| Logs |
2001 November 27
| Inizii |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Inizii Logs |
Rumors and Grave Events
Silniya and Derleth wind their way through the streets, towards the local cemetery. The woman pauses at the gate, with a glance towards the cleric. "I wish it were darker," she mutters. "I could go wolf, and sniff around much easier. But a big black wolf walking about in daylight is rather obvious."Derleth nods thoughtfully. "It'll be dark soon, swordlady. In th' meantime, let's see what th' locals have t' say. Ah prefer trying t' get answers out of the living rather 'n the dead."
She nods. "Agreed." She gestures into the grounds. "You first, then."
Derleth chuckles and walks hesitantly through the gates, looking around for a possible post or shed where he might find the graveyard's caretaker. He seems slightly nervous, but that's no strange thing considering his recent adventure with the undead Ebrek. As he looks about, he notes the condition of the grounds, looking to see if anything has been recently disturbed.
The grounds seem relatively quiet, almost ... dead. However, the faint sound of weeping can be heard, the werewoman seeming much more aware of the faint sounds about the graveyard. After a moment, she holds up short, putting a hand on the cleric's shoulder. "I hear digging."
Derleth grunts. "Ye've got good ears, Sil. Right then. Where there be a digger, there might be answers." He moves in the direction the ranger directs, looking for the elusive gravedigger.
After following the woodswoman's directions for a few moments, the sound of digging is easily found; the efforts are not being hidden. Ahead, a hole gapes open within the dark ground, dirt flipping up into a gathering pile while a second man moves the dirt back from the edge of the hole.
Derleth circles around the marble gravestones. "Good sirs! Ah woul' speak wi ye!" he calls out.
There's some shuffling, a bit of cursing, and a head pokes out of the grave, the grizzled white hair of an aging man. "Ya? Whatcha been wantin'?"
Derleth crouches at the edge of the excavation. "Did ye hear of th' recent outbreak o' sickness in th' market t'day, sirrah?" he says, adopting a friendly tone.
The younger dwarf beside the hole leans on his shovel, peering at the cleric. The short gravedigger snorts. "A'course we did! Why ya think we're a'diggin'? Lotsa bodies t' be put in the ground." The elder man elbows the dwarf. "Did ya loose someone in the sickness, sirrah? Sorry for your loss." The phrase sounds like it's been said enough that the meaning has lost all meaning.
Derleth shakes his head. "Me mind does nae be on the deaths, good men, but on th' cause of it. Fell creatures that' ha since been long dead spawned the disease, an I fear that more might come. But what e'er fiend that seeks to kill needs bodies...perhaps, bodies of man an' woman. So ah come t' ask ye...have these grounds been desecrated recently? Or has there been talk of bodies to be buried that ha' ended up missing?"
The two glance at each other. They both make gestures of prayer to various gods, at the mention of undeath. "Ah...well, one o' the tombs were broken into," The aged gentleman goes on. "Seals broken, coffins not closin' right, paint splattered on th' walls, and offerin's shattered... Thought it was vandals, though, youths. Or graverobbers..." A glance to the dwarf, who mutters under his breath. He looks up toward the cleric again. "But, the bodies were there..."
Derleth stands. "Could one o' ye show me th' tomb, good sirs? I would make sure that no foul play be afoot, nae the less."
They look at eachother. "I'll keep a'workin'," the dwarf grumbles, and takes up his shovel, jumping down into the hole after helping the older man out of it. "Aye, sirrah. Oddly 'nough, most of the problems be in the Vigor's section."
Derleth says, "Vigor's section?"
"Aye. The place where they bury the warriors, soldiers, so on, for the city. Generally, those who defend the city, or make a job of sellsword have enough funds, or those that run with 'em provide it." He leads the pair into a part of the cemetery filled with decorated headstones, statues of fighters poised for battle, memorials with armor fused to stone, marble headstones shaped like weapons, and small mausoleums. Even the smaller, undecorated headstones usually give a military rank or occupation.
Derleth grunts. "perhaps nae so oddly, then." he replies as he follows, murmuring a supplication to Lliara. He falls back slightly, murmuring to Silniya. "Kin ye sniff out the difference 'tween dead an' undead, lady?"
The aging man makes his way to one of the mausoleums, and takes a set of keys from his pockets to unlock it. Silniya leans closer to Derleth, "Not so well, here, or in this form. Although there's a difference, there's too much decay here for me to be certain of anything as a human."
Derleth nods, murmuring. "We shoul' usher him off then, once he allows us entry."
The man undoes the lock, and swings the doors open. The mausoleum is quiet, almost plain... Except, part of a sealed vault is broken in. He walks in, and gestures. "Y'see?" Pointing to the vulgar graffiti on the wall. "Though, I see they left the watcher alone," He mutters, glancing to the corner, where there is an image of a man in full plate man leaning on a battleaxe.
Derleth tugs at the stubble on his chin, looking around. "Ye say the bodies were undisurbed, but the coffins look to have been broken int'?
The old man wanders over to the armored figure, waving his hand absently through the image. "Aye. The bones were all snug in their shrouds, and it looked like the hoolagins never even messed with them! Damned youths." He runs callused fingers over the stone vault's cap, and flicking the latches, grunts, sliding the case aside, exposing a wooden box. He thumbs in. "You'd like to see?"
Derleth nods, fingering his medallion. He does not have another prayer to detect evil, like before, but he instead murmurs an orison to detect magic as the man exposes the corpse to view.
The spell makes the illusionary figure of the warrior glow faintly, but nothing else. The groundsman, not noticing the prayer, slips his hands into the handle on the end of the box, pulling it out, after pulling over a small 'table'. Careful hands drag the casket out, before he opens it. Hinges creak horribly, long unoiled. "See?" He points to the outline of bones beneath cloth.
Silniya sidles up beside Derleth. As the cleric peers at the remains, he notices something... rather odd. A glance at the illusionary warrior beside the casket shows it is quite the contrast to the bones within his box; the skeleton looks incredibly petite, even frail, not like the burly man in armor portrayed.
Derleth's eyes widen briefly, and then he nods for the man to close the coffin, with not totally feigned distaste. "'ow many warriors lay in this crypt? An' was this th' only one disturbed?"
He shakes his head. "Nay... actually, seems this is a popular place for youths to bother. Probably disrespect, or wantin' to find the mens' weapons. Odd, they don't get into the nobles' graves. 'Course, they're warded with magic, too..." With another gesture of prayer, he returns the coffin to its niche. "Why?"
Derleth smiles reassuringly, placing a hand on the old man's shoulder. "Ah, just th' curiosity of a man o' the cloth. Tell me... about 'ow many bodies all told in the areas where yer young'ns made sport?"
The man spreads his hands. "Eh...within the last six months? Ah... I'd say all of 'em, actually. We've been patrollin' the grounds nightly, but they havn't been in, not since the last one was broken into, a few weeks ago. We've not caught a single one." A shake of his head. "I swear, even had a wizard come in and try to lock 'em up, and the little buggers got through!"
Derleth tries to keep a smiling face. "An all of them warriors innis area, aye?"
He rubs his chin. "Eh... I'll be thinkin'... Perhaps a score and a fourth? O'course, that's as many as in these mausoleums, but some of the tombs don't look too disturbed, just loosened. Though I notice the vandals ain't touched the actual graves. Guess diggin's too much work."
Derleth smiles and presses a gold coin into the man's hand. "Ye've been most 'elpful, old man. Nae get ye back to work, and later ye can warm yer innards wi' a warm fire an a warmer bottle o' spiced wine."
He glances down at the gold coin, and grins a gap-toothed smile. "Aye, thankya, sirrah." He pauses, at the door of the tomb. "Would you gents mind comin' out? I'd like to lock 'er up."
Derleth ehs. "Iffn ye'll leave the key, ah'll lock er up for ye...ah d'nae be of Gythaxis's get, but it disturbs me t' see the honored dead desecrated so...ah mean t' reconsecrate the tomb afore ah leave."
The man's smile is appreciative. He gives a salute, removing the key from the ring to set in Derleth's palm. "Aye. Thank you; leave the key by the shack near the gate, I'd appreciate it." He then turns, pocketing the gold, and spits on his hands, ready to return to the shovel.
Derleth waits until the man has left, and then looks at Silniya. "Safely alone, lady. Mayhap ye can change forms an' see what this crypt 'as t' say to yer keener senses."
She glances about. "Aye. But, surely there's more to this then simply the tomb..." Eyes close, her body shaking faintly. Then bones begin to relocate, growing more compact, fur springing forth around the woman's equipment as it melds with her skin. Back arching, a growl, as the change becomes complete: where once a woman stood, now is a she-wolf. Standing just a tad over waist high, her coat a coal black except for the strip of silver that runs up the skull, she gives a knowing glance to the cleric before her nose drops to the ground, sniffing carefully. She starts to move around the building, testing the scents.
Derleth says, "Ah suspect that the bodies of worth were taken an replaced, Sil...so we d'nae be searching for undead, but rather th' hope that whoever took the warriors bodies left a scent, or sommat else t' track them by..." He steps over to the doorway, looking for for anyone that might happen by as the werewolf works, casting his eyes on the nearby outdoor gravesites as he does, watching with his spell-seeking prayer still active, though he sees nothing out of the ordinary.
She continues for a few minutes before growling just a bit to get the cleric's attention, nodding when he looks at her. Following the scent she's identified, she starts towards the door, nudging Derleth's leg to come along.
Derleth moves out of her way, striding forward to provide cover for his furred companion should curious eyes be watching.
She keeps her nose to the ground, sniffing with fierce determination. The lupine circles out from the mausoleum, weaving through the headstones. As Derleth follows, he crosses the grass before a small headstone, and the ground gives slightly, sinking in a few inches beneath his boots. The lighter wolf, not noticing this, has picked up the pace, heading away from this cluster of mausoleums and straight toward a tree. Her nose appears to have found something.
Derleth frowns. He stops a moment, distracted and steps away from the soft ground, testing it with his foot while trying to keep one eye on Silniya, not wanting her to get out of sight. The ground seems to have stopped shifting, but it's visibly sunken in a rectangular outline.
Derleth blinks. So it's more than the crypts. Outdoor graves have been taken, too, but the holes are filled in, so all looks normal. He stands and focuses on Sil, to see where she's gotten to.
The wolf has begun digging at a spot, near the base of a large maple. As Derleth inspects the sunken spot, it appears that the ground hasn't been disturbed; grass growing on the grave has not been disturbed except by the sinking. No grave robber has dug up the sod. The cleric tilts his head. But if the coffins were taken, then how, when above all looks pristine? Perhaps... He then rushes to catch up with Silniya, wondering if her actions will lend credence to his theory.
The wolf seems to be pawing at something at the ground. As Derleth takes a closer inspection, it looks like a well hidden burrow. She growls, dipping her nose down to inhale the air, before looking back up, then clawing at the hole, widening it, but not doing a very good job.
Derleth smiles grimly. "Underground." he says, more to himself than Sil. He looks around, making sure there are none to see what he's about to do, and then suddenly shrinks and becomes a small white fox, lending his paws to the effort of digging open the burrow.
The wolf lets out a little bark of surprise, backing up a moment. Head cocked to one side, before a sniff. After a few moments, the wolf seems to give a shrug, and continues. The hole isn't enormously large; only a few inches wide. After a few more minutes of the process, she backs away, shaking her head with an obviously aggrivated snort.
She growls again, and begins to sniff around, aggravated. The sun starts to set, growing lower in the sky. Ears perk. A growl...
Derleth yaps at the morphed Silniya, wondering if his attempt to tell her to stay here gets translated into a canine tongue she can understand. But as he starts in, he hears her growl, and looks about nervously.
The wolf ignores the fox, and continues to roam around, before stopping at the base of a large stone slab and sniffing around the base. She glances behind her, giving a growl, before pawing at the edges of the slab, digging.
Derleth tilts his head, and can see naught else to do but help her at her task, if she thinks it worth while....
As she paws at the edge, a wiff of air hits the fox's nose. Stench of stale air, that stinks of decay.
Derleth growls his small foxgrowl, shaking off the stench and digs faster, careful not to stand wholly on the sunken ground, for fear it might give way.
The wolf backs up, giving a glance around. Her form then shifts, the fur retreating, muzzle shortening and fangs shrinking, her hind legs lengthening as she changes back, to appear as she had before, gear and all. Her hands move to the stone slab and she starts to push. There is a scrape of stone, dust puffing up in the air.
Derleth waits and watches, not wanting to shift back if the smaller form of the fox is still needed...
She grunts, and strains a little, pushing harder. The stone shifts enough, to show the corner of a hole, or atleast an open space beneath. The stench is more evident, definetly stronger. Sounds of scraping, picking, and shovels moving from below come up from the hole. She glances down at the fox. "Help me..."
Derleth whuffs and abruptly becomes human again, lending his lesser strength to hers, worried by the sounds of digging below. The slab slides back slowly as their muscles strain, until a wide enough opening to allow passage is exposed. The cleric takes the stone from his pouch and enchants it with light...taking his flail in his other hand, he motions Sil to follow as he decends...
The werewoman reaches out, putting her hand over the rock. "It sounds like there are people down there. I wouldn't suggest that, unless you want to announce our entrance with flaming weapons."
Derleth grimaces. "Ah d'nae have good night sight like ye an Ky...but they probably have light daewn there, so ye have the right of it. We'll decend in darkness." He puts the glowing rock back in his pouch, leaving the enchantment active for now.
She nods. "Allow me to go down first." With some work, she moves into the hole, nearly scrabbling at the crude handholds in the side. Slipping down into the hole, she murmurs up, "There's a hole down here!"
Derleth eases himself into the space below, following his erstwhile companion.
The passage seems to have been an upward dug grave; the walls are earthen and rough. At the bottom of the pit, a wide, low hole has been hewn into the wall, wide enough to pull a coffin through. Peering inside, it would seem the hole is close to the 'ceiling' of a tunnel. The sound of digging is much sharper, although it's nearly pitch dark. The stench of death hangs in the air. As they wait, a soft glow starts to be visible through the gap. Derleth moves closer, his ears cupped as he tries to make out the voices accompanying the light.
The voices get louder, the glow brighter. "...and Lord Grim approves of the operation, so far," says a youthful voice. "Indeed," Another voice, almost condescending to the other speaker. However, the youth continues. "Truly, he's proud of my work; he may show me another spell in his book."
The other voice dismisses this consideration. "Yes, that's right; you have to find your spells in tomes, and write them in words. But, such is the way of inferior magics."
"And, if it wasn't for those magics, you wouldn't have this force on your side, would you?" snaps the younger voice, noticing the insult this time.
Derleth smiles. "Lliara's lips have kissed us with luck." he murmurs quietly as he leans close to the opening. He and Silniya, are silent then to avoid detection, but also not to miss a single word.
The sneering voice adds, "Hah. And, who's the funder?"
"Enough," snaps the youth. The light grows closer to the hidden pair's location.
The sneering voice inquires, "And, what of 'The Wind'?"
"He's at the Manor."
"Ah hah; you can take over here, and I'll head that way, myself. The crew is almost to the Slaughter Pit."
"Eh?"
"Supposedly, there was a large battle, when an orc warband tried to storm the walls, idiot creatures." As the light gets closer, the form of a shuffling zombie holding a torch moves into view, and behind him, two living figures. One is dressed in robes tailored black and red, the other in dark green also accented with black. The one in the green robes continues. "Well, apparently, there were spellcasters among the orcs, and many a guard died due to their fire spells. Many corpses were badly burned enough to be unidentifiable. Thus, they were buried close together in a mass, to save space and expense in the aftermath of the attack. They may not have been that skilled with weapons in life, but under our hands, their bones will do well to aid." As they move past, the youth in black chuckles. "Indeed... Oh, do see if you can send a runner down here with some lunch? I missed my last meal."
"Certainly," The green-robed man mutters. "And, I'll speak to Lord Grim."
Silniya lays a hand on Derleth's shoulder, an intent glance toward the pair, a curious look back to him.
Derleth grins. "Lets indulge ourselves, swordlady." he whispers.
The swordwoman's breath is low, under those of the speaking men. "I hear others. The digging, the shuffling. This tunnel smells of death. There are obviously workers down here, undead or not. Would it be wise, to attack them, even unawares, when they have the ground on their side, and an unknown amount of undead at their command?"
Derleth considers Silniya's words. "Aye, ah suppose ye do have the right of it. Mayhap we shoul' take the gifts the Lady's given an' regroup wi' our companions..."
She nods, muttering, "Indeed, those who can even the score with the undead." The men continue past, chatting amid themselves, the only intelligible words "Feline Plague", as they continue down the hall away from the cleric and the werewolf.
Derleth glances upward. "Let us be gone, and find Kyrel..." The sky is growing dark azure. He climbs out then, glad to be free of the confines of earth that once held dead flesh, and then helps Silniya out as well.
She thanks the cleric for helping her out, pausing beside the slab, waiting for the men below to move far out of earshot. She still whispers, "Should we alert the groundskeepers, and the Watch? Or would that cause too much of a mess, do you think?"
Derleth shakes his head. "We'll keep this a secret, fer now. It might travel if told t' ears that are attached t' men ill prepared to keep it."
She nods, quick. "Good idea; no need to let this be known and let them know we're aware. Help me slide this back into place." She puts her hands on the slab, and starts to push it closed.
Derleth ayes and moves the slab into place with as much haste as quiet will allow.
The two move away from the cemetery, after locking up the mausoleum and returning the key to the caretakers. The two head back to the temple in hopes of finding Kyrel, only to discover that the mage had just slipped away.
Later that evening, as the sun's last light vanishes from the horizon, Kyrel stands at the street outside of Lliara's temple and gambling house. Demitri jogs up, dressed in non-descript black clothing, carrying a pack. "You did bring money with you, my friend?" He inquires, a hand lifting to push back his oily hair.
Kyrel nods. "A bit. Enough, I hope... we'll see." The half-elf mage isn't carrying his bow in the city, but he does have a dagger and his pouch includes his spell components. "Where are we going?"
The rogue chews on his lower lip, scrutinizing Kyrel's appearance. "Hm... Are these your best clothes? We're going into the upper section of the city. Perhaps The Mill would demand a higher price, if you look like you could pay for more..." He considers a moment, before waving his bag. "I have rather old clothes, in case we go into the 'seedy' area." His tone is dry, as if mocking those who ridicule the place.
Kyrel says, "These things happen. As long as we're not staying too long, I can shift. One of the advantages of being a mage, y'know."
A nod. "Certainly. However, if we're going into taverns, or dealing with others, it would not be wise if your hocus pocus melted in the middle of it." He smirks. "But, let us head to the Theatre; if we have to go to that section of Selegaunt, I'll go over the customs."
Kyrel says, "Fair enough."
With a nod, he straightens his cloak, hiding the short-sword at his belt. "All right, then." The two move through the city streets easily, and as they head northeast, it's obvious that this is where the more expensive and impressive buildings and homes are. Even the passers-by are better dressed. Mansions, townhouses, villas, and expensive shops line the streets. Demitri points to a cylindrical building up ahead which dominates several blocks. "That's it. The Wide Realms."
Kyrel follows as Demitri leads off to the theatre, looking around the neighborhood. "Nice place. Nice neighborhood, too, I see. The trick is to look nice enough not to get thrown out by the Watch while not looking so nice that the merchants want to charge you extra...."
Demitri raises a hand. "Exactly. Also, to look poor enough that extortionists and muggers don't think you're worth the hassle. These are the merchant families, the noble houses over them. This way." He makes his way through the building's doors. A curving passage is the main hallway and foyer, while stairs go higher. "Now... I believe we go... This way." Turning to the left, he leads Kyrel for what seems like half the building, before pausing in front of a door. He leans in against the door, listening for a moment, before glancing back at the wizard. "Will you be doing the talking, or I?"
Kyrel says, "If you've not met her before, either, I might as well do the talking. I know what I'm looking for."
He gives a nod. "Right. I'll-" At that, the door swings open, and a young man in a wig pauses, staring at the two. Behind him can be heard a commanding voice, "All right, everyone! Put up the set, and we begin the rehearsal again at the top of the hour!" He glances from one man to the other. "Can I help you...?" Demitri, taking the lead, "We're here to...buy some grain." The youth seems to get the idea. "I'll fetch the miller." He disappears down the hall.
Kyrel murmurs, "Interesting turn of phrase..."
Demitri shoots Kyrel a glance. "One needs to be careful not to ask the wrong person, though." A woman apparently in her later twenties walks down the hall, eyes expectant. "You gentlemen are looking for a bag of grain?" She inquires, as she grows closer. Though wearing a rather expensive dress, looking like a budding noblewoman, she moves like a seasoned alley cat. Jewelry bedecks the beautiful figure; and the lovely features, the turn of eyes, or perhaps the angle of her cheeks suggest, perhaps, elven blood in her ancestry.
Kyrel says, "One might say that, yes."
She nods, steepling her fingers. An appraising eye is swept over both. "Good, then. Come, let us see the selections..." She turns, the skirts rustling behind her, honey and crimson tresses swaying with it. Demitri shoots a sidelong grin, before following.
Kyrel follows along as the young (?) woman leads the way. "Specifically, I'm trying to find out something about recent... imports."
The three retire down a set of stairs, into the bowels of the theatre, before she removes a key from some hidden pocket in her dress. She inserts it into the lock of a small door, then into a second lock, hidden amid the adjacent stonework. Her fingers move for several moments, at the doorjamb, before she opens it. "Right this way." She waits until they've all entered, and the door is shut again. "You were saying about imports?"
Kyrel nods. "I assume you've heard about the outbreak of sickness in the marketplace?"
The room seems to be a costuming storage area; there are rows of clothes of all kinds on racks, and large cabinets on each wall. The Mill nods her head. "Mmhmm..." A brow raises, a gesture for the mage to continue.
Kyrel says, "My friends and I were there shortly after the first reports. We noticed something ... intriguing. There were rats, of course, and other animals here and there. They were undead, though. Someone is doing this deliberately. And the point of this is that I know the spells that would have to be used. They require a very specific set of material components. If we can track that material, we can identify the caster."
She nods, slowly. Although her face seems neutral, those eyes narrow, just a moment, the woman appearing to take in the information, to add to her store of it. As Kyrel goes on, a single manicured hand lifts, tapping her chin. "I see... and, you're wishing to know what, from my services? Wouldn't a magician's shop, or whoever sells this material, know what they're selling?" Fingers cross over her stomach.
Kyrel nods. "They would, I'm sure. But I'd rather have the inquiries made discreetly. I don't want to announce to whoever it is that I'm interested in this one item. It might lead to ... unpleasant visitors. The material in question is black onyx."
The woman considers, a moment. "Indeed. But, I'm thinking you're also not just considering the legitimate gem-merchants, to having sale reports?"
Kyrel nods. "There is that. Whoever is doing this might have thought of the possibility of being traced, so the gems might be smuggled."
A hand held outward. "Thirty gold. I can get you the sales records of the legal jewelers. For another thirty, I can also give you the name, and set a meeting with one a person I know who works with the hidden markets."
Kyrel nods. "This seems quite reasonable, in view of the request." He starts counting out the cash. "How long for the information?"
The Mill considers this, a moment. "Two days, most likely. However, I could have the meeting with you and an associate of the underside sales within a day's time." She tips her head. "Is onyx the only item you want information about?"
Kyrel nods. "At this point, yes. Unless the spell has been seriously altered, that's the only uncommon item that would be needed, though... and judging from the creatures I saw, it hasn't been altered. The burned-out onyx stones are quite distinctive."
"Certainly. And, what do you think the cause is? Does the Watch suspect some insane spellmaster as the source?"
Kyrel says, "I have no idea what the Watch suspects at this point. We've been passing our information on to the Ilmaterians, though. They suspect Talona."
She nods. "I see." She waits for the pouch of gold. "Do you have any other questions?"
Demitri glances over at the woman. "I have a question... Word on the street says that the Covered Hand has dissolved, that there was some problem in the guildhouse. Some say it was an overthrow by a rival guild, others that a group of goodly people went in and wiped out the place; either way, most of the guild's people are missing from the streets, either gone into hiding, or run off, or dead. What happened to the Thieves' Guild?" The Mill gives a faint little grin. "That would cost you some money, my friend."
Kyrel hands over his stack of coins, and grins in Demitri's direction. "Oh, is that what you meant by changing influences?"
The rogue gives a nod. "Yes... Exactly. I didn't want to say it out loud, of course; for one thing, the priests were right beside you at the time."
Kyrel chuckles. "Yes, they can be annoying."
"Much more then that," The rogue adds. "But, anyways, what happened to the place?" He glances to The Mill, whose eyes are on Kyrel's money pouch.
Kyrel says, "Hmmm... now that's a possibility, too. If it is Talona's people, then they're likely to be interested in poisons as well. Might want to check on imports of poisons or things that could be used to manufacture poisons."
The Mill considers that. "Now, that would strain my resources. To inquire on all the ingredients for making it? There are hundreds of alchemic and natural things, yes? Thus tracking them down would take days, and money. Now, imports, and the selling of bottled things can also be handled by those in the underway sales. As for those who may be buying it from brewers themselves..." She spreads her hands.
Kyrel nods. "I know. Too broad a category to track down... but if you should hear of something in passing, please contact me. I'm staying at the Temple of Lliara at the moment, and they'll know where to find me if I leave. Kyrel Thallesian, and my partner Derleth is one of their priests."
The woman nods. "Surely. However, this would likely be more information for the person I'll set the meeting up for. They would have more direct information on it than I would." She palms the coins, rolling the bag in her hand, "As for the Covered Hand, well, that would of course, cost more."
She adds, "Depending on what you're wanting, of course. I could give you the basics of what happened... Or get someone who was there, personally."
The rogue nods, before glancing to Kyrel. "You're the man here doing the purchasing; do you think such knowledge would help out your cause? It might be a matter of coincidence, it might be more..."
A hand drops into his cloak, "But, I have enough to cover the story, likely. How much, lady?" "Forty."
Kyrel says, "Hmm.. it might, at that. If it was an attempt to consolidate things under one roof, as it were. Half and half, Demitri?"
He removes a pouch, and counts out the estimated half. "Fair enough." He hands the stack to the woman, who simply unstrings the pouch Kyrel gave her, and adds it inside, before holding out her hand to the mage.
Kyrel finishes counting the additional twenty for his share and hands it over. "So. Who took over the local Guild?"
"Disease. There was some sickness, something controlled, I think, that took out the lower rungs. They were beginning to turn up sick. Reports from the merchants around the guildhouse said there was a disturbance, screaming and possibly a battle, within the building. The building was designed to muffle sound, though, so they couldn't tell exactly what was happening. The guildhead, who no one had truly ever seen," she says, mainly to Kyrel, who isn't familiar with the orginization, "Was found dead, in a sewer drain. There were bruises on the body, that were not the actual cause of death."
Kyrel says, "That does indeed sound as if it could be connected. Disease and mysterious death. Poison, perhaps..."
Demitri considers this, shaking his head. "If someone took the Covered Hand down, then they've obviously some serious force on their side." The Mill glances from one to the other. "I have someone in hiding who is an actual member of the guild...or was. I learned most of my information from him, but there were some details he didn't recount fully. He gave me enough to purchase a hiding place."
Kyrel nods. "He probably doesn't know any names, though..."
Demitri glances back toward the mage. "True... But if he's a guildmember, he's been inside. Perhaps it would be wise to inspect the building? Perhaps there are a few clues about?"
Kyrel says, "Is the building abandoned? Or is it in use by the new folks? Exploring it in the face of opposition isn't a good idea."
"True," The rogue goes on, "But what if there is opposition within the building? Would you wish to snuff it out? These likely could be your boys. Of course, if they've set down roots, going in swords waving isn't the best course, even if you do decide..."
Kyrel says, "It's something to keep in mind for later. I'll have Kiri check it out tonight, just a quick look."
"Of course," The Mill interjects, "Disclosing the guildhouse's whereabouts is not a free morsel."
Kyrel chuckles. "Somehow I am not surprised by that. How much?"
She considers. "That could be disclosed for a reasonable five gold. Now, if you feel the itch to go inside and begin inspection, even if the building is cleared out, I wouldn't advise it without my informant's help, or someone equivalent. The guild did hire trapmasters, to install security measures in the homes and businesses of those who could afford it. Thus, they're likely going to be protected, even if it stands empty. My associate is of that occupation."
Kyrel says, "Quite understandable. For now, I think the five and the location will suffice. Kiri doesn't have to worry about traps to see if the building is occupied."
"Of course," The woman nods. "Simply a precautionary suggestion." Demitri gives the coin, and she gives the address. "A storefront, near the Bazaar; a two story shop. Its front was that of a taxidermist."
Demitri nods. "Thank you." He looks to Kyrel, "Anything else? I'm out of questions."
Kyrel says, "Nothing else at the moment." He turns back toward the information broker. "Thank you for your time. Will you be contacting me with the other information, or should I come back here?""
She waves her hand. "I'll have someone bring you the information you requested. Do not expect that for a few days, though. As for the time and place of the meeting? You'll have that information sent to you, likely by tomorrow eve."
Kyrel nods. "That's fine, then. Let's hope the plague doesn't start getting out of hand too quickly... if you should get sick, send me a message and I'll get Derleth to move you to the top of his list for curing."
For the first time, a smile breaks her bussiness-neutral face. "Thank you. Now, if you gentleman don't mind?" she asks, moving to the door and opening it with a slight gesture. The money pouch has been slipped away into some pocket, hidden well from view in the folds of her gown.
Kyrel takes his leave and heads back toward the entrance to the building. "So... let's find Derleth and check this place out."
Demitri nods, chuckling faintly. "She's got quite the expensive mouth on her..."
Kyrel says, "Probably worth it, though. Especially if it pans out."
A sidelong glance. "You don't plan on involving the Watch, do you?"
Kyrel grins. "The Watch always gets so stuffy about pocketing any incidental valuables you find when taking down these people. And they hate listening to outsiders."
Demitri chuckles. "Not to mention that 'Strike first, kick while down, and ask questions while they're in chains' mentality, when it comes to anything criminal."
Kyrel says, "Or anything that they're confused about. Which is most anything, since they confuse so easily."
The fellow nods. "So, back to the temple, then?"
Kyrel nods. "Let's get the others."
The two make their way down the avenue. "There's a shortcut, through this public garden; generally deserted." However, Demitri is quite wrong; a crowd seems to have gathered, and there is the sound of a whistle being blown, a few streets down. "Hello... what's this?"
Kyrel peers ahead. "I hope it's not another plague victim..." He reaches under his cloak and fetches out his familiar. "Kiri... Scout."
The bat takes wing, flying overhead. He swoops in low, then doubles back. Demitri peers curiously at the bat, as it lands on Kyrel's shoulder, chirping in his ear.
"Well, I'm going to have a look," Notes the thief, as he makes his way toward the crowd.
Kyrel says, "I wouldn't... It looks like a murder. I don't think getting involved is recommended."
The rogue pays no heed, heading toward the crowd. After a few moments, he glances back, sending a beckoning, almost urgent wave.
Kyrel shrugs. Kiri'd reported a body and wet ground. Apparently the rogue thinks it's safe, though. He walks up.
The crowd parts, or at least enough for Kyrel to see. Someone's holding a lamp up. Lying sprawled on his front, is the victim. The somber colors of The Cryers cover his form, as well as bruises, though none look to have broken the surface or be the result of a serious wound. The lamplight plays upon the ground, and although it shouldn't be, the pattern beneath is quite obvious: Blood, dark against the earth, in a circle. The grisly paint has sketched a seven point star, in the victim's blood. Demitri glances to the wizard, murmuring, "It seems the Ilmaterians just got involved further..."
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