service record. The Blazing Furies had been involved in several major skirmishes during the nine month campaign and were yet undefeated in the field of battle.

He opened the letter and saw the cursive handwriting with the large exaggerated D and Cs.



Meetings were an inevitable aspect of officer life in the Order. After attaining a certain rank, promotions were attained on pedigree as much as prowess. Malcolm knew his half-elven status limited his prospects at the former and as a newly minted Colonel, Victorine would be looking to expand her network of contacts and allies.

Excellent. That should open up more avenues for the company. As well, it will give me a bit more authority when bringing requests to my superiors. What incidents occurred before the new handbook? Were any incidents within the Company?

He considers Victorine Monterone. The youngest woman to become Colonel in the Order; Captain in the Blazing Furies before becoming the commander of the entire company. To say that she is ambitious would be a disservice to her. Allying with her could be the first step in securing his own rise in the ranks.

And even more noteworthy...her father's views on the Order's militarization. If Victorine shares her father's opinions, then she is indeed an ally that he would like to get to know better.

Nodding, he rolls up the vellum. It seems like Colonel Monterone is willing to look past my heritage--or at least, favor my military record over it. Walk with me to my office. I need to write a reply to the Colonel.

His steps are light as they walk towards the Stings' quarters. The symbols on his arm--those of House O'Mallory, the Order, and the Silent Stings--flash proudly. Has Alexander broken the new string on his bow yet? he asks with a wry twist to his voice. That man has trouble with the word "restraint".

True, magical bows don't break, but either A.) Magic bowstrings aren't as immune, or B.) Alexander's just that strong :smallbiggrin:

[Plushie Arz]

AIREA
"Yet carrion feeders still need a nest." Replied Oilana, reclining back on her padded chair. She gave no hint of her true feelings behind a false smile. "And from what I hear, no fewer than a dozen nests have sprouted in that cesspit. The elves, naturally, fight back. Eroln, no doubt from Avaraxus' little rabble join them. And then you have all sorts of og'elend going in there. Tell me, how does the Deep Council intend to navigate this little order? What schemes do they plot or are you simply another pawn in their games?"

*Orcs.
**Heretics.

FIRVAIN
Calthera shook her head sadly. "The man I knew would've moved on. Found someone else and started again. There's some things in this world I just can't save."

He sensed that Calthera was speaking from her own experiences. He had heard rumours that she was involved with a drow blackguard that rode a fiery nightmare as a steed, and then later the former archmage of Kiiska, Lerethi Magdellar. He recalled any mentions of the former made her ears red while she adamantly denied the latter. The denials were a little too adamant for him to credibly dismiss.

"The mission to the lizardfolk lands is going to be sensitive and it'll take a couple of days. We need that peace to act against the Order. It's better you remain here and gather information for the Serpent's Fang. You can report to Felix. He's based in the same neighbourhood that you are."

Firvain had heard of Felix. A grotesque beast of a man who worked from a small office atop an abandoned treetop terrace, he was a broker who peddled in secrets as if they were wares at a market stall. Horrifically unpleasant, he was tolerated for the valuable information that he gathers for the resistance through a network of spies. Calthera looked wistfully at Firvain as her projected form started to fade.

"If there's anything you need, let Felix know. Good luck Firvain."

MALCOLM
"None yet, sir. Unless you order it. The recruits are so green they piss grass." Replied Alanna. "The top brass finally decided to do something after the Xiloscars."

The incident was widely condemned shortly after the Order's arrival in Kiiska. Two children from the Xiloscar family had been playing with a thunderstick, a popular enough toy among children in the Undercity. By accident, a spark from the stick landed on an Order patrol's cloak and the humans retaliated violently, killing the entire family in their home. The soldiers responsible, members of Captain Franklyn Calley's Hollow Men Company were never charged. Nonetheless, they were reportedly killed a few weeks later when the rebels launched an attack at the Steel Pits, where they were based. Field Marshal Arwell Wessing had simply called it 'collateral damage'.

"He forgets to wax them." Said Alanna, when the topic turned to Alexander. "The strings they sell here are far better than the ones we had back home. Even someone like him would have to drink a whole barrel of mead before he could snap them."

The Silent Sting headquarter was a hollowed tree accessible on each level by concentric platforms that curled around the trunk. The guards saluted the Captain as he entered and made for his office.

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM
-Day eleven of Helarm's Ceasefire
He was being pursued. He knew it. For the past three nights, a different intruder had accosted him while he tranced in his home. The first was a doglike creature that breathed hellish flames from its maw. He dispatched it with a conjured orb of cold that shattered the creature's body and made it disappear into a foul smelling cloud. On the second night, a shadowy cloaker tried to suffocate him as he woke from his trance to pass water. Three scorching rays had blasted that creature into a fleshy mess but again, the remains disappeared before he could inspect them. Last night, a man-sized shadow disturbed his rest and he was forced to flee his home on the outskirts of Kiiska. He was definitely being targeted by someone.

Hiam rarely wandered the streets of lower Kiiska after hours. Setting foot in the city was bad enough after all that had transpired with the human invasion. After both turning down the representatives of the United Kiiskan Guard and the Resistance, he noticed his appearances in the city were recorded and he would receive further visits to join from both groups. However, this was a different situation altogether. A light fog covered the streets as he passed under a platform, his eyes and ears preened for sounds of his pursuers. He noted the quiet in the streets and lack of lights in the surrounding treehouses. It was past curfew and there were no Kiiskan Guards or Order soldiers to enforce it.

[Plushie Arz]

RANEL
-Day six of Helarm's Ceasefire
The Undercity of Kiiska was where the half-elves had languished under the rule of the Old Council. Save for the odd dancer or trading procession, few elves liked to linger long near the crammed terrace shacks, dirty streets that reeked of waste and the narrow laneways where robberies and muggings were a part of everyday life. Six months on however, there were more elves in the Undercity than ever. Some had been driven from their treetop homes by the Kiiskan Guard while others could not afford the upkeep over their former abodes. As Ranel Alerath, the former scout of the Elladyr strolled through the mass of elven misery, he dodged a pall of urine thrown from a balcony that splattered near his feet. He proceeded, paying little heed to the shadows in the alleys.

He opened the moist, creaky door of the tavern, the Soond. It was a squat building at the base of a blackened cedar with a thatched roof and vines that covered the windows carved into thick stone walls. Unusual for a tavern, it did not have any common areas but rather partitioned booths with panels that closed for privacy. Its design and unsavory location made it a popular place for underhanded business away from the eyes of the Kiiskan guard. He was here to meet a man named Droth.

As he slid open the painted panels, he saw an older elven man waiting for him. He had tufty grey hair with streaks of white and a well-fed look about him. Although he was dressed in silks and finery, it was obvious from the frayed edges that he had seen better days. A thick silver chain adorned with opals was around his neck. He poured some wine from a clay pitcher into a a beaten copper goblet and offered it to him. It smelled more like vinegar than wine and there was a watery consistency to it.

"You reputation precedes you." Exclaimed Droth, nervously clapping his hands. Each of this ten fingers had a fat golden ring around it. Ranel thought the man would be wearing all his remaining wealth on his body. "I'm afraid I cannot offer you a better beverage but surely you don't partake while you're on the job?"

[Sylvaen]

AIREA
"Yet carrion feeders still need a nest." Replied Oilana, reclining back on her padded chair. She gave no hint of her true feelings behind a false smile. "And from what I hear, no fewer than a dozen nests have sprouted in that cesspit. The elves, naturally, fight back. Eroln, no doubt from Avaraxus' little rabble join them. And then you have all sorts of og'elend going in there. Tell me, how does the Deep Council intend to navigate this little order? What schemes do they plot or are you simply another pawn in their games?"

*Orcs.
**Heretics.

"My Lady, everyone is a pawn in Deep Council's games," Aire smiled. She was attacking his pride now, a move he knew too well. Now Oilana was entering his territory; by withdrawing from the little game of flattery and retreating, he had lured her out like a duelist who retreats lures out his opponent. But, he decided, instead of taking advantage of opponent's tactical mistake, he would gauge her own interests, and give her at least part of what she was seeking to gain from this meeting.

"The Council's schemes run deep and tall, deeper than Underdark, and taller than the tallest mountains. I do not claim to know what they are thinking, but I can tell you what I'm thinking. Even in their schemes, the Council heed the word of Ni'Kote. Tell me, my Lady," the wiry assassin leaned forward slightly, and his eyes were two smoldering firepits inside dark shadows, "have you recently ventured into the world above? There is much chaos and bloodshed, and Ni'Kote's face in the sky has grown closer. It frightens the tangi'z'hin(*) and drives them mad. Mornay's hold over her church is weakening. Her chosen was murdered and replaced by his own father who works against the Goddess as surely as were he one of us. The Order of the Morning Sun is an empty meaningless shell now."

The assassin's palms mimicked a roughly egg-shaped object, then crushed the imaginary shell as he pressed his palms together. And as he did, the flames in his eyes burned brightest, then disappeared. The zeal left him, he smiled, and once again became the charming rogue from earlier.

"We have suffered bitter defeat in the past, indeed. But the man, and the order that inflicted them upon us are no more. It is time to either move on, or to claim revenge upon those who have alienated themselves from their gods. Whichever path we take, I cannot say. That would be the Council's decision. But either way, we are clearly opposed to Morning Sun. I wouldn't be too surprised if we were approached with an offer of union against rivvin(**)."

"Darthiien and eroln (***) are of little concern to us," Aire waved his hand dismissively, "Their numbers are dwindling. Some fight to survive, some fight to avenge their fallen, and some fight because it is the only thing they have left. As long as they keep the bloodshed among themselves, there is little to worry about. But they can still be used."

He smiled at Oilana, shrugged, and raised his goblet again, returning the conversation back to its original topic: "And as you have pointed out, my Lady, there are other, much sweeter pickings in the meantime."

------
(*) - Those who walk in daylight, surface dwellers
(**) - Humans
(***) - Surface elves an Orcs

[kinem]

HIAM-Day eleven of Helarm's Ceasefire
He was being pursued. He knew it. For the past three nights, a different intruder had accosted him while he tranced in his home. The first was a doglike creature that breathed hellish flames from its maw. He dispatched it with a conjured orb of cold that shattered the creature's body and made it disappear into a foul smelling cloud. On the second night, a shadowy cloaker tried to suffocate him as he woke from his trance to pass water. Three scorching rays had blasted that creature into a fleshy mess but again, the remains disappeared before he could inspect them. Last night, a man-sized shadow disturbed his rest and he was forced to flee his home on the outskirts of Kiiska. He was definitely being targeted by someone.

Hiam rarely wandered the streets of lower Kiiska after hours. Setting foot in the city was bad enough after all that had transpired with the human invasion. After both turning down the representatives of the United Kiiskan Guard and the Resistance, he noticed his appearances in the city were recorded and he would receive further visits to join from both groups. However, this was a different situation altogether. A light fog covered the streets as he passed under a platform, his eyes and ears preened for sounds of his pursuers. He noted the quiet in the streets and lack of lights in the surrounding treehouses. It was past curfew and there were no Kiiskan Guards or Order soldiers to enforce it.

HIAM

The ceasefire, at first, had filled Hiam with the first real hope he'd had in a long time. Hope for peace, peace between the old ways and the new, hope for a future in which no group of people need be mistreated as a matter of course. He'd hoped to perhaps become a liaison of sorts between the groups, as an elf and as an ally of half-elves given his past.

Had an ominous feeling of unspecified dangers - of the calm before the storm - overtaken that hope prior to the first attack on his person? Hiam believed that it had, but he could no longer be certain, for now he had danger of a far more concrete and personal nature to deal with. Or was he simply losing his mind? For what proof did he have that the monsters were real? Yet he had to assume that they were, for he was not yet ready to die.

What enemies did he have? The Order, of course, but since the fall of Kiiska he'd not given them cause to single him out.

I need allies. Perhaps I should join the Guard or the Fang, then I need never trance alone. Yet perhaps that was the very purpose of the nightly intrusions - to scare him into such an alliance. It was plausible that the attacks were not truly meant to kill him. If so, he'd be a fool to fall for the trick, and would forever live under threat of being kicked out to face 'his enemy' alone.

No. I need more information on the threat. The attacks had been at his home, but on the other hand, there was obviously a spellcaster of some sort involved, for the monsters were apparently conjured, not real beasts that had been bodily carried from the depths of the jungle into the city by some team of monster-wranglers. And the shadow - not sure what that was. Anyway, the real question is, did they merely know where I live, or have I been scryed upon? Perhaps it's true what the wizards say; had I been one of them, I could prepare the right spells to protect myself at a time like this. As it is I know mostly spells of honest battle. And my spells brought down many invaders, but it was not enough to make a difference in the end.

Hiam had his mage armor spell active, of course, as always. Now he made sure as best he could that he was out of sight, hidden under the platform, and he used his hat to alter his appearance. He made himself look like a half-elf, made his hair dark, his height to seem six inches taller, and his clothing to resemble leather armor. He walked under the length of the platform before emerging in a perpendicular direction.

That done, he now sought out someplace to spend the night, a tavern of some sort.

OOC:
Disguise [roll0]

I assume there would be some sort of taverns or the like in the city.

When an elf trances, how aware of his surroundings is he?

BTW note his ring of spell-battle, which informs him of spellcasting within 60'.

[bcool999]

FIRVAIN
Calthera shook her head sadly. "The man I knew would've moved on. Found someone else and started again. There's some things in this world I just can't save."

He sensed that Calthera was speaking from her own experiences. He had heard rumours that she was involved with a drow blackguard that rode a fiery nightmare as a steed, and then later the former archmage of Kiiska, Lerethi Magdellar. He recalled any mentions of the former made her ears red while she adamantly denied the latter. The denials were a little too adamant for him to credibly dismiss.

"The mission to the lizardfolk lands is going to be sensitive and it'll take a couple of days. We need that peace to act against the Order. It's better you remain here and gather information for the Serpent's Fang. You can report to Felix. He's based in the same neighbourhood that you are."

Firvain had heard of Felix. A grotesque beast of a man who worked from a small office atop an abandoned treetop terrace, he was a broker who peddled in secrets as if they were wares at a market stall. Horrifically unpleasant, he was tolerated for the valuable information that he gathers for the resistance through a network of spies. Calthera looked wistfully at Firvain as her projected form started to fade.

"If there's anything you need, let Felix know. Good luck Firvain."

Firvain didn't begrudge Calthera's lack of understanding. Moon elves took marriage far more seriously than other elves, to the point where it was commonplace for a mate to follow their partner into death. Firvain almost did so, but his hatred towards humans stayed his hands, kept him bound to this life. So he was bound between worlds, the bonds of love he feels toward his wife pulling him into the next world, and the chains of pain and rage binding him to this one.

Seeing Calthera fading, Firvain's face grows serious and resembles the man he once was when he says, "Stay alive(*) old friend." *Sylvan

With the communication spell ending, Firvain decides it is time to head out. He collects the last of his gear and bids farewell to this abandoned place, at least until he returns to trance. He decides not to utilize the magic of his cowl, seeing as he didn't plan on being spotted this night. He walked off into the night on silent feet, thinking, "Now if I was the king of rats? Where would I be?" He briefly thought of going to see Felix and ask if that overgrown rat knew where his highness was, but he dismissed it, the night was far too fine, and Firvain in no mood, to deal with that one. Instead, Firvain decided to stalk the streets, familiarizing himself more fully with the city, and keeping an eye open for leads on his rat.

Taking 10 on hide and move silently for a total of 38 and 36, Firvain also has Hide in Plain sight so he doesn't require cover to hide. He can move at 40ft. per round without penalty to his checks.

(*) The word Firvain used more accurately translates to: Full of life or lively and is often used in Moon Elf prayers for wellness.

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM
He muttered the words of power, his form changing to become that of a half-elf. While there were many inns and taverns in Kiiska, he wasn't certain how many remained open after the occupation. The changing tastes of the half-elves as well as the abandonment of entire neighbourhoods after the riots made business conditions trying to say the least. Many of the more established merchants left their stores in the lower parts of the city for the relative safety of the Green Zone, where the elite had money to spare.

He thought he might try the Revanthas aul Bell, or Friend in Hand. It was a small bar nestled above the Undercity and hidden by an intricate network of vines and branches. It was a spot usually frequented by half-elves although with the occupation, former Kiiskan soldiers and mercenaries are counted among its clientele. He was friends with the owner, Dominel and he was rather impartial to his specialty monkey stew.

FIRVAIN
The streets of the lower reaches were empty. He knew that following a three way battle between the Midnight Syndicate, the Resistance and the Sisters of Dawn a few months ago, additional curfews were imposed on this area to root out the remnants of the maddened cultists. However, with few Kiiskan Guards willing to patrol the murderous streets, many of the families living in those treehouses had abandoned them for safer neighbourhoods. He kept his eyes open for any signs of activity that might betray the presence of the alleged 'Rat King'.

The subtle sound of creaking timber caught his attention. He looked down at a platform ten feet below to see an elf in sorceror's garbs disappearing into the shadows. A slightly taller half-elf wearing leather garbs walked out only a few minutes later with the same stepping patterns as the disappearing elf. It was unusual for one affiliated with the Order or the Kiiskan Guard to be in this place late at night and he surely hadn't heard of any other Resistance operatives in this area.

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"None yet, sir. Unless you order it. The recruits are so green they piss grass." Replied Alanna. "The top brass finally decided to do something after the Xiloscars."

The incident was widely condemned shortly after the Order's arrival in Kiiska. Two children from the Xiloscar family had been playing with a thunderstick, a popular enough toy among children in the Undercity. By accident, a spark from the stick landed on an Order patrol's cloak and the humans retaliated violently, killing the entire family in their home. The soldiers responsible, members of Captain Franklyn Calley's Hollow Men Company were never charged. Nonetheless, they were reportedly killed a few weeks later when the rebels launched an attack at the Steel Pits, where they were based. Field Marshal Arwell Wessing had simply called it 'collateral damage'.

"He forgets to wax them." Said Alanna, when the topic turned to Alexander. "The strings they sell here are far better than the ones we had back home. Even someone like him would have to drink a whole barrel of mead before he could snap them."

The Silent Sting headquarter was a hollowed tree accessible on each level by concentric platforms that curled around the trunk. The guards saluted the Captain as he entered and made for his office.

Malcolm
Malcolm's mouth thins to a narrow line as he remembers the Xiloscar incident. Even if the men responsible had died, they had not been formally punished He would like to think that such outbreaks are a thing of the past. But if he knows anything, it is that history repeats itself. He makes a mental note to inquire with the Colonel about whether other such incidents had been swept under the rug.

We need to improve our recruits' skill quickly. We have a little less than a fortnight in the ceasefire, and from what I can tell of the resistance, the end of the ceasefire will signal the beginning of conflict. Tell the sergeants to give their recruits extra drills for the next three days.

After they reach the headquarters, he dismisses Alanna to her own devices. Before she goes, he says, If you find them, send Jor'ellean and Bruno in. I'd like to speak with them. It has a few personal touches. A small portrait of the O'Mallory clan, sans his stepmother, hangs on the wall to the side. The woman had recused herself to her bedroom that day, and he had not pushed the issue. Two ancient-looking bows mounted on stands sit on a ledge on the other wall. They were the first bows he had crafted himself, and he remains proud of them to this day.

Unslinging his bow and quiver and placing them within arm's reach, he takes out a piece of vellum and quill and ink. He begins to write his reply to the Colonel.

I don't have time to write the reply to the Colonel right now. Gotta run, but wanted to get a IC post up. I'll edit in into this post if I can before you post, if not I'll write it in the next IC post.

[Plushie Arz]

AIREA
Oilana returned Airea's smile. The games of intrigue and etiquette among the drow were as deadly as swordplay and Airea could see that she had conceded to him. She wiped her lips with the back of her palm. "Ni'Kote or not, the chaos there serves us well. I've been to the surface once and I personally cannot stand the sun's glare. My sister however... I'm surprised she hasn't polluted my family's bloodlines further with her... cavorting."

She shook her head in distaste and continued.

"I'm certain you have your own instructions from the Deep Council and it is not my place to displace them. However, I would like to bank a favour in return for the accommodation that I have so freely provided and wine that you so eagerly partaken."

"You are to keep an eye on my sister whilst you are in Kiiska. Her name is Verzera. Hot of blood, lacking restraint. She rides a nightmare by the name of Vespers, an old family servant. You are to ensure she does not come to harm."

MALCOLM
"As you please, Sir." Bowed Alanna and she closed the doors to Malcolm's office. He sat in silence for a few moments before resuming his reply to the Colonel's invitation. As the ink was drying on his parchment, the door knocked. Sergeant Jor'ellean Ciphas and Lieutenant Bruno Caldwell were at the door.

Jor'ellean was a small man. Quiet, inconspicuous and had the uncanny ability to blend into any crowd. He nodded in deference to the Captain.

Bruno, the sandy-haired youth was of a different temperament to the half elf. The fourth son of Lord Lucas Caldwell of the Stony Bridge, he grew up among famed knights like Sir Aiden Gillard and was tutored in swordplay, fletchery, history, the faith and chivalry.

However as a fourth son, he had little prospects of attaining lordship in his own right and he grew up without the ambitions that afflicted many lordlings. He was among Malcolm's few friends growing up and the Captain suspected he had a soft spot for Alanna.

"You called for us, Sir? We are forever in your service."

[Sylvaen]

AIREA
Oilana returned Airea's smile. The games of intrigue and etiquette among the drow were as deadly as swordplay and Airea could see that she had conceded to him. She wiped her lips with the back of her palm. "Ni'Kote or not, the chaos there serves us well. I've been to the surface once and I personally cannot stand the sun's glare. My sister however... I'm surprised she hasn't polluted my family's bloodlines further with her... cavorting."

She shook her head in distaste and continued.

"I'm certain you have your own instructions from the Deep Council and it is not my place to displace them. However, I would like to bank a favour in return for the accommodation that I have so freely provided and wine that you so eagerly partaken."

"You are to keep an eye on my sister whilst you are in Kiiska. Her name is Verzera. Hot of blood, lacking restraint. She rides a nightmare by the name of Vespers, an old family servant. You are to ensure she does not come to harm."



Aire bowed his head, gladly accepting this small victory in game of quick wits. He knew all too well that were circumstances different, he would have lost. His strengths were elsewhere and he was quite happy to leave the talking to nobles and tradesmen.

"I will keep my eyes and ears open, and unless my orders take me in a different direction, you have my word that I will do my best to ensure your sister comes to no harm, quietly, and discreetly."

He finished the last of the delicious wine, savored its rich taste, and for a moment, he let the bliss show on his face. Then, with a quiet sigh, he set the goblet down, and rose to his feet. The journey before him was long, and he couldn't afford to lose too much time. The Council didn't look favorably on those who dallied.

"My Lady, the world up there is," Aire paused for a moment, searching for an appropriate word, "different. Prone to change and chaos. The world down here on the other hand may be a bit still for the likes of us. Few are fortuitous enough to live their lives between those two - knowing the excitement of the world above, yet enjoying safety of this one. May nothing disturb your household, for what you have built for yourself is truly a small miracle. I consider myself lucky to have been welcome here."

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"As you please, Sir." Bowed Alanna and she closed the doors to Malcolm's office. He sat in silence for a few moments before resuming his reply to the Colonel's invitation. As the ink was drying on his parchment, the door knocked. Sergeant Jor'ellean Ciphas and Lieutenant Bruno Caldwell were at the door.

Jor'ellean was a small man. Quiet, inconspicuous and had the uncanny ability to blend into any crowd. He nodded in deference to the Captain.

Bruno, the sandy-haired youth was of a different temperament to the half elf. The fourth son of Lord Lucas Caldwell of the Stony Bridge, he grew up among famed knights like Sir Aiden Gillard and was tutored in swordplay, fletchery, history, the faith and chivalry.

However as a fourth son, he had little prospects of attaining lordship in his own right and he grew up without the ambitions that afflicted many lordlings. He was among Malcolm's few friends growing up and the Captain suspected he had a soft spot for Alanna.

"You called for us, Sir? We are forever in your service."

Malcolm
He brings to his mind the cursive lessons he had been given before being sent off to the monastery. He had taken to them well enough; at the very least, he had been given enough chances to practice in the past few weeks. After moments of thought, he pens his reply in his typical uniform cursive script:


Dear Colonel Monterone,

I am honored to have received your missive. Your own exploits both proceed and flatter you. I would be happy to discuss potential cooperation between the Silent Stings and the White Mercy. Will the half-past the nineteenth hour at my office tonight be an amenable meeting time? Please reply at your earliest convenience.

-Captain Malcolm O'Mallory

When Jor'ellean and Bruno arrive he waves them into the room and instructs them to shut the doors once more. He regards Jor'ellean for a moment, considering the small man. He has a knack for getting into places: Mal had somehow managed to spot him scaling a temporary Order facility in the Undercity, almost seamlessly blending into the surroundings. A well-placed blunt arrow brought him to the ground, and Mal was quick to get him placed into his unit. Jor'ellean said that he was just doing it for kicks, and Mal never pressed him on it.

Sergeant, you've had a few days to test the waters of the Undercity after the beginning of the ceasefire. What did you find regarding their views on the Kiiskan Guard? Have there been any incidents between Guardsmen and the citizens?

After Jor'ellean answers, he turns his gaze to Bruno. Good old Bruno: skilled with the sword, with the pen, and with the word, but without the ambition to put them to use. Perhaps his lack of drive is what gave them the opportunity to be so close. Whatever the reason, it is comforting to have someone he knows well by his side during these times. Colonel Victorine Monterone has offered a meeting, to discuss cooperative action between the Silent Stings and the White Mercy. I remember the salient information about her military exploits, but have never met her in person. Do you know more of her than her service record? Perhaps whether she shares her father's opinions on the militarization of the Order?

If Bruno is relatively young (say late twenties), then he'll be a few decades younger than Mal, so they can't really have been friends while Mal was growing up. It could instead work out that Mal was hired/asked to tutor Bruno in archery, which is how they became close.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
"Distrust. Fear. Talk of corruption and thuggery." Replied Jor'ellean, with a slight bow. "Many consider the guard expanded too quickly and the elves remain bitter over the Steel Leaf's betrayal of Fharel at the Steel Pits. Commander Leto and his Black Needles do the Guard no favours. A difficult opinion to overturn, if I may say so myself." Malcolm knew the Undercity politics was difficult. Many of its new denizens were elves who were cast down from their lofty homes when the new regime assumed power and they were still largely sympathetic to the former Old Council. The rapid expansion of the Kiiskan Guard after the riots meant that many men of dubious character were raised to lofty positions within the regime.

Bruno seated himself when enquired of Colonel Monterone. "By all accounts, she's courteous, gallant and spirited." He said slowly, considering his words. "I know not of her beliefs but she bears the family heirloom, Dragonbane. Surely Lord Victor would not confer it lightly? I heard she has also made visits to the Sisters of Dawn at the Albinus Chapel in recent weeks."

AIREA
"More flattery." Laughed Oilana, standing up and waving a hand dismissively. Servants scurried from the shadows to clear the table and finished goblets. "Contrary to the Deep Council's views, chaos is a ladder. Learn to climb the ladder and you too may prosper. May the night watch you, Nascent Blade."

* * *

It took a little under two months for Airea to travel from Chauvlaum to Kiiska on foot. While there were much faster means available, he was careful to conceal his trail and to leave no signs of his presence on the road for any would-be pursuers. He kept to the caves, relying on the natural faerzress from the rocks to shield him from any attempts at scrying. After all, the Deep Council valued subtlety from their agents and it would not bode well if one of the Council's many enemies had him followed. His legs sore and his soles callused, he beheld the elven city for the first time, the towering green columns that rose into a black canopy of leaves and dancing lights, the pale wooden platforms that connected the structures and a ramshackle collection of buildings and terraces below that resembled the slums of Chauvlaum.

[kinem]

HIAM
He muttered the words of power, his form changing to become that of a half-elf. While there were many inns and taverns in Kiiska, he wasn't certain how many remained open after the occupation. The changing tastes of the half-elves as well as the abandonment of entire neighbourhoods after the riots made business conditions trying to say the least. Many of the more established merchants left their stores in the lower parts of the city for the relative safety of the Green Zone, where the elite had money to spare.

He thought he might try the Revanthas aul Bell, or Friend in Hand. It was a small bar nestled above the Undercity and hidden by an intricate network of vines and branches. It was a spot usually frequented by half-elves although with the occupation, former Kiiskan soldiers and mercenaries are counted among its clientele. He was friends with the owner, Dominel and he was rather impartial to his specialty monkey stew.

HIAM

Hiam began to head for the Revanthas aul Bell.

It's been a long time since I've had monkey stew, after all. But if I am being tracked ... might it endanger the other patrons? Given the nature of the attacks so far, I doubt the enemy would attack in public. If he attacks, it would come when I am alone, in the guest room.

Hiam hesitated. Am I sure of that? My own death is one thing, but to risk others, innocents, would not be acceptable. ... But I am sure.

All this sneaking around is nasty business. I'm not used to it. But if I am to survive, I will learn.

Hiam continued on the way to the bar.

ooc: I guess you mean he's partial to the stew :)

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"Distrust. Fear. Talk of corruption and thuggery." Replied Jor'ellean, with a slight bow. "Many consider the guard expanded too quickly and the elves remain bitter over the Steel Leaf's betrayal of Fharel at the Steel Pits. Commander Leto and his Black Needles do the Guard no favours. A difficult opinion to overturn, if I may say so myself." Malcolm knew the Undercity politics was difficult. Many of its new denizens were elves who were cast down from their lofty homes when the new regime assumed power and they were still largely sympathetic to the former Old Council. The rapid expansion of the Kiiskan Guard after the riots meant that many men of dubious character were raised to lofty positions within the regime.

Bruno seated himself when enquired of Colonel Monterone. "By all accounts, she's courteous, gallant and spirited." He said slowly, considering his words. "I know not of her beliefs but she bears the family heirloom, Dragonbane. Surely Lord Victor would not confer it lightly? I heard she has also made visits to the Sisters of Dawn at the Albinus Chapel in recent weeks."

Malcolm
You may, Mal says thoughtfully. Jor'ellean only spoke the truth, which is no more than Mal asked. Keep your eyes and ears open in the coming days. Make note of who complains the loudest, and who and what they complain about. Tensions running high as they are, many complaints may be exaggerated--but there may be grains of truth there as well.

Turning to Bruno, he says, Mornay willing, if Lord Victor entrusted her with their family heirloom, then she may be of similar mind to his own. She may be a powerful ally, in battle and in the camp, with the proper persuasion.

He rings a bell to summon a courier. Sealing his message with hot wax and the signet ring on his finger, he gives the courier the message with directions to give it only to Colonel Monterone or her subordinates.

Both of you, keep an eye out for questionable conduct in the Kiiskan Guard, both in the Stings and without. We are representatives of the Order, and thus, of Mornay. It is our duty to see that our actions do not shame her. If you have nothing else to add, then I give you leave to return to your posts.

After they leave, he brings his attention to the stack of papers on his desk. The Stings being a formal part of the Guard is a step forward, but with it comes more paperwork. Rolling his shoulders, he gets to work on it.

Just out of curiosity, are the Sisters of Dawn giving out food and sermons at this point? I know they are actively doing so on day 15 of the ceasefire, but it's only day 5 here.

[Sylvaen]

AIREA
"More flattery." Laughed Oilana, standing up and waving a hand dismissively. Servants scurried from the shadows to clear the table and finished goblets. "Contrary to the Deep Council's views, chaos is a ladder. Learn to climb the ladder and you too may prosper. May the night watch you, Nascent Blade."

* * *

It took a little under two months for Airea to travel from Chauvlaum to Kiiska on foot. While there were much faster means available, he was careful to conceal his trail and to leave no signs of his presence on the road for any would-be pursuers. He kept to the caves, relying on the natural faerzress from the rocks to shield him from any attempts at scrying. After all, the Deep Council valued subtlety from their agents and it would not bode well if one of the Council's many enemies had him followed. His legs sore and his soles callused, he beheld the elven city for the first time, the towering green columns that rose into a black canopy of leaves and dancing lights, the pale wooden platforms that connected the structures and a ramshackle collection of buildings and terraces below that resembled the slums of Chauvlaum.


The journey was long and exhausting, but the drow kept walking, navigating through caves, climbing over rocks and trees when there were no caves. Once or twice he ventured further away from safe shelter when he noticed a group of travelers on a nearby road. He could afford to lose a day - two hours of sleep were all he needed to stay alert. Whatever information he could've gleaned from them might prove much more valuable. He followed them for a day or two, and listened to what they were talking about in the evening over campfire. Language or dialect didn't matter to him; he had mastered languages of most nations in, the past. (*)

Every third day of his journey he hunted rabbits and other small animals, skinned and disemboweled them quickly, cut the meat up into long thin strips, and collected dry moss and wood. Later on, about an hour's walk into another cave system, he built a small campsite, got a small fire going, and laid out the meat strips over a piece of fishing line strung up across the smoldering embers. Dried meat wasn't his favorite food, and it was miles away from anything Oilana had on her table, but it kept hunger away, and it kept him going. Besides, rabbit fat was good for his callused soles. And so he kept walking and hunting and surviving, until two months later...

* * *

The hunched figure in dark cowl bore little resemblance to the cleanly shaven assassin two months ago. He flicked aside a loose strand of hair that slid from underneath his wide cape. His hair, once pure white, were now a shade of dirty gray, disheveled and apparently cut short by a blade. His clothes had also suffered over that time, but he kept all of his weapons and other equipment in top condition.

A small rucksack was laid out at his feet. It contained everything he might need, just as the wide leather belt around his waist. At this moment, he reached for one of his leather pouches and opened a collapsible spyglass. Slowly and patiently he searched the streets below, taking time to notice details. Anything could be of interest; an abandoned building, locations of most frequented pubs, address of a blacksmith's shop, or simply knowledge of dead ends in the maze of streets. (**)

In his experience, slums were the first place to go. They were teeming with life of all kinds, commonfolk as well as scoundrels and criminals. It would be there where he'd begin his search for Verzera. If Oilana knew her own sister well, chances were that she had already managed to get herself into some kind of trouble, and went to hiding. Aire just hoped that she had enough common sense to stay away from Tellista Jam'hal. He would hate having to explain that to Oilana.

Examining the lower city took time; Aire counted over twelve hundred heartbeats before he was satisfied. He folded the spyglass and placed it back into his pouch carefully, then opened his rucksack. There, on the very top, lay a small bone-rimmed mirror. Aire drew his dagger and sliced open his left palm; not too deep to cause serious injury, but deep enough. He held his palm up and watched his blood form a small pool in his hand. It reflected the distant lights above.

Aire picked up the mirror and tipped his left hand so that his blood spilled evenly over its surface. For two heartbeats, nothing has happened. Then there was the familiar feeling of unseen, distant presence, and a scrutinizing gaze piercing his mind. Though he couldn't see them, Aire had no doubts the Deep Council could see him, perched on a branch between the two cities. He bowed his head deeply, and spoke in quiet, even voice.

"May the night protect the Deep Council. I have reached the city of Kiiska..." he began, and in no more than five sentences relayed everything he has learned sofar, leaving out only his promise to Oilana. It was a private matter, and not important enough for the Council to consider. Besides, he had no intention of letting it get in the way of his true assignment.

When he was finished speaking, Aire waited patiently while the Deep Council deliberated. He remained still, but his eyes were vigilantly searching the area. (***)

------

(*) - Gather Information: [roll0]
(**) - Search roll, attempting to notice various points of interest, observe whatever nightlife is going on, and generally familiarize himself with the area. Unless DM rules any bonuses for a spyglass, it's [roll1]
(***) - Spot: [roll2] and Listen: [roll3]

Note: Activation of bone mirror costs 1HP worth of blood sacrifice, so Aire is currently at 55.

[Plushie Arz]

AIREA
The passing travellers had exchanged tales of strange events in Kiiska and the surrounding lands. A ghost in the Undercity. An army marches through the jungles. The Gorani encampment had been cleared, every Order soldier and prisoner massacred. A figure called the Slaughter King was killed by warrior nuns. Sea monsters spotted off the coast and the yuan-ti growing restless in their swampy lairs. An orcish conspiracy. Many of the names and locales were foreign to him but Airea knew that information was valuable and one man's tales was another's life.

* * *

Finding a quiet platform, He smeared his blood on the mirror and waited for the reflections to change. Under the full light of the blue moon, he saw dark shapes forming into a mask.

Ever since Grandmaster Galem's demise in the Second Darkstar War, the members of the Deep Council had sworn to secrecy, rarely appearing in public. They wore elaborately designed masks to conceal their true identities and took on monikers befitting their new personas. Airea knew at least three of them had access to his mirror's counterpart - the Owl Man, the Sad Man and the Two-Faced Woman. It was the Owl Man's turn today and the assassin gazed upon the expressionless porcelain mask with voidlike eyes and painted beak.

"Good. Ingratiate yourself with a local group sympathetic to the Darthiir. Do not draw suspicion to your identity or motives. Await further instructions from the Sad Man in two moon cycles*. Night watch over you."

* * *

He surveyed the neighbourhood from his platform. He thought he saw movement behind the flat leaves of a fig but a only black bird squawked and flew past, rustling its feathers. Looking down into the foggy streets, he was struck by the quietness of the area. Save for a few warm lights behind the screened windows of the nearby treehouses, he saw little signs of activity. He looked closer through his spyglass and saw what looked like a boarded up smithy, the soot-covered chimney grey from disuse. A few doors down, what looked like a seamstress' workshop had its windows smashed. Then he heard it. The sound of jangling chains and heavy footsteps. It seemed to be coming from around the corner a block away and he thought he could see a faint mist rising in the evening fog.

-------------
* Two weeks

HIAM
He headed for the wine bar, hoping to find a quick drink and a warm bed before it closed for the evening. It occurred to him that Dominiel was growing old. It only seemed like yesterday that his friend announced the birth of his daughter Avila. Had the girl reached a century yet? He couldn't remember. It seemed so long ago with Susan and Roger. He passed through the familiar walkways and terraces and suddenly stopped. It seemed that a branch supporting one of the upper platforms had collapsed and a pile of debris seven feet high blocked him from taking the usual route. He knew that large spiders sometimes inhabited the branches, making the use of the flight spell a dangerous proposition. No, it was best to take the other route this evening. Looking behind for any signs of his pursuer or any unnatural shadows, he turned a corner. It was then that he heard the sound of jangling chains and a pair of heavy feet plodding on the hard pavement. It seemed to be coming down an alleyway ten feet away and if he stayed where he was, he would soon intercept the source of the noise.

MALCOLM
DM: Yes. Sisters of Dawn started distributing aid and preaching sermons on Day 1 of the Ceasefire.

The paperwork took most of the afternoon. It was tedious work, but Malcolm knew better than to leave it to the overworked and undertrained clerks in the Green Zone. He had heard that in the first week of the occupation, an unknown clerical error transferred an entire neighbourhood of civilians into the custody of Captain Atolock Nar of the Sin Eaters, one of the most brutal men who fought under the Order banner. Without hesitation, Captain Nar took the civilians with him as prisoners when his unit was consigned east to the Gorani encampment. He had not heard of any news from that place since. The paperwork he had in front of him were ledgers and payments for each of his new recruits. While he doubted the consequences would have been as dire, the incident with the Gorani prisoners made him cautious of the bureaucracy.

It was late afternoon when the courier returned bearing confirmation of Colonel Monterone's attendance and as the hour drew close, the Captain waited outside in the courtyard for his guest.

"I heard she's pretty. Trying to get promoted the old fashioned way eh, Captain?" Laughed Alexander, slapping Malcolm's back.

"Looks aren't everything." Retorted Alanna. "Sister Eleanor has the looks of an angel but the temper of a harpy."

"Just because Helarm's got his hands on that wench." Sniggered Jor'ellean.

The shadows of the surrounding trees grew longer and the recruits lit up lanterns to keep the darkness at bay. Eventually, they heard the sound of hooves against the cobblestones. "Great. Cavalry." Snorted Alanna.

Colonel Victorine Monterone rode in on her white destrier, fitted with silver barding. She looked every part the avenging angel, with her mithril full plate and white cloak streaming behind her. The leather-wrapped hilt of the greatsword, Dragonslayer, the pride of House Monterone was strapped behind her back. Four soldiers in scale mail rode as her honour guard and one held up the banner of the White Mercy Company, a broken sword against an outstretched mailed hand. The Colonel climbed off her stallion and took off her purple-plumed half-helm.

She was not a tall woman but there was a regal air about her. She had a strong chin and steel grey eyes but what caught Malcom's attention was the mane of golden hair fixed into a bun behind her head. She nodded curtly and handed the reins of her horse to a member of her guard. She offered Mal her right mailed hand. "Captain O'Mallory. Colonel Monterone. A pleasure."

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
-Day six of Helarm's Ceasefire
The Undercity of Kiiska was where the half-elves had languished under the rule of the Old Council. Save for the odd dancer or trading procession, few elves liked to linger long near the crammed terrace shacks, dirty streets that reeked of waste and the narrow laneways where robberies and muggings were a part of everyday life. Six months on however, there were more elves in the Undercity than ever. Some had been driven from their treetop homes by the Kiiskan Guard while others could not afford the upkeep over their former abodes. As Ranel Alerath, the former scout of the Elladyr strolled through the mass of elven misery, he dodged a pall of urine thrown from a balcony that splattered near his feet. He proceeded, paying little heed to the shadows in the alleys.

He opened the moist, creaky door of the tavern, the Soond. It was a squat building at the base of a blackened cedar with a thatched roof and vines that covered the windows carved into thick stone walls. Unusual for a tavern, it did not have any common areas but rather partitioned booths with panels that closed for privacy. Its design and unsavory location made it a popular place for underhanded business away from the eyes of the Kiiskan guard. He was here to meet a man named Droth.

As he slid open the painted panels, he saw an older elven man waiting for him. He had tufty grey hair with streaks of white and a well-fed look about him. Although he was dressed in silks and finery, it was obvious from the frayed edges that he had seen better days. A thick silver chain adorned with opals was around his neck. He poured some wine from a clay pitcher into a a beaten copper goblet and offered it to him. It smelled more like vinegar than wine and there was a watery consistency to it.

"You reputation precedes you." Exclaimed Droth, nervously clapping his hands. Each of this ten fingers had a fat golden ring around it. Ranel thought the man would be wearing all his remaining wealth on his body. "I'm afraid I cannot offer you a better beverage but surely you don't partake while you're on the job?"

Ranel
I care not for alcohol in general, refusing the offer, so i would rather get to the details. The night is only so long, and there will be work to do before i can get started. Ranel gazed at the old elf, attempting to scrutinize his every action and word. While he did not care about where his work comes from, he had to make sure that at the completion of it he got his due pay. That and loose lips make for unforeseen difficulties.

[Plushie Arz]

RANEL
The man wiped his forehead with his gold-wrapped fingers. "Very well, you seem like the sort made for business. Good." He blustered. Ranel had a sense of his confected outrage. "You know what it's been like when those humans came into this city on the back of those half elves. Pillaging, murdering, raping. I say there's not a single girl in the Undercity without a half-elf growing inside her. My son was bringing those very humans to justice when he was set upon by one of our own. A traitor to our people. Stabbed him and left his body to rot in the streets like he was carrion, as if he wasn't noble blood!" He slammed his fist down onto the table. A ruby popped out of a gold crusted ring and Droth fumbled for it before it rolled off the edge of the table. He roughly shoved the gem back into the ring and looked at Ranel with a hard look in his eyes. "I want justice."

[kinem]

HIAM
He headed for the wine bar, hoping to find a quick drink and a warm bed before it closed for the evening. It occurred to him that Dominiel was growing old. It only seemed like yesterday that his friend announced the birth of his daughter Avila. Had the girl reached a century yet? He couldn't remember. It seemed so long ago with Susan and Roger. He passed through the familiar walkways and terraces and suddenly stopped. It seemed that a branch supporting one of the upper platforms had collapsed and a pile of debris seven feet high blocked him from taking the usual route. He knew that large spiders sometimes inhabited the branches, making the use of the flight spell a dangerous proposition. No, it was best to take the other route this evening. Looking behind for any signs of his pursuer or any unnatural shadows, he turned a corner. It was then that he heard the sound of jangling chains and a pair of heavy feet plodding on the hard pavement. It seemed to be coming down an alleyway ten feet away and if he stayed where he was, he would soon intercept the source of the noise.

HIAM
Am I being pursued? Odds are against it. It's probably just a patrolman, or another lost soul. But just in case ... I should find out. Better a confrontation now than than to be murdered in my bed.

To prepare himself for a possible fight, Hiam silently casts a dragonskin spell, coating his flesh with tough red scales. Normally that would give him an odd appearance, but thanks to the magic of his hat, his outward appearance remains that of a normal half-elf. He also silently casts a quick spell to shield himself with magical force. He then waits to see who comes.

ooc: Cast both spells silently, and as an abjurant champion he casts shield as a swift action in the same round. Brings his AC to 30.
dragonskin: +5 natural armor and resist fire 20, 130 min
shield: +6 shield, 24 min
I assume he cast mage armor twice over the past day (12 hours duration, he always keeps it up).

Spell slots used today :: 2 1st, 1 2nd, 0 3rd, 1 4th, 0 5th, 0 6th
Spells/day unlimited 0th, 8 1st, 8 2nd, 7 3rd, 7 4th, 6 5th, 4 6th

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
DM: Yes. Sisters of Dawn started distributing aid and preaching sermons on Day 1 of the Ceasefire.

The paperwork took most of the afternoon. It was tedious work, but Malcolm knew better than to leave it to the overworked and undertrained clerks in the Green Zone. He had heard that in the first week of the occupation, an unknown clerical error transferred an entire neighbourhood of civilians into the custody of Captain Atolock Nar of the Sin Eaters, one of the most brutal men who fought under the Order banner. Without hesitation, Captain Nar took the civilians with him as prisoners when his unit was consigned east to the Gorani encampment. He had not heard of any news from that place since. The paperwork he had in front of him were ledgers and payments for each of his new recruits. While he doubted the consequences would have been as dire, the incident with the Gorani prisoners made him cautious of the bureaucracy.

It was late afternoon when the courier returned bearing confirmation of Colonel Monterone's attendance and as the hour drew close, the Captain waited outside in the courtyard for his guest.

"I heard she's pretty. Trying to get promoted the old fashioned way eh, Captain?" Laughed Alexander, slapping Malcolm's back.

"Looks aren't everything." Retorted Alanna. "Sister Eleanor has the looks of an angel but the temper of a harpy."

"Just because Helarm's got his hands on that wench." Sniggered Jor'ellean.

The shadows of the surrounding trees grew longer and the recruits lit up lanterns to keep the darkness at bay. Eventually, they heard the sound of hooves against the cobblestones. "Great. Cavalry." Snorted Alanna.

Colonel Victorine Monterone rode in on her white destrier, fitted with silver barding. She looked every part the avenging angel, with her mithril full plate and white cloak streaming behind her. The leather-wrapped hilt of the greatsword, Dragonslayer, the pride of House Monterone was strapped behind her back. Four soldiers in scale mail rode as her honour guard and one held up the banner of the White Mercy Company, a broken sword against an outstretched mailed hand. The Colonel climbed off her stallion and took off her purple-plumed half-helm.

She was not a tall woman but there was a regal air about her. She had a strong chin and steel grey eyes but what caught Malcom's attention was the mane of golden hair fixed into a bun behind her head. She nodded curtly and handed the reins of her horse to a member of her guard. She offered Mal her right mailed hand. "Captain O'Mallory. Colonel Monterone. A pleasure."

Malcolm
Standing at an easy rest outside the headquarters, Mal takes the slap on the back with a look of aggravation that is only half-exaggerated. He has all the members his own honor guard present. Suited up in their typical attire of chain shirts or studded leather jerkins, they look combat-ready but hardly ceremonial, save for himself and Bruno. For his part, his bow is where it always is--he never leaves it out of arm's reach--and his main quiver is on his back. He listens to their chatter with idle ears, noting Jor'ellean's comment with muted interest. If the sneaky half-elf thinks that, then there may be a grain of truth to it.

He hears the sound of hooves preceding the colonel, and is glad that he chose to wear his more impressive-looking armor. He can appreciate that the colonel would want to have a show of strength; asking her to meet at his headquarters might have gotten her hackles up, as it were. And she does look every inch the seasoned veteran and scion of the Monterone line.

The pleasure is mine, Colonel, he replies, shaking her hand firmly in his own. He has a polite smile, but sincere as he says, As I wrote, you do me a great honor. I have refreshments in my office if you would like, and we can speak more comfortably there.

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM
He cast his spells and waited. The shuffling of the feet grew closer and turned the corner. Hiam saw a human with a cloaked hood pulled over his head, dragging a bloodied spiked chain and leaning against the wall. He looked fairly short, rather chubby, and his lopsided grin made him seem more like a harmless rube than anyone else. Hiam saw a spreading patch of red on the man's dirtied chain shirt and the smears that covered the tips of his fingers. "Just my luck. Another bloody caster." He wheezed, spitting out a bloody lump of phlegm. "You know, I’d make a joke about you being incompetent, but at this point that’d be beating a dead half-breed bastard. In other words, kind of redundant."

AIREA, FIRVAIN
See above for Hiam.

MALCOLM
Colonel Monterone smiled and gave Malcolm a nod. "Of course. Thank you Captain." She followed him into his office. After hanging her cloak on a hook behind the oaken frame, she took a seat opposite him at his desk. She refused the wine when offered and only asked for a pitcher of water. "There is no need for formalities in private, Malcolm. I have known Baron Desmond since I was a girl." She said, with a faint smile. She took a slight sip and placed the glass back on the tray. "Please, call me Victorine."

[Sylvaen]

AIREA
The passing travellers had exchanged tales of strange events in Kiiska and the surrounding lands. A ghost in the Undercity. An army marches through the jungles. The Gorani encampment had been cleared, every Order soldier and prisoner massacred. A figure called the Slaughter King was killed by warrior nuns. Sea monsters spotted off the coast and the yuan-ti growing restless in their swampy lairs. An orcish conspiracy. Many of the names and locales were foreign to him but Airea knew that information was valuable and one man's tales was another's life.

* * *

Finding a quiet platform, He smeared his blood on the mirror and waited for the reflections to change. Under the full light of the blue moon, he saw dark shapes forming into a mask.

Ever since Grandmaster Galem's demise in the Second Darkstar War, the members of the Deep Council had sworn to secrecy, rarely appearing in public. They wore elaborately designed masks to conceal their true identities and took on monikers befitting their new personas. Airea knew at least three of them had access to his mirror's counterpart - the Owl Man, the Sad Man and the Two-Faced Woman. It was the Owl Man's turn today and the assassin gazed upon the expressionless porcelain mask with voidlike eyes and painted beak.

"Good. Ingratiate yourself with a local group sympathetic to the Darthiir. Do not draw suspicion to your identity or motives. Await further instructions from the Sad Man in two moon cycles*. Night watch over you."

* * *

He surveyed the neighbourhood from his platform. He thought he saw movement behind the flat leaves of a fig but a only black bird squawked and flew past, rustling its feathers. Looking down into the foggy streets, he was struck by the quietness of the area. Save for a few warm lights behind the screened windows of the nearby treehouses, he saw little signs of activity. He looked closer through his spyglass and saw what looked like a boarded up smithy, the soot-covered chimney grey from disuse. A few doors down, what looked like a seamstress' workshop had its windows smashed. Then he heard it. The sound of jangling chains and heavy footsteps. It seemed to be coming from around the corner a block away and he thought he could see a faint mist rising in the evening fog.

-------------
* Two weeks


The sound of chains and the heavy steps brought long forgotten images to Aire's mind. He shivered, pushing them away. He had no use for visions from the past, visions of... things.. he had glimpsed briefly in the lowest caverns of Underdark. That had been a long time ago, in a very different place. The worst he could possibly see around here was some drunkard's er'zarreth. If there was a sound of chains, they were likely binding someone. In a place like this, that probably meant someone opposed to the sun cult, ergo an ally.
Well, ally might be a strong word, Aire corrected himself.

He put away his spyglass, secured his rucksack on his back and draped his cape over it. He reached the edge of roof upon which he was hiding in two swift powerful strides, leaped and crossed the narrow alley below, heading for the shuffling noise. He moved quickly and silently, and skidded to a halt at the very edge of the next roof, his rapier already in his hand but hidden from plain sight.(*) He pulled his cape closer and shrouded his face in its shadow, becoming one with the darkness. Then, carefully, he peered over the edge.

As soon as he did, he understood he was wrong to expect a prisoner, but he wasn't quite wrong to expect someone in dire need of help. Judging from the bloodied human's labored breathing, he was already wounded. Wounded animals often sought to spread the pain, and this one seemed like no exception. The darthirii seemed poised for a fight, but he lacked mobility, and close quarters put him at a big disadvantage against the human's nasty chain. Aire inhaled lightly and prepared to intervene, should the chain-wielding rivvil attack.(***) Ingratiate yourself... he heard in his memories again.

Oh well, sometimes even I get to play the good guy, he thought with a twisted grin.

------
(*) - Jump: [roll]1d20+28[roll] and Move Silently: [roll0], spent standard action to ready weapon.
(**) - Hide: [roll1]
(***) - Ready and action - intercept the attack, if necessary.

[Sylvaen]

Completing the Jump roll from above.
Jump: [roll0]

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
The man wiped his forehead with his gold-wrapped fingers. "Very well, you seem like the sort made for business. Good." He blustered. Ranel had a sense of his confected outrage. "You know what it's been like when those humans came into this city on the back of those half elves. Pillaging, murdering, raping. I say there's not a single girl in the Undercity without a half-elf growing inside her. My son was bringing those very humans to justice when he was set upon by one of our own. A traitor to our people. Stabbed him and left his body to rot in the streets like he was carrion, as if he wasn't noble blood!" He slammed his fist down onto the table. A ruby popped out of a gold crusted ring and Droth fumbled for it before it rolled off the edge of the table. He roughly shoved the gem back into the ring and looked at Ranel with a hard look in his eyes. "I want justice."

Ranel
Ranel fought back a flashback, charred bodies laying in smouldering ruins, but caught himself. What you want is vengeance. I can get that for you, for the right price, and my price is very reasonable. He stared hard at the man, trying to see past the spoiled nobility and see what was underneath. Justice was a word that was tossed around often, usually by those without the will to do anything themselves. The more information you can give me about my targets the faster i can get this done.

[bcool999]

FIRVAIN
The streets of the lower reaches were empty. He knew that following a three way battle between the Midnight Syndicate, the Resistance and the Sisters of Dawn a few months ago, additional curfews were imposed on this area to root out the remnants of the maddened cultists. However, with few Kiiskan Guards willing to patrol the murderous streets, many of the families living in those treehouses had abandoned them for safer neighbourhoods. He kept his eyes open for any signs of activity that might betray the presence of the alleged 'Rat King'.

The subtle sound of creaking timber caught his attention. He looked down at a platform ten feet below to see an elf in sorceror's garbs disappearing into the shadows. A slightly taller half-elf wearing leather garbs walked out only a few minutes later with the same stepping patterns as the disappearing elf. It was unusual for one affiliated with the Order or the Kiiskan Guard to be in this place late at night and he surely hadn't heard of any other Resistance operatives in this area.

Having paused to notice the passing elf and half-elf, Firvain grins and thinks to himself, "Could I really be so lucky? To see a pair of scurrying rats so soon? Only one way to find out."

With that he jumps deftly down to the platform below and silently stalks his prey, making sure to keep at least one of them in sight.

So on the jump check to negate the 1d6 damage for jumping down 10ft. I succeed even on a nat 1 so no damage taken for getting down to their level.

[kinem]

HIAM
He cast his spells and waited. The shuffling of the feet grew closer and turned the corner. Hiam saw a human with a cloaked hood pulled over his head, dragging a bloodied spiked chain and leaning against the wall. He looked fairly short, rather chubby, and his lopsided grin made him seem more like a harmless rube than anyone else. Hiam saw a spreading patch of red on the man's dirtied chain shirt and the smears that covered the tips of his fingers. "Just my luck. Another bloody caster." He wheezed, spitting out a bloody lump of phlegm. "You know, I’d make a joke about you being incompetent, but at this point that’d be beating a dead half-breed bastard. In other words, kind of redundant."

HIAM
'Half-breed'? He's not my enemy, then. But it sounds like I should be his enemy.

Hiam says "A comedian, are you? You're the one who looks half-dead. Are you trying to goad me into finishing the job? You'd better explain your current situation. And what makes you think I'm a caster?"

He steps away a bit and prepares to make himself invisible if the man makes any sudden moves.

Spot [roll0], listen [roll1]

Ready an action to cast greater invisibility if the man makes any sudden moves. The spell has no material component, so this shouldn't be obvious.

How far is he and much room to maneuver is there? He makes sure to be at least 20' or more from the man.

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA
The drow and moon elf watched the exchange from their own corners of the winding streets, neither noticing the other. Their attention was fixed on this strange half-elf and the wounded chain-dragging human.

"You're saying I ignore the two transmutations you just silently cast on yourself? I can see an illusion there. That, or I'm blind." Chuckled the man. Hiam noticed a faint blue glow around the man's eyes, as if he had the gift of arcane sight. The man slumped further against the wall, leaving a streak of his own blood. "You might as well. I'm bloody finished. The bitch used a cursed blade. You'd think I should've know better." He coughed droplets of blood onto the ground.

RANEL
Droth rubbed his hands. "His name is El'gor'an Doranu. A former bodyguard of Lord Gegarion. Turned backstreet thug after killing his own lord." He said in spite. Ranel was not familiar with those names but knew that many members of Kiiska's former nobility hired strong warriors to protect themselves. Those warriors were sworn to loyal service and to break their vow was the highest taboo. "He killed my son and I want justice."

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
Colonel Monterone smiled and gave Malcolm a nod. "Of course. Thank you Captain." She followed him into his office. After hanging her cloak on a hook behind the oaken frame, she took a seat opposite him at his desk. She refused the wine when offered and only asked for a pitcher of water. "There is no need for formalities in private, Malcolm. I have known Baron Desmond since I was a girl." She said, with a faint smile. She took a slight sip and placed the glass back on the tray. "Please, call me Victorine."

Malcolm
Very well, Victorine, he says after a moment. He takes a sip of his drink, tea steeped for minutes with a lemon floating inside. The informality had brought him a notable pause, but he hopes that she does not take offense. Growing up as he did, it paid to put some distance between himself and others, emotionally. Formality is like a protective cloak for him, to be taken off around those he is most comfortable with. I hadn't realized our families were so close. But then, I was away for a good span of time.

After collecting himself for another moment, he gives her a more sincere smile. Before we begin, let me say congratulations on your promotion. It takes an iron will and tremendous skill to become a colonel at such a young age. I could learn a bit from you. His voice wavers a bit in the execution of the joke, but more from pushing himself to make it than from any jealousy.

Tying in that Solitary Paragon flaw.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
She smiled softly at his attempted joke and stilted attempts at casual conversation. She didn't appear to be offended or put off. "Your words flatter me. I've made sacrifices to get to where I am. My father once had the notion to introduce me to the O'Malleys when I was younger but could not find a suitable match. A shame." She crossed her legs and brought her fingers together.

"Your records are equally impressive, Malcolm. Valour in the Darkstar War. First Order company to be transferred to the Kiiskan Guard. A curious choice by a firstborn son. Did you ever wish to return to Mallon Hall when this war is done?"

[kinem]

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA
The drow and moon elf watched the exchange from their own corners of the winding streets, neither noticing the other. Their attention was fixed on this strange half-elf and the wounded chain-dragging human.

"You're saying I ignore the two transmutations you just silently cast on yourself? I can see an illusion there. That, or I'm blind." Chuckled the man. Hiam noticed a faint blue glow around the man's eyes, as if he had the gift of arcane sight. The man slumped further against the wall, leaving a streak of his own blood. "You might as well. I'm bloody finished. The bitch used a cursed blade. You'd think I should've know better." He coughed droplets of blood onto the ground.

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA

"Might be no more than you deserve" Hiam replies. "But if this is your last moment, use it to explain yourself. And if it's a good tale, might be I could save you yet, or could teleport you to someone who could."

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA
"Who would've thought it'll take twelve months before the guild sent their best assassin against me? Heh, should've kept a lower profile.... I liked being the Ghost of the Undercity." He slumped further, coughing as his lungs started filling with blood. His voice slurred and slipped into a delirious rant. "Devil Ray's here. You can't stop her. She'll take contracts and start her work. Those elves... Those bloody stupid elves... freedom fighters... so bleeding stupid and blind... Should've been so obvious the entire time..."

His feet finally gave out and he slumped to the ground in a pool of his own blood.

[Sylvaen]

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA
The drow and moon elf watched the exchange from their own corners of the winding streets, neither noticing the other. Their attention was fixed on this strange half-elf and the wounded chain-dragging human.

"You're saying I ignore the two transmutations you just silently cast on yourself? I can see an illusion there. That, or I'm blind." Chuckled the man. Hiam noticed a faint blue glow around the man's eyes, as if he had the gift of arcane sight. The man slumped further against the wall, leaving a streak of his own blood. "You might as well. I'm bloody finished. The bitch used a cursed blade. You'd think I should've know better." He coughed droplets of blood onto the ground.


When neither of the two launched an immediate attack, Aire relaxed a bit and studied them both a little closer.(*) The bleeding human didn't look like a member of the sun cult; as any cult hellbent on world domination, even Morning Sun members took pride in showing off their allegiance. This man, on the other hand, looked more like the rough street-fighter type, antagonistic to authority of any, especially the oppressive, type.

When a cursed blade was mentioned, Aire's hand slid wandered to his belt. The human's last words painted a rather clear picture, especially his seemingly confused words about ghosts, but still..

Aire bit his lip, wishing he had more time to properly study the matter from all angles. Sometimes, though, one had to be a gambler no matter how much it went against his nature. He quickly measured the distance and dimensions of the street, and launched into a somersault that would land him equal distance from both the elf and human.(**)

------
(*) - Spot (not distracted/threatened, so Take 10): 22, and Sense Motive (mostly reading from nonverbal communication): [roll0]
(**) - Another Take 10, with result of 38, I'm estimating up to 2 floors drop onto the street, approximately 15 feet.
Ignoring 10 feet of drop with DC 15 Jump, and the rest with a DC 15 Tumble (a Take 10 would yield result of 26), I believe it's safe to say Aire can land with no harm whatsoever.


HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA

There was a quiet sound, like flapping of a pair of velvet wings. Then, all of sudden, there were three in the street. A figure in a dark cloak with cape crouched low an equal distance from the elf and human. Her left arm was raised and there was a small flask filled with lightly opalescent fluid. Her other arm rested on the ground below her cloak. A surprisingly soft male voice came out from the cape's shadow.

"Kela'lle tenkela, Istar. Anta sen'aya."(***)

------
(***) - Elven: "Keep your spells, Mage. You might yet need them."

[kinem]

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA

Hiam started walking towards the dying man when he was interrupted by a cloaked figure suddenly landing in front of him. So much for the deserted path.

"Huh? ... And ... by that I mean, what is your purpose here?"

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
She smiled softly at his attempted joke and stilted attempts at casual conversation. She didn't appear to be offended or put off. "Your words flatter me. I've made sacrifices to get to where I am. My father once had the notion to introduce me to the O'Malleys when I was younger but could not find a suitable match. A shame." She crossed her legs and brought her fingers together.

"Your records are equally impressive, Malcolm. Valour in the Darkstar War. First Order company to be transferred to the Kiiskan Guard. A curious choice by a firstborn son. Did you ever wish to return to Mallon Hall when this war is done?"

Malcolm
As the conversation continues, Malcolm feels himself begin to relax, little by little. He places his hand on the silvery wood of his bow, stroking the smoothed surface. Mallon Hall...he can remember times spent as a little runt, capering around the wide hallways and stone rooms. One room in particular had been perfect for hide and seek with his father. Is that little hidey-hole still there? Did Diana, or Gregory, or his other half-siblings hide there as he did?

He blinks, and the contemplative thoughts fly away as if fired from his bow. Returning his gaze to Victorine, he gives a smile and a shrug. Yes, of course. The last time I went to Mallon Hall after the Darkstar War, I stayed for one week. Hardly long enough to reunite with my father or siblings. Circumstances willing, after this war, my first stop will be Mallon Hall.

That's the rub, he continues with the barest of sighs. The circumstances. I'm sure you've noticed the political paradigm shift that began seven years ago. It was...easier for my father and siblings if I were to vanish for a time, until the pressure on them lightens. If I acquit myself well in Kiiska, my return may become more likely.

Just to check my reasoning: is it possible, in the current political climate of the Empire, for a half-elf to become a Baron? Even a war-decorated one? I assume it would be political suicide for the house to do so.

[Sylvaen]

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA

Hiam started walking towards the dying man when he was interrupted by a cloaked figure suddenly landing in front of him. So much for the deserted path.

"Huh? ... And ... by that I mean, what is your purpose here?"

The cloaked figure's shoulders sagged a little.
"Really? A stranger appears out of nowhere, and all you do is that? No screaming fireballs scorching my bones, no hellhounds on my trail? And just a moment after you've seen a man die... Ooops!" Aire stopped his little tirade and stood up. It was obvious now that he was of slightly smaller stature, but he moved with a fluid grace that could never belong to a human.

"My apologies, master Wizard. Right now my purpose is to help you save this man. And if there is indeed a guild assassin on his track, you better keep your strongest magic for her." he said and tossed the flask towards the elf.

"It's a potion that cleanses the body, mind and soul from all kinds of evil curses - or so the priest said," he added. They said a man always spoke truth with his last breath, and this time Aire hoped they were right. He glanced around, searching for any signs of another presence, taking good care to focus on routes that a trained assassin might take.(*)

------
(*) - Spot [roll0] and Listen [roll1]

[Plushie Arz]

DM: +500 RPXP to all.

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA
As Airea looked closer at the downed man, he saw that help was too late. Fluids had flooded the man's lungs and his heart had given way. He also noticed a stab wound underneath the man's dirtied mithril chain shirt that had grown necrotic. Perhaps the man's death had been a brief mercy after all.

Firvain's Hide: [roll0]
MS: [roll1]

Although he couldn't see anyone in the immediate vicinity, Airea instinctively suspected they would not be the only witnesses to the man's demise. This Devil Ray knew what she was doing when she inflicted the wounds on this man and his acceptance of his own finality only confirmed her murderous talent. He also heard the rubbing of softly padded feet against the grainy dirt of the cobblestones nearly fifteen feet away.

MALCOLM
DM: Political suicide as Malcolm will be seen as a bastard half-elf son. He gets moved to the back of the succession chain, behind his human half-siblings.

"Unfortunately the Sol's sentiments only inflames those sad circumstances." Said Victorine, leaning back into her seat. "A sentiment not shared by some in the Order and its enemies without. There are many who value your skills and would see it being put to the right cause."

The Colonel's last comments were uncannily familiar to the words of Father Rylon in the catacombs of the Whitecrest Monastery, under the steppes of the Great Dividing Chain. He remembered the old priest's words as he uttered heresies condemned for centuries in both empires. "Mornay is day and her twin brother is night. As long as time, they pursue each other in an endless chase. There are many who would decry this as a lie but you must know this truth as surely as the sun and the moons. You have much potential, and you ought see it being put to the right cause."

"Tell me, Malcolm, do you know Father Rylon passed three years ago at the hale age of eighty three?"

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
DM: Political suicide as Malcolm will be seen as a bastard half-elf son. He gets moved to the back of the succession chain, behind his human half-siblings.

"Unfortunate the Sol's views only inflames those sad circumstances." Said Victorine, leaning back into her seat. "A sentiment not shared by some in the Order and its enemies without. There are many who value your skills and would see it being put to the right cause."

The Colonel's last comments were uncannily familiar to the words of Father Rylon in the catacombs of the Whitecrest Monastery, under the steppes of the Great Dividing Chain. He remembered the old priest's words as he uttered heresies condemned for centuries in both empires. "Mornay is day and her twin brother is night. As long as time, they pursue each other in an endless chase. There are many who would decry this as a lie but you must know this truth as surely as the sun and the moons. You have much potential, and you ought see it being put to the right cause."

"Tell me, Malcolm, do you know Father Rylon passed three years ago at the hale age of eighty three?"

Malcolm
Figured as much.

Another sip of his tea gives Malcolm a moment to gather his thoughts. Father Rylon had spoken words that would have been branded heresy by Order loyalists, and yet they had struck a chord in him. He still believes in Mornay; his faith in her is unwavering. But the views put forth by Father Rylon had opened his eyes to something more: a different picture of the deity he worships. And he loves her more because of it.

Are you one such person, Victorine? he asks with a tilt of the head.

When she mentions Father Rylon's death, he shakes his head with a grimace. I hadn't known. A shame. Do you know the cause?

[bcool999]

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA
"Who would've thought it'll take twelve months before the guild sent their best assassin against me? Heh, should've kept a lower profile.... I liked being the Ghost of the Undercity." He slumped further, coughing as his lungs started filling with blood. His voice slurred and slipped into a delirious rant. "Devil Ray's here. You can't stop her. She'll take contracts and start her work. Those elves... Those bloody stupid elves... freedom fighters... so bleeding stupid and blind... Should've been so obvious the entire time..."

His feet finally gave out and he slumped to the ground in a pool of his own blood.

Still in the shadows, Firvain listens in on the Ghost of the Undercity's likely final words unless he gained some healing soon. He was surprised to find that the Ghost he had been hearing of was a human considering order officers numbered among his victims. Humans, always so flighty, willing to kill one another for a bit of metal, a chunk of bread, a pat on the head.

His thoughts quickly turn away from the many faults of humanity as another figure appears before the spellcaster. Hmmm... I am surprised that I didn't notice him... Firvain thinks to himself before considering what to do about the dying human, the two before him, and a possible assassin waiting in the wings. As much as I enjoy watching humans die.... I like killing them more. This 'Ghost' may be good sport to hunt down later... and he may have useful information that Calthera would thank me for procuring... Guess I better lend a hand then.

Still walking on silent feet, and blending into the shadows, Firvain walks right by the sentry, pulling out a potion of his own, and then frowns as he notices the man's wounds, he puts the potion away, it could not bring back the dead. Still, he remains nearby, curious as to whether or not the assassin would show herself.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
"I keep an open mind." Replied Victorine coyly. "But do I share the Sol's sentiments? No. To do so is to blind oneself to the truth."

"Father Rylon lived a long life. His suffered a stroke in his sleep but not before he imparted his secrets in matters of....faith. He had great faith in you, even after you left the monastery. I hope to share that faith."

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"I keep an open mind." Replied Victorine coyly. "But do I share the Sol's sentiments? No. To do so is to blind oneself to the truth."

"Father Rylon lived a long life. His suffered a stroke in his sleep but not before he imparted his secrets in matters of....faith. He had great faith in you, even after you left the monastery. I hope to share that faith."

Malcolm
I spoke with him once before. He revealed to me the insights he had gleaned over the years, and all of their ramifications. Just as you, I kept an open mind. And now, here we are.

One last sip of his tea--it had gone cold, sadly. He sets it down, and then laces his fingers and places them on his desk. I admired Father Rylon; I am honored by the confidence he placed in me. Whatever faith you have in me, I will do my best to meet it. Provided, of course, that your expectations for me are in accordance with my own values.

[Sylvaen]

DM: +500 RPXP to all.

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA
As Airea looked closer at the downed man, he saw that help was too late. Fluids had flooded the man's lungs and his heart had given way. He also noticed a stab wound underneath the man's dirtied mithril chain shirt that had grown necrotic. Perhaps the man's death had been a brief mercy after all.

Firvain's Hide: [roll0]
MS: [roll1]

Although he couldn't see anyone in the immediate vicinity, Airea instinctively suspected they would not be the only witnesses to the man's demise. This Devil Ray knew what she was doing when she inflicted the wounds on this man and his acceptance of his own finality only confirmed her murderous talent. He also heard the rubbing of softly padded feet against the grainy dirt of the cobblestones nearly fifteen feet away.

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA

Having briefly checked the Ghost's wounds, Aire shook head: "Too late. Curse or poison, I can't say, but it was too quick. He was by all means a dead man walking when he first spoke to you."

Then he heard it. Soft steps, barely audible, but they were there. He closed his eyes and focused only on the sound. There.. three to four steps to the side. If the wizard was saying something, Aire couldn't hear him. All his attention was focused on those steps, estimating speed and direction. They were approaching. He pictured a figure of a slightly crouching person carefully stepping on their soft soles, distributing their weight evenly. Then he projected that image onto the source of the quiet steps.

Without a hint of warning he burst into motion, his sword hand whipping the hidden rapier out while the other found a familiar rod-shaped object at his hip, placing his fingers just a flick away from three buttons along its side. Aire held his strike at the unseen person, stopping the razor sharp blade at what he guessed could be neck-height, only a few inches away from connecting.

"Peek-a-boo," he growled with a grim smile.

Aire isn't truly attacking, only obstructing whoever is trying to sneak past him. Not sure if I should apply rules for fighting against unseen opponent as well, but I figured in this case probably not. Otherwise feel free to roll the chance roll for me, Plushie. Ah, and should I miss, a reroll due to Blind Fighting feat.

[bcool999]

Firvain

Not expecting the sudden drawn blade, Firvain's eyes widen slightly. He wonders how the man had seen him, but then he sees the blade is only slightly off of where he really is. He is going off of sound not sight. Knowing that, Firvain backs off of the sharp-eared warrior, drawing his crossbow in the process.

Hide: [roll0] Move Silently: [roll1] If successful on the Hide, no AoO since he then has total concealment from Airea.

Once he was out of immediate danger of the man's blade, Firvain activates his cowl and reveals himself, though instead of his true moon elf self, a longbow wielding Grey Elf appears in his place. His clothing is likewise changed. Now they take the form of dark leathers rather than his ragged clothe garments, and his cloak and cowl join into a hood which shadows his face. A face which, should the others glance into the shadows of his hood, looks scarred and burned, and his grimace shows snaggled teeth rather than sharpened teeth. "Quite the sharp ears you have." Firvain says to the swordsman.

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
Droth rubbed his hands. "His name is El'gor'an Doranu. A former bodyguard of Lord Gegarion. Turned backstreet thug after killing his own lord." He said in spite. Ranel was not familiar with those names but knew that many members of Kiiska's former nobility hired strong warriors to protect themselves. Those warriors were sworn to loyal service and to break their vow was the highest taboo. "He killed my son and I want justice."

Ranel
Still staring at the man, he sighs and makes a mental note of the name, El'go'an Doranu then, is this to include anyone else? Also, anything more you can tell me about the target? No connection to the Order he thinks to himself, which means that this will be all buisness. Fast, simple, and clean are how he hopes that this will happen, but then again not everything goes as one hopes.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
Victorine smiled more earnestly and nodded. "Of course. I see you are a man of honour and principles. I will not ask you to stray from these principles or betray your faith in our cause." She straightened her pose and leaned forward to match Malcolm's own posture.

"The High Justiciar is a noble soul but he is of the Morning Sun. His own light blinds him to the darkness. It may be as well, but so long as our numbers are few, the Evening Sun cannot rise and the world cannot see our truth." She paused and sipped at her water before setting it down again. "It is important that we cultivate our strength in Kiiska while the High Justiciar fixates on the rebels. Tell me, what do you think of the Sisters of Dawn?"

[Sylvaen]

Firvain

Not expecting the sudden drawn blade, Firvain's eyes widen slightly. He wonders how the man had seen him, but then he sees the blade is only slightly off of where he really is. He is going off of sound not sight. Knowing that, Firvain backs off of the sharp-eared warrior, drawing his crossbow in the process.

Hide: [roll0] Move Silently: [roll1] If successful on the Hide, no AoO since he then has total concealment from Airea.

Once he was out of immediate danger of the man's blade, Firvain activates his cowl and reveals himself, though instead of his true moon elf self, a longbow wielding Grey Elf appears in his place. His clothing is likewise changed. Now they take the form of dark leathers rather than his ragged clothe garments, and his cloak and cowl join into a hood which shadows his face. A face which, should the others glance into the shadows of his hood, looks scarred and burned, and his grimace shows snaggled teeth rather than sharpened teeth. "Quite the sharp ears you have." Firvain says to the swordsman.

Aire was half-expecting a quick stab towards his ribcage. Come on make a move, he urged the unseen figure, make a move so I can paint the walls red with your blood.

Nothing has happened for a few moments, and Aire was painfully aware of the view he must be to the elven mage. Just when he was about to lower his sword and blame it on his overexcited senses, the unseen figure stopped being unseen. Also, they were at least two paces away from his blade. And they were a he. And an elf. And armed with a bow. Aire sighed; some days you just can't win.

"Hum, apparently not sharp enough. I could have sworn you tried to walk right past me," he lowered his blade. There were dozens of ways to fight against a drawn bow, but none of them involved waving one's sword against empty air.

[bcool999]

Aire was half-expecting a quick stab towards his ribcage. Come on make a move, he urged the unseen figure, make a move so I can paint the walls red with your blood.

Nothing has happened for a few moments, and Aire was painfully aware of the view he must be to the elven mage. Just when he was about to lower his sword and blame it on his overexcited senses, the unseen figure stopped being unseen. Also, they were at least two paces away from his blade. And they were a he. And an elf. And armed with a bow. Aire sighed; some days you just can't win.

"Hum, apparently not sharp enough. I could have sworn you tried to walk right past me," he lowered his blade. There were dozens of ways to fight against a drawn bow, but none of them involved waving one's sword against empty air.

Firvain likewise lowered his 'bow' though he kept it ready just in case the swordsman changed his mind, or if the spellcaster started waggling fingers. "Well... to be honest, I did try to walk on past you, but then you started waving your sword about so I backed up a ways." Firvain admits before nodding towards the rapidly cooling corpse and saying, "I saw the 'Ghost' there kicking the bucket, I had heard that he had killed some of the Order's officers, so I thought I would give him a sip of potion, but I don't have any brew on me that strong. Mind sharing what brings you here this night?"

[Plushie Arz]

Ranel
Still staring at the man, he sighs and makes a mental note of the name, El'go'an Doranu then, is this to include anyone else? Also, anything more you can tell me about the target? No connection to the Order he thinks to himself, which means that this will be all buisness. Fast, simple, and clean are how he hopes that this will happen, but then again not everything goes as one hopes.

RANEL
"Saw him with some redhead elf just three days ago in the upper reaches." Shrugged Droth. "Off him, off his family. I don't care. Either way, my son ain't coming back. Now, as for your fees." He pulled a fat onyx ring from his finger and placed it on the table. Up close, Ranel saw the black gem was carved in the shape of a snarling dog. "Been in the family for years. Transforms into a shadow mastiff. Off Mr Doranu and its yours."

[Sylvaen]

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA


Firvain likewise lowered his 'bow' though he kept it ready just in case the swordsman changed his mind, or if the spellcaster started waggling fingers. "Well... to be honest, I did try to walk on past you, but then you started waving your sword about so I backed up a ways." Firvain admits before nodding towards the rapidly cooling corpse and saying, "I saw the 'Ghost' there kicking the bucket, I had heard that he had killed some of the Order's officers, so I thought I would give him a sip of potion, but I don't have any brew on me that strong. Mind sharing what brings you here this night?"

"I assume a white lie about me walking yonder to buy some cabbage wouldn't fly," Aire chuckled. Having the Grey Elf appear out of nowhere didn't make him feel more comfortable. Aire was certain the elf had gone through a similar training as he did, judging from the way he almost managed to avoid Aire's keen senses. That could be a problem.

Oh well, let's deal with problems like with a cloister full of nuns - one at a time, he thought.

"I heard Kiiska was the place to be if one is not afraid to get their hands dirty, and that it has many Sun goons ripe for picking. Got a bit late to the main party, sadly. And then I ran into them," he tilted his head towards the mage and dead Ghost, "never thought the Ghost would be a human." he snickered, then turned serious.

"Also didn't think any of our own would be dumb enough to let loose a guild assassin."

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
"Saw him with some redhead elf just three days ago in the upper reaches." Shrugged Droth. "Off him, off his family. I don't care. Either way, my son ain't coming back. Now, as for your fees." He pulled a fat onyx ring from his finger and placed it on the table. Up close, Ranel saw the black gem was carved in the shape of a snarling dog. "Been in the family for years. Transforms into a shadow mastiff. Off Mr Doranu and its yours."

Ranel
Ranel raises an eyebrow at the plump elf's comment before looking at the gem. Everything seemed in order even if the circumstances were not ideal, but he has worked with less. Then we have a deal, payment rendered in full upon one Doranu's death. I cannot give you set timetable due to needing to track down information such as movement and allies, but i will find you once the job is complete. He stands up, giving Droth one last look over, trying to sense if anything was amiss, and once that is finished Ranel will head out the door and into the night. There is much to be done, he says under his breath. Checking to see if there is anything off or being hidden, or if he plans to fulfill his end of the bargain [roll0]

[Plushie Arz]

RANEL
Ranel saw plenty of pride and bluster in the plump elf's words but not much grief. Whatever El'gor'an Doranu did, it had wounded Droth's sense of pride more than anything else and the elf wanted to repay it in full. He sensed that despite his ruined state, Droth was acting out of principle would commit to the payment once the deed was done.

He left the Soond and took a wide step to avoid a yellow puddle in the mud. It wasn't a difficult line of work once he knew enough about his targets. Even the strongest warriors had to drink and sleep, and many had worse vices for him to exploit. However, he knew moreoften than not, his employers were worse than the people he was being paid to kill and it seemed with each job, the process became easier, his hands less hesitant.

While the streets of lower Kiiska were kept quiet under curfew, the narrow alleys of the Undercity suffered no such prohibition. Even if a curfew was ordered, few Order soldiers or Kiiskan Guards were willing to enforce it and the crime lords had more than enough resources to buy off a patrol.

He turned into a darkened alley where a long haired man pawed at the neck of a streetwalker and quickly turned again in the other direction. He passed a market stall that sold dried monkey paws as good luck talismans and a weedy half-elf in a head wrap shoved a dessicated paw under his nose. "Ranel! Ranel!"

It was a girl's voice calling for him, using a nickname he had not heard in many years. When he had last saw Elsalla Yesdrel, she was a platinum-haired maiden who oft spent time around his sister in the glades around the hamlet. He faintly remembered that she had left for Kiiska shortly before Ranya married the widower.

He quietly regarded the young woman before him. Her platinum hair that once reached her waist was roughly cut, as if by blunt shears and her dirtied grey skin had shrunk around her bony frame. She wore a cheap cotton dress cut short at her thighs and chest to reveal her small bust. When he looked down, he noticed her bulging belly. She smiled timidly at the man who had seen years of death with his magenta eyes.

"Hi..."

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
Victorine smiled more earnestly and nodded. "Of course. I see you are a man of honour and principles. I will not ask you to stray from these principles or betray your faith in our cause." She straightened her pose and leaned forward to match Malcolm's own posture.

"The High Justiciar is a noble soul but he is of the Morning Sun. His own light blinds him to the darkness. It may be as well, but so long as our numbers are few, the Evening Sun cannot rise and the world cannot see our truth." She paused and sipped at her water before setting it down again. "It is important that we cultivate our strength in Kiiska while the High Justiciar fixates on the rebels. Tell me, what do you think of the Sisters of Dawn?"

Malcolm
I think they do noble work, proselytizing and delivering aid in the Undercity. The Kiiskan Guard could use a little good press with the citizens, so to speak. Especially with all of the, how should I say, questionable personnel choices that were made after the riots.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
"I'm pleased you agree. The Sisters perform admirable works in this city and they are an example to all. However, I have my fears in regards to their succession. Mother Superior Hermia is in her eighties. While she a worthy head of the Sisterhood, I do not share the same confidence in Sister Ascendant Eleanor."

Malcolm too, had heard of the Sister Ascendant Eleanor. She was in her late twenties, beautiful, and the fiancee of the High Justiciar. While Sisters of Dawn normally forswore vows of marriage to better serve Mornay, Eleanor was special in that she was the subject of the Dawnbringer prophecy, that a child conceived of her and the Justiciar would bring salvation to the world. She was said to demonstrate powers that showed Mornay's favour but Malcolm had also heard disturbing tales of her zealotry and the evangelical fury she bore on the faith's enemies.

"There are others in the Sisterhood. Have you heard of the Defender of the Faith?"

Feeona Danel. It was a name that was passed around the Order barracks in the weeks after the First Battle of the Steel Pits. A nineteen year former soldier from Farlaen who was seduced and deflowered by a rebel, it was said she joined the Sisterhood in penance of her betrayal of the Order. Some of the men called her the Soiled Sister but her defence of innocent civilians from a murderous band of elven rebels earned her the honour of Defender. In her past five months at the Chapel, he heard little ill of her. She was said to be virtuous, kind and swung the broadsword like a warrior angel.

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"I'm pleased you agree. The Sisters perform admirable works in this city and they are an example to all. However, I have my fears in regards to their succession. Mother Superior Hermia is in her eighties. While she a worthy head of the Sisterhood, I do not share the same confidence in Sister Ascendant Eleanor."

Malcolm too, had heard of the Sister Ascendant Eleanor. She was in her late twenties, beautiful, and the fiancee of the High Justiciar. While Sisters of Dawn normally forswore vows of marriage to better serve Mornay, Eleanor was special in that she was the subject of the Dawnbringer prophecy, that a child conceived of her and the Justiciar would bring salvation to the world. She was said to demonstrate powers that showed Mornay's favour but Malcolm had also heard disturbing tales of her zealotry and the evangelical fury she bore on the faith's enemies.

"There are others in the Sisterhood. Have you heard of the Defender of the Faith?"

Feeona Danel. It was a name that was passed around the Order barracks in the weeks after the First Battle of the Steel Pits. A nineteen year former soldier from Farlaen who was seduced and deflowered by a rebel, it was said she joined the Sisterhood in penance of her betrayal of the Order. Some of the men called her the Soiled Sister but her defence of innocent civilians from a murderous band of elven rebels earned her the honour of Defender. In her past five months at the Chapel, he heard little ill of her. She was said to be virtuous, kind and swung the broadsword like a warrior angel.

Malcolm
Ah, Sister Eleanor again; by all accounts a spitfire, with a sharp tongue and fury for both enemies and allies alike. So young and beautiful, the subject of a glorious prophecy...who is to say that the spotlight and attention have not unduly influenced her? I can see why you would be hesitant to accept the Sister Ascendent. From what I hear, she has a sharp tongue that lashes out indiscriminately, and that is the least of her undesirable qualities. As for the Defender...

Sister Danel. She is only human, a mortal, and they make mistakes. To condemn her for an act that she has repented for would be unfair, and furthermore, her honor has been shown elsewhere. Sister Danel is an exemplary soldier. She has paid for her mistakes, and she seems an honorable warrior: might and mercy hand in hand. If I may be so bold, she is perhaps better suited to the role of Mother Superior than the Sister Ascendent.

[kinem]

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA
"I assume a white lie about me walking yonder to buy some cabbage wouldn't fly," Aire chuckled. Having the Grey Elf appear out of nowhere didn't make him feel more comfortable. Aire was certain the elf had gone through a similar training as he did, judging from the way he almost managed to avoid Aire's keen senses. That could be a problem.

Oh well, let's deal with problems like with a cloister full of nuns - one at a time, he thought.

"I heard Kiiska was the place to be if one is not afraid to get their hands dirty, and that it has many Sun goons ripe for picking. Got a bit late to the main party, sadly. And then I ran into them," he tilted his head towards the mage and dead Ghost, "never thought the Ghost would be a human." he snickered, then turned serious.

"Also didn't think any of our own would be dumb enough to let loose a guild assassin."

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA

Hiam hands the potion back to the cloaked man who'd tossed it to him.

"So, let me try to get this straight. I need to know more about assassins ...

First, neither of you came here to kill me, either though you both were sneaking around and following me and sometimes kill people. That's good to know because someone has tried for the past few nights. Clumsy attempts with summoned monsters, so I know it wasn't you. Any idea who might do that? Why I'm out here, I was looking for a safe place to spend the night.

The dead man was, in life, the Ghost. He killed some Order officers, so the elven rebels put out a hit on him. That ... doesn't make any sense to me. What was he doing?

The Devil Ray is a Guild assassin, and everyone thinks whoever hired her made a mistake, even though she did the job, because now she's in town and will start to take other contracts. Right? Can you tell me any more about her?

Finally ... Let's just get out of here! Leave the body for the assassin to find, and she'll know her work tonight is done."

Another thought strikes him as he takes another look at the body.

"Although ... If the assassin is such a monster, then is it not our civic duty to prevent any valuables the Ghost may have been carrying from falling into her hands?"

[Plushie Arz]

FIRVAIN, AIREA, HIAM
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/Evercursed/Sundara%20Giantitp/Shadow%20fight00.png

The three men heard a chilling, unworldly voice from around the alley. They quickly turned to see a humanoid figure that seemed to be made of shadows itself. Two yellow orbs burned as its eyes and it trailed a smoky essence behind it. It raked its clawed hands against the wall and bits of brick were carved like butter. "Ghost or not, I am pleased my master gives me chance to slaughter you fleshbags. I grow bored of waiting and picking."

Initiative
Shadow monster: [roll3] (moved to D11, attacked)
Airea: [roll0]
Firvain: [roll1]
Hiam: [roll2]


Attack: (1d20+17)[29] (touch)
Damage: (1d6)[5]
(http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19407613&postcount=1086)
The shadowy figure sprung forward with lightning speed, swiping at Hiam with its sharpened claws. Despite the magical wards surrounding the mage, he felt the sharp bite of talons as if the shadowy digits were not impeded by the magic that blocked normal blows with the force of steel.

Spoiler tags aren't working as well as I like. There's too many of them where multiple characters are concerned.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
"I'm pleased you share my sentiments. Sister Feeona's own history makes her an ideal candidate for our overtures in due course. Nonetheless, we must remain cautious. If she is as pious and stubborn as the current Mother Superior, she may compromise our position. My contacts in the Albinus Chapel will keep us appraised of an appropriate opportunity."

"What of the Kiiskan Guard? Do you believe we may find allies in the ranks?"

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"I'm pleased you share my sentiments. Sister Feeona's own history makes her an ideal candidate for our overtures in due course. My contacts in the Albinus Chapel will keep us appraised of an appropriate opportunity. What of the Kiiskan Guard? Do you believe we may find allies in the ranks?"

Malcolm
I feel confident that there are enough discontented recruits in the ranks that we can count as potential allies. Exactly how many and of what quality we may find, that will take a bit more time and looking into to say for certain. But Kiiska is a powder keg; as long as the Order's concern is with keeping it contained, we may be free to test the waters for our own benefit--while being cautious to avoid overreaching, naturally.

[kinem]

FIRVAIN, AIREA, HIAM
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/Evercursed/Sundara%20Giantitp/Shadow%20fight00.png
The three men heard a chilling, unworldly voice from around the alley. They quickly turned to see a humanoid figure that seemed to be made of shadows itself. Two yellow orbs burned as its eyes and it trailed a smoky essence behind it. It raked its clawed hands against the wall and bits of brick were carved like butter. "Ghost or not, I am pleased my master gives me chance to slaughter you fleshbags. I grow bored of waiting and picking."

Attack: (1d20+17)[29] (touch)
Damage: (1d6)[5]
(http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19407613&postcount=1086)
The shadowy figure sprung forward with lightning speed, swiping at Hiam with its sharpened claws. Despite the magical wards surrounding the mage, he felt the sharp bite of talons as if the shadowy digits were not impeded by the magic that blocked normal blows with the force of steel.

FIRVAIN, AIREA, HIAM
"Yikes!" Hiam twists away from the claw, so that he is merely scratched and not seriously wounded. (ooc: hp 74/79)

He tries to tell if this is the same shadow-thing that had invaded his home.

He backs off a bit and casts a spell, sending four narrow beams of fire towards the shadow-monster.

If the monster remains standing, he quickly casts another spell, this time trying to gain some safety by creating shifting illusory images around him to distract the thing.


5' step to D9. He also automatically casts defensively (Concentration +23, no check needed).

Split ray scorching ray:
[roll0] touch, [roll1] fire
[roll2] touch, [roll3] fire
[roll4] touch, [roll5] fire
[roll6] touch, [roll7] fire

quickened mirror image: [roll8] images

Hiam hp 74/79; AC 30, touch 15, but AC 25 vs incorporeal touch (mage armor, shield apply)
Spell slots used today :: 2 1st, 1 2nd, 0 3rd, 2 4th, 0 5th, 1 6th
Spells/day unlimited 0th, 8 1st, 8 2nd, 7 3rd, 7 4th, 6 5th, 4 6th

[bcool999]

Firvain

Frowning as the shadow creature makes it's appearance, Firvain says, "Would you mind speaking your Master's name so I know who to thank for interrupting our conversation?"

Whether or not the creature responds, Firvain goes to work on it with his 'bow.' Sending a deadly hail of projectiles it's way.



Name
Attack
Damage
Type
Special
DM


Rapid shot (1)
[roll0]
[roll1]
Magic and Piercing
After one of my attacks miss, all others get a +4 to the attack roll. Also on a miss not caused by a nat 1 or miss chance the attack still deals 4 damage.
Miss chance roll if needed [roll2]


Rapid shot (2)
[roll3]
[roll4]
Magic and Piercing
After one of my attacks miss, all others get a +4 to the attack roll. Also on a miss not caused by a nat 1 or miss chance the attack still deals 4 damage.
Miss chance roll if needed [roll5]


Rapid shot (3)
[roll6]
[roll7]
Magic and Piercing
After one of my attacks miss, all others get a +4 to the attack roll. Also on a miss not caused by a nat 1 or miss chance the attack still deals 4 damage.
Miss chance roll if needed [roll8]


Rapid shot (4)
[roll9]
[roll10]
Magic and Piercing
After one of my attacks miss, all others get a +4 to the attack roll. Also on a miss not caused by a nat 1 or miss chance the attack still deals 4 damage.
Miss chance roll if needed [roll11]


Rapid shot (5)
[roll12]
[roll13]
Magic and Piercing
After one of my attacks miss, all others get a +4 to the attack roll. Also on a miss not caused by a nat 1 or miss chance the attack still deals 4 damage.
Miss chance roll if needed [roll14]


Rapid shot (6)
[roll15]
[roll16]
Magic and Piercing
After one of my attacks miss, all others get a +4 to the attack roll. Also on a miss not caused by a nat 1 or miss chance the attack still deals 4 damage.
Miss chance roll if needed [roll17]


Rapid shot (7)
[roll18]
[roll19]
Magic and Piercing
After one of my attacks miss, all others get a +4 to the attack roll. Also on a miss not caused by a nat 1 or miss chance the attack still deals 4 damage.
Miss chance roll if needed [roll20]


Rapid shot (8)
[roll21]
[roll22]
Magic and Piercing
After one of my attacks miss, all others get a +4 to the attack roll. Also on a miss not caused by a nat 1 or miss chance the attack still deals 4 damage.
Miss chance roll if needed [roll23]

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
Ranel saw plenty of pride and bluster in the plump elf's words but not much grief. Whatever El'gor'an Doranu did, it had wounded Droth's sense of pride more than anything else and the elf wanted to repay it in full. He sensed that despite his ruined state, Droth was acting out of principle would commit to the payment once the deed was done.

He left the Soond and took a wide step to avoid a yellow puddle in the mud. It wasn't a difficult line of work once he knew enough about his targets. Even the strongest warriors had to drink and sleep, and many had worse vices for him to exploit. However, he knew moreoften than not, his employers were worse than the people he was being paid to kill and it seemed with each job, the process became easier, his hands less hesitant.

While the streets of lower Kiiska were kept quiet under curfew, the narrow alleys of the Undercity suffered no such prohibition. Even if a curfew was ordered, few Order soldiers or Kiiskan Guards were willing to enforce it and the crime lords had more than enough resources to buy off a patrol.

He turned into a darkened alley where a long haired man pawed at the neck of a streetwalker and quickly turned again in the other direction. He passed a market stall that sold dried monkey paws as good luck talismans and a weedy half-elf in a head wrap shoved a dessicated paw under his nose. "Blondie! Blondie!"

It was a girl's voice calling for him, using a nickname he had not heard in many years. When he had last saw Elsalla Yesdrel, she was a platinum-haired maiden who oft spent time around his sister in the glades around the hamlet. He faintly remembered that she had left for Kiiska shortly before Ranya married the widower.

He quietly regarded the young woman before him. Her platinum hair that once reached her waist was roughly cut, as if by blunt shears and her dirtied grey skin had shrunk around her bony frame. She wore a cheap cotton dress cut short at her thighs and chest to reveal her small bust. When he looked down, he noticed her bulging belly. She smiled timidly at the man who had seen years of death with his magenta eyes.

"Hi..."

Ranel
His head spun for moment, trying to process what was happening. It also didn't help that the recollection of Elsalla also brought with it memories Renesse. After steadying himself, he took a moment to make sure nobody else appeared to be interested in this encounter and lead her off to the side of the road. It was blatantly easy to tell what her current situation was, but then again looks can be deceiving. Giving her a more through look-over, he looks her in the eyes and says Hello Elsalla, it has been a long time since i last saw you.
Spot check to see if anybody was watching us from the road [roll0]
Spot check to see if the girl is in disguise [roll1]
Sense motive to gauge her intent [roll2]

[kinem]

HIAM
OOC: scorching ray miss chance vs incorporeal if needed (>50 = hit): [roll0], [roll1], [roll2], [roll3]

[Sylvaen]

AIREA

It took Aire a split second longer to react; whatever he had expected, this wasn't it. Instead of a female assassin, it was a wraith of some sort. I guess a charming small talk and invitation for dinner and wine are out of the question, he thought sourly. While his new companions were busy letting loose multiple arrows and multiple wizards, he leaped, grabbed the edge of the same roof from which he jumped down earlier, and vanished in shadows over the edge of the building.

Glancing at the situation below, he slid down from the roof in the street behind the clawed monstrosity, taking good care to be as quiet as possible. His rapier was still in his hand, which was a good thing; he wouldn't need to waste time unsheathing it.


Spending my Standard Action to gain extra move.
Jump [roll0] and Climb [roll1] to get onto the roof
Next, Aire needs to reestablish Hide. Prerequisity should be met: total Cover, thanks to the roof and difference in terrain.
Hide: [roll2]
As a normal Move action, climb down into the street to get behind the enemy.
Move Silently: [roll3]

[Plushie Arz]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN
Spell Resistance: [roll0]
Spell Resistance: [roll1]
Spell Resistance: [roll2]
Spell Resistance: [roll3]

Confirm rolls: [roll4]

A barrage of magical heat and missiles spun through the night air at the shadow creature. The creature did not bleed and seemed to ignore the blasts of heat that emanated from Hiam's fingertips. However, it was Firvain's barrage of enchanted bolts that ripped the shadows into shreds and the group heard a discontented whisper in the air as the creature's damaged body vanished into thin air. Airea noticed whilst the elf wielded a longbow, the ammunition seemed to be more suited for a crossbow. Curious.

DM: +400 XP to Area, Hiam and Firvain.

MALCOLM
"Naturally," Replied Victorine. "It takes time to foster bonds and build trust. Act cautiously but do not hesitate reach out to the locals. However, I can I see I don't need to tell you that."

The rest of the meeting passed in casual conversation and banter. Malcolm had the impression that the Colonel was cultivating him as an ally and the evening finished on a friendly note. As she put on her cloak and had her hand left hand on the doorknob, she shook Malcolm's right hand with her own. "It was a pleasure, Malcolm. You may want to work some heroics to improve the standing of the Guard. I hear Captain Tuskan's been having troubles around the Steel Pits and it serves us well to come to the aid of our Kiiskan allies. Feel free to visit my office any time you're around."

Malcolm watched as she climbed her destrier and rode off into the night with her men.

DM: +400 XP to Malcolm.

RANEL
He looked to the road and only saw passerbys paying him little heed as they carried on their business. He imagined to them, he would only be another client being propositioned by a common harlot. He looked at Elsalla and saw an earnest girl trying to make a living with what means available to her. "It has, hasn't it?" She shifted her feet and looked down self-consciously. It seemed that beyond the greeting, she hadn't thought through what she would say to the hired killer. A brief pause followed. "I hadn't expected to see you here. I heard... well, bad things happened to our village. I'm glad you're safe."

[Sylvaen]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN

Just as Aire's soles touched the ground, the creature reeled and vanished with one last quiet groan. The assassin waved his rapier in the air where the creature had been just moments ago. He pointed his weapon at the elf: "That's one for you, archer."

Then he looked at the array of elven wizards: "I would also direct some praise your way, Wizard, if I only knew which way is the right one."

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
He looked to the road and only saw passerbys paying him little heed as they carried on their business. He imagined to them, he would only be another client being propositioned by a common harlot. He looked at Elsalla and saw an earnest girl trying to make a living with what means available to her. "It has, hasn't it?" She shifted her feet and looked down self-consciously. It seemed that beyond the greeting, she hadn't thought through what she would say to the hired killer. A brief pause followed. "I hadn't expected to see you here. I heard... well, bad things happened to our village. I'm glad you're safe."

Ranel
No, in truth i had also not expected to see you again either. But it is good you are well. He paused, And yes, bad things did happen to our village. I happened to be away when it... Ranel stammered for a moment before spitting out happened. Perhaps one day i can make it right. He looks at her and tries to smile, although he does not know if he actually can anymore It has been nice seeing you again Elsalla, but i have work to attend to. Perhaps we shall meet again. He adds as he turns and walks away.

[kinem]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN

Just as Aire's soles touched the ground, the creature reeled and vanished with one last quiet groan. The assassin waved his rapier in the air where the creature had been just moments ago. He pointed his weapon at the elf: "That's one for you, archer."

Then he looked at the array of elven wizards: "I would also direct some praise your way, Wizard, if I only knew which way is the right one."

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN

ooc: Though Hiam is an elf, he currently appears to be a dark-haired half-elf wearing leather armor. (hat of disguise)

Hiam says "Impressive shooting, Archer, best I've seen. I've never seen arrows split like that before, either.

I'm afraid that shadow-monster was probably on my track. I didn't expect that. I expect I could've dealt with the thing, but thanks to both of you for the help.

The mirror images can be distracting, but might yet come in handy if we have any more company in the next little while. What are the chances of that, huh?

Anyway, back to the business at hand. Please tell me about assassins and suchlike. Meanwhile, I'll take a look at the Ghost's corpse."

He casts detect magic and inspects the body looking to see if the man had been decked out with magic items.

[Plushie Arz]

ALERIC, HIAM, FIRVAIN
He spotted the faint glow of abjuration from the Ghost of the Undercity's body as well as an enchantment that made the spiked chain hit harder, and more resilient.


+1 Mithril Chain Shirt
+1 Ring of Protection
+1 Spiked Chain
Boots of Agile Leaping
Brute Gauntlets (MIC p83)

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"Naturally," Replied Victorine. "It takes time to foster bonds and build trust. Act cautiously but do not hesitate reach out to the locals. However, I can I see I don't need to tell you that."

The rest of the meeting passed in casual conversation and banter. Malcolm had the impression that the Colonel was cultivating him as an ally and the evening finished on a friendly note. As she put on her cloak and had her hand left hand on the doorknob, she shook Malcolm's right hand with her own. "It was a pleasure, Malcolm. You may want to work some heroics to improve the standing of the Guard. I hear Captain Tuskan's been having troubles around the Steel Pits and it serves us well to come to the aid of our Kiiskan allies. Feel free to visit my office any time you're around."

Malcolm watched as she climbed her destrier and rode off into the night with her men.

DM: +400 XP to Malcolm.

Malcolm
He receives her parting words with a nod and smile. I will certainly visit if I can. Have a pleasant night, Victorine.

After she leaves, he seeks out his honor guard. Gathering them into his office, he closes the door once more. I daresay that we can count the Colonel as an ally, he begins. She noted that Captain Tuskan may find our aid around the Steel Pits to be useful. Alanna, Bruno, and I will bring a platoon to look into it. I'd like any information you all can recall about Captain Tuskan and the Steel Pits before we break for the night.

I'm not sure how many soldiers would be best to bring, so I just went with a platoon. Not sure whether it'll matter in the end, but Mal would bring however many he thinks he needs.

[Plushie Arz]

RANEL
He had the distinct impression that Elsalla wanted him to stay, to talk, perhaps to reminisce about old times but his mind was on other affairs. "Oh, um okay then..." She squeaked meekly, with more than a hint of disappointment. "See you around, I guess." Patting down her wrinkled dress over her bruised thighs, she faded back into the alley.

His thoughts on this El'gor'an Doranu, a number of questions plagued him. Who were the man's contacts? What were his weaknesses? Did he have any loved ones or family in the city? What did he do during the day? Where did he reside? He realised there was much about his target he did not know.

The night was growing long and as the streets grew wider, the crowds thinned. He found himself in a deserted square that served as the Undercity marketplace. A light blanket of fog covered the cobbled ground and as he trained his eyes, he saw some movement forty feet away heading towards a narrow street opposite.

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
He had the distinct impression that Elsalla wanted him to stay, to talk, perhaps to reminisce about old times but his mind was on other affairs. "Oh, um okay then..." She squeaked meekly, with more than a hint of disappointment. "See you around, I guess." Patting down her wrinkled dress over her bruised thighs, she faded back into the alley.

His thoughts on this El'gor'an Doranu, a number of questions plagued him. Who were the man's contacts? What were his weaknesses? Did he have any loved ones or family in the city? What did he do during the day? Where did he reside? He realised there was much about his target he did not know.

The night was growing long and as the streets grew wider, the crowds thinned. He found himself in a deserted square that served as the Undercity marketplace. A light blanket of fog covered the cobbled ground and as he trained his eyes, he saw some movement forty feet away heading towards a narrow street opposite.

Ranel
He pauses, letting the mist swirl around him. Having lived and worked in this city for a while now he knew most of the twisted back-alleys in the area and he mentally tried to picture what was in the direction of the movement. It wasn't impossible for Doranu to keep an eye on those who might seek to retaliate against him. Once he had his image Ranel slowly moved in the direction of the alley, one dagger drawn and hidden below his cloak and with his other hand he readies one of his arcane magics in case of trouble.
Spot and Listen Checks [roll0] & [roll1] and readying an action to cast Greater Invisibility if attacked

[Plushie Arz]

RANEL
Ranel heard the scraping of metal and something heavy being dragged along the coarse pebbled pavement. The methodic metallic sounds reminded him of footsteps and he peered into the foggy distance. He saw what looked like a hunched man stopping down and moving his load behind a terracotta shack.

MALCOLM
"Former Lieutenant of the Steel Leaf Guards. Promoted to captaincy after the Battle of Steel Pits, when Kolvars was appointed Second Speaker. Currently holds the Steel Pits. Recently engaged to an Undercity dancer." Recited Alanna, as if reading from the service records themselves.

Walter shook his head. "A man promoted through another's treachery. Typical. They're all the bloody same." He muttered angrily.

"The Second Speaker, perhaps." Cautioned Jor'ellean. "But I hear no ill spoken of Tuskan. A commendable warrior besides."

[Sylvaen]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN
Hiam says "Impressive shooting, Archer, best I've seen. I've never seen arrows split like that before, either.

I'm afraid that shadow-monster was probably on my track. I didn't expect that. I expect I could've dealt with the thing, but thanks to both of you for the help.

The mirror images can be distracting, but might yet come in handy if we have any more company in the next little while. What are the chances of that, huh?

Anyway, back to the business at hand. Please tell me about assassins and suchlike. Meanwhile, I'll take a look at the Ghost's corpse."

He casts detect magic and inspects the body looking to see if the man had been decked out with magic items.

Aire shook his head and fought the urge to act for his own benefit and just vanish before anyone else turned up. Instead, he exhaled slowly.

"I do not know how to say it clearly yet politely," he said finally, "I think there's a lot more to clear up, but this is neither the place nor the right time. This Ghost had to have friends or allies, and they should be informed. There's a boarded-up smithy just a few blocks away, I think we could leave the body there and find whoever he was working with. You know, he was only a human, but he was doing an elf's job." concluded Aire.

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"Former Lieutenant of the Steel Leaf Guards. Promoted to captaincy after the Battle of Steel Pits, when Kolvars was appointed Second Speaker. Currently holds the Steel Pits. Recently engaged to an Undercity dancer." Recited Alanna, as if reading from the service records themselves.

Walter shook his head. "A man promoted through another's treachery. Typical. They're all the bloody same." He muttered angrily.

"The Second Speaker, perhaps." Cautioned Jor'ellean. "But I hear no ill spoken of Tuskan. A commendable warrior besides."

Malcolm
Malcolm nods, taking in the information. We shall see tomorrow. Dismissed; Lieutenants Treble, Caldwell, report to my office tomorrow morning.

After they leave, he spends most of the night finishing up any stray paperwork that had managed to elude him during the day. Thanks to the ring on his right index finger, he needs to rest even less than his elven ancestors in order to get a good night's sleep. When he finishes the paperwork, he looks through his reports and personal notes to refresh his knowledge on the Steel Pits.

He retires to his quarters, washing himself and taking the time to wax his bowstrings. The experience is a calming one for him. Once he is satisfied, he lays down and takes his rest.

Waking up in the early morning, he goes to the target range after his morning routine. Early morning is the perfect time to get extra practice in. He practices at ranges long enough to cause some wonder as to where the arrows are coming from, from perches that would make a bird blink in surprise: in the branches of a tall tree, from a hundred yards away, standing upside down on a tree branch (thanks to the nifty sandals he requisitioned after the Second Darkstar War).

Once he is satisfied with his morning training, he goes to his office to meet with his lieutenants and begin the trek to the Steel Pits.

I'm caught between wanting to know more about the Steel Pits, information which Malcolm would probably already know, and not wanting to waste more time in getting Malcolm to where you want him to be. Was the Battle of the Steel Pits right before the ceasefire, so it's been less than a week since Tuskan's promotion? Feel free to flash forward to the Steel Pits if you want to move things along.

[kinem]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN

Aire shook his head and fought the urge to act for his own benefit and just vanish before anyone else turned up. Instead, he exhaled slowly.

"I do not know how to say it clearly yet politely," he said finally, "I think there's a lot more to clear up, but this is neither the place nor the right time. This Ghost had to have friends or allies, and they should be informed. There's a boarded-up smithy just a few blocks away, I think we could leave the body there and find whoever he was working with. You know, he was only a human, but he was doing an elf's job." concluded Aire.

"You mean he was a good guy? I don't go in much for racial distinctions. I do think a the truce is a good idea, so this was probably not really a good time for a lone wolf like him to be picking off Order men. Don't get the wrong idea - I oppose the Order, but now hope for peace.

All right. But he won't be needing this anymore, and with my enemy out there, I very soon might." He takes a ring off the dead man's finger. "It's a minor ring of protection. That is, if you guys would be cool with that. His chain, armor, gauntlets, and boots also have some enchantment."

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
He read the reports and briefs prepared for him by the administration to familiarise himself with the Steel Pits.

The Steel Pits neighbourhood was formerly an iron mine many centuries ago and the Kiiskan Council put half elves to work in appalling conditions to harvest the ore. A slum grew around the mines and with the lack of urban planning, the stone buildings were haphazardly constructed and hundreds of winding laneways sprouted through the tightly packed spaces that often housed dozens of workers in a single room. As the ore dried up and the borders of Kiiska expanded, the Steel Pit was converted into a proper neighbourhood of the Undercity. The mines were filled up and became public forums and marketplaces.

In the centuries since however, further changes occurred in the neighbourhood. The half-elven families moved into other parts of the Undercity and the slums were largely abandoned. A goblinoid warband briefly took possession of the Pits but were wiped out in the First Battle of the Steel Pits in the second month of the occupation. Captain Franklyn Calley and his Hollow Men then took over the area but they barely lasted two weeks before the rebels wiped out the entire company in a night raid.

Captain Tuskan and the Steel Leaf Guard have held the Pits for around three months so far without incident.

[Sylvaen]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN



"You mean he was a good guy? I don't go in much for racial distinctions. I do think a the truce is a good idea, so this was probably not really a good time for a lone wolf like him to be picking off Order men. Don't get the wrong idea - I oppose the Order, but now hope for peace.

All right. But he won't be needing this anymore, and with my enemy out there, I very soon might." He takes a ring off the dead man's finger. "It's a minor ring of protection. That is, if you guys would be cool with that. His chain, armor, gauntlets, and boots also have some enchantment."

"Good, bad, ugly.. it all depends on who you ask," Aire snorted. The idea of judging by such absolutes amused him. "I'd hate to carry or drag him like this.. all floppy and heavy. See, finding a door we could use as a stretcher would be a good thing. The owner of the door, on the other hand, would surely find that a bad thing..."

[Plushie Arz]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN
Airea and Hiam helped carry the cooling body of the Ghost of the Undercity into the abandoned bakery, dumping him onto the creaky floorboards.They then proceeded to relieve the corpse of magical items. After all, the dead had no need of such valuables and it was better that they did not fall into more ignoble hands.

As Hiam looted the man's chain shirt, a piece of folded parchment dropped out. The edges of the paper were bloodied but thankfully, the stains hadn't reached the centre of the document. He unfolded it and saw an untidy scrawl, as if the writer had been drunk. A broken seal of a boar's head was fixed at the bottom;


Daelric,

IOU. I'll pay ASAP next time at the Knot.

Don't call the guild.

-Garth

Firvain knew the Knot was a brothel located not too far from their current location in the Lower Reaches. While an out-of-sight location, Firvain knew it was one of the few establishments in the city that catered to the more exotic tastes of its patrons. He had noticed more humans among the working girls in recent months, and some of them had the look of former Order soldiers.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
Malcolm breathed in the heavy morning air and the strode purposefully through the columns of sunlight that pierced the canopy as he approached the Steel Pits from the north Greenway. His lieutenants behind him, the half-elven Kiiskan guardsmen saluted him as one of their own as he passed a watchpoint.

Captain Tuskan had the build of a labourer. A handsome half-elven man with olive skin and curly brown hair cropped in the fashion of the new regime, he wore his leafweave armor and insignia proudly. He saluted Malcolm and shook his hand. "The Steel Leaf are honoured to welcome the Silent Stings. Your reputation precedes you."

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
Malcolm breathed in the heavy morning air and the strode purposefully through the columns of sunlight that pierced the canopy as he approached the Steel Pits from the north Greenway. His lieutenants behind him, the half-elven Kiiskan guardsmen saluted him as one of their own as he passed a watchpoint.

Captain Tuskan had the build of a labourer. A handsome half-elven man with olive skin and curly brown hair cropped in the fashion of the new regime, he wore his leafweave armor and insignia proudly. He saluted Malcolm and shook his hand. "The Steel Leaf are honoured to welcome the Silent Stings. Your reputation precedes you."

Malcolm
Well met, Captain, he replies, firmly shaking his fellow half-elf's hand. And the same for you, as well. You and your Steel Leaves have done an admirable job in such a dangerous area.

I requested to be transferred to Kiiska in order to do my part for our people. Even during the ceasefire, I've heard tell that the Undercity has had its normal ebb and flow of troubles. As a well-established presence in the Undercity, I thought that you could provide more intel into any trouble that may be brewing.

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
Ranel heard the scraping of metal and something heavy being dragged along the coarse pebbled pavement. The methodic metallic sounds reminded him of footsteps and he peered into the foggy distance. He saw what looked like a hunched man stopping down and moving his load behind a terracotta shack.


Ranel
Quickly looking around for a good vantage point, Ranel quickly moves up one of the nearby buildings to the roof. From there he quickly checks to see if there are any onlookers before moving into position to see what was going on behind the shack. Making sure his placement is hidden, he looks over, trying to see if this even has any relevance to him or his current job.Spot and listen again to see if anybody is watching/nearby [roll0]/[roll1], a hide and move silently check (opposed checks must be made against the higher of the two due to Darkstalker) [roll2] and [roll3], and one more set of spot and listen checks to see what the hunchbacked man is doing [roll4] & [roll5]

[Sylvaen]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN

After all three have read the note, there was a moment of silence from the cloaked swordsman. It was obvious he's thinking. His eyes darted from one to the other and back. It was obvious he had some doubts about the next plan.

"Alright then. It'll have to be you," he nodded towards the half-elf. "No offense, Archer. I have no idea what kind of rabble frequents that seedy establishment these days, but a half-elf ought to stand out less than a Grey Elf. And while I am confident you could stay unnoticed, we'll need to ask questions and hopefully find this... Garth."

[bcool999]

Firvain

Keeping a firm watch on the surroundings as the other two hide the Ghost's body away, Firvain wonders what he had just stepped into. I was meant to be hunting rats not ghosts and especially not dead ghosts... though it may be of use to find out about this guild of assassins... and their shadow puppets.

When the drow mentions not blending in, Firvain merely tugs on the rim of his hood slightly, and suddenly he appears much the same, but his elven features are dulled somewhat, he is bulkier with less lithe elven grace. In fact, he is suddenly the spitting image of a half-elf version of himself. "I wouldn't worry so much about my blending in. Besides it's a brothel, throw a little coin around, play nice with the ladies, and all sorts of secrets can be found."

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
"Aye. Shall we discuss this more privately?" Captain Tuskan walked Malcolm across the training yard, where recruits performed drills with their wooden hafts under the watchful eyes of their instructors. Malcolm noticed the Steel Leaf guards trained with the elven longspear, with a slightly curved tip shaped like a scimitar. It was a weapon made more effective in infantry formations against cavalry and foot infantry where dozens can form a spear wall reinforced by the curved leaf shields of beaten copper. He also noticed the Steel Leaf trained with blunted shortswords and daggers for the hand to hand street fighting in the Undercity alleyways.

They descended small set of stairs into a circular underground bunker. Although the timber-paneled walls looked immaculately clean and lit up by a system of light wells carved funneled through the ceiling, he could not help but detect the sharp bitter tang of quicklime and ash. He recalled that orcs and hardened men once occupied the same bunkers. It seemed the Kiiskan Guard had worked hard to make this place their own.

The Captain's office was much like Malcolm's own, with an armor rack and a display where he hung up his swords. The ground was covered with basalt tiles and a small firepit radiated warmth. A darkwood desk covered with a map of Kiiska was at the centre of the room and Malcolm noticed a fresh oil portrait of a beautiful elven woman with black hair hung behind the desk. "My betrothed." Explained Tuskan with a smile, when he noticed Malcolm's gaze lingering over the painting.

They took seats facing each other across the desk and a half-elven courtier brought two steaming mugs of dark coffee. In the Empires up north, the drink was an expensive alternative to tea but here in the south, the brown beans that produced the bitter brew were plentiful and locals drank it like water.

"The Silent Stings are a welcome addition to the Guard and we are happy to accept any aid from our friends in the Order. We patrol the city with eleven divisions, each two hundred strong but our numbers are stretched thin with the rebels." He said, blowing steam from the top of his mug. "The High Justiciar's ceasefire offers us a rare opportunity to consolidate our position in the Undercity and Lower Reaches."

"As far as I know, the ceasefire binds the Order with four of the largest rebel factions. Serpent's Fang, Ebon Stars, Harbingers and Blood Hunters. All dangerous but this city has no lack of rogues. The number of rebel incidents have dropped sharply but we're having problems with new groups that come in every day."

RANEL
As quiet as a house cat and as nimble as a flea, Ranel leapt onto the rooftop to survey his mark. Amidst the stack of shanty houses and the swirling fog, he saw a hunched over bald man dragging what looked a sack across the ground. The man had the high cheekbones and pointed ears of an elf but his waxy skin was stretched taut over his ribcage and body. He looked as if he had been stitched together, the thick black bindings criss-crossing his body like a web of scars. More disturbingly, the man looked like he had a metallic spine grafted into his back and the skin hadn't completely healed over, leaking a puslike fluid into the back of his dark trousers.

The man dragged his load through a door covered by a beaded curtain, and the beads clacked for a few seconds before falling quiet in the night.

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
As quiet as a house cat and as nimble as a flea, Ranel leapt onto the rooftop to survey his mark. Amidst the stack of shanty houses and the swirling fog, he saw a hunched over bald man dragging what looked a sack across the ground. The man had the high cheekbones and pointed ears of an elf but his waxy skin was stretched taut over his ribcage and body. He looked as if he had been stitched together, the thick black bindings criss-crossing his body like a web of scars. More disturbingly, the man looked like he had a metallic spine grafted into his back and the skin hadn't completely healed over, leaking a puslike fluid into the back of his dark trousers.

The man dragged his load through a door covered by a beaded curtain, and the beads clacked for a few seconds before falling quiet in the night.

Ranel
While the old mans constitution was indeed curious, it appears to not have anything to do with him. Satisfied, Ranel quietly slipped away and once again began making his way back home, although this time making sure to be doubly careful of followers.

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"Aye. Shall we discuss this more privately?" Captain Tuskan walked Malcolm across the training yard, where recruits performed drills with their wooden hafts under the watchful eyes of their instructors. Malcolm noticed the Steel Leaf guards trained with the elven longspear, with a slightly curved tip shaped like a scimitar. It was a weapon made more effective in infantry formations against cavalry and foot infantry where dozens can form a spear wall reinforced by the curved leaf shields of beaten copper. He also noticed the Steel Leaf trained with blunted shortswords and daggers for the hand to hand street fighting in the Undercity alleyways.

They descended small set of stairs into a circular underground bunker. Although the timber-paneled walls looked immaculately clean and lit up by a system of light wells carved funneled through the ceiling, he could not help but detect the sharp bitter tang of quicklime and ash. He recalled that orcs and hardened men once occupied the same bunkers. It seemed the Kiiskan Guard had worked hard to make this place their own.

The Captain's office was much like Malcolm's own, with an armor rack and a display where he hung up his swords. The ground was covered with basalt tiles and a small firepit radiated warmth. A darkwood desk covered with a map of Kiiska was at the centre of the room and Malcolm noticed a fresh oil portrait of a beautiful elven woman with black hair hung behind the desk. "My betrothed." Explained Tuskan with a smile, when he noticed Malcolm's gaze lingering over the painting.

They took seats facing each other across the desk and a half-elven courtier brought two steaming mugs of dark coffee. In the Empires up north, the drink was an expensive alternative to tea but here in the south, the brown beans that produced the bitter brew were plentiful and locals drank it like water.

"The Silent Stings are a welcome addition to the Guard and we are happy to accept any aid from our friends in the Order. We patrol the city with eleven divisions, each two hundred strong but our numbers are stretched thin with the rebels." He said, blowing steam from the top of his mug. "The High Justiciar's ceasefire offers us a rare opportunity to consolidate our position in the Undercity and Lower Reaches."

"As far as I know, the ceasefire binds the Order with four of the largest rebel factions. Serpent's Fang, Ebon Stars, Harbingers and Blood Hunters. All dangerous but this city has no lack of rogues. The number of rebel incidents have dropped sharply but we're having problems with new groups that come in every day."

Malcolm
Malcolm nods and follows the captain, making note of the Steel Leaf training area. Training with both reach weapons and short swords in anticipation of cramped fighting quarters is a good idea, and he is glad that he has drilled his newest recruits in the same. The more experienced soldiers can fire a bow with the enemy breathing down their neck, but not all of his soldiers can...yet.

Congratulations, he says when Tuskan mentions his engagement. The smile he gives turns wistful for a split second--barely noticeable--before he says, She's beautiful.

He sips at the coffee, feeling the rush of the bitter liquid. So even with the major rebel camps beholden to the ceasefire, insurgents not affiliated with them are free to harry you as usual. If one had particular misgivings, they might even think that particularly dedicated rebels of the pertinent factions might still cause trouble--without any identifying markers showing their allegiance. We mustn't underestimate how far desperate men and women will go, after all.

Blowing on his coffee to cool it, he continues, But as you said, we must take advantage of this opportunity. My men could be spread evenly and joined with your divisions, twenty to each; it would run the risk of mistakes due to lack of inter-company training, but would help shore up your troops. On the other hand, I could bring a larger portion of my company to one single area, which would be most advantageous if one particular area is struggling more than others. Is there one area in particular you are having more problems with than others?

Just thinking out loud: Assuming entry without BAB requirement of the original OotBI and not using two flaws, most troops would have gotten Close Combat Shot at ECL 5; I'm assuming his honor guard has at least 2 levels of OotBI, and only the more inexperienced recruits would only have 1 level of OotBI.

Edit: Let me know if my assumptions are incorrect. Alanna said the recruits are so green they piss grass, so maybe they're all level 3 and haven't taken levels in OotBI yet.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
"Thank you. I appreciate your offer. My company are not trained in archery and the co-operation of the Silent Stings will do much to ensure the safety of this city. Perhaps we may also conduct joint training exercises to familiarise our soldiers with a more varied martial style." Suggested Tuskan. He set down his coffee put and spread out the map of Kiiska across the table, using a sheathed dagger to weigh down a curling edge. Malcolm craned his head and saw the map divided Kiiska into five different zones.

The Green Zone was the most fortified, followed by the Upper Reaches where the tallest trees and the most prestigious penthouses were located. Next were the Middle Reaches, where the former temple of Nai'Tuhra and a great parkland bordering a quiet stream that led out of the city. The Lower Reaches and Undercity were the two of the least secure parts of the city and Malcolm saw the grid of red stone markers indicating areas where the most incidents had taken place. Unsurprisingly, the maps of the Undercity and Lower Reaches were populated by scores of scarlet islands.

"Even as cohesive rebel attacks stop, my patrols still report muggings and suffer random attacks by rogue operatives. In the absence of open rebellion, crime takes its place. There is now a figure calling itself the Rat King operating from the sewers of the Undercity. As if the Midnight Syndicate in the Lower Reaches aren't bad enough. You'd think they would've disbanded after we killed their Slaughter King. It seems royalty runs in lunacy." The Captain shook his head ruefully.

RANEL
It was running late. With few signs of El'gor'an Doranu, Ranel leapt across the rooftops to return to his own apartment. It was easier to climb up the platforms than to step through the filth of the Undercity streets and as he looked down, he saw that even the street hawkers were winding down their stalls in anticipation of another day. Four streets from his home, he heard hurried footsteps against the cobblestone. He looked down and saw Elsalla sprinting through the alleys as if she was being pursued. Her fear was etched on her bruised face and she had lost her wooden slippers in her haste.

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
It was running late. With few signs of El'gor'an Doranu, Ranel leapt across the rooftops to return to his own apartment. It was easier to climb up the platforms than to step through the filth of the Undercity streets and as he looked down, he saw that even the street hawkers were winding down their stalls in anticipation of another day. Four streets from his home, he heard hurried footsteps against the cobblestone. He looked down and saw Elsalla sprinting through the alleys as if she was being pursued. Her fear was etched on her bruised face and she had lost her wooden slippers in her haste.

Ranel
Something inside Ranel snapped. While he held no special feelings for the girl, nor pity for her situation, the situation brought up long buried feelings of anger. Is this how many of his village perished? Chased down in the streets? Quickly casting an Invisibility spell, Ranel takes off on a course to intercept the girl while trying to see if he can spot her pursuers. Casting Invisibility, Running to intercept the girl while stealthed, Hide check of [roll0] (Its a +20 bonus to hide while invisible, but a -20 penalty to run, so it evens out) move silently of [roll1] (opponents must check against the higher of the two rolls) and a spot/listen check to find pursuers [roll2] and [roll3]

[Sylvaen]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN
Aire watched the elf's transformation with interest, then nodded: "Forget that I mentioned that. Well, whichever of you feel comfortable going in. As for secrets, I think I know what kind of, eh, secrets one can learn in there. All I'm interested in is of quite different nature. There had to be elves who survived even with the Sun goons in town."

Interesting, he thought. He was always very careful about not showing off his tricks, almost paranoid. Sofar it had kept him alive, and those who have witnessed his better tricks weren't around to talk about it. Aire made a mental note about the elf's ability to change appearance, most likely provided by some sort of enchanted item. He decided to keep an eye on the elf, or whoever it was. He knew one thing about such items: no matter what appearance they lend to their owner, the item itself was always there, in one form or another.

"As I've said before, though I knew the place before, I have no idea what to expect these days. I'll be right outside in case things go wrong."


I rolled a 19 on a Knowledge (Arcane) roll. That ought to be enough to recognize the hat (Faint illusion; CL 1st; Craft Wondrous Item, disguise self) as its Identify DC is 15 + level of caster needed to create the item. However, Aire can't see or read magic auras or spells. He has just studied the basic theory and learned about magical items.
Therefore I prefer to underestimate the effect of a successful Knowledge roll, because there's no way he could actually Identify a Hat of Disguise.

[kinem]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN

Hiam uses prestidigitation to clean the corpse and the items he takes. Since neither of the other elves objected, Hiam puts on the ring he'd taken from the dead man.

"Probably best that you go in then, Archer. I'm not accustomed to all this skulduggery. Perhaps its best that I cast a message-spell so that you could whisper to me from a distance, in case you want us to come in.

By the way, I have a hat like yours. If we are to work together, perhaps we should introduce our real selves. Do you think so?"

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"Thank you. I appreciate your offer. My company are not trained in archery and the co-operation of the Silent Stings will do much to ensure the safety of this city. Perhaps we may also conduct joint training exercises to familiarise our soldiers with a more varied martial style." Suggested Tuskan. He set down his coffee put and spread out the map of Kiiska across the table, using a sheathed dagger to weigh down a curling edge. Malcolm craned his head and saw the map divided Kiiska into five different zones.

The Green Zone was the most fortified, followed by the Upper Reaches where the tallest trees and the most prestigious penthouses were located. Next were the Middle Reaches, where the former temple of Nai'Tuhra and a great parkland bordering a quiet stream that led out of the city. The Lower Reaches and Undercity were the two of the least secure parts of the city and Malcolm saw the grid of red stone markers indicating areas where the most incidents had taken place. Unsurprisingly, the maps of the Undercity and Lower Reaches were populated by scores of scarlet islands.

"Even as cohesive rebel attacks stop, my patrols still report muggings and suffer random attacks by rogue operatives. In the absence of open rebellion, crime takes its place. There is now a figure calling itself the Rat King operating from the sewers of the Undercity. As if the Midnight Syndicate in the Lower Reaches aren't bad enough. You'd think they would've disbanded after we killed their Slaughter King. It seems royalty runs in lunacy." The Captain shook his head ruefully.

Malcolm
That sounds like a grand idea. I will begin the paperwork today.

He observes the map, sharp eyes making note of the higher concentration of incidents in the lower regions. Midnight Syndicate; the cult of heretics that worship Jagon and Ni'kote as the same being. And someone calling themselves the "Rat King"? Lunacy, indeed.

He rubs the string of his bow in thought. How many attacks have the Midnight Syndicate undertaken against the Steel Leaves? Even if they avoided disbandment, their lack of a leader will hinder their coordination. It may be better to nip this Rat King in the bud before he grows too many thorns.

[Plushie Arz]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN
The three men left the bakery and ascended the wooden stairs leading up to a timber platform. It was running late and the motes of dancing lights that pervaded the city streets gave off a ghostly pallor to the thin blanket of fog in the streets below.

Nestled under the leafy boughs of a blackwood was a door with a noose nailed above it. ‘The Knot’ was scrawled in a drunken elven hand on the weathered timber. A heatless flame encased in a red lamp shone outside and the group noticed a dirty brown dog with its leash tied to a branch just outside the brothel. The dog barked happily at the approach of the three men, wagging its tail.

MALCOLM
"Four attacks in the past five evenings. One on the Steel Leaf Guard but they also struck at Captain Firael's patrols as they passed the Undercity. Horrific things. A swarm of sewer rats precedes them and they take advantage of the chaos before disappearing again just as quickly. I hear Firael's men are being treated for the bites they received."

RANEL
Elsalla screamed as invisible arms seized her and Ranel felt her thin arms and legs flailing against his hold. The noise attracted the girl's pursuers and he saw five men looming through the fog and making their way through the closed alley. They all wore pointed green hoods over their heads that concealed their identities, the round eyeholes lending them a freakish appearance. They were twenty feet away and Ranel noticed two of the men carried thick nooses around their arms.

"You're making our job hard, whore." Panted one of the men, out of breath. "Tell me, did you enjoy that Bhin*? The way he took you like an animal in the streets?"

"Please, he was just a client!" Sobbed the girl. "I need the coppers for upkeep..."

"Liar." Said another, flicking his wrist. Ranel saw the glint of a blade in his hands. "You could've had the easy way out if you entertained us. Now you'll hang."

"But not before we cut out that little A’Tel’Quessir** you've got growing inside you eh?" Breathed a third, with a pronounced lisp.

------------
*Human
** Half elf

[Sylvaen]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN

Aire considered the mage's suggestion while they were collecting their belongings and getting ready to leave the bakery.

"Let's do it this way," he suggested then, "when we're done at the Knot, if everything goes right, we will do it anyway. Right now there's a risk involved. This Ghost was apparently a big painful thorn in Order's side. We don't know yet how deep their connections run. If anything goes wrong and either of us is captured, well - one can't tell what they don't know, right?"

"If everything goes right and we find Ghost's friends, there'll be a round of introductions anyway. And if everything goes right but we end up empty-handed, we'll find a decent private guesthouse or pub. Either way, it'll be much more comfortable."

* * *

As soon as the three men entered the street, Aire began checking the neighborhood for anything suspicious.(*) He stopped two houses across from the red lantern, next to an entrance to a small alley. It was rather narrow, windy, and apparently was a dead end. A small pile of rubble with several wooden planks standing aslant between the buildings completed the picture of desolate and abandoned place that was of no interest whatsoever.(**)

"This is a good spot," he said quietly. "It appears to be lacking in escape routes, but let's hope we won't need those."

He pointed up at the roof and spoke to the spell-wielding half-elf: "I'll be there somewhere, watching the street. I suggest that you stay here, hidden behind those planks, and watch the entrance, and talk him through it, if you so wish. I don't know much about your magic, so that's all yours."

"And no worries, I'm not just limited to my rapier's reach..." he added with a hint of amusement in his voice, and draped one side of his cloak over his shoulder. This revealed a short bow and quiver resting on his back. It also revealed that he wasn't wearing any armor at all. The swordsman's entire protection was a set of sturdy clothes with a number of pockets and pouches, the kind favored by those who need to travel frequently. Tightened around his waist was a wide leather belt with several pockets and pouches. A rod was hung in a contraption at his hip, as black as the night. Next to it, in a finely crafted holster, was a small hand crossbow. It was apparent that owner took much greater care of the weapons than of the rest of his person: though still whole, the traveler's outfit was showing signs of a long and difficult journey. A sharp eye could easily notice many traces of travel through woods, rocks, and marshes.

------
(*) - Spot [roll0], Listen [roll1]
(**) - Using Take 10 on Stealth to evaluate a good hiding place (10+18 = 28).

[Plushie Arz]

THE KNOT
The night was long save for the chirping of crickets and the calls of the monkeys as they swung in the trees overhead, Airea could not perceive any third parties eavesdropping on the trio. He saw that a treehouse opposite had an overhanging branch, covered with leaves and a sickly sweet flower that could provide an adequate cover whilst affording him a view of the brothel entrance.

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
Elsalla screamed as invisible arms seized her and Ranel felt her thin arms and legs flailing against his hold. The noise attracted the girl's pursuers and he saw five men looming through the fog and making their way through the closed alley. They all wore pointed green hoods over their heads that concealed their identities, the round eyeholes lending them a freakish appearance. They were twenty feet away and Ranel noticed two of the men carried thick nooses around their arms.

"You're making our job hard, whore." Panted one of the men, out of breath. "Tell me, did you enjoy that Bhin*? The way he took you like an animal in the streets?"

"Please, he was just a client!" Sobbed the girl. "I need the coppers for upkeep..."

"Liar." Said another, flicking his wrist. Ranel saw the glint of a blade in his hands. "You could've had the easy way out if you entertained us. Now you'll hang."

"But not before we cut out that little A’Tel’Quessir** you've got growing inside you eh?" Breathed a third, with a pronounced lisp.

------------
*Human
** Half elf

Ranel
Holding her close, he whispers in her ear Quiet, when i say so i am going to cast a spell to make you invisible, when i do i want to quickly but quietly hide in a corner. Do not move. Do not make a sound. Until i say so. Do you understand? Once she responds, Ranel will cast Invisibility on her and then move in the opposite direction she is while deliberately making noise

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"Four attacks in the past five evenings. One on the Steel Leaf Guard but they also struck at Captain Firael's patrols as they passed the Undercity. Horrific things. A swarm of sewer rats precedes them and they take advantage of the chaos before disappearing again just as quickly. I hear Firael's men are being treated for the bites they received."

Malcolm
It does seem this Rat King is the more relevant threat at this time. Do you have any idea where the Rat King may be located? Or where the best place to start looking would be.

After he gets what intel he can from the good Captain, and chatting a bit after about general affairs and religion, he rises and excuses himself. My lieutenants will begin the process of joint training exercises between the Steel Leaves and the Silent Stings. I hope to work well together in the future, he finishes as he offers his right hand.

Leaving the office, he directs Alanna and Bruno to return to headquarters and start the paperwork. I will investigate this Rat King and then return later, he says, nodding to indicate their dismissal.

Once they leave, he makes his way to where Captain Firael's wounded soldiers are being treated. There's no better intel than what he can get from those who saw it firsthand, after all.

[kinem]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN

"Hmm. I think I'd rather be up there with you. We can see what we need from there." I hope the monkeys leave us alone. reminds me of the stew I'm missing.

Hiam casts his message spell at the other two men.

"See, when I whisper, you hear it now. And I'll hear it if you whisper."

ooc: Spot [roll0], Listen [roll1], Hide [roll2]

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
"I would try pursuing leads in the Undercity, Captain O'Mallory. After all, the rats must come from somewhere." Said Tuskan, shaking Malcolm's offered hand. "I look forward to our next meeting."

* * *

The Hospice was located opposite the former temple of Nai'Tuhra in the Middle Reaches. A stone building in a field of open grass surrounded by towering trees and platforms, it was a natural divide between the denizens of the Undercity and Lower Reaches and privileged of upper Kiiska. Although much work was done in the past six months to restore the building after the rioting, the signs of battle damage were still evidenced in the scorched stone walls and ugly scars that marred the ground where grass would not grow.

A nun from the Sisters of Dawn was tending to the wounded today alongside the half-elven acolytes of Nai'Tuhra. Malcolm knew many of the full-elven members of the Church died alongside First Speaker Yurrlin Silvenbrow six months ago and the Church remained leaderless. The few whose prayers Nai'Tuhra answered in the intervening months either went into hiding or wounded the sick at the Hospice under the directions of the new regime. He also couldn't help but notice several members of the Kiiskan Guard regiment, the Ironroots standing outside in vigil.

The wounded men, six of them, lay in linen stretchers with bloodied bandages covering their faces, limbs and necks. Malcolm smelled the sharp aroma of boiled belladonna coming from the saucepans on the dressing tables beside them. "A unit of Captain Firvain's Longbranches." Said a half-elven acolyte, a girl of twenty as she dabbed at a pus-filled wound that looked like a sharp bite mark on the man. "They brought them in two nights ago. We need to treat the wounds every two hours to stop the bleeding."

RANEL
Tears streaming down her face, and half paralysed with fear, Elsalla nodded. She vanished from view seconds later and the hooded men startled.

"The whore's dithappeared!" Lisped one of them, swinging his blade wildly.

"No, that way! I heard footsteps!" Yelled another, pointing at the direction where Ranel sprinted.

"It's a bloody trap." Roared the fat one, "Disband. We'll continue our work tomorrow!"

The five hoods all split up in different directions into the Undercity away from the petrified girl.

DM: +500XP to Ranel.

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
Tears streaming down her face, and half paralysed with fear, Elsalla nodded. She vanished from view seconds later and the hooded men startled.

"The whore's dithappeared!" Lisped one of them, swinging his blade wildly.

"No, that way! I heard footsteps!" Yelled another, pointing at the direction where Ranel sprinted.

"It's a bloody trap." Roared the fat one, "Disband. We'll continue our work tomorrow!"

The five hoods all split up in different directions into the Undercity away from the petrified girl.

DM: +500XP to Ranel.

Ranel
He kind of stood there, unable to quite process what just happened. On one hand he had avoided having to fight 1 vs 5, on the other he had yet to vent the anger he was feeling. Taking a moment to check his surroundings, he decided to call the whole thing a wash. Dismissing his magics he walks over to Elsalla. Spot and Listen [roll0] and [roll1]

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"I would try pursuing leads in the Undercity, Captain O'Mallory. After all, the rats must come from somewhere." Said Tuskan, shaking Malcolm's offered hand. "I look forward to our next meeting."

* * *

The Hospice was located opposite the former temple of Nai'Tuhra in the Middle Reaches. A stone building in a field of open grass surrounded by towering trees and platforms, it was a natural divide between the denizens of the Undercity and Lower Reaches and privileged of upper Kiiska. Although much work was done in the past six months to restore the building after the rioting, the signs of battle damage were still evidenced in the scorched stone walls and ugly scars that marred the ground where grass would not grow.

A nun from the Sisters of Dawn was tending to the wounded today alongside the half-elven acolytes of Nai'Tuhra. Malcolm knew many of the full-elven members of the Church died alongside First Speaker Yurrlin Silvenbrow six months ago and the Church remained leaderless. The few whose prayers Nai'Tuhra answered in the intervening months either went into hiding or wounded the sick at the Hospice under the directions of the new regime. He also couldn't help but notice several members of the Kiiskan Guard regiment, the Ironroots standing outside in vigil.

The wounded men, six of them, lay in linen stretchers with bloodied bandages covering their faces, limbs and necks. Malcolm smelled the sharp aroma of boiled belladonna coming from the saucepans on the dressing tables beside them. "A unit of Captain Firvain's Longbranches." Said a half-elven acolyte, a girl of twenty as she dabbed at a pus-filled wound that looked like a sharp bite mark on the man. "They brought them in two nights ago. We need to treat the wounds every two hours to stop the bleeding."

Malcolm
While he had hoped to get a more concrete idea of where to begin--the Undercity had been his first thought, of course--Malcolm nods his thanks for the thought.

At the Hospice, he makes note of the obvious signs of damage, and the sight fills him with dismay. Even cloistered away in his monastery, as part of the Order he had been trained in combat. But temples are places of enlightenment and religion, where the faithful can gather in safety. To see that the battles had been brought to the temple of Nai'Tuhra, whose clerics have no especial love of battle, made him shake his head.

Belladonna for the pain; but that pus smacks of rot and disease. Mornay only knows the number of diseases sewer rats could be carrying. Is it disease, or venom that prolongs the bleeding? Keep up the fine work, either way, he says with a nod. Are they fit to speak for a time? I have a few questions about the attack.

He moves closer to the soldier who looks to be in the least amount of pain. I'm Captain O'Mallory of the Silent Stings, he says. I'm here to investigate this "Rat King" and the recent attacks on the Guard by his subordinates. Tell me about the attack. Were there any humanoids that you could see? Perhaps someone controlling the rats?

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
"The wounds heal slowly and rats carry all manner of disease. Best be cautious than rely on magic." Said the acolyte, turning her attentions to others in the Hospice. Malcolm approached the bedside of one of the men. He was young and his pale blonde hair was cut unevenly. Healed over scratches covered his face and Malcolm noticed his hands were in bloodied bandages.

"We were investigating a blackmailer at Old Styr Lane." He said weakly, "We had reached his safehouse when rats started appearing. Thousands of them. We didn't have time before they overwhelmed us. Saw four humanoids, too short to be elves or half elves. They were stabbing, biting. Sweet Nai'Tuhra, all these teeth..."

RANEL
Ranel heard hurried footsteps fading into silence as the five hooded men disappeared into their corners of the Undercity. He only heard sobbing from Elsalla, crouched in the corner under her invisibility spell. A puddle flowed from her location as she soiled herself. "R-Ranel? That you?"

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN
Airea and Hiam leapt to the rooftop, leaving Firvain standing at the front of the brothel like an awkward stableboy before his first tout. The dog barked twice and the door opened. A muscular half-elf with cropped hair and tattoos running down the left side of his face peered out of the opening looked suspiciously at Firvain. The dog then barked three times at the rooftop where Airea and Hiam were hiding, wagging its tail. The half-elf squinted at the hiding place of the two men and shook his head. "You lot planning a job or something? Take it elsewhere. It's private property and Shardin doesn't want no blood on his stoop!" He called out, slamming the door behind him. The dog looked at Firvain with its tongue poking out, panting expectantly.

[Plushie Arz]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN
The three men waited in the night as the door to the Knot was slammed shut in their faces. It was Airea who heard the sound of hooves and feet treading against the timber platform. He turned and saw a drow woman leading a burning steed by the reins towards the Knot. She shared Oilanna's purple skin but Airea saw she was curvier and more muscled. She wore half plate armor forged from a blackened metal and a sheathed broadsword swung from her hips. She threw her head back and laughed as she spoke to her nightmare in a husky lilt, "...And so she said to him, 'I should've seen it coming the whole time!'" The flaming horse snorted and stomped its hooves on the timber and it was a miracle the wood did not catch fire from the fire that enveloped its burning mane. "Right Vespers, I'll see you soon. Be good alright?" She patted the creature's neck and it exploded in a plume of darkness and flames before vanishing. Shaking her head with a smile on her face, she walked right past Firvain and knocked on the door.

She seemed to engage in some casual conversation with Firvain as they waited and the two of them soon entered the brothel together.

* * *

It was fifteen minutes of silence before Hiam and Airea heard the first whispers from Firvain inside. "The Ghost is friends with the brothel owner." Reported Firvain, sound as if he had recently exerted himself. "Says he's got a... ahem... job..."

[Sylvaen]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN

Aire froze in the tree when the woman appeared on the street. Even though he had never seen her before, there was no way he could've mistaken her. Oilana seemed to worry about her sister, but it was more likely she was actually worried about how her sister's actions might affect her standing among the drow. Verzera was apparently capable enough of protecting herself sofar.

He observed her carefully, taking care to notice the smallest details about her. He wasn't sure if it was pure luck, fate, or doing of some higher power. He considered a change in plans, but then he noticed her talking to his archer companion, and then they both disappeared in the door.

He relaxed in the tree with a quiet sigh, and waited.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later he overheard the Archer's whispered message. He snorted quietly, then whispered back: "I bet. Sounds like you have already been busy. I hope you were taking notes."

Aire slid down to the edge of the roof and took the short fall, landing on the ground effortlessly. He looked back at the mage to see if he was coming, then walked up to the door, and knocked. While waiting for the tattooed doorman to answer, he made sure his cape provided enough protection from curious eyes. He wasn't interested in a public display, even if the audience was as small.

"Tell him we can discuss it," he whispered to Archer as the door opened.

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"The wounds heal slowly and rats carry all manner of disease. Best be cautious than rely on magic." Said the acolyte, turning her attentions to others in the Hospice. Malcolm approached the bedside of one of the men. He was young and his pale blonde hair was cut unevenly. Healed over scratches covered his face and Malcolm noticed his hands were in bloodied bandages.

"We were investigating a blackmailer at Old Styr Lane." He said weakly, "We had reached his safehouse when rats started appearing. Thousands of them. We didn't have time before they overwhelmed us. Saw four humanoids, too short to be elves or half elves. They were stabbing, biting. Sweet Nai'Tuhra, all these teeth..."

Malcolm
Relax, son, Malcolm says, laying a steady hand on the soldier's shoulder. You're safe now, and that group's days are numbered. Give me the address for this safehouse and the name of the blackmailer.

You just focus on recuperating, and I'll take care of this Rat King. May Mornay's light shine upon you, and Nai'Tuhra's winds deliver good health unto you.

Could it be a coincidence that the rats appeared when they reached the safe house for this blackmailer? A possibility, for sure, but the timing is too perfect for the alleged blackmailer. A swarm of rats just as a patrol is breathing down their neck? Come, now; that is just a brightly-painted sign telling those interested to investigate further.

He leaves the Hospice after a nod to the acolyte, and considers his options. It would be nice to get the Captain's intel on the blackmailer before visiting his safe house; however, the trail of those rats and their handlers is two days old by now, and only getting colder. He takes out his map of Kiiska and consults it.

If Captain Firael's base of operations is closer than Old Styr Lane, Malcolm will go there to get intel on the blackmailer before going to Old Styr Lane to see if there are potential tracks to be found. If Old Styr Lane is closer, then he'll just go to Old Styr Lane.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
"The blackmailer goes by the name of Zaros. His safehouse is atop a smelter's at the end of Old Sytr's Lane. Or was anyway. Might've cleared out after we were attacked."

* * *

Captain Firael's Longbranch company was posted in a former wine merchant's shop in the Undercity, not too far from Styr Lane. Two elven men dressed in richly embroidered silk shirts skulked out of the building with unhappy expressions as Malcolm approached the entrance. He found the Captain in his quarters on the third floor of the building, in a richly decorated room lavished with furs and paintings that would not have been affordable on a Captain's wages. The man, a lean half-elf with two golden earrings stood from his desk. "Ah, the Captain of the Silent Stings. Come, come. A pleasure to have you here and to meet you in the flesh." He said amicably. He reached for a bronzed pitcher and poured a glass for himself. "Do you partake Captain? This is some excellent vintage my men procured from the cellars. The owner couldn't be found so, to the finders goes the spoils."

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN
The door opened and although it was late, a wash of heat hit the two men as they entered the brothel. They greeted by the earthly smell of bodies, perfume and watered-down wine. A number of grey stained curtains were hoisted around the corridors for privacy and the two men thought they could hear the moans and creaking furniture behind the thin walls and dirtied sheets. "Shardin's downstairs. Beneath the hatch." Said the bouncer gruffly, folding his tattooed arms. "Don't make a racket. Disturbs the customers."

* * *

They found a hatch that led downstairs, into an underground storeroom filled with barrels of cheap wine and threadbare rugs. The air was perpetually cool, not surprising considering the underground location and the smell of damp invaded their nostrils. They saw Firvain, the drow woman and a third man, a pale elven man with long white hair and sharp features. The front of his robes were open, revealing a muscular chest and his black eyes regarded the party cooly. "I hear you have run into my dear late friend, Daelric, also known to you lot as the Ghost of the Undercity." He said, his voice flowing like silk. There was no pity or sorrow behind his words but rather, a bored amusement. "A shame, he was a true friend. His company will be missed and I will need some new friends. Why don't we all get properly acquainted? You may call me Shardin and this lovely young woman-"


"I can speak for myself." Interrupted the drow, pulling up her breastplate. "I'm Verzera. Pleased to meet you."

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
Ranel heard hurried footsteps fading into silence as the five hooded men disappeared into their corners of the Undercity. He only heard sobbing from Elsalla, crouched in the corner under her invisibility spell. A puddle flowed from her location as she soiled herself. "R-Ranel? That you?"

Ranel
Dismissing his magic, he goes over and helps her up. That was not what i was expecting when i said i would see you again, but more importantly who were they?

[kinem]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN

Hiam looks warily at 'Shardin' and 'Verzera'.

"If Daelric was truly your friend, then I'm sorry for your loss, but you don't seem too broken up about it" Hiam observes.

[Sylvaen]

AIREA, HIAM, FIRVAIN

Elven manners have taken a fall too when Kiiska fell, Aire noted. A proper introduction in the old days would have involved a lengthy ritual along with many gentle nuances and byplays. The lack of courtly approach didn't bother him, though; he could roll with it as long as it got him closer to his goal. Once Verzera had removed her breastplate, he reached up and pulled his cape back.

"Well met, lady Verzera and lord Shardin. You can call me Aire," he spoke.

His once well-kept, shoulder long white hair was mostly ashen color, disheveled and shortened with a blade so that it barely reached his lower jaw. His dark skin showed signs of having been exposed to elements of the world for quite some time. A pair of hard amber-colored eyes observed both Verzera and Shardin from the dark face. Then, with a small twitch of his brow, the eyes shone with well-intended amusement, and the drow bowed his head slightly; enough to show a level of courtesy and respect, but little enough to be a greeting among equals.

"Your friend was doing good work. I would offer my condolences, but passing away seems to be a human habit. And from what I understand, there is something more to this meeting than your wanting to know how the Ghost died."

[Plushie Arz]

RANEL
Elsalla blinked and grabbed Ranel's offered hand to lift herself from the ground. She did not let go. "They call themselves Mraerital*." She said, shaking. "T-they said they wanted to hang anyone who's had anything to do with the humans. Oh Ranel, I was so scared." She looked on the verge of breaking again.

--------------------------------
*Vigilance of the People


HIAM, AIREA, FIRAVAIN
"Well met Aire." Said Shardin. Aire noticed Verzera had a sultry look at him, as if she were inspecting a piece of meat. "And to your suspicious friend. Alas, it is true. Humans are such a short-lived race albeit they had their uses. Daelric lived by the sword and died by the sword. A shame." He shook his head in an affected manner, as if playing at grief. However, there was a sly smile on his lips.

"But there is much work he left unfinished. The Sun Lovers climb ever higher over this city and he had such grand dreams of snuffing them out, one by one. Alas, are there among us who would continue such glorious work?"

[Sylvaen]

HIAM, AIREA, FIRVAIN

Aire gave Verzera a knowing, lopsided smile, and nodded to Shardin's words, but said nothing, waiting for his companions to speak their mind.

------
Shardin was apparently taking advantage of Ghost's vengeance and using him for his own purposes. Sense Motive on Shardin - scoping out how deep his lies run.. [roll0]

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"The blackmailer goes by the name of Zaros. His safehouse is atop a smelter's at the end of Old Sytr's Lane. Or was anyway. Might've cleared out after we were attacked."

* * *

Captain Firael's Longbranch company was posted in a former wine merchant's shop in the Undercity, not too far from Styr Lane. Two elven men dressed in richly embroidered silk shirts skulked out of the building with unhappy expressions as Malcolm approached the entrance. He found the Captain in his quarters on the third floor of the building, in a richly decorated room lavished with furs and paintings that would not have been affordable on a Captain's wages. The man, a lean half-elf with two golden earrings stood from his desk. "Ah, the Captain of the Silent Stings. Come, come. A pleasure to have you here and to meet you in the flesh." He said amicably. He reached for a bronzed pitcher and poured a glass for himself. "Do you partake Captain? This is some excellent vintage my men procured from the cellars. The owner couldn't be found so, to the finders goes the spoils."

Malcolm
Malcolm notes the elves skulking out of the building with apparent disinterest. Inside, of course, his mind is abuzz. A wine shop isn't exactly a standard choice of post for a company; he imagines Captain Firael had requested it specifically, because he cannot imagine that HQ would bring it forward as an option. Or perhaps someone higher up gave it to Firael as a gift...

He stops his spinning thoughts when he arrives at his fellow Captain's quarters. More lavish furnishings, hardly fitting for a Captain's salary. Sure, if Mal had wanted his own quarters like these he might have been able to pull some strings, but as far as he knows Firael isn't a nobleman's son. Everything he's seen reeks of the corruption he has heard whispers of, and yet this man may turn out to be a useful ally. Confronting him about his suspicions will do him nothing at this time.

And so he nods at the man's greeting. A pleasure to meet you as well, Captain. I think I will have a glass; I can't let you drink alone, can I?

He smiles amiably as the wine is poured; unlike yesterday with Victorine, he isn't expected to be truly personal with this man. Falsifying friendliness was one of the first lessons in his childhood, and he hasn't forgotten them. I'm investigating an assault on your men by the agents of a loon calling himself the "Rat King". They were assaulted on Styr Lane, just as they arrived at the safe house of a blackmailer named Zaros. I'd just like some deeper information on this Zaros, whatever you think may be useful in my investigation. Blitzkrieg attacks by disease-carrying rats is detrimental to morale; the sooner we exterminate this Rat King, the better, eh?

[Plushie Arz]

AIREA
Airea suspected the bleached man lied but he couldn't sense the extent of deception and accepted the man's the distaste for the Order as convincingly as the warmth on a summer's evening. There was something about the way Shardin spoke that convinced Airea he was the Ghost's best friend. Verzera returned Airea's grin and raised her brow suggestively. He briefly met her scarlet eyes and wondered how old she was.

MALCOLM
The dark wine flowed down Malcolm's throat and he tasted the rich fragrance of seasoned grapes with a hint of honeyed mead. Firael returned his friendliness and paced the room holding the goblet. "A damned embarrassment to morale." He spat lividly, gesturing with his free hand. "To allow a mere street urchin to get away and rats. What kind of grown man is afraid of rats? Where are the panthers and ocelots when we need them? I thought there were more druids in this city."

"This Zaros. Tuh'raan sorcerer. Been operating in the Undercity for years. Mostly petty crime, a few blackmailings of nobles here and there. Nothing too major. Then three months ago, the informants come round. Say he's got something big but won't tell us what it is he's planning. Can't be good for my reputation if I let him slip right? So I send some men to go arrest him. And what do we get? Bloody rats." He shook his head.

"A damn disaster. Now I know you're new to the Guard and I have absolute respect for the Order. Absolute. No doubts about it. But you're part of the Guard now and it'll do good to rough up some of the crims in the Undercity. Put the fear of the law in them. You're the law now so don't be afraid to use it." He laughed and raised his goblet to Malcolm. "Am I right or what?"

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
Elsalla blinked and grabbed Ranel's offered hand to lift herself from the ground. She did not let go. "They call themselves Mraerital*." She said, shaking. "T-they said they wanted to hang anyone who's had anything to do with the humans. Oh Ranel, I was so scared." She looked on the verge of breaking again.

--------------------------------
*Vigilance of the People


Ranel
Yes, i'm sure you were. And while i seem to have scattered them for now, it is still not safe out here. Lets get you home. Thinking to himself about what she said it all seemed so strange. Was acting like the Order supposed to do anything? Ranel got the feeliong he was going to be running into more of these men in the future, but this time they will not be getting away so easily.

[Plushie Arz]

RANEL
Elsalla shifted uncomfortably on her dirtied feet and scraped knees. Ranel was reminded of his childhood with his sister and the times they had fallen over while playing in the thistles. "I... I don't mean this the wrong way. I just met you again and it's been a long time." She said bashfully, still holding tightly onto his hands. "But can I stay with you for a bit Ranel? It's just... well, I'm scared they might follow me."

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
Elsalla shifted uncomfortably on her dirtied feet and scraped knees. Ranel was reminded of his childhood with his sister and the times they had fallen over while playing in the thistles. "I... I don't mean this the wrong way. I just met you again and it's been a long time." She said bashfully, still holding tightly onto his hands. "But can I stay with you for a bit Ranel? It's just... well, I'm scared they might follow me."

Ranel
He sighs. Yes, that would probably be the best option right about now. Although i have nothing at my place right now except a bed to sleep on and my cleaning equipment. But it is safe enough. He leads her on, taking a meandering path as to throw off any possible pursuers. Once they get get closer he casts Invisibility on her again and has her follow so there will not be any possible gossip or rumors to lead others here.
Spot and Listen check to see if being followed [roll0] and [roll1]

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
The dark wine flowed down Malcolm's throat and he tasted the rich fragrance of seasoned grapes with a hint of honeyed mead. Firael returned his friendliness and paced the room holding the goblet. "A damned embarrassment to morale." He spat lividly, gesturing with his free hand. "To allow a mere street urchin to get away and rats. What kind of grown man is afraid of rats? Where are the panthers and ocelots when we need them? I thought there were more druids in this city."

"This Zaros. Tuh'raan sorcerer. Been operating in the Undercity for years. Mostly petty crime, a few blackmailings of nobles here and there. Nothing too major. Then three months ago, the informants come round. Say he's got something big but won't tell us what it is he's planning. Can't be good for my reputation if I let him slip right? So I send some men to go arrest him. And what do we get? Bloody rats." He shook his head.

"A damn disaster. Now I know you're new to the Guard and I have absolute respect for the Order. Absolute. No doubts about it. But you're part of the Guard now and it'll do good to rough up some of the crims in the Undercity. Put the fear of the law in them. You're the law now so don't be afraid to use it." He laughed and raised his goblet to Malcolm. "Am I right or what?"

Malcolm
Malcolm intently watches the Captain pace the room, sipping at the wine. A good vintage, as the man had said. He nods at the man's proclamations, although he would point out that only a hundred rats would be a nightmare to face alone, let alone a thousand. His arrows would take out one at a time, and he only has so many.

You're certainly not wrong, Mal replies, giving a little chuckle. Giving them a taste of what we will do to this Zaros should go far to impress upon these criminals just how much power we wield. He must have some brass ones if he thinks he can escape us for long, eh?

He swirls his glass thoughtfully. The coward must have had the street watched for signs of the Guard. How else could the rats have appeared so conveniently for him? He must have some sort of connection with this insane Rat King. Do you have any idea of what other contacts he may have in the Undercity? He's been operating there for years, he must have a half dozen holes into which to scurry like the coward he is.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
"Aye, he had contacts. Half the Undercity's criminals had dealings with him. Made himself valuable through his work. You might try the Soond. All sorts of unsavory characters like to go there."

True to its name, Malcolm knew the Soond, or Land Dweller was a squat establishment in the Undercity avoided by most law-abiding types. The private booths secured by timber screens made it a popular place for less lawful citizens to conduct their deals. In his six months in Kiiska, he had not heard of a single good deed originating in that place. How Captain Firael came to know of it was a mystery.

"Pleased to have your help, Captain. The sooner we get rid of this Rat King business, the better. Zaros is the first link we'll have to scratch."

RANEL
Elsalla nodded gratefully. The alley was quiet, save for an ocelot mewing from a rooftop and the shutters on most of the surrounding windows were closed tight. Even if he was being watched, Ranel could not discern from where or by whom. He quietly led the girl back to his apartment.

* * *

He woke from his trance to the smell of freshly cooked flatbread and fried eggs. The morning sunlight streamed through a hole in the ceiling and he looked across his small room to see Elsalla flipping a freshly made pancake onto a wooden plate and placing it on the small pine table with barely enough room for one. She had cleaned herself since the previous evening and he thought if she ate a little better, she might've better resembled the girl he had known back in the village all those years ago. She grinned nervously as he raised himself from the corner of the bed. His stomach growled.

"I haven't made breakfast for anyone in ages... Thank you again for last night."

[kinem]

HIAM, AIREA, FIRAVAIN
"Well met Aire." Said Shardin. Aire noticed Verzera had a sultry look at him, as if she were inspecting a piece of meat. "And to your suspicious friend. Alas, it is true. Humans are such a short-lived race albeit they had their uses. Daelric lived by the sword and died by the sword. A shame." He shook his head in an affected manner, as if playing at grief. However, there was a sly smile on his lips.

"But there is much work he left unfinished. The Sun Lovers climb ever higher over this city and he had such grand dreams of snuffing them out, one by one. Alas, are there among us who would continue such glorious work?"

Hiam looks to his recent companions, but sees no leadership forthcoming from those quarters. What is this really about?

"Alas, indeed. Well Shardin, since you feel so strongly about the noble cause of liberating the people from coercion, why don't you take the lead and step up yourself? I suspect you have the necessary skills for such work."

[Plushie Arz]

AIRE, HIAM, FIRVAIN
"Ah, you wound me my suspicious friend. A simple whoremonger makes for a poor leader of men. I can only offer guidance and speculate on what my dear departed friend, the Ghost of Undercity may have wanted." He said simply, throwing out his arms. Verzera chuckled at the spectacle.

"However, it is true there is much work to be done in this city. I can offer you payment for the works, be they in coin or the flesh. The good Lady Verzera knows many of my employees upstairs who may cater to your tastes. Of course, as the standard, you may also have first rights to whatever items you acquire from the Sun Lovers."

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
Elsalla nodded gratefully. The alley was quiet, save for an ocelot mewing from a rooftop and the shutters on most of the surrounding windows were closed tight. Even if he was being watched, Ranel could not discern from where or by whom. He quietly led the girl back to his apartment.

* * *

He woke from his trance to the smell of freshly cooked flatbread and fried eggs. The morning sunlight streamed through a hole in the ceiling and he looked across his small room to see Elsalla flipping a freshly made pancake onto a wooden plate and placing it on the small pine table with barely enough room for one. She had cleaned herself since the previous evening and he thought if she ate a little better, she might've better resembled the girl he had known back in the village all those years ago. She grinned nervously as he raised himself from the corner of the bed. His stomach growled.

"I haven't made breakfast for anyone in ages... Thank you again for last night."

Ranel
Moving over to the table, he quickly finishes the small meal. It had been years since he sat down to a home cooked meal, and he wasn't sure if he should be enjoying it. There is no need for thanks, it was pure luck that i happened upon your attack last night. He pauses, Oh and thank you for the food, however there is no need to go out of your way to make me any, i simply need enough to keep me going and good food costs money. Ranel gets up from the table and almost moves to help clean the kitchen, like he would of in the old days, before moving over to his equipment to begin their maintenance. Not looking up he continues, Now that you are feeling better is there anything else you can tell me about this Mraerital group?

[Sylvaen]

HIAM, AIREA, FIRAVAIN

"You might have been Ghost's friend, lord Shardin, but it is also true that he fought battles that should have been the elves' to fight, and he also died in one," said Aire politely, yet bluntly. He couldn't sense any deceit from the elf about his relationship with the dead warrior, but that didn't mean he wasn't using him.

"The city is crawling with Sun goons, there is no trace of its elven masters, and one has to wonder if there still is anything worth fighting for? Do you want to see the Order gone so that the elves can rise again, do you sincerely wish to be a defender of your people - or is it just thoughtless revenge? Because, my lord, let me tell you that I understand killing for a cause. But without the elven nation to rise again, there is no cause. And without a cause, without a purpose, there is no point in fighting."

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"Aye, he had contacts. Half the Undercity's criminals had dealings with him. Made himself valuable through his work. You might try the Soond. All sorts of unsavory characters like to go there."

True to its name, Malcolm knew the Soond, or Land Dweller was a squat establishment in the Undercity avoided by most law-abiding types. The private booths secured by timber screens made it a popular place for less lawful citizens to conduct their deals. In his six months in Kiiska, he had not heard of a single good deed originating in that place. How Captain Firael came to know of it was a mystery.

"Pleased to have your help, Captain. The sooner we get rid of this Rat King business, the better. Zaros is the first link we'll have to scratch."

Malcolm
And so, time to begin the scratching, he says, placing the glass down. Biting his tongue from inquiring about the captain's knowledge of the Soond, he says, Have a good day, Captain. May your men find better luck than swarms of rats in the future.

Leaving Firael's headquarters, he makes his way quickly back to the headquarters of the Silent Stings. As he jogs, he considers. Firael is dirty, he can feel it. How deep it goes with him, Mal can only imagine; but he does know someone with a better imagination than himself.

Lieutenant Ciphas, he calls, bringing Jor'ellean's attention from the squad he was training. The lithe thief was in the middle of disarming a fresh recruit of his bow.

Don't let them get close to you. Hard to pull a bowstring when a rogue is shoving his dagger in your throat, the small man says with a smirk. Keep practicing while I see what's up.

Mal waits for Jor'ellean to pad in--the man's feet barely seem to hit the ground when he walks--before closing the door. I had a nice chat with a Captain Firael about the rat swarm attacks in the Undercity. The man is living quite well for himself on a captain's salary.

He sighs deeply and places his hands on his desk. That dastard a blight on the Guard's honor, he says, the gnashing of his teeth almost audible. Openly flouting his responsibilities and duties as captain, worried more about his status than his men...

Letting out a breath of pure frustration, he shakes his head. But he did have good intel. I need you to visit a dive called the Soond. Firael claimed that a blackmailer named Zaros may have contacts there, or that we may be able to find his trail. I would go myself, but I would get made in less than an instant and wouldn't be able to find any useful intel. This Zaros could have ties with the Rat King that is making noise in the Undercity, and he's the first step towards exterminating him.

[Plushie Arz]

RANEL
Elsalla shuddered at the mention of her attackers. "They prowl the Undercity streets at night and snatch up anyone who has to do with the humans. We find their bodies strung up in the morning. Us working girls don't have much choice. We pay our upkeep with what coin we can and the humans pay well, at least. Better than the elves or half-elves."

"They caught me last night when I finished. Two of them wanted me to go with them but I didn't want to. Then three more came and said I should be strung up like the other girls. The Kiiskan Guards don't care. They don't get attacked when they're on patrol but none of them patrol the Undercity anyway. They're more like to take me for themselves than arrest the hoods."

[kinem]

HIAM, AIREA, FIRAVAIN

"You might have been Ghost's friend, lord Shardin, but it is also true that he fought battles that should have been the elves' to fight, and he also died in one," said Aire politely, yet bluntly. He couldn't sense any deceit from the elf about his relationship with the dead warrior, but that didn't mean he wasn't using him.

"The city is crawling with Sun goons, there is no trace of its elven masters, and one has to wonder if there still is anything worth fighting for? Do you want to see the Order gone so that the elves can rise again, do you sincerely wish to be a defender of your people - or is it just thoughtless revenge? Because, my lord, let me tell you that I understand killing for a cause. But without the elven nation to rise again, there is no cause. And without a cause, without a purpose, there is no point in fighting."

HIAM, AIREA, FIRAVAIN

"Let me add that I agree, Aire, with your basic point. Killing in war is one thing; I didn't hesitate to do so when the city was first invaded. Revenge is different; but even revenge should be saved for those who made the decisions, gave the orders. Killing the common soldiers is not even revenge, just a blind lashing out. Soldiers serve their cause because of where they were born, and what they were raised to believe, not because they chose it; the same men would as easily have served any other cause given different leaders.

And while I certainly don't condone the actions of those who betrayed the city, I suppose it falls to me to point out that the half-elves and humans in the city did have some legitimate grievances. If I am to fight, it must be for justice, not merely to see one group get kicked to the bottom of the pile instead of another.

And what of the cease-fire? Is it not a chance to work out some of the current problem?

Finally, there is the little matter of the Devil Ray. It is not safe to assume that if someone picks up where the Ghost left off, she won't continue her work as well. There are perhaps some reasons that a man might be willing to take such a risk; a few coins is not one" Hiam says.

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
Elsalla shuddered at the mention of her attackers. "They prowl the Undercity streets at night and snatch up anyone who has to do with the humans. We find their bodies strung up in the morning. Us working girls don't have much choice. We pay our upkeep with what coin we can and the humans pay well, at least. Better than the elves or half-elves."

"They caught me last night when I finished. Two of them wanted me to go with them but I didn't want to. Then three more came and said I should be strung up like the other girls. The Kiiskan Guards don't care. They don't get attacked when they're on patrol but none of them patrol the Undercity anyway. They're more like to take me for themselves than arrest the hoods."

Ranel
Well, at least it will be easy finding them. Alright, you stay here for now and do not go out unless there is an emergency. And by emergency i mean this place burning down. I have another job to do but i can also find out more about these attackers while i am out and about. He pauses and lest a wry smile cross his lips, And who knows, maybe my job will overlap with little dalliance.

[bcool999]

Hiam, Airea, Firvain

The man Firvain used to be would never have visited an establishment such as the Knot. Nor would that man have need of such a visit. However, in recent years, Firvain found that losing himself in the pleasures of the flesh dulled the pain that seared through his soul on a daily basis, if only because it distracted him from the pain for a few moments.

Caught in his memories as he was, Firvain all but ignored the pestilent half-elf, and idly patted the dog as he remembered better days. He was brought out of his reverie as the drow and her flaming horse rode up. What is the drow fascination for flaming steeds? I believe Calthera's former paramour rode a similar steed... But surely this woman isn't?... Then again there is Lerethi to consider as well. Though such a coincidence would be staggering to say the least. As the woman engaged him in conversation, Firvain made up a tale about being stood up by his mates when they were going out for a night of carousal before following her inside. He did not mind one bit the appraising glances she threw him. Better these than the ones Calthera shoots me. Full of pity and reproach with just a twinge of fear mixed in. At least these ones I know how to respond too...

Later... when Firvain remembered his 'friends' outside, he thought it would be best to call them in. Firvain's talents ran towards shadows and blood rather than whispers and intrigue.

In response to his recent companion's complaints, Firvain merely says, "Some of the old elves are still kicking around rest assured. If it was common knowledge that they were about though you could be sure the Order would tear the city up looking for them. As for justice, well, one man's justice is another's transgression." It is obvious by his tone how little worth he places in justice as a principle by which to guide ones actions.

There might be a bluff check associated with Firvain saying he was waiting for friends, but with a -1 modifier and for the sake of the story I feel it is safe to assume it was failed.

[Plushie Arz]

RANEL
DM: Ah man, I see Ranel has no ranks for Gather Information or Knowledge (Local). Finding El'gor'an by himself will be hard.
Elsalla looked uncertain at Ranel's mention of his other job but a look at his weapons made her hold her tongue. "Well, if you need anything." She said uncertainly, replacing the old metal pan back into the dusty pantry.

* * *

The morning's efforts at discerning information proved more disappointing than the last. The added number of civilians taking advantage of the daybreak only distracted him and while Ranel was able to catch snippets of conversation about an information broker named Felix in the Lower Reaches, he was no closer to finding out anything about either El'gor'an Doranu or the mysterious hooded members of the Mraerital. He knew it was a waste of time to look for them during the day, where anyone could simply slip off their mask and look like anyone else.

FIRVAIN, BEFORE
"Ha! Some friends huh?" Exclaimed Verzera joyously, poking Firvain in the ribs. "You know, my girlfriend dumped me a few months ago. I'm visiting a friend here. Let's go drown our sorrows later."

* * *

They descended into the cellars and Firvain felt out of breath from the cramped descent down the ladders. He decided to whisper to his companions outside.

HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIREA
"Justice, a curious concept." Said Shardin lightly, nodding in agreement at Firvain's comments "A terrible cause, truly. What of freedom? Truly, the elves of this city have never been free. First careening under the Old Council only to suffer under the Order. Now does that not sound like a far nobler cause, no? Why not pave the way for the citizens to choose their own path?"

"Daelric wanted many things but death at the end of an assassin's blade was not one of them. Unfortunately, there's not much we can do about the latter but we can certainly help remedy the former. I for one, am not too concerned about this Devil Ray but there's no time like a ceasefire to resupply."

"While the ceasefire is in effect, all the major groups are locked down. This leaves the castoffs and lunatics, the most dangerous type hanging around. Now, my friends in the Harbingers have ordered a large supply of pitch. Eight carts of it, to be precise. It cannot be easily transported from my warehouse in the Lower Reaches to their hideout in the upper Undercity and I will need an escorts of a martial or sorcerous nature to ensure its safe delivery."

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
Ciphas did not return for many days. In the interim, Malcolm attended joint training exercises with Tuskan's Steel Leaf and met with Victorine to discuss the state of affairs in Kiiska. He recalled one such meeting an evening over a bottle of aged scotch she had brought from Stony Bridge, when he raised the issue of Captain Firael's corruption. "It's a new regime and it's dirty." Opined Victorine. "Which gives you three options. Expose them and suffer the consequences, buy them and play their game, or wait and do nothing. You need standing for the first option, and no shame for the second. Looking at the Guard's leadership, you need to be careful. The High Justiciar rewarded them for betraying the elves after all."

* * *

It was the fifth evening since he met with Firael and the Longbranches and he still had no sight of Ciphas. He knew the half elf could disappear for days undercover and could return at the most inconvenient times. A waxing moon shone through the canopy, hitting the cobbled surface of the Lower Reach streets. The four guards, all recruits, followed Malcolm seeking guidance. He stepped over a small stream and started down the gentle slope of an alley wedged between an old bakery and a smithy when he spotted the trail of dark stains that splattered on the ground. Putting a finger through the stains and bringing it to his nostrils, the smell was unmistakable. Fresh blood.

[Sylvaen]

HIAM, AIREA, FIRVAIN

Aire shrugged a little. He had a fairly clear -maybe "sharp" would be a better word- view of abstract concepts such as justice and freedom, but this wasn't the right place and time to be debating philosophy. Still, it gave him a chance to understand Shardin's motives a little better. The more cynical part of Aire's mind was nevertheless of the opinion that 'freedom' for Shardin meant being able to run his shady business without restraints and rules. Not that it mattered to Aire.

"Eight carts of pitch," he said then, "either your friends are building a ship of rather imposing size, or something's bound to go up in flames real soon."

A dark smile crossed his face. He knew what he'd do with eight carts of highly flammable resin.

"Very well, then. If, as you say," he looked at the Archer, "some of the elves are still around, it may still be a battle worth fighting. I came too late to score against Order in defense of the city, but I can still get a few trophies in a worthy fight. Maybe enough trophies to give their leaders a stroke. That would truly make my day."

"What is your plan, then?" he turned to Shardin.

[kinem]

HIAM, AIREA, FIRVAIN

Hiam says "I would agree that too little freedom is an injustice. But there is a limit, for if people are free to band together to take away the freedom of other groups, then freedom extinguishes itself. There must be a balance, and wiser heads than ours will have to find it.

I see though that I will not dissuade you from this current dangerous course. So I ask this: Take no aggressive action while the ceasefire holds, and do nothing to endanger it either. If you all agree to that, I will help. If not, it is best that I take my leave now."

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM, AIREA, FIRVAIN
"What they do with that pitch is up to them. I am merely providing a service for which they render payment. A payment I am all too happy to share with friends and employees. Whether this ceasefire stands or not, I will take no actions to strain it."

"There are several courses you may take to secure the delivery to the Harbingers. The Midnight Syndicate prowl the streets and I've heard rumours of wererats in the sewers, besetting the Kiiskan Guard but we can hardly worry about that. Eliminating them will safeguard the wagons and as non-signatories to the ceasefire, you may do as you please."

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
Ciphas did not return for many days. In the interim, Malcolm attended joint training exercises with Tuskan's Steel Leaf and met with Victorine to discuss the state of affairs in Kiiska. He recalled one such meeting an evening over a bottle of aged scotch she had brought from Stony Bridge, when he raised the issue of Captain Firael's corruption. "It's a new regime and it's dirty." Opined Victorine. "Which gives you three options. Expose them and suffer the consequences, buy them and play their game, or wait and do nothing. You need standing for the first option, and no shame for the second. Looking at the Guard's leadership, you need to be careful. The High Justiciar rewarded them for betraying the elves after all."

* * *

It was the fifth evening since he met with Firael and the Longbranches and he still had no sight of Ciphas. He knew the half elf could disappear for days undercover and could return at the most inconvenient times. A waxing moon shone through the canopy, hitting the cobbled surface of the Lower Reach streets. The four guards, all recruits, followed Malcolm seeking guidance. He stepped over a small stream and started down the gentle slope of an alley wedged between an old bakery and a smithy when he spotted the trail of dark stains that splattered on the ground. Putting a finger through the stains and bringing it to his nostrils, the smell was unmistakable. Fresh blood.

Malcolm
Mal had shaken his head at Victorine's comments. I can play the game well enough, though it galls me. A sip of the scotch and a grimace. But ultimately, I do not want to just sit by and watch them sully the name of the Kiiskan Guard. The people of this area deserve better.

* * *

Mal kneels, crouched on the low-hanging branch of a tree. The recruits stood vigil below as he scanned the area with his sharp eyes, deep in thought. The training sessions had been good for the soldiers under his command. He could see that they had improved leagues in the days they had been working with the Steel Leaves. But he was no closer to this Varos than before, and he considered going to the Soond himself to find Ciphas himself.

But he trusts his sergeant to get him results, to an extent. A half of a fortnight is where he will cut Ciphas off, he decides, as he walks down the side of the tree with surprising grace. Keep your eyes open, men, he tells the recruits, keeping his voice firm. This is just a routine patrol, but we should not let our focus waver.

The blood stands out to his sight, and he holds his hand up to signal his men to halt. Crouching down, he frowns in thought as he recognizes the coppery scent of blood. Whoever was injured had been wounded recently. He inspects the ground for any signs of a struggle or the number of footprints present. There is fresh blood here. Stay behind me and try not to disturb it. Weapons out, and keep watch on the rooftops, he instructs the recruits. He follows the trail of blood, intent on finding its source.

Taking 10 for a total of 20on Survival to discern the number of combatants. Doing the same for tracking the blood stains, which I figure shouldn't be hard enough to warrant a roll. Sorry for taking so long to post.

[Sylvaen]

HIAM, AIREA, FIRAVAIN

Shardin finished his speech, asserting himself as the archetype of a sleazy businessman. There was a general shuffling of feet and the companions have exchanged a few looks. It was apparent that neither of the other two was rally eager to take on a dangerous task that might help to turn the ceasefire into a bonfire. That wouldn't work. Aire was willing to do this job, but he couldn't very well do it alone without attracting too much attention. Now that Verzera was involved, he had to be careful about playing his part of an independent adventurer.

He cleared his throat and looked at Shardin with an apologetic smile: "I'm sorry, my lord. Would you please excuse us for a moment, while I talk some business sense into my companions?"


Aire gently placed his hands around his companions' shoulders and guided them back towards the rickety stairs from the basement. Quickly looking around to make sure they're alone, he pulled them closer and whispered: "I understand if you don't like this. I'm not too keen on endangering the ceasefire now. Not when nobody is ready for that. The only ones who'd pay the price would be the same elves that I intend to help. Shardin maybe doesn't care, as long as he can do his dirty business.. and I wouldn't care much either, under different circumstances. But he is our lead to the others. Maybe not the kind of lead you'd want, but the only one we have."

Then he looked straight at Hiam: "I may disagree with you about importance of freedom, but you care about what happens. The best place you can be to ensure the ceasefire holds is to play along, and maybe persuade this customer to postpone whatever plans they have. Think about that."

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
"Sir?" The recruits readied their bows and notched their arrows.

He looked at the trail of blood and the way it fell on the pavement. The stains were too evenly spaced for there to have been a pitched battle in the streets. He followed the bloodied trail and saw it ended at an intersection in a congealed puddle on the streets. Three pairs of footprints had stepped in the puddle. Taking his bow, he followed the trail until he came to an entrance of an old bakery, sans its door.

"Tell me Captain, what are you hoping to find in there?" A throaty, melodic voice made him look up. Perched on the flat ledge of a building fifteen feet above, he saw the silhouette of a cloaked woman with her face obscured by a large cowl. She wore a leather bodysuit hugged her slim figure and a rapier hung at her side. Although he could not see her eyes, he sensed amusement from his watcher. The recruits trained their bows at her in apprehension but she chuckled, as if the steel-tipped arrows were little more than toys.

RANEL
It was three days of searching but his investigations landed him in the office of a snarling man named Felix. The cramped office was filled with paper files and piles of scroll racks precariously stacked atop each other. The smell of wet fur and sour meat filled Ranel's nostrils but most disturbing was the sight of Felix himself. He had the greying head of a mastiff and the back of his palms were covered in a thick coat of thick fur. He wore cotton robes that may have once been black but had now faded to a stained grey. A trail of slobber left his jaws and Felix laughed. "Ha! Doranu! You mean THE El'gor'an Doranu?" He brought his clawed hands up to his eyes to wipe away a tear. "You've been had. Who gave you this mission and why in Nine Hells did you accept?!"

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"Sir?" The recruits readied their bows and notched their arrows.

He looked at the trail of blood and the way it fell on the pavement. The stains were too evenly spaced for there to have been a pitched battle in the streets. He followed the bloodied trail and saw it ended at an intersection in a congealed puddle on the streets. Three pairs of footprints had stepped in the puddle. Taking his bow, he followed the trail until he came to an entrance of an old bakery, sans its door.

"Tell me Captain, what are you hoping to find in there?" A throaty, melodic voice made him look up. Perched on the flat ledge of a building fifteen feet above, he saw the silhouette of a cloaked woman with her face obscured by a large cowl. She wore a leather bodysuit hugged her slim figure and a rapier hung at her side. Although he could not see her eyes, he sensed amusement from his watcher. The recruits trained their bows at her in apprehension but she chuckled, as if the steel-tipped arrows were little more than toys.

Malcolm
Malcolm motions at his men to hold their fire until he gives the order. Sizing up the woman, he looks at the rapier and the way she holds herself. Dangerous, and a potential threat. Although he does not move his bow to aim at her, he keeps it in hand and nocked.

Ignoring her question, he says, There's been an assault, and the victim has lost a great deal of blood. You tell me, what have you seen in this area within the past hour? You seem a woman who could spy upon events unseen and unnoticed.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
"Direct and to the point. I like that, Captain." Mused the woman. "I saw a dead ghost and a shadow that walked. And then three elven men looking for a purpose in this dangerous little part of town. Why don't you send one of your men into that bakery? It has been so long since I last had broke from that oven." Malcolm had the impression that she was taking joy from her riddles and the uncertainty she inspired in his men.

[kinem]

HIAM, AIREA, FIRAVAIN
Aire gently placed his hands around his companions' shoulders and guided them back towards the rickety stairs from the basement. Quickly looking around to make sure they're alone, he pulled them closer and whispered: "I understand if you don't like this. I'm not too keen on endangering the ceasefire now. Not when nobody is ready for that. The only ones who'd pay the price would be the same elves that I intend to help. Shardin maybe doesn't care, as long as he can do his dirty business.. and I wouldn't care much either, under different circumstances. But he is our lead to the others. Maybe not the kind of lead you'd want, but the only one we have."

Then he looked straight at Hiam: "I may disagree with you about importance of freedom, but you care about what happens. The best place you can be to ensure the ceasefire holds is to play along, and maybe persuade this customer to postpone whatever plans they have. Think about that."

HIAM, AIREA, FIRAVAIN

Hiam replies "Persuade them? That's a rather far-fetched scenario, sir. We've seen how ineffective I've been in persuading you lot of anything, and my dealings with you are far more direct. And who are the Harbingers, anyway?

Besides, he would have us hunt wererats and whoever the Midnight Syndicate is. Guarding a shipment is one thing; hunting down anyone who might possibly attack it is quite another! Who knows why he really wants to target those groups? Does it make any sense to you to attack such groups rather than simply to accompany the wagons in case of trouble?

Even if his story is true and there will be a shipment of pitch - which I have no way of knowing - such a hunting expedition is plain murder, not a defense of anything. I will fight to defend the city; never would I attack those who are not a proven danger.

No; I will have no part of this. And I advise you to do the same."

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
It was three days of searching but his investigations landed him in the office of a snarling man named Felix. The cramped office was filled with paper files and piles of scroll racks precariously stacked atop each other. The smell of wet fur and sour meat filled Ranel's nostrils but most disturbing was the sight of Felix himself. He had the greying head of a mastiff and the back of his palms were covered in a thick coat of thick fur. He wore cotton robes that may have once been black but had now faded to a stained grey. A trail of slobber left his jaws and Felix laughed. "Ha! Doranu! You mean THE El'gor'an Doranu?" He brought his clawed hands up to his eyes to wipe away a tear. "You've been had. Who gave you this mission and why in Nine Hells did you accept?!"

Ranel
Who hired me is for me to know for now, and i accepted as the pay was adequate. Now, what do you mean i have been had? Ranel gave no indication if he was surprised, in fact he remained his usual detached self. If this was indeed a wild goose chase it would not be the first. But then again it was always possible that the fat elf had been misled himself. Only time and effort will reveal the truth in time.

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"Direct and to the point. I like that, Captain." Mused the woman. "I saw a dead ghost and a shadow that walked. And then three elven men looking for a purpose in this dangerous little part of town. Why don't you send one of your men into that bakery? It has been so long since I last had broke from that oven." Malcolm had the impression that she was taking joy from her riddles and the uncertainty she inspired in his men.

Malcolm
Mal's expression doesn't waver from her sideways talk and riddles, and he hopes his men take from his example. Who killed the ghost, and where do its remains lie? Who is missing their shadow? And tell me what my men would find inside of that bakery; your tone does you no favors for your request. A doorless building in this part of town is either a sign of supreme stupidity, or a trap. Who would just randomly steal a door from a building?

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
"His past caught up with him. The ghost had many enemies and now he will forever haunt the bakery where I once bought my bread." Smirked the woman. Malcolm noticed that she cast no shadows herself in the midnight moon as she perched on the wall above. "It is a cruel man who would steal another's shadow. It is not mine, I assure you but the shadow thief lurks in pits of the city, adding many more to his collection. He particularly covets those with sorcerous talents. Imagine a puppet that can cast spells at its master's bidding. A puppet that can grow fierce and powerful, but remain obedient. A chilling thought is it not? His poor victim still bumbles along, oblivious to his schemes."

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
"His past caught up with him. The ghost had many enemies and now he will forever haunt the bakery where I once bought my bread." Smirked the woman. Malcolm noticed that she cast no shadows herself in the midnight moon as she perched on the wall above. "It is a cruel man who would steal another's shadow. It is not mine, I assure you but the shadow thief lurks in pits of the city, adding many more to his collection. He particularly covets those with sorcerous talents. Imagine a puppet that can cast spells at its master's bidding. A puppet that can grow fierce and powerful, but remain obedient. A chilling thought is it not? His poor victim still bumbles along, oblivious to his schemes."

Malcolm
Nile, Tukson, check out the bakery, and watch your corners,* he instructs the two recruits that seemed the least intimidated by this woman.

Shadow thievery; puppets that are controlled and retain their ability to cast spells; is it a form of undead? Something to do with the soul? This damnable woman and her riddles, if only she would speak plainly. Turning his attention back to the woman, he says, To have one's shadow stolen is tragic indeed; how lonely you must be, bereft of your own. Where does this shadow-thief make his home, that I may have words with him about his depraved deeds?

*=elven (Do you guys use a translator for languages besides common? I noticed y'all using Gaelic for Druidic, I think...)
Knowledge (Local) for a "shadow-thief": [roll0]
Knowledge (Religion) in case he's heard of any cults dedicated to shadow thievery: [roll1]
Also, Sense Motive for her whole "it is not mine" bit and in general: [roll2]

[Plushie Arz]

RANEL
Felix's laugh came out like a rough bark and his pink tongue trailed from the side of his jaws. "You tell me you've been paid adequately to kill one of the best fighters for the Resistance? Surrounded by powerful friends. Ha, whoever it is better be paying you a king's ransom and then some. He hasn't even been seen in the city since that ceasefire started! Ha! That's rich!" Felix sniffed the air around him. Ranel had seen many things in his long life but this man with his doglike manners was the first who spoke to him in that manner. Felix trained his eyes on Ranel, baring his yellowed tusks. It was a tic for tac exchange and Ranel knew Felix's price was information of a similar offering.

"Now your employer. Elf or man?"

MALCOLM
Malcolm had never heard of such things before in his life. The stories of the dead rising from their eternal slumber were fanciful stories told in colourful pamphlets sold to children. The very idea of stealing another's shadow appalled him and although it did not appear in the teachings of either the Morning or Evening Sun, he knew only the God of Night had command of such powers and it was a gift given to rare followers. No two followers of a same god were alike in their blessings and the Black Night was a god who reveled in treachery.

"Loneliness or freedom? Who can say?" Smiled the woman. Even though she spoke in riddles, she seemed to tell the truth. "But a thief of shadows must dwell in the dark. I've heard he's made friends with a certain rat that fancies itself as a king. An odd companionship but we live in odd times do we not?"

"But I will give you counsel. It gives me no joy to see a man like yourself stumbling cluelessly in the dark. The elf hunted by the shadow thief is a wanted man. His name is Hiam and he commands the sorcerous talents the thief seeks."

Niles and Tukson cautiously entered the bakery. It was Nile's voice that called out. "Sir! We found him. The poor blighter, bled out from a stab wound."

"Perhaps you ought protect him, or perhaps not." Laughed the woman. Malcolm only turned away from the woman for a second but by the time he turned around, she was nowhere to be seen. The men looked at their officer expectantly. "What do we do now, Sir?"

HIAM, AIREA, FIRVAIN
Shardin shook his head dramatically although it was plain he couldn't care less about Hiam's reservations. They noticed despite Shardin's proposition, he had not divulged the location of his warehouse or the Harbinger's hideout. "Very well, alas, I may have to look elsewhere. If you may show them out, my Lady Verzera. I would also appreciate it if you lot kept this deal quiet."

In her tunic of black and red, the purple drow nodded and took the lead. She looked at both Firvain and Airea suggestively and both men noticed how short the tunic was and how it rode up her muscular thighs as she walked ahead. "Alright, gentlemen. Follow me." They climbed up the hatch and were shown the door. Hiam was quick to leave but Verzera's gaze fell on Airea and Firvain. "Let's go for a drink sometime." She said, in a forward and casual tone.

[Ellowryn]

RANEL
Felix's laugh came out like a rough bark and his pink tongue trailed from the side of his jaws. "You tell me you've been paid adequately to kill one of the best fighters for the Resistance? Surrounded by powerful friends. Ha, whoever it is better be paying you a king's ransom and then some. He hasn't even been seen in the city since that ceasefire started! Ha! That's rich!" Felix sniffed the air around him. Ranel had seen many things in his long life but this man with his doglike manners was the first who spoke to him in that manner. Felix trained his eyes on Ranel, baring his yellowed tusks. It was a tic for tac exchange and Ranel knew Felix's price was information of a similar offering.

"Now your employer. Elf or man?"


Ranel
Sigh, this is why i hate working with this guy, everything takes forever... Ranel thinks to himself, but he does tend to end up here when information is hard to come by. Despite his annoyances he is good at what he does. But even then he takes a hard look at him. Finally, Ranel speaks Elf.
[roll0]

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
Malcolm had never heard of such things before in his life. The stories of the dead rising from their eternal slumber were fanciful stories told in colourful pamphlets sold to children. The very idea of stealing another's shadow appalled him and although it did not appear in the teachings of either the Morning or Evening Sun, he knew only the God of Night had command of such powers and it was a gift given to rare followers. No two followers of a same god were alike in their blessings and the Black Night was a god who reveled in treachery.

"Loneliness or freedom? Who can say?" Smiled the woman. Even though she spoke in riddles, she seemed to tell the truth. "But a thief of shadows must dwell in the dark. I've heard he's made friends with a certain rat that fancies itself as a king. An odd companionship but we live in odd times do we not?"

"But I will give you counsel. It gives me no joy to see a man like yourself stumbling cluelessly in the dark. The elf hunted by the shadow thief is a wanted man. His name is Hiam and he commands the sorcerous talents the thief seeks."

Niles and Tukson cautiously entered the bakery. It was Nile's voice that called out. "Sir! We found him. The poor blighter, bled out from a stab wound."

"Perhaps you ought protect him, or perhaps not." Laughed the woman. Malcolm only turned away from the woman for a second but by the time he turned around, she was nowhere to be seen. The men looked at their officer expectantly. "What do we do now, Sir?"

Malcolm
Malcolm dwells on the woman's sudden disappearance for only a moment. Despite her riddles and roundabout words, she had somehow given intel relevant to his interests. So this Rat King has an ally with powers he has never heard of, and seeks to obtain greater power. Lovely. Bring the body back to headquarters to be identified. Then follow the relevant procedures after the body is identified.

Motioning to the recruits to be on their way, he turns back to the ground. This Hiam, whoever he is, may want to know that he's being hunted. Finding the tracks once more, he follows them where they lead.

Survival for Track, taking 10 for 20. If I need higher than a 20, then use this roll: [roll0] I'm just going to stick with the take 10, if that's alright.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM
The recruits pulled out a body of a rather short, unassuming and overweight man from the bakery and made for the Silent Sting headquarters.

Malcolm was able to follow the trail up a platform, into a quiet area of the Undercity seldom patrolled by the Kiiskan Guard. Although he had only been in the city for a few short months, Jor'ellean had told him of a brothel called the Knot where one may be able to find young human women who spoke with Farlaenean accents. While the Captain was unable to verify the rumours, he had heard briefings of slavers and elven hedonists who seduced young recruits and turned them to the vices. He slowed his steps as he came into view. The trail was hot and in the distance, his perceived three elven men leaving the brothel.

RANEL
Ranel sensed Felix was hungry for information and gears were turning in the man's canine mind as to how he might deploy it to his full advantage. "I can guess who he is. So you want more information"on Doranu?" Growled Felix, "Still keen to follow up the job?"

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM
The recruits pulled out a body of a rather short, unassuming and overweight man from the bakery and made for the Silent Sting headquarters.

Malcolm was able to follow the trail up a platform, into a quiet area of the Undercity seldom patrolled by the Kiiskan Guard. Although he had only been in the city for a few short months, Jor'ellean had told him of a brothel called the Knot where one may be able to find young human women who spoke with Farlaenean accents. While the Captain was unable to verify the rumours, he had heard briefings of slavers and elven hedonists who seduced young recruits and turned them to the vices. He slowed his steps as he came into view. The trail was hot and in the distance, his perceived three elven men leaving the brothel.

Malcolm
Of course, Malcolm thinks as he reads the tracks. Men involved in the stabbing of another, traveling to a brothel. Whether they were part of the deed or not, Malcolm knows not--they stepped in the man's blood, and went as far as to hide the body in the bakery. Whether they were the ones to steal the door, or if they found it as such, is another anomaly. Did they intend to stymie pursuit by implying a trap, as he had thought before? What did they even do with the door?

Noticing the three men, more of the woman's riddles fall into place. Coincidence, perhaps, but here are three elven men, looking for a purpose; what purpose they sought in a brothel, he could not fathom. He takes the arrow from the bowstring and slings the bow over one shoulder; not in hand, but easy to reach in a moment's notice. He approaches the trio swiftly, and calls out, Hold a moment, you three. I am Captain Malcolm O'Mallory, and I must ask you a few questions about an incident that occurred near here. A man was murdered, and the trail led to this brothel. What are your names, and what do you know of this?

[Sylvaen]

HIAM, AIREA, FIRVAIN ... & MALCOLM

It took a great deal of self control to maintain an indifferent smile as they were led back upstairs. While saying goodbye to Verzera, Aire used sign language only taught between members of the drow race: "Let's stay in touch. Leave a message on the roof behind the chimney, if you need me. I will leave mine there, too."
Then he turned and walked out of the door, pulling the cloak's cape over his head again.

* * *

The door closed behind them and Aire let out a disappointed sigh. He turned to Hiam and took a deep breath to speak his mind but before he could say anything, a loud voice from the street interrupted him.


Malcolm
Hold a moment, you three. I am Captain Malcolm O'Mallory, and I must ask you a few questions about an incident that occurred near here. A man was murdered, and the trail led to this brothel. What are your names, and what do you know of this?

Instead of a lecture on unfairness and cruelty of real world and its wars, another sigh was all that came out of Aire.

"My dear Captain, if a man has been murdered, then I suppose it is your sacred duty to investigate as thoroughly as you must. Alas, should the victim be an elf, or of orcish conviction, would you do it with a similar perseverance?" he called out back, stepped aside, and waved his hand with a dramatic flair.(*)

"Let it not be said that the three of us stood in the way of the law. Since your hunt - and a hunt it must be if you speak of trail - has led you to question this here brothel, please do so to your heart's content. Our own knowledge of it is limited to women of all races, and I assure you they were all well and alive last time we saw them," he finished with a lewd tone of voice.(**)

------
(*) Diplomacy [roll0] - Aire is trying to wound the loud soldier's professional pride, if he has any. His reasoning is: if the Captain is a honest and undiscriminating person, this might put him on the defense.
(**) Bluff [roll1] - Pressing on the previous social attack, Aire avoids answering Captains questions an instead attempts to redirect his focus to the brothel and its inhabitants.

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm, with Aire, Hiam, and Firvain
Mal resists rolling his eyes at the man's dramatic gestures. I accord every citizen in Kiiska the same degree of fervor, be they elf, human, or otherwise. he replies with conviction, closing the gap to stand closer to them. Aside from his tone, he seems unfazed by the insinuations. He keeps his hands away from his weapons and keeps his tone professional and without judgment. And you have yet to answer my questions. I know that three elven males were seen together in the area, and the three sets of tracks that circled the man's blood led to this brothel. And here, I see three elven males leaving an establishment together.

And so, it is you three whom I intend to question. You are not under arrest, but you are persons of interest, and the sooner you answer my questions the sooner I can be on my way. Did you see anything of note near a door-less bakery down the road? Did you see a creature resembling a living shadow? And again, what are your names?

[Sylvaen]

HIAM, AIREA, FIRVAIN ... & MALCOLM

There was a sound of quiet laughter from under the hood. Aire dropped his theatrical pose and rubbed his chin.

"What a night of surprises, dear Captain," he said, "I was just about to explain to one of my companions that in these times, rules and conscience were things of luxury. Then you show up and blow me away completely. I'm truly speechless. Well, I could be if I tried," he added.

"Wouldn't you say yourself, that your investigation leaves a lot to be desired? This used to be an elven city until your friends from the Order started their genocide. There still must be hundreds of elven men around, yet you assume that the very first three that you encounter must be those that you seek. What of such a thing as proof? How do you know that the three elven gentlemen that your source described, really had a hand in ending the victim's life? What if they were merely innocent bystanders? What if they found his bleeding body, heard his last words and then thought to move his cooling corpse away from the cold streets and to a more decent resting place?"

"Instead of talking about questioning and arresting, wouldn't you rather treat such three thoughtful gentlemen to a pint in a private corner of a guesthouse where all of you could exchange important information?" he suggested finally.

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm, with Hiam, Airea, and Firvain

Seemingly unfazed by the man's tone and laugh, Malcolm gives a small smile of his own. Investigations in their infancy are rarely fully formed, and this one was just birthed minutes ago. Indeed, this city with its elven history--and history of half-elven oppression, of course--has no shortage of elven men. But you ask for proof, and I tell you one look at the three of you is all I need.

You, he begins, pointing to the talkative elf. You do a good job hiding it, but you hold yourself as one accustomed to dodging blows, and dealing them as well. A leaf on the wind, with razor edges. How many blades do you have stashed in your cloak, and how quickly could they be in an enemy's throat?

Turning to his fellow bowman, he gives a half-nod of respect. It takes tremendous skill to be able to wield such a weapon. You hold yourself taut as your bowstring, ready to strike when you deem necessary. A dealer of death to your very bones.

And you, he says, turning to the half-elf. Through all of his discussion, his voice is sincere with its compliments but firm in its judgments. You're harder to read, but you stand confidently in such a district as this.

Each of you is skilled beyond the typical thugs that roam this area, and you all are together in an area where a murder took place not an hour before. There are implications to be inferred, there. I don't apologize for pointing them out, but I also meant when I said that I do not consider you suspects. And after your suppositions, a drink sounds delightful right now--but only a cup, he ends with a final nod and polite smile.

Hope I didn't take too many liberties with Malcolm's descriptions of the others. There's a use for Sense Motive in Complete Adventurer to guess at someone's power by comparing relative HD--it's an opposed Bluff check, so the only character that would have a better than even chance of winning would be Hiam. I know it's an opposed roll, but I didn't want to bog things down with rolls, especially at 1am where I'm at. Let me know if you have any problems with this.

Also, it's late so the descriptions of the others I had Mal say might fall flat, but they're meant to be insightful. I'm not sure how well I did, so please keep my intention in mind? :smallredface:

[kinem]

HIAM, AIREA, FIRVAIN, MALCOLM

Hiam gives the Guard Captain a bit of a double take when he mentions a 'living shadow'.

"Very well Captain, a drink and a talk sound good to me right now. There is indeed a matter on which I myself could perhaps use the aid of the Guard.

Though I have not always seen the Guard be so objective and professional as you seem to be, your words are reassuring. Though there is other business at hand, I would like sometime to hear your take on the Guard and its role in the city.

Where to now gentlemen? I was thinking earlier of heading to the Revanthas aul Bell."

ooc: Revanthas aul Bell, or Friend in Hand, is a small bar nestled above the Undercity and hidden by an intricate network of vines and branches. It was a spot usually frequented by half-elves although with the occupation, former Kiiskan soldiers and mercenaries are counted among its clientele. Its specialty is monkey stew.

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM, MALCOLM, FIRVAIN, AIRE
After some twenty minutes of traversing the platforms and rope bridges, the four men arrived at the quiet wine bar. It was a small homely building perched in the branches of an overgrown pine tree and the carved interiors were decorated by aged timber panels and globes of dancing lights that cast a warm orange light on the surfaces. It was late and the bar was empty for the night. Malcolm suspected this place is somewhere frequented by the rebels for it was isolated and far from any patrol routes.

A thin elven girl with slightly rounded ears and dark curly hair worked behind the counter. Her amber eyes registered a look of surprise and unease as Malcolm entered the room in his Kiiskan guard uniform followed by Airea, a disguised Hiam and Firvain. She nervously put down a clay tankard that she was scrubbing and made her way over to the table, her rough spun green cotton dress and crisp apron creasing and her wooden clogs tapping against the floorboards with every step.

Hiam knew her name was Avila, the daughter of Dominiel and Isela, a half elven waitress who had once worked at the same establishment. "What can I get you today, gentlemen?" She asked meekly.

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm et. al

Malcolm gives the waitress a smile meant to be reassuring. He can imagine her fear at the sight of a Kiiskan Guard, but he does his best to make himself seem not intimidating to her. Four tankards of wine, please. I'll have a red.

Unless you'd all like something else than wine, he says to the other three men, gesturing for them to speak their peace.

After they all place their orders, Malcolm settles into his slightly-uncomfortable wooden seat. Let me begin by saying I understand if you have existing prejudices against the Guard. Rather, I understand that you almost certainly have prejudices against the Guard. Your comment earlier is as dismal as it is unsurprising, he continues, motioning to his fellow half-elf. I acknowledge that the Guard is not perfect. If it were within my purview to do something about it, the Guard tomorrow would be different from what it is today. Alas, we work with what we are given.

And so, let me begin: I have information relating to a man creating shadow creatures in the city. If you would be so kind as to respond in turn, I can elaborate further.

[Sylvaen]

HIAM, MALCOLM, FIRVAIN, AIRE

There couldn't be a greater difference between this shy, almost terrified, elven girl and drow girls Aire had seen in guesthouses and ale-rooms of Underdark. For a moment, Aire felt an irrational, almost overwhelming anger against both elves and humans; they both were to blame for the ever-present fear in the girl's eyes. Surface-dwellers, and their silly, selfish power games. They liked setting their own world on fire, they enjoyed watching rivers turn red with their enemies' blood. And they did it, making themselves believe it was good and righteous, and according to their gods' wishes. Hypocrites and cowards, all of them. They deserved to burn in those fires, they deserved to drown in the blood.

Darkness Alive, Night-born Ni'Kote, Beholder-In-Shadows, guide my hand and give me cunning and strength to be an agent of Your judgement.

Aire exhaled and felt the anger leave with his silent prayer. Once again he was calm and composed, fully focused on present time. He barely caught the end of Captain's order, and nodded: "Wine will do. White, preferrably."

While they waited for their wine, Aire listened to O'Mallory's words, considering each statement. His eyes under the cape observed their surroundings, instinctively searching for signs of either danger or prey. When the Captain finished, Aire pulled back his cape - enough for the Captain to see his face and hair, but not enough for everyone else in the bar to get the same view.

"You may call me Aire, Captain. And your assessment of me wasn't too far from truth and quite poetic if, I may say so. I would start calling myself Razorleaf if only nicknames and reputation weren't detrimental to my line of work."

"Well then. Indeed I was there when the shadow creature attacked. I was also there to hear the stabbed man's dying words. If he told the truth, then it would seem a guild assassin is out there on the loose. It might interest you, as a man of law, that the wounds he had succumbed to were caused by a cursed weapon of someone named Devil Ray."

[kinem]

HIAM, MALCOLM, FIRVAIN, AIRE

Hiam smiles at the waitress though she won't recognize him in his disguise. "Red wine for me, please."

When she goes away to get the drinks Hiam turns serious.

"Captain O'Mallory, you said that you would like to see a change in the Guard, but you didn't specify what change. Do you believe the Guard can serve all of the people, and how can that happen?

But to more urgent matters first: The dying man came across me in the street, and told me a bit of his story. He was known as the Ghost of the Undercity. He had been wounded by an assassin woman, as Aire said. These other gentlemen came across us while he spoke. We were unable to save him, but rather than let him rot in the street for all to stumble upon, we did him the honor of carrying him into an abandoned bakery so that his body might be stored in a known location until his friends or family could be found and he could receive a proper burial.

Before we could move him though, a shadow-creature came upon us. It was shaped vaguely like a man, and it struck me with its claw, which seemed to pierce solid objects with ease. It scratched me but I ducked away, avoiding a serious wound. It spoke of being unleashed by some master, but didn't say who that was. It seemed resistant to magic. Before it could do more, the archer slew it, and it vanished.

What do you know about its master, Captain?

The fact it is, I believe it was on my track. You see, for the past few nights, monsters have been appearing in my house and trying to kill me! I beat them, but tonight it was a shadow-man, and fearing that the matter was beyond me, I fled. That's why I was out on the streets tonight. I have no idea why someone would want to kill me, but this shadow master is apparently connected to it. Perhaps together we could beat this monster. I think we all know that neither elf nor other is safe in the city while he is out there creating these things."

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm, Aire, Hiam, and Firvain

Malcolm listens to the two men tell their piece intensely. So the woman was telling the truth about a shadow creature after all, or else these two are pulling an elaborate rug over his eyes. Thank you for that information, he says with a nod of gratitude. He notes the other man's pulled-back hood and takes in his appearance. If the guild is sending an assassin out for hits, then they may be planning something.

He listens to his fellow half-elf's story with interest. His question of what how he would change the Guard sticks in the back of his mind, and ultimately he sighs. I want for the Guard to better uphold what it is meant to represent: defenders of Kiiska and its citizens. The law is meant to be firm, yet fair, and effect all citizens equally. The current regime was built on the overthrow of the elven population and rewarded the treachery of those who are now in positions of power. Although the half-elves of Kiiska are enjoying their lives more than they have in the past decades, it is built on a foundation of betrayal that can never last.

Ideally, those who attained their ranks through treachery and duplicity would be stripped of their ranks and replaced by those who are loyal to the people. This would not be easy, and would not occur without opposition from within the ranks. But with the Guard as it is, I see no future where elves, half-elves, and humans can even hope to coexist in Kiiska.

He mentally recounts the half-elf's account of being assaulted by monsters and shadow-men, and considers him. The woman had expounded that an elf named Hiam is currently the target of the shadow-thief. And here, this half-elf has been under the same attacks for days now. Could it be simply a coincidence? Well, no other way than to mention...

My source said that the shadow-thief is particularly interested in the shadows of those with magical or sorcerous talents. Unlike those who rely on tomes and arcane rote, it is possible that the shadow of those with sorcerous power in their bloods would retain that power when separated from their body. I know not whether you have such power, but if you do then that is the reason why he is so interested in you.

I also know that the shadow-thief has joined forces with a figure in the sewers calling himself the "Rat King". I've sent one of my men to investigate the rodent monarch, and I hope to hear from him soon. I had been hesitant to venture into the sewers alone, but as a quartet we may have more luck.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM, HIAM, FIRVAIN, AIRE
Avila brought over the tray of wine and set it down before the four men. They noticed she did her work quickly and quietly, taking care not to interrupt the conversation and she took the coins Malcolm placed on the table in payment wordlessly before returning behind the bar. Save the five of them, the establishment was empty and the chirping of the insects and night birds filled the branches outside.

RANEL
-Day Twelve of Helarm's Ceasefire
Felix had told him some and Ranel was able to piece together much more in the following days. It seemed that El'gor'an Doranu had also killed several of the green hooded men in the Undercity some two weeks ago. While the man was no longer in the city, he still had a number of acquaintances and contacts who were. The first was Andressil Narmendil, the First Speaker's auburn haired daughter who resided in the Upper Reaches overlooking the West Gate. His mother, Sienna Vandiir also resided with Andressil in the same apartment. Last but not least, he heard El'gor'an's father, Jorigan Doranu owned a tea shop in the Green Zone.

[kinem]

HIAM, MALCOLM, FIRVAIN, AIRE

Hiam relaxes a little when it seems that the Captain is satisfied with what he's been told about the murdered man, and seems unlikely to insist on hearing the remaining not-exactly-legal details of what he and the others have done.

Hearing about the Rat-King, he smacks himself on the forehead. So we must hunt wererats in the sewers after all ... I could've been paid for that!

If it seems like the waitress might be close enough to overhear the conversation, Hiam calls out to her "Child, we wish to have a private discussion. If you don't mind, please wait in the back, and we'll call for you if we need anything."

If not or once she leaves, he says "Captain, I appreciate your candor. The Guard has sometimes tried to recruit me, but I was never willing to seem to endorse the occupation. If there is anything I can do to help your vision for the city come to pass, please let me know. I'm glad to know - and I'm sure my companions are as well - that you were not a traitor.

I understand that you have a source about the shadow-thief, but how did you know that a shadow-creature was in the area tonight? Did someone else see it? I wonder if anyone else was sneaking around us tonight!

In fact, I am a sorcerer. Trying to escape my unseen enemy, I disguised myself. This armor isn't real, though I have some magical protections. I might as well admit that I am in fact a true elf; my name is Hiam.

I've heard a rumor about wererats in the sewers. I'd certainly be willing to help hunt down the shadow-thief and his rat." Looking in turn at Aire and Firvain. "What do you say, guys?

By the way, I've also heard a rumor that some group called the Midnight Syndicate prowls the Undercity. I'm not familiar with such things. Can you tell me anything about them?"

[Sylvaen]

HIAM, MALCOLM, FIRVAIN, AIRE

Slowly sipping the wine, Aire listened to both O'Malley's and Hiam's words. The hood he wore concealed his raised eyebrows when Hiam revealed his identity. He was expecting - and hoping - to run into a few of the local elves, but it seemed as if luck was on his side. Nevertheless, this elven sorcerer apparently had no idea where the other surviving elves were or how to contact them, and he seemed to have enough problems to deal with already. He could still be useful, the assassin pondered, but is it worth the extra trouble?

He pushed his hood a fraction of an inch back and met Hiam's eyes. He shrugged and relaxed in his chair.

"I can't say I'm thrilled with the prospect of playing pest control, and for no reward too." he said.

"And I don't think the Guard could hire my services, either. But I'm willing to go, as a favor to you both," he nodded to Hiam and O'Malley, "a favor that one day you may be able to return."

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm, Hiam, Aire, and Firvain

Malcolm acknowledges Hiam's confession with a nod. One can never be too careful when avoiding nightly assassins, he says, although inside he is considering the other two in a new light. He had not considered that they might be disguising themselves, foolish as that lapse of thought may have been. Are these two, as well, hiding their true nature? Time will tell, he supposes.

He takes a few sips of his wine, enjoying the liquid as it flows down his throat. My source was as mysterious as her love of riddles--which is to say, before my corroboration of the body in the bakery, I trusted her not a bit. Cloaked from head to toe in dark-clothing and with a severe allergy to speaking her true mind, I have no doubt she was skulking around while the deed was done. To whom she owes her allegiance beyond herself, I haven't a notion.

As for the Midnight Syndicate, they are a ragtag group of insane heretics who worship Ni'Kote and Jagon as the same deity. They are simply murderers, who kill for their own pleasure in the name of their "god". Their leader was killed, but apparently the body of the snake does not realize the head is missing: they still roam the streets in whispers, no doubt hoping to regain their former infamy.

Partaking of more of his wine, he turns to Aire as he makes his offer. Your help would be welcome, and I would do my best to see you compensated if you desire it. But if you desire a favor of me, know that such a boon would not be without limits nor be given unthinkingly.

[Sylvaen]

HIAM, MALCOLM, FIRVAIN, AIRE

"Captain, do not mistake me for a lawman or a fool," Aire replied bluntly, any diplomacy and charm gone from his voice. "I am not asking a favor for myself but for the elven folk of Kiiska. Have they wronged others? They did. Is genocide a fitting punishment? Most certainly not. And if that is not enough, I am asking a favor for people like her," -he pointed to wherever the barmaid has disappeared to - "People who deserve a chance to life without that kind of fear."

To his own surprise, Aire felt the words ring true and strong within him. The anxiety he had seen in the barmaid's eyes had touched him deeply. He had no qualms doing his work, he never hesitated even if his targets begged for their lives. However, he always knew they deserved their punishment or that their deaths were necessary for a much greater cause. It was more than law, it was the ultimate form of justice. There was nothing of that in what the Order did, or the elves before them, for that matter.

[kinem]

HIAM, MALCOLM, FIRVAIN, AIRE

"Perhaps your mysterious source was the assassin herself" Hiam tells Malcolm. "Although that area does seem to attract a most remarkable number of mysterious dark-cloaked people skulking unseen in the shadows. Who knows, there might have been a hundred more of them watching us!

"Perhaps you are more of an idealist than you prefer to admit" Hiam tells Aire. "I have no doubt that all of us here know that the occupation of Kiiska must one day end, and are willing to do our parts. But all races deserve to live without fear, even the humans. If violence can be avoided while achieving those ends, it should be. When you ask your favor of me, know that I will judge on those terms whether to agree to it."

Hiam raises his cup back to his lips and drinks more of the wine.

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm, Aire, Hiam, and Firvain

I'm curious, then, what I might have said to imply that doing simply that would require you to procure a favor from me, Malcolm replies, dry voice biting off the word "favor". That girl's reaction to my mere presence brought me distress you cannot even fathom. No man, woman, or child should fear their own government. If you simply desire my aid in improving the lot of the elves of Kiiska, then a favor isn't even required. I imagine, however, that the methods through which we both want to enact this improvement may differ wildly. I merely ask that you keep that in mind when you make your request, as I most certainly will.

Tapping out a cadence on the side of his flagon, Mal considers Hiam's concerns. That is a definite possibility, he concedes to the man's first concern. She seemed amused throughout her spiel, as the cat who'd caught the canary. It is probable you may yet get the chance to meet her. She dodged the point when I brought it up, but she lacked a shadow in the brightness of the moonlight. She is somehow connected to the shadow-thief, but only time will tell in what way.

[Sylvaen]

HIAM, MALCOLM, FIRVAIN, AIRE

"Let's not fool ourselves into thinking that peace and order will be the way of things," Aire replied to both. "It never is. If you expect anything else, you'll be very much disappointed. Am I an idealist? I believe in justice, but my idealism doesn't extend to thinking that justice somehow happens without anyone actively pursuing it."

He finished his wine, pulled his cape back to the front, and stood up.

"Captain, I want to trust that your intentions are as honorable as you say. Alas I cannot put the same faith in others wearing your uniform. Besides, I am not asking for a favor," he said, "it was yourself who have approached the three of us and requested assistance with your rat problem. I have heard you out and named a fair reward without setting conditions on things I am willing or unwilling to assist with. If reciprocating seems like too high a price, then our paths part here."

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm, Hiam, Aire, and Firvain

Malcolm nods. Indeed, I've asked you for aid in a well-defined manner. You know what to expect of my request--the same cannot be said for me of yours. You may ask for something equitable; you may not. Just as you want to trust my intentions, I would like to think you would ask for a reasonable request--but in these trying times, having a favor of a captain in the Kiiskan Guard would be quite tempting. If you are asking for an unconditional agreement to do whatever you ask at a later point in time, regardless of my own thoughts or ethics, then I agree that our paths now diverge, with my thanks for the help you have given.

If I may, though, he continues, taking out four gold coins and placing them onto the table. Just because one does not take the path you have chosen toward justice, does not mean that they are not actively pursuing justice.

Turning to Hiam, he asks, May I count on your aid? I will keep your name from my report if you still wish to remain detached from association with the Guard.

[kinem]

HIAM, MALCOLM, FIRVAIN, AIRE

"Of course I will help, and I appreciate that, Malcolm" Hiam says. He drinks the last bit of wine from his cup and sets it down, then stands up.

(to Aire and Firvain) "As for you two, you have great skill in stealth and battle, but have much to learn when it comes to helping people. But perhaps you will find that the sewer rats and the shadow thief are a threat to other friends of yours as well. Perhaps, too, you have a bit of unfinished business at the brothel? In any case, good night and good luck to you. I suspect we will meet again.

Come now, Captain. The two of us should seek allies elsewhere. I am eager to confront my mysterious enemy, but for tonight, do you know of a safe place where I can rest?"

[Sylvaen]

Aire shrugged, tossed a silver piece onto the table and nodded to everyone: "For the wine. Pleasant evening to you all."

As he walked out of the door, he turned briefly to the sorcerer: "Throdenilti-itmen mitne rechan'ic throdenilti-whedab sjachi."(*)

------
* - Draconic: "The brightest light casts the darkest shadows."

[kinem]

Hiam nods politely at Aire's parting phrase, unwilling to admit the fact that he has no idea what the man just said. Something in Draconic, maybe?

He too puts a silver piece onto the table.

"We're done. Good night" he calls towards the back room to the waitress just before leaving the tavern.

[Plushie Arz]

AIREA
Firvain took his leave shortly after Airea left the wine bar and the drow assassin was once again alone. He decided to take a more scenic route that would lead him a little further in the Lower Reaches, away from where he had previously encountered the other elves this evening. The pale wisps of moonlight streamed through the canopy ahead, casting thin splotches of pale blue over the tightly packed shanty houses and terraces. For the drow whose eyes were trained for the pitch black tunnels of the Underdark, the streets below were as clear as day.

The ceasefire had cleared the neighbourhood of rebels but in the quiet of the night, he saw three creatures moving with a half-limping gait into an alleyway. One was an emaciated wretch almost seven feet tall, with leathery skin stretched over a bony frame. A bloodied leopardskin hung from his back. His two companions were no less gruesome. One was a squat, middle aged man who looked as if he might have dwarven blood coursing through his hairy body. His grey hair was tangled and filled with bones and dozen of ritualistic scars were carved into his bare flesh. The third was a wide eyed half elven woman with untidy grey hair and blood-red eyes wrapped in a filthy black shroud. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings and constantly muttered to herself.

Even though he was eighty feet away, Airea could not mistake the look of madness that surrounded the three as they walked the streets into the alleyway.

HIAM, MALCOLM
They left the wine bar and navigated the empty streets until they arrived at the Silent Stings headquarters, a fortified outpost in the junction between the Lower Reaches and the Undercity. The guardsmen saluted Malcolm and Hiam could see the respect that was forged from loyalty in the vigilant stances.

The sorcerer saw the members of the guard were predominantly half-elves and although he couldn't recognise any of them, their features were common in many of Kiiska's more prominent citizens that he had known in his five centuries of life. He knew despite the persecution directed at the half elves of the Undercity when First Speaker Yurrlin ruled from the White Monarch, many of the younger nobles indulged their appetites on the half elves in the Undercity brothels and festhalls. He had even heard rumours of one elven lord who insisted his patronage on five generations of a half elven courtesan he had bedded in his youth, with full awareness that his paramours were probably of his blood.

As Malcolm led Hiam to his guest room, he saw Jor'ellean quietly walking down the halls. The short half-elf looked rather unremarkable in a worn brown doublet and biege, mud-stained trousers but the look served him well in his most recent mission. He tilted his head at the Captain, indicating his intention for a more private conversation.

[kinem]

HIAM, MALCOLM
They left the wine bar and navigated the empty streets until they arrived at the Silent Stings headquarters, a fortified outpost in the junction between the Lower Reaches and the Undercity. The guardsmen saluted Malcolm and Hiam could see the respect that was forged from loyalty in the vigilant stances.

The sorcerer saw the members of the guard were predominantly half-elves and although he couldn't recognise any of them, their features were common in many of Kiiska's more prominent citizens that he had known in his five centuries of life. He knew despite the persecution directed at the half elves of the Undercity when First Speaker Yurrlin ruled from the White Monarch, many of the younger nobles indulged their appetites on the half elves in the Undercity brothels and festhalls. He had even heard rumours of one elven lord who insisted his patronage on five generations of a half elven courtesan he had bedded in his youth, with full awareness that his paramours were probably of his blood.

As Malcolm led Hiam to his guest room, he saw Jor'ellean quietly walking down the halls. The short half-elf looked rather unremarkable in a worn brown doublet and biege, mud-stained trousers but the look served him well in his most recent mission. He tilted his head at the Captain, indicating his intention for a more private conversation.

HIAM, MALCOLM
Hiam maintained his half-elven disguise as he walked with Malcolm, knowing it would help him blend in with the Guard. He tells the Captain "While I'm in disguise, call me ... ah ... Fred. Fred Hunter."

Though the half-elves he saw were a reminder of the troubled history of the city, he was encouraged to see that the Captain seemed popular among the men. Perhaps he could someday be the kind of leader the city needs.

Though he needs to rest, when Hiam sees the plainly dressed half-elf wanting to speak to Malcolm, he gives the Captain an inquiring look. If this is about the rat-hunt, I want to hear it.

[Sylvaen]

AIREA
Firvain took his leave shortly after Airea left the wine bar and the drow assassin was once again alone. He decided to take a more scenic route that would lead him a little further in the Lower Reaches, away from where he had previously encountered the other elves this evening. The pale wisps of moonlight streamed through the canopy ahead, casting thin splotches of pale blue over the tightly packed shanty houses and terraces. For the drow whose eyes were trained for the pitch black tunnels of the Underdark, the streets below were as clear as day.

The ceasefire had cleared the neighbourhood of rebels but in the quiet of the night, he saw three creatures moving with a half-limping gait into an alleyway. One was an emaciated wretch almost seven feet tall, with leathery skin stretched over a bony frame. A bloodied leopardskin hung from his back. His two companions were no less gruesome. One was a squat, middle aged man who looked as if he might have dwarven blood coursing through his hairy body. His grey hair was tangled and filled with bones and dozen of ritualistic scars were carved into his bare flesh. The third was a wide eyed half elven woman with untidy grey hair and blood-red eyes wrapped in a filthy black shroud. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings and constantly muttered to herself.

Even though he was eighty feet away, Airea could not mistake the look of madness that surrounded the three as they walked the streets into the alleyway.

AIREA

Watching the limping figures from high above, Aire shivered at a distant memory of a place at the very bottom of Underdark. These people, however, were nowhere as terrifying as the - things - down there. He watched them enter the alley and slowly shifted weight, measuring distances. He found what he was looking for, a strong branch over the buildings that he could use. A nice long swing should take him from his perch onto the roof of one of the houses, where he could keep following them.

"Three madmen walk into an alley..." he muttered, wondering how a joke like that would go on.

Aire pulled back his cloak, unhooked a clasp on the contraption which held the black rod to his hip, and released the rod from its place on the belt. He touched a barely visible button at the side of the rod, and one end of it transformed into a trio of sharp barbed claws. A wide leather strap encircled his wrist, binding the rod to him firmly. He raised it, aimed one end of the rod towards the selected branch, and pressed the button again. With barely more than a whisper, the end of the rod launched itself forward, pulling out a seemingly endless length of thin but very strong black rope. As it flew through the air, the clawed projectile led the way, ready to grasp whatever it encountered, or bury its savage claws in it.

It took the projectile less than five heartbeats to reach the branch; Aire could sense the sudden stillness of the rod. He stepped to one side, pulled his cloak close to prevent it from flapping loudly, tugged on the rope to test its strength, and leaped into the night.

Rod Of Ropes, when used as a grappling device, can uncoil all of its 300ft of rope in one round. When it encounters a solid object (in this case a suitably large and strong branch), it latches itself onto it or sinks the claws in it and holds. Another press of the button would start reeling the rope back in (60ft/round) with enough power to pull up to 1000 lbs with it. Pushing a different button twice releases the grappler, reels the length of the rope back in and returns the rod to its inactive state.

[Thokk_Smash]

HIAM, MALCOLM
They left the wine bar and navigated the empty streets until they arrived at the Silent Stings headquarters, a fortified outpost in the junction between the Lower Reaches and the Undercity. The guardsmen saluted Malcolm and Hiam could see the respect that was forged from loyalty in the vigilant stances.

The sorcerer saw the members of the guard were predominantly half-elves and although he couldn't recognise any of them, their features were common in many of Kiiska's more prominent citizens that he had known in his five centuries of life. He knew despite the persecution directed at the half elves of the Undercity when First Speaker Yurrlin ruled from the White Monarch, many of the younger nobles indulged their appetites on the half elves in the Undercity brothels and festhalls. He had even heard rumours of one elven lord who insisted his patronage on five generations of a half elven courtesan he had bedded in his youth, with full awareness that his paramours were probably of his blood.

As Malcolm led Hiam to his guest room, he saw Jor'ellean quietly walking down the halls. The short half-elf looked rather unremarkable in a worn brown doublet and biege, mud-stained trousers but the look served him well in his most recent mission. He tilted his head at the Captain, indicating his intention for a more private conversation.

Malcolm and Hiam
Malcolm guides Hiam to the Silent Stings' headquarters with polite banter. Nodding in return to the guards' salutes, he begins to lead his new ally to a guest room. I only require two hours' rest, so we can begin our search in the early morning, he begins.

Noticing Jor'ellean, and Hiam's inquiring look, Mal inclines his head toward his office as he looks at his sergeant. Follow me, he says, to both Hiam and Jor'ellean.

Shutting the door firmly behind them, Mal sits behind his desk and gestures for Hiam and Jor'ellean to sit opposite him. Sergeant Jor'ellean, Fred Hunter. Fred Hunter, sergeant Jor'ellean. Sir Hunter is willing to help me flush out the Rat King. The good sergeant has been investigating a possible connection to the rat monarch. Sergeant, if you would please share what you've managed to find.

[Plushie Arz]

AIREA
The drow assassin perched on the branches to spy on the three as they made their way into the alley. A gathering seemed to be taking place and he spotted a dozen bare-chested misfits, some with bone masks and others with streaks of red and ritualistic piercings on their face and torsos. They were gathered around a dark green lizardwoman whose reptilian face was highlighted with dabs of white powder that gave her the visage of a toothy skull. He couldn't quite hear what was going on from his vantage point but it seemed the madmen (and women) were enraptured by what the lizardwoman had to say.

MALCOLM, HIAM
Jor'ellean seemed taken back at Malcolm's willingness to include Hiam in the discussions but said nothing. They entered the office and the three men took seats around the Captain's desk.

"So I followed up the leads on this Zaros as requested. A Tuh'raan forger and suspected associate of the Rat King." He added, for Hiam's sake. "And I managed to find his sister. Slipped a few bags of gold and she started talking. Says our friend was feeling nervous in the weeks before his disappearance. Amassed gold. A tremendous amount of gold to buy protection from the Kiiskan Guard. Says he also contacted a weaponsmith to forge him a magical weapon. Made payment in full even before the thing was completed. I followed that lead up as well. Look."

He produced a grey wooden box with the seal of Pashan Uranin, a skilled enchanter and smith who made his business in the Middle Reaches. While many more talented Kiiskan weaponsmiths made their businesses in the security of the Green Zone, Pashan considered it his duty to provide powerful armaments to all who had the resources to pay for them. Malcolm opened the box to see a silvered thinblade made for close quarter combat. Hiam could see the enchantments of bane that made the weapon especially deadly to shapeshifters.

[kinem]

MALCOLM, HIAM
"Pleased to meet you Sergeant Jor'ellean" Hiam says.

"I know a thing or two about magic, and that weapon is made to be extra effective against shapeshifters, such as wererats. It seems that Zaros expected an attack from his own rat-like associates.

I have not yet been given the full rundown, so forgive me if I must ask some basic questions. Do you know where to start if we were to try and find this Rat King and his associates? I assume the sewers, but I'm hoping for something more specific.

Have any of his men been arrested yet? Is it allowable to use magic in questioning those who have been?

And, just what is the proper legal procedure if we were to encounter, say, a wererat in the sewer? I mean, that in itself is no proof that he is a criminal. Yet it seems likely that he might be part of the Rat King's organization, which we have reason to believe is involved in criminal activities."

[Sylvaen]

AIREA
The drow assassin perched on the branches to spy on the three as they made their way into the alley. A gathering seemed to be taking place and he spotted a dozen bare-chested misfits, some with bone masks and others with streaks of red and ritualistic piercings on their face and torsos. They were gathered around a dark green lizardwoman whose reptilian face was highlighted with dabs of white powder that gave her the visage of a toothy skull. He couldn't quite hear what was going on from his vantage point but it seemed the madmen (and women) were enraptured by what the lizardwoman had to say.

AIREA

As he stared down at the little gathering, Aire had to admit he was disappointed. From the way Sharding spoke about these deranged creatures, the assassin would have thought their numbers would be far greater. A dozen didn't seem like enough to worry about. On the other hand, these might only be lieutenants or leaders of their own cells. The key to them, nevertheless, seemed to be the lizardwoman. Even with his keen hearing, Aire couldn't understand her quiet muttering, and while approaching the group was a tempting idea, the assassin knew value of patience.

He reached for his spyglass, extended it, and began studying the group - and the lizardwoman in particular. He would need as much information as could be gathered.


What interests Aire most is this: 1) Is the lizardwoman carrying any trappings of a spellcaster or priest? She will surely carry some kind of amulet, most likely dedicated to their false "god".. Aire is looking for other items of mystical nature. 2) Of the dozen or so creatures (humans) around her, does it seem like there are any bodyguards or protectors of such nature? 3) Does the lizardwoman move like someone used to being fast and nimble, does she seem to rely more on her strength, or does neither physical strength nor agility seem to be her forte?

Unless anything new happens, Aire will wait till the little meeting is over, and then he'll keep an eye on the lizardwoman..

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM, MALCOLM
"No arrests yet. We don't even know who this Rat King is or if it's just a flashy moniker. I've heard the Moldervine Lane might be a good place to start looking. Alot of ocelots have been seen around there of late, looking for a feed."

"I'm sure the Captain can give you the specifics but while all attempts should be made in the arrest of prisoners, we can't be at fault if the sod gets killed resisting arrest. If magic can help, then by all means use it. We haven't worked much with casters before, Mr Hunter. Often it's the other way around."

AIREA
The lizardwoman seemed neither strong nor fast but Airea could see the trappings of powerful necromancy in a purple jewel that she wore around the neck. He knew of similar amulets employed by priestesses of Ni'Kote in the Underdark but the unlike the elegant spiderlike designs, the craftmanship of this trinket seemed more rustic and savage. She also had bracers of silver around her ankles and wrists that emanated a protective field.

Looking around, the drow saw a large apelike creature with a metal face mask and black feathered wings sprouting from its back. It stood at over seven feet tall, with a nude muscular body covered in black fur and its sharp teeth protruding from its salivating maw. The creature reminded Airea of a Darkling but it seemed too simian, and too crude to be a member of the proud and powerful race that caused such havoc in the Second Darkstar War.

The meeting eventually dispersed and the lizardwoman and creature were left alone.

[Thokk_Smash]

MALCOLM, HIAM
"Pleased to meet you Sergeant Jor'ellean" Hiam says.

"I know a thing or two about magic, and that weapon is made to be extra effective against shapeshifters, such as wererats. It seems that Zaros expected an attack from his own rat-like associates.

I have not yet been given the full rundown, so forgive me if I must ask some basic questions. Do you know where to start if we were to try and find this Rat King and his associates? I assume the sewers, but I'm hoping for something more specific.

Have any of his men been arrested yet? Is it allowable to use magic in questioning those who have been?

And, just what is the proper legal procedure if we were to encounter, say, a wererat in the sewer? I mean, that in itself is no proof that he is a criminal. Yet it seems likely that he might be part of the Rat King's organization, which we have reason to believe is involved in criminal activities."


HIAM, MALCOLM
"No arrests yet. We don't even know who this Rat King is or if it's just a flashy moniker. I've heard the Moldervine Lane might be a good place to start looking. Alot of ocelots have been seen around there of late, looking for a feed."

"I'm sure the Captain can give you the specifics but while all attempts should be made in the arrest of prisoners, we can't be at fault if the sod gets killed resisting arrest. If magic can help, then by all means use it. We haven't worked much with casters before, Mr Hunter. Often it's the other way around."

Malcolm and Hiam
It is as the sergeant says--we have yet to apprehend anyone connected to the Rat King. You may use any spells you think may help on hostile assets, within reason. I would consider any wererat found in the sewer to be a potential source of information on the goings-ons of the Rat King until ruled out as such. However, we cannot bring every wererat in the sewer back to headquarters to question, and thus proper procedure is to introduce myself and state my purpose. As with you three earlier, I quickly interrogate them to ascertain whether they have relevant intel before proceeding further to either bring them in or let them be. If they resist arrest, as Jor'ellean said, they are subdued.

I will not, however, hold you to those same standards, as you are not officially acting as a member of the Guard. Merely maintain your own perspective and do not cross the boundaries of the law, and we will have no issues. I will bear in mind your unfamiliarity with procedure, as I do not have time to fully brief you on it; as long as you remember that our cooperation will not absolve you of any egregious oversteps. I hope you understand.

Sergeant, did the asset's sister have information as to his whereabouts? Did you find any leads on Varos himself after his disappearing act with the rat swarm?

Moldervine Lane, eh? With a lead in sight, Mal wishes to begin immediately, regardless of the time of night. It would be nice if Hiam were agreeable to it, but even with his elven blood he must trance longer than Mal must sleep.

[kinem]

HIAM, MALCOLM
"No arrests yet. We don't even know who this Rat King is or if it's just a flashy moniker. I've heard the Moldervine Lane might be a good place to start looking. Alot of ocelots have been seen around there of late, looking for a feed."

"I'm sure the Captain can give you the specifics but while all attempts should be made in the arrest of prisoners, we can't be at fault if the sod gets killed resisting arrest. If magic can help, then by all means use it. We haven't worked much with casters before, Mr Hunter. Often it's the other way around."

HIAM, MALCOLM
Hiam replies "Hmm. Not that I'm saying that I personally could charm a prisoner; I was wondering if there are any spellcasters with the Guard, is all.

Captain, I think I understand, and my ... uh ... sword is at your service if you want to go right away. But if there's no need to, I'd prefer to rest about eight hours before we begin our quest. Then we can check out this Moldervine Lane to start.

Speaking of swords, it might not be a bad idea to borrow that piece of evidence in case you feel a need to poke something sharp at a wererat. Do you suppose the two of us will suffice for the investigation, or is there another person or two we should bring?"

Hiam doesn't know any charm spell per se. He could however cast dominate person, which should work on a wererat since they are still of the humanoid type.

[Thokk_Smash]

HIAM, MALCOLM
Hiam replies "Hmm. Not that I'm saying that I personally could charm a prisoner; I was wondering if there are any spellcasters with the Guard, is all.

Captain, my ... uh ... sword is at your service if you want to go right away, but if there's no need to, I'd prefer to rest about eight hours before we begin our quest. Then I suppose we can check out this Moldervine Lane.

Speaking of swords, it might not be a bad idea to borrow that piece of evidence in case you feel a need to poke something sharp at a wererat. Do you suppose the two of us will suffice for the investigation, or is there another person or two we should bring?"

Hiam doesn't know any charm spell per se. He could however cast dominate person, which should work on a wererat since they are still of the humanoid type.

Malcolm and Hiam
The Guard has spellcasters, indeed. The Stings, however, comprise of archers and little else. Spellcasters are in short supply for us, and so we make do with our namesake.

Ah, yes, spellcasters and their rest. A necessary burden, he supposes, though one that impedes at times. Rest, if that will ensure you are fully ready to go spelunking for wererats and their liege. I only require two hours of sleep, so I will meet you when you are done. I will make a preliminarily investigation in the meantime.

As for the blade, I'm as likely to cut myself as an enemy during pitched combat with a blade. I have silvered arrows for lycanthropes, so all I need is my bow. My honor guard have their own directives, so I will not be able to spare them for the investigation.

[kinem]

Malcolm and Hiam
The Guard has spellcasters, indeed. The Stings, however, comprise of archers and little else. Spellcasters are in short supply for us, and so we make do with our namesake.

Ah, yes, spellcasters and their rest. A necessary burden, he supposes, though one that impedes at times. Rest, if that will ensure you are fully ready to go spelunking for wererats and their liege. I only require two hours of sleep, so I will meet you when you are done. I will make a preliminarily investigation in the meantime.

As for the blade, I'm as likely to cut myself as an enemy during pitched combat with a blade. I have silvered arrows for lycanthropes, so all I need is my bow. My honor guard have their own directives, so I will not be able to spare them for the investigation.

Malcolm and Hiam
Hiam replies "I see. Actually swordplay is not my only talent; I'm a fair shot with a bow as well.

How long ago did Zaros vanish? Do you think he might be still alive but in immediate danger? If so I should perhaps start my own preliminary investigation right away, which would take me about an hour to, ah, cast about for a possible lead so to speak - although I likely don't have enough about him to reliably go on away. Starting the attempt in his former residence might be a good idea. Captain, I'll explain to you what I have in mind, if it comes to that. Actually, I could lend you the means to do it yourself, but it's best if I do it so I could best help us get where we need to be if we do find him. But I get the impression that he disappeared several days ago.

If not, I'll see you in the morning. It was good to meet you, Sergeant Jor'ellean."

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM, MALCOLM
"No idea. He's been missing for a few days too as well and she's worried about him meeting a bad end. Quite uncharacteristic, apparently." He stood up and shook Hiam's hand when he left. "Good to meet you, Mr Hunter. Captain. I'll take my leave."

* * *

-Day 12 of Helarm's ceasefire

It was early morning when Hiam recovered his spells. The recruits were in the training yard conducting their exercises and Malcolm noticed a few new faces with the Steel Leaf insignia handing out wooden training poles and demonstrating the reach of a longspear.

[Thokk_Smash]

HIAM, MALCOLM
"No idea. He's been missing for a few days too as well and she's worried about him meeting a bad end. Quite uncharacteristic, apparently." He stood up and shook Hiam's hand when he left. "Good to meet you, Mr Hunter. Captain. I'll take my leave."

* * *

-Day 12 of Helarm's ceasefire

It was early morning when Hiam recovered his spells. The recruits were in the training yard conducting their exercises and Malcolm noticed a few new faces with the Steel Leaf insignia handing out wooden training poles and demonstrating the reach of a longspear.

Malcolm and Hiam
The sight of the Steel Leaf soldiers mingling with his own brings a swell of warmth to Mal's breast. The Stings are becoming part of the Guard, and they will become an important part before he is through.

He watches and oversees the training exercises for a bit, seeing how well his recruits are doing. He then goes to find Hiam, to begin their investigation on Moldervine Lane.

[kinem]

HIAM, MALCOLM

Ah, good to get some rest finally. Hiam's scratches from last night have healed, and he eats a quick breakfast of his magically renewing trail rations after preparing his spells, washing it down with water - judging that it's too early in the day for wine. As usual, he casts mage armor on himself.

When the Captain knocks on his door he opens it. "Good morning Captain. Come in, I want to tell you what I have in mind."

When the Captain is in the room and the door is closed, he continues "I have a crystal that lets me scry on someone - that is, to see the person and their surroundings from afar. It doesn't always work, since the magic can be resisted. It's more likely to work if I have a connection with the person - if I haven't met him a good description or a painting helps, and a personal item of his would help. It takes an hour to try it, and if it doesn't work I must wait a day before trying again.

What I propose is to go to Zaros' house since his items will be there, and then try to scry him. If he's dead, I believe I will find that out, since when it doesn't work I normally know that the subject resisted it. If he's alive and I see him, then I can use that image to teleport us to his current location. There's a risk that the teleport will go wrong, but a small one, and even if it does I can try again or at least get us home."

[Thokk_Smash]

HIAM, MALCOLM

Ah, good to get some rest finally. Hiam's scratches from last night have healed, and he eats a quick breakfast of his magically renewing trail rations after preparing his spells, washing it down with water - judging that it's too early in the day for wine. As usual, he casts mage armor on himself.

When the Captain knocks on his door he opens it. "Good morning Captain. Come in, I want to tell you what I have in mind."

When the Captain is in the room and the door is closed, he continues "I have a crystal that lets me scry on someone - that is, to see the person and their surroundings from afar. It doesn't always work, since the magic can be resisted. It's more likely to work if I have a connection with the person - if I haven't met him a good description or a painting helps, and a personal item of his would help. It takes an hour to try it, and if it doesn't work I must wait a day before trying again.

What I propose is to go to Zaros' house since his items will be there, and then try to scry him. If he's dead, I believe I will find that out, since when it doesn't work I normally know that the subject resisted it. If he's alive and I see him, then I can use that image to teleport us to his current location. There's a risk that the teleport will go wrong, but a small one, and even if it does I can try again or at least get us home."

Malcolm and Hiam
Malcolm listens to Hiam's suggestions, nodding thoughtfully. That seems like a sound strategy. As a known criminal and a person of interest regarding the Rat King, Scrying for him is justified. Seeing as Zaros cleared out of his home, he may not have left many personal items there, but it does not hurt to try.

If the scrying attempt fails, we can then investigate Moldervine Lane. I've made my preparations, so when you are ready, we can be off to Zaros' former home. Before they leave Mal makes sure to put his silvered arrows in a more prominent space in his quiver, just to be extra cautious. The last time the Guard approached that building, rats swarmed them. With Zaros gone that is unlikely to repeat itself, but better safe than sorry.

Once Hiam is ready, Mal leads the way to Zaros' building.

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM, MALCOLM
Zaro's former hideout was a disued smelter at the end of Old Styr Lane. The neighbourhood row was full of haphazardly constructed terraces and huts, most not over three storeys in height with sloping thatched rooves made from stacks of overlapping bark and covered with a layer of pitch. The area seemed to have been in decay for some time, the walls crumbling and hastily repaired with salvaged pieces of board. Graffiti covered the shutters and even though it was the middle of the day, the inhabitants kept the blinds drawn and the windows empty.

Hiam and Malcolm approached the building, noticing the gaps between the brick walls of the terraces where rats could traverse with ease and disappear while a larger creature, say a Kiiskan Guardsman could be easily overwhelmed. The door looked as if it had been forced open although the boot prints did not reach beyond a landing where a narrow set of rickety wooden stairs led to the blackmailer's abode above the smelter shop.

[kinem]

Hiam, Malcolm
Along the way Hiam asks Malcolm to tell him any details about Zaros that he can; not just appearance but also anything else he might remember.

Seeing the condition of Zaros' shop, Hiam says "Perhaps we should check out the shop first. If Zaros is dead, his body may be there." He lets the Captain take the lead knowing that the guardsman has better training in perceiving lurking foes.

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam
Malcolm briefs Hiam on the complied file on Zaros he had commissioned. It had held everything of note on Zaros the Guard had collected, and after studying for the better part of an hour last night he can say the details from memory.

I can't remember right now how much has been said about Zaros in the IC, other than that he was a blackmailer and he lived on this street. I know it's written in the IC, but it's really late. Malcolm knows more than I do, so this was basically me asking Plushie to give any relevant info on Zaros he thinks Malcolm would know. Sorry for being so vague about it.

Once in front of the building, Malcolm's gaze sweeps over the decrepit foundation and walls, and then to the neighboring streets and buildings. Shameful, the level of disrepair it has fallen to--not for the denizens, but for the Kiiskan Guard whose priority is to its people. Setting his mind to the task at hand, he cautiously walks through the threshold of the building. His hawk-like eyes observe the landing floor for any signs of where the rats came from, or whether there are tracks from inside the building, and thus not from the Kiiskan Guard.

If Zaros is dead and was connected to the Rat King, his body is likely not in this location any longer. If not because the cultists want to keep a paranoid priest from interrogating his spirit, then to feed the body to their rats. No, I believe we will find more important information in his former home.

Careful on those stairs, he says as he tests the wooden stairs with his foot, putting his weight on gradually. If they will hold his weight, he walks up them carefully.

Spot check for anything interesting on the ground floor: [roll0]
Survival check for tracks: [roll1]

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM, MALCOLM
Zaros was a Tuh'raan forger and a small time criminal who was widely known among the rogues who worked the Undercity. Reportedly a plain looking man with grey skin and dark blue hair, he was known to target nobles with scandalous knowledge of their vices and excesses. Nobody knew how he obtained such information but the guard did not truly see him as much of a threat until recently.

Cautiously, Malcolm and Hiam ascended the steps. The decayed timber footings were narrow and creaked under the weight of the two men but eventually, they managed to climb to the first storey of the building. It was a small and modest apartment, with a main room ten by ten feet wide with bleached plaster walls and dark floorboards the colour of ink. The first thing the two men noticed was the state of the apartment, which looked as if Zaros had left in a great hurry. A divan, covered in clothes A plate of unfinished rice, swarming with flies was on a stone table and a six foot tall bookshelf was emptied. A conical scorch mark was on the wall opposite, as if someone had cast a burning hands spell in the confines of the dwelling.

[Thokk_Smash]

HIAM, MALCOLM
Zaros was a Tuh'raan forger and a small time criminal who was widely known among the rogues who worked the Undercity. Reportedly a plain looking man with grey skin and dark blue hair, he was known to target nobles with scandalous knowledge of their vices and excesses. Nobody knew how he obtained such information but the guard did not truly see him as much of a threat until recently.

Cautiously, Malcolm and Hiam ascended the steps. The decayed timber footings were narrow and creaked under the weight of the two men but eventually, they managed to climb to the first storey of the building. It was a small and modest apartment, with a main room ten by ten feet wide with bleached plaster walls and dark floorboards the colour of ink. The first thing the two men noticed was the state of the apartment, which looked as if Zaros had left in a great hurry. A divan, covered in clothes A plate of unfinished rice, swarming with flies was on a stone table and a six foot tall bookshelf was emptied. A conical scorch mark was on the wall opposite, as if someone had cast a burning hands spell in the confines of the dwelling.

Malcolm and Hiam
By all accounts, Zaros is a small-fry who acts as a man with twice his weight. He must have connections to get the information he has, but whether that contact is within the Guard or the nobility is unknown. I suppose his work as a forger brings him to work with many unscrupulous figures in Kiiska.

Looking around the room, he makes careful note of the floor before him before stepping forward. He checks especially for signs of footprints of multiple people--perhaps Zaros was paid a visit by his contacts in the Rat King's domain before the Guard arrived. It would certainly explain his hurried departure. Signs of a struggle, with those scorch marks. Did his contacts frighten him, I wonder, before telling him of his impending guests? No blood, so it is likely Zaros is not dead--at least, he did not die here.

Will those clothes be enough to strengthen your scrying? he asks Hiam, gesturing to the divan and its contents. I don't know if the magic will consider discarded clothing to be his possessions, but they were once his possessions, no?

He gives Hiam however much space he needs as he paces the apartment. He searches every room, every nook and cranny for anything that may prove useful. With the spell requiring an hour, he has plenty of time to search.

Survival check on the floorboards; if Mal's lucky, there's enough dust or scratch marks to show how many people were there: [roll0]

Essentially take 20 on Search for 22.

[kinem]

Malcolm and Hiam
By all accounts, Zaros is a small-fry who acts as a man with twice his weight. He must have connections to get the information he has, but whether that contact is within the Guard or the nobility is unknown. I suppose his work as a forger brings him to work with many unscrupulous figures in Kiiska.

Looking around the room, he makes careful note of the floor before him before stepping forward. He checks especially for signs of footprints of multiple people--perhaps Zaros was paid a visit by his contacts in the Rat King's domain before the Guard arrived. It would certainly explain his hurried departure. Signs of a struggle, with those scorch marks. Did his contacts frighten him, I wonder, before telling him of his impending guests? No blood, so it is likely Zaros is not dead--at least, he did not die here.

Will those clothes be enough to strengthen your scrying? he asks Hiam, gesturing to the divan and its contents. I don't know if the magic will consider discarded clothing to be his possessions, but they were once his possessions, no?

Hiam, Malcolm
"Not just any struggle. That scorch is from a spell. Do you think Zaros could have been a sorcerer?!? That could be important especially with the shadow thief in the picture.

Enough of a connection to scry? Maybe."

Hiam gathers some of the clothing. He also searches for any bits of Zaros' hair that might be around, especially if there is a cot or the like somewhere in the place.

OOC: search [roll0]. Well, take 20 then. No rush 😛

He then pulls out his scrying shard and begins to concentrate, beginning the spell to try to find Zaros.

OOC: Will neg DC 16-5+4 = 15, or 21 if he finds the hair.

[Plushie Arz]

DM: Actually, I think Sylvaen hasn't posted in a while. We can do away with spoiler tags.

MALCOLM, HIAM
Malcolm could see from the scratch marks on the timber floorboards that Zaros had been interrupted during his meal. Curiously enough, the single pair of boot prints appeared nowhere close to the conical scorch mark and the rest of the marks looked as if they may have been made by Zaros himself as he cleared his belongings from the shelves.

Hiam located a number of blue hairs in the divan and he started the scrying, peering into his focus shard and trying to locate the forger....

It was dark and he saw a Tuh'raan man with grey skin and shoulder length blue hair shackled in a concrete cell. The floor was covered with dry straw and the pale glow of dancing lights bathed the room with an alien green glow. The Tuh'raan looked thin, as if he hadn't been fed in a number of days although a plate of food was at his feet, untouched. He had a wild-eyed appearance to him as he thrashed against his manacles, the steel digging into his scarred wrists. "I won't! I won't!" He shouted. He looked to the scrying sensor and made a motion as if to cast but the spell fizzled before it could even take effect...

[kinem]

Hiam, Malcolm

Hiam describes what he sees.

"So he is a caster. I'll try to dominate him. Once there we can decide if we want to try to teleport him out with us right away, or to explore from the cell. Ready yourself; it's possible that some guard can watch the cell, though it seems likely that Zaros is isolated right now."

He casts dragonskin (red) and shield on himself as a precaution, then detect magic to try to use through the scrying sensor. His illusory appearance as a half-elf doesn't change. When the Captain is ready, he grips the man's arm and casts teleport.

If the teleport works he raises his finger to his lips to tell Zaros to shush, then casts dominate person (will neg DC 22) on the blackmailer.

OOC: teleport [roll0]

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM, MALCOLM
Hiam made motions through the air and within seconds, the two men found themselves in the small concrete cell. The first thing Malcolm noticed was the dryness of the vault and the rank odour of piss and faeces from the latrine bucket in the corner of the cell. Zaros struggled against the bonds when Hiam approached. Before the sorcerer could cast his enchantment, he felt the air around him becoming heavy. His draconic scales receded into his flesh and his rounded ears sharpened as he resumed his usual appearance.

Malcolm felt it too, as his armour and weapons felt more mundane, the powerful enchantments suppressed in the area. It was the unmistakable sensation of an antimagic zone.

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam
Malcolm gathers his thoughts as Hiam explains the situation. Zaros being a caster would help explain how he seems to know so much about the nobility; invisibility and enchantments would help him go far in that regard. He nods his readiness and prepares himself for the Astral journey.

Once there, he immediately looks to the doorway to see if it is barred or a full door. When the stuffy, heavy feeling descends upon them, he curses in his mind. There goes our escape route, he thinks to himself as he attempts to get out of sight from the door. An anti magic field is a powerful defense, and effort-costly to maintain. Zaros is being held by someone powerful, and someone cautious.

Crouching next to the doorway, he looks at Zaros. Talking as softly as he can, he says, Zaros, Captain Malcolm O'Malley. Where are we right now, and how did you end up here? Who is holding you captive?

Hide check vs the outside of the door in case there's enough cover standing next to the door: [roll0]

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM, HIAM
Three of the walls were made of stone but the fourth wall, opposite the captured Tuh'raan seemed to be made of an organic wood. Despite the nature of the growth however, Malcolm was unable to cut it with his now mundane knives. Hiam recognised the organic structure as trollwood, a type of symbiotic vine that proved almost impossible to cut save for acid and fire and would continually regenerate damaged fibres. The former Kiiskan Council bred and used trollwood growths as living prisons and they had trained them to open and seal.

"Thought I'd call the guard for help and instead get knocked out by a wererat who commands shadows. I came to in this cell. Never been here before and my magic's useless."

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam

Calling the Guard for aid? There were scorch marks in your apartment--did you try to fight off that wererat, then? Why did you want to call the Guard for help in the first place? When you were captured, the Guard was coming to bring you in on orders from Captain Firael. Did you know about that?

Looking at the currently-impenetrable door, he grimaces. When they get out, he's getting those dragonsbreath arrows Walter had mentioned--never know when a bit of fire could be useful, like he'd said. How often do the guards make their rounds? How often do you get your meals, and do they come inside to give it to you?

[kinem]

I didn't expect such a trap. Hiam feels sort of naked without his magic, but tries to take reassurance from the Captain's businesslike manner.

"This anti-magic field wasn't here before we arrived. There were dancing lights. Has the anti-magic been here at any other time since you got here, Zaros, and if so for how long?

In any case, while you answer the Captain, please tell us of this shadow-loving rat. We seem to have plenty of time so spare no detail."

Hiam will investigate the corners of the cell on the off chance that there is a spot not reached by the anti-magic field.

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM, MALCOLM
"A contingency set off by your teleport." Croaked Zaros. "They figured I might've gotten help so they decided to shut it down."

Despite Hiam's best efforts, he was unable to find an opening in the antimagic field that covered the cell. However, he managed to spot an area opposite where the stonework was weakened. Perhaps if somebody had applied adequate force, there may be the opportunity to create an opening.

"Your colleague doesn't like some of the dirt I have on him but can't move against me openly. Lucky I've got a few of the guards on my side to stack up my numbers. All the good that did me." He scoffed. "The wererat takes hybrid form. You know what that is right? Rat head, humanoid body. Moves fast as a blighter so can't find out who he is."

"The food's laced with some fungus. Turns your brain to mush. A wererat jailer comes every few hours to put in a new plate and empty out my bucket."

[kinem]

Hiam, Malcolm

Hiam points out the area of weak stone. "Malcolm, if you have an adamantine arrow, perhaps you could use it as a tool to chip away that area. Though we may be better off waiting quietly to surprise the jailer. Also, I think the anti-magic field may only last for a couple of hours.

Zaros, we are your only chance to survive this. It would not be wise to hold out on us.

What does your captor want of you? I heard you say you won't do it. Do what?

Is he the one known as the Rat King? If not what is their connection? What magic does he wield? You said he controls shadows; explain what you meant."

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam
And what dirt might that be? he asks, voice carefully neutral. Equal parts of him want to not have confirmation of the other Captain's corruption, and want to know exactly how far some of his fellows have gone.

Looking toward the area of weak stone, he pads softly over to it as he withdraws an adamantine-tipped arrow. How good are you with that sword? he asks softly as he begins to chip away at the weakened masonry. With Zaros weakened with hunger and all of us inside of an anti magic field, I need to know whether you'll be able to help take on that jailer when he comes.

To Zaros, he says, We are going to get you out of here, but we must know what you know of these people.

Do I roll damage for the weakened part of the wall? Without there being a time crunch, I figure we can just assume he deals some damage with the adamantine arrow since it ignores hardness up to 20.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM, HIAM
"They want me to find out the location of Hightree, the stronghold of the Serpent's Fang." Said Zaros, as Malcolm and Hiam chipped away at the weakened wall. The small size of the arrowhead made progress slow and with sore hands, they had only managed to make a hole large enough for a closed fist. "It's madness. You cross the Archmage and you die."

Both Malcolm and Hiam were aware of the reputation of Lerethi Magdellar, the former Archmage of Kiiska. Malcolm read the reports that she once sat on the ruling council and used her potent magic to survey and round up the dissidents and half elves who questioned her rule. For alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity, she is one of the Order's most wanted fugitives although her grasp of powerful magic shielded her from the scrying of the Arcane Corps. Hiam had heard since the occupation, she transformed the Serpent's Fang from a ruined arcanist's guild into a powerful and well-supplied resistance force against the Order.

"He made references to a Rat King so I doubt he's the one. He conjures moving shadows with his bare hands. Makes them appear from nowhere."

"But I've heard of the Rat King spread around before. They're afraid of him. Someone who's building a shadow empire under the streets of Kiiska. I heard he's involved with the Guard."

[kinem]

Hiam, Malcolm

Hiam replies "To be honest the sword is mostly for show. I'd fare a bit better with a bow, but I've never needed to carry one. If the jailer is stuck in elvenoid form and has little combat experience, I could probably take him. If not ... That must be your task, Captain. I guess from now on I should carry a bow with silver arrows and an adamantine sledgehammer for these situations.

Maybe we could fashion makeshift gloves to make the stone chipping easier on our hands."

He peers through the small hole in the wall, trying to see what might be outside. He also tries to wrap his hand in a scrap of clothing.

OOC: How much time has passed?

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM, MALCOLM
Hiam guessed they had been digging for fifteen minutes or so. The hole was large enough to reach through and Hiam could see black dirt and roots behind the stonework. More importantly however, he reached through the hole and sensed the antimagic zone did not extend beyond the confines of the cell.

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam
Involved with the Guard? Preposterous, Malcolm scoffs as he chips away at the stonework. After the first five minutes he takes out a pair of sturdy gloves stitched with the O'Malley symbol and puts one glove on. Offering the other to Hiam, he says to Zaros, Where did you hear that?

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM, HIAM
"Half your captains have a hand in every underhanded vice that goes on in the city. Suspicious isn't it, that the Guard regiments are being attacked? I won't be surprised if the Rat King is one of your own looking to intimidate or eliminate rivals." Zaros rattled his manacles. "While you're at it, mind getting me out of these chains? Preferably with my wrists intact? I will send you my healer's bill if you break anything, you know."

Malcolm and Hiam kept digging, carving out the blocks of stone. They sensed movement from the other side of the trollvine wall. Someone was coming.

[kinem]

HIAM, MALCOLM

Hiam sighed when he saw nothing but dirt and roots beyond the hole in the wall. Though he'd expected it, he was reassured to note that the anti-magic field didn't extend past the wall. It would be exhausting, but even if an alarm has been triggered and the jailer won't be back - or if the jailer seals the trollvine before Malcolm can take him - it now seemed likely that he and Malcolm could eventually dig their way to teleport to freedom before succumbing to dehydration. Gratefully, he accepts Malcolm's glove.

Though he has little trust for the blackmailer, everything the man has said so far seems believable. He readily believed that outside of Malcolm and his unit, corruption was common in the Guard. Still, the fact that Guard units were being attacked wasn't much evidence; the Rat King might simply be an elf who begrudges the half-elves' role in the fall of the city, or a criminal brazen enough to believe that he could run the city if the Guard could be weakened.

Upon hearing noise from beyond the trollvine he whispers "Finally, our chance." He draws his sword and attempts to find a corner where he won't be immediately spotted, though he suspects that effort is futile. Ah well, no use worrying about what I can't change.

Another idea occurs to him. "It might be best to bull rush him out of the cell. Maybe I can enspell him there."

hide [roll0]
initiative [roll1]
AC 14, flatfooted 10; hp 55/55; attack +6/+1 melee (1d8, crit 19-20/x2)

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam

Suppositions and thoughts from a professed criminal carry little weight on their own, Malcolm says firmly. His colleagues in the Guard may have fallen low, but surely they have not fallen low enough to go against the hand that fed them. He dismisses it as a possibility akin to him being able to replace his father as patriarch without murdering the O'Malleys' future.

He ignores the criminal's request. He cannot trust him not to bolt the second the coast is clear, and then they'd be back where they started. When they sense movement from beyond the door, he puts away his arrow and takes up an ambush position. There isn't much room to build up momentum for a charge here, he comments, though he attempts to both hide and get in position to rush the jailer if he appears weak enough. Mal would much prefer to stick with his bow, but he can realize Hiam is better off outside of this room.

He nocks an arrow and tenses himself for action once the door opens.

Hide: [roll0] not including nonfunctional Gloves of Dex in AMF.
Initiative: [roll1]

AC: 20, FF: 15

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM, HIAM
The vine wall opened and a rodent's face peered through the opening. It didn't seem to spot Malcolm who concealed his presence in the darkness but focused on Hiam. "You!" Screeched the man sized rat. A glint of steel appeared in his hands as he produced two daggers. "You're not leaving this cell alive!"

Initiative
Ratman: [roll0]
Malcolm: 22
Hiam: 14

########
#..............#
#............R#
#ZM........H#
########

DM: Sorry for the dodgy map. I don't have access to my illustrator tonight. Ratman is 10 ft away from Malcolm.

The wererat didn't need to travel far to close the distance between himself and the elven mage. Baring his fangs, he slashed at Hiam with the sharp tips of his two blades.

(1d20+12)[32]
Damage: (1d4+6)[9]
(1d20+10)[23]
Damage: (1d4+6)[7]

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam

The rat-man moves with speed that surprises Malcolm, just as he is about to move himself. That's enough of that, he says softly, drawing back his bow and firing a quick quintet of silvered arrows.

Rapid Shot, +1 to-hit/damage from Point Blank Shot, -1 damage from silvered arrows

[roll0]
[roll1] + [roll2]

[roll3]
[roll4]

[roll5]
[roll6]

[roll7]
[roll8]

[kinem]

Yikes! Ouch! Hiam expected an attack, but the speed and accuracy of the rat-man still surprises him as he tries to twist away from the blades. With some relief he watches as Malcolm scores some impressive hits on the furry enemy.

If the rat-man is still standing after Malcolm's volley, Hiam will move to the far corner of the cell, even if doing so gives the rat an opportunity to slash him again. He readies himself to rush out the door if the ratman stops blocking the doorway (such as going further into the cell to attack Hiam, or leaving through the trollvine opening).

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM, HIAM
Four arrows pierced the ratman with unerring precision and the last shaft impaled the creature's skull and brains, pinning his corpse to the adjacent wall. As his body slumped against the stone, leaving a slick trail of blood and brains, Malcolm and Hiam saw the pointed snout receding into the scrawny, angled face and pointed ears of an elf. They didn't recognise the man.

"I'll never cross you, Captain." Remarked Zaros, seeing Malcolm's deadly handiwork.

The trollvine wall was open into a dimly lit corridor faintly illuminated by white heatless torches. Hiam searched the man and found the tracings of a moderate transmutation spell around the rope belt. A set of brass keys were in the wererat's pockets.

DM: +700XP to Malcolm and Hiam. They find;
+2 Belt of Dexterity
Brass Keys
Cold Iron Masterwork Dagger
Silvered Masterwork Dagger

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam

Pretty words, but you'll forgive me if I don't take them at face value, Malcolm says dryly, padding softly to the body. Taking the keys, he walks over to Zaros and tries them on the shackles. I've got a few dozen blunt arrows in my quiver as well; I would keep that in mind if you think of escaping, he warns after the shackles are removed.

Grab those daggers, and keep an eye on Zaros. I'll see if the coast is clear. He walks over to the door and flattens his back against the wall. Peering out as far as he can without being obviously seen from the outside, he tries to see whether their fight had been overheard.

Hide: [roll0]
Spot: [roll1]

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM, HIAM
With a click, the iron manacles opened and the forger rubbed his chafed wrists. "I'll keep that in mind, Captain." He muttered dryly.

Peering from the opened cell, Malcolm saw five other trollvine doors in the same corridor before it made a sharp turn to the right, some forty feet away. The surrounding walls were made from a hewn stone and their air had a sharp smell, as if they were underground. It looked as if the complex was some sort of holding area and he wondered if there were other occupants behind the trollvine covers. In any instance, the now deceased jailor seemed to be the only one posted at this time.

[kinem]

"Well done, Captain. That was the second-most impressive display of archery I've seen."

Hiam takes the daggers, and recognizing that the wererat's belt could have some enchantment, he pockets it for later analysis. He removes Malcolm's sturdy glove to hand back to the Captain, and puts back on his own slim nearly-forgotten glove of dexterity.

Judging that Zaros didn't seem likely to make a break for it just yet, and that the Captain didn't seem to see any immediate danger, he peeks out into the hall. What he's looking for is what he's so long been accustomed to - far longer than a human's life - that he'd forgotten what it was like to live without it: Magic.

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam

It appears that the coast is clear, he says. Give me one of those knives. This jailer can be of use to us yet.

Taking one of the knives, he cuts off one of the jailer's fingers. How many passengers can you carry? he asks the sorcerer. If you can carry more than the three of us, then there may be another prisoner in here we can liberate.

Gesturing to Zaros, he says, Follow us, and stay close. We will get you out of here, safe and sound, so do not try to give us the slip.

Looking out the cell one last time, he softly pads down the hallway to the nearest cell. He places the finger onto the trollvine, peering inside when it pulls away.

[kinem]

Hiam gives Malcolm the iron dagger and replies "Carry? Huh? Oh. I can bring up to four passengers, plus myself."

He follows Malcolm into the hall, keeping an eye on Zaros.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM, HIAM
The trollvine wall opened and the two men looked into a squalid looking cell similar in size to the one that had held Zaros. They were assaulted by the earthy smell of a full latrine bucket and they saw a half elven boy of around sixteen or eighteen at most, recoiling in fright. His sandy hair was uncut and his nails and face were caked in filth. Both Malcolm and Hiam noticed he cast no shadows. "You took it... You took it...." He stammered, his eyes wide in terror. The boy stretched out his left hand as if to fling an evocation but not even a spark flew from his fingers. Hiam noticed the air inside the cell had no traces of the antimagic shell that had filled Zaros' prison. "I'll join you! Please let me cast again!"

[kinem]

When Hiam steps into the hallway, his white hair and elven appearance suddenly change to that of a dark-haired half-elf now wearing leather armor. He breathes a sigh of relief.

He almost begins to use his belt to heal his wounds, but stops short. The prisoners may need that more than I do.

Upon seeing the shadowless prisoner, he says "Calm down, boy. We're not with the rats; we'll free you and when we get out of here we'll see what we can do to get you back to normal. As a fellow sorcerer I know how hard this is for you, but as recent events have reminded me, there is more to life than magic. You are young; you can learn other skills if need be.

Call me Fred Hunter. Who are you? Please tell us if you can how this was done to you, and by whom. It may help in reversing the process and stopping the madman."

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM, HIAM
The boy looked uncertainly at Hiam and Malcolm, the distrust clear in his grey eyes. "Ryon." He said, "A short human, with grey hair and golden eyes. He came in and my body froze. Performed some kind of necromancy or something. Pulled my shadow out as well as my spellcasting."

"That's not who abducted me." Said Zaros, rubbing his chin. "Not even remotely."

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam

Speaking as soothingly as he can, Mal says, Ryon, my name is Malcolm O'Malley, Captain of the Silent Stings in the Kiiskan Guard. I am going to do everything in my power to get rid of this shadow-thief and bring you your powers back. How did you end up in this cell? Were you conscious when they brought you here?

Gesturing for Hiam to keep watch on Zaros, Mal walks into the cell and unlocks the boy's shackles, if he has any.

[kinem]

Hiam muses. "Perhaps there's more than one shadow-thief. If it's done by spell, then other wizards could copy it. Bad news if true, though perhaps it could be dispelled if so."

He ponders the matter, trying to guesstimate how such necromancy might work, and how it might be removed.

ooc: Spellcraft [roll0]

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM
The most powerful necromancies could strip the very lifeforce from a subject or transfer their life energy to someone else. The sorcerer also knew of powerful conjuration spells that could summon beings of light and shadow from the pocket dimensions that surrounded the material plane. However, while he heard children's stories of wizards and evil priests raising armies of the dead, such acts were impossible under the laws of magic and he had before never heard of a spell that could strip a living being of their shadow and spellcasting. Whatever it was, he suspected it could well be a new spell that combines elements of both the conjuration and necromancy subschools to create new and unusual effects.

* * *

With a click, the manacles around Ryon's ankles were unshackled. Malcolm noticed how thin the boy was. "They got me at the marketplace. I was just doing a bit of work when two shadows grabbed me in an alley..."

"Filching, you mean." Leered Zaros, "A bit of light fingerwork, eh? Rope tricks? Invisibility charms?"

The boy paused uncertainly. "Just practising my sorcery. I never did have no fancy teacher. I came to in this place. The grey man said he wanted an assassin. Someone who can kill the Archmage."

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam

Mal's lips curl a bit at the implications of the boy's "work", but he doesn't condemn the boy for it. In the Kiiska of this day and age, there is little else for a boy of his age and upbringing to do to help himself. An assassin, to kill the Archmage? You hardly look the type, Ryon. He says this in a matter-of-fact tone--except for a certain kind of person, that kind of statement isn't really an insult.

So they wanted Zaros to find the Archmage, and this necromancer is collecting shadows in an attempt to kill the Archmage. Perhaps they are desperate, if they're absconding with street urchins and tasking them with assassination. Fred, Zaros, do you believe it possible to place the shadows of multiple victims into a single person?

Looking at the boy's physique, Mal feels a twinge of empathy for the boy. He surely didn't ask to be born as he was, into a city bigoted and poised against his very race. Taking out a trail ration, he hands it to the boy. Scrutinizing the boy one last time, he says, I cannot imagine what it is like to lose your sorcery, which is such an integral part of you. We will do our best to retrieve it and return it to you. In the meantime, if you are willing, I could set up a secretarial position in my unit for you as a way for you to earn an income. It will be tedious work, but it will be certain work, as long as you can leave your previous "work" behind you.

Sense Motive on the boy, just in case: [roll0]

[kinem]

HIAM, MALCOLM

Hiam says "I suspect that the necromancer uses the victim's life energy to maintain a summoning of a shadow-creature and to imbue it with magical ability. Certainly he can control multiple shadow-creatures.

Ryon, you said that the shadows grabbed you. That's important - it means they're not insubstantial; they have substance as well as form. From my earlier experiences, I conclude that they are highly resistant to spells, yet can be slain at least by magical arrows, possible even nonmagical weapons. What else do you remember? Any detail may help.

Malcolm, there could be many more prison cells here. Likely there are several more victims among them. I could attempt several trips to ferry them, but it's not without risk and will drain my reserves should we need to battle the villains later in the day. I think it's the best option.

If we explore this place we might run into more than we can handle, and that's a risk for us to take, but best to rescue the hostages first. Also I could try blasting through a wall using acid, but even if I could make a big enough hole, we are underground."

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM, MALCOLM
Ryon shook his head when Hiam asked for more information about the shadow thief. "It's all I know. They wanted me to kill the archmage but there's not a hell's chance of me succeeding. It's suicide. I'll take you on your offer, Captain. Just keep me away from those damn rats."

"I say we get out of here as well." Said Zaros, "I don't have any resources to deal with living shadows. The one who got me wanted me to find Hightree. I daresay our shadowy friend is quite determined to destroy the Serpent's Fang. Not an idea without its merits, of course, but his motives are hardly altruistic. As for a single shadow creature, it may be possible but I haven't heard of such a feat being performed. However, even if he can get a handful of those things, their resistance to magic will be formidable. He'll have a small army of assassins to do his bidding."

[kinem]

HIAM, MALCOLM

Hiam says "We should check the other cells before we leave.

Malcolm, perhaps we should warn the Fang, and even ... work with them on this one. The Guard and the Fang now have a common enemy. What do you think?"

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam

You said that you can translocate four people aside from yourself--we will check the other cells for another prisoner, and then teleport back to the Sting's base. Once Ryon and Zaros are processed, we can return if you still desire. At worst, I can have my lieutenants process them so we can return immediately--if we are to return, we don't want to give them time to find the dead jailer.

As for the Fang...perhaps. We are in a ceasefire, and so perhaps I can arrange a meeting before its end. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend", but I do not wish to keep these friends close for long. Come, let us investigate the next cell.

He peeks his head to carefully look into the hall, checking to make sure the coast is clear before walking fully into the open. If the hallway is empty, he signals the others to join him. If anyone arrives, everyone grab onto Fred so he can teleport us out.

He leads them to the nearest closed cell and places the finger on it to open it.

Spot: [roll0]
Hide, if necessary: [roll1]

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM, HIAM
Three of the remaining cells were empty but in the fourth cell, Malcolm and Hiam saw a withered corpse that may have once belonged to an elven or half elven woman. The state of decay made the identification a difficult task and worms had eaten most of the flesh around the eyes and face. However, Malcolm and Hiam saw the corpse had its belly slashed open as if by a sharp set of clawed hands, claws which were not so different to the pair belonging to the creature they had encountered in the streets the previous evening.

[kinem]

The empty cells come as a relief to Hiam, but the corpse disturbs him.

Since Malcolm had not been present when Haim and the two others had encountered the shadow monster, Hiam says for his benefit "The wounds on that body resemble those that the claws of a shadow monster might inflict. I wonder if this prisoner was slain because her shadow monster had been, making her no longer useful. Another reason to free prisoners first. We can bring along one more. Dare we seek more cells?"

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam

Thinking for a moment, Malcolm shakes his head. We can investigate further after getting the noncombatants back to the base. Ryon cannot fight, Zaros is half-starved, and both would be liabilities in combat. Teleport us to the Stings' base, preferably my office. Then I can have my honor guard begin to process them, and we can return. Is that acceptable?

[kinem]

Hiam replies "Very well. Let's close these cells up first, and I'll take a moment to study the hall so I can get us back here. Best if I teleport us to the room where I spent the night; I'm more familiar with it."

Once the trollvines are closed up and he gets a good look at the hall, he gathers the others and teleports to the room at the Stings' headquarters.

OOC: teleport [roll0]

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam

Malcolm nods and closes the cell doors behind them.

Once in his room, he begins to bring them to his office. To a junior member of the Stings in the hallway, he says, Find Lieutenant Treble and the rest of my honor guard and direct them to my office.

Once in his office, he begins to draft a letter to Colonel Monterone regarding the potential link between the Rat King and the Archmage of the Serpent's Fang. He keeps one eye on Zaros while they wait.

[Plushie Arz]

HIAM, MALCOLM
The trollvine doors were sealed back to their present state and the three huddled around Hiam as the sorcerer worked his magic. Within seconds, the spell brought them into the confines of the guest quarters in the Silent Sting's headquarters. Zaros sniffed the air around him cautiously. "It appears I am in your debt, Captain." He said sardonically. His pale eyes scanned his surrounds, as if recording every detail and Malcolm felt a sense of unease. They were promptly escorted to the office.

Malcolm had just finished dusting the letter to Colonel Monterone when Alana, Alexander, Walter and Bruno filed in. Walter turned his nose up at the Tuh'raan blackmailer. "A criminal." He muttered, shaking his head.

"No, a guest." Retorted the Tuh'raan, with a smug smile. "Is that how the Kiiskan Guard dole out hospitality? My, you're no different to Firael."

Walter made a step forward but Alexander and Bruno held him back. "Temper, soldier." Warned Bruno, giving a deferential nod to Malcolm at his desk. Alana stepped forward.

"Sir, reporting."

[kinem]

Hiam raises an eyebrow when Zaros says he's in the Captain's debt, but says nothing.

He casts prestidigitation and uses it to clean off the foursome while they walk to the Captain's office.

He also uses a charge from his belt to begin to heal the shallow cuts the wererat's blades had inflicted on him.

OOC: belt of healing [roll0]

He also casts detect magic to try to identify the belt of dexterity +2 from the wererat.

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam

Malcolm rolls his eyes slightly. Zaros, do not tempt me to bring you back to that prison. Alexander, take our "guest" into the hallway and do not take your eyes off of him. Keep him in the hallway until we are done in here.

Once the large half-elf takes the smaller and half-starved sorcerer out, Mal turns to Bruno. Bruno, this is Ryon, a victim of the Rat King and his pet shadow-thief. I'd like you to begin the process of assigning him a secretarial job in the Stings. I'm sure we could use another set of hands around here--just something to keep him off of the streets.

Ryon, follow the Lieutenant and he'll have some paperwork for you to fill out. May Mornay light your way and help you use this opportunity to build a better future for yourself.

Once Bruno and Ryon leave, Mal addresses Alanna and Walter. It appears the Rat King and his shadow-thief are planning an assault on the Archmage and the Serpent's Fang. They wanted Zaros to scry her location, and are amassing shadow creatures to, presumably, assassinate the Archmage. Walter, find a runner and have them deliver this letter to Colonel Monterone, informing her of my findings. And after, do not hang around Alexander while the forger is here. He makes my skin crawl too, but you must not let him get to you.

Once Walter has left, he says to Alanna, I am considering sending a delegate to offer a parley with the Serpent's Fang to discuss this new circumstance. They were once part of Kiiska, and at least during the ceasefire deserve to know of a potential threat to them. Keep alert during the next few days, and make sure Jor'ellean is kept informed of this as well. Tell Alexander to bring Zaros back in.

The letter to Victorine addresses her as Colonel, informs her of the pertinent information about the Rat King, how the Archmage seems to be the target, and that he's kidnapping and stealing shadows to make an army. He also urges her for discretion on this matter, and to get back to him as soon as she can. Sorry for not writing it out, but it's really, really late where I'm at.

[Plushie Arz]

DM: +900XP to all.

MALCOLM, HIAM
One by one, the members of Malcolm's honour guard left to their assigned tasks leaving Alanna, Hiam and the Captain alone in the office. Despite the vast difference in their ages, Hiam could recognise the strength in Lieutenant Alanna Treble's character. Unlike Zaros, she came across as someone who did not spare any frivolities or falsehood.

"But Sir," protested Alanna, "The Serpent's Fang are rebels and murderers. The Archmage Lerethi Magedellar is a war criminal besides and wanted by both the Guard and Order for her role in the oppression of the city's dissidents under the Old Council. Are you sure it is wise to make overtures to such an organisation? Would it not be easier to allow the Rat King to succeed in that mission?"

[kinem]

Hiam says "I could point out that while she does bear some responsibility for her actions during the old regime, her role in oppression pales beside that of your supposed allies, the bloodthirsty Order. I could mention that if the Fang falls, the ideology of the Order mandates that it turn its wrath on the remaining nonhuman power: The half-elves of the Guard. And that the cease-fire represents the only hope for peace in the city in which all races might live freely, and this is perhaps the best chance to turn it into a working relationship.

But politics is not our business today. So instead I'll point out that the Rat-king's forces have been attacking the Guard so far, not the Fang. It is certain that if his plan succeeds, his forces will only grow more powerful, and the Guard will be his rival for control of the streets. So far the shadow-thief has used kidnapped sorcerers like Ryon to power his monsters. I don't know what he could do with a dead archmage, but I doubt it'd be pretty. It'd be too late to stop him then."

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam

Leaning back in his chair, Malcolm clasps his hands in front of him. I see your points, Lieutenant, he says with a nod. Certainly, it would make things simple if this Rat King and the Serpent's Fang could wipe each other out. But as has been pointed out, the Rat King has been attacking us, and so he is a common enemy. If we allow him to grow strong enough to destroy the Fang, then what is to keep him from setting his sights back on us? As well, the Fang is the largest of the rebel factions; if we can ameliorate some of their hatred towards us, then it may go a long way to ending this struggle. We gain more by action than inaction, here.

However, I will ask, Mr Hunter, for you to consider your words when you speak of my fellows in the Order, he says, bringing his hand up to highlight the golden sun sigil on his uniform.

To Alanna, he finishes, I appreciate your concerns and thoughts, Lieutenant. Of course, just because we inform them does not necessarily mean we have to join forces with them. Time will tell.

[Plushie Arz]

MALCOLM, HIAM
If Alanna was offended by Hiam's remarks, she did not show it. She nodded in deference to Malcolm's judgement.

"As you command, Captain. It seems we're dealing with both rats and snakes. Can't say either are pleasant to handle. Do we have orders to apprehend the Archmage and bring her to trial if the opportunity presents itself? It hardly seems practical to have a lasting peace while a wanted war criminal remains at large."

[kinem]

'Fred' replies "Yes, I will certainly consider my words, Captain ... on the condition that you also will consider my words."

[Thokk_Smash]

Malcolm and Hiam

Mal nods at the "half-elf's" words.

To Alanna, he says, With luck, our role as exterminators will be short-lived. After the ceasefire, unless another accord has been reached between the Fang and the Guard, approach the Archmage as you would normally--with extreme caution, and only if you believe you have a chance of success. She will not go without a fight even when surprised, and I value your lives more than I do her imprisonment. At any rate, if terms are discussed with the Fang, you can be certain her status will certainly be a topic of discussion.