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The Craven Kraken was a well known watering hole in the Harbour District. Many sailors and merchants make it their first stop before venturing up the Harbour Lift and to the road to the city proper. On this night, with Founders Day only another day away, the Inn was experiencing its busiest night of the year.

Patrons squeezed through each other in hopes of gaining one of the coveted table seats around the central hearth, where a bard circled with a lute in hand, and patrons drank and sang. Serving wenches hurried to and fro, tankards of ale and plates of mushrooms and seared fish in their hands.

At one table, a group of tieflings, riled up by one too many ales, pounded their fists against the table, hollering over the fate of their home, Runestone, and the unstoppable Khagoni hordes.

At another, a group of human and halfling sailors, wearing the distinct faded greens of the Shires of Eclor, argued over a game of cards, the last hand's winner loudly being accused of cheating.

At the bar, laughing and drinking with the barmaid, were a pair of Officers of the Watch, oblivious to all else other then their drinks and the attractive maid.

In the midsts of all this commotion, and perhaps loudest of all, was Rambling Lockwood, the greatest pirate of the Forlorn Sea, at least if his boasts are to be believed. Pipe in hand, and surrounded by his crew and fellow sailors, Lockwood recounted a tale of a death defying encounter with a dreaded Aboleth. To hear him tell the tale, he stared down the giant sea monster and it fled the mortal plane in fright.

At this moment the door burst open, and in stepped a breathless sailor, the pirate Sylvia Salthand.

"Lockwood! Let's have a chat!"

The pirate Lockwood looked up at the door. The old seadog was always up for a chat, or at least someone to stay silent while he told his tales. He waved the lass over, just before a whisper from one of his crew, the young cut-purse Elit made him frown. Lockwood expected it would be himself who would be getting an earful.

@deadpixel101

The ale drizzled down Gregorii's chin, seeping into his gigantic grey beard, the stinging buzz of watered-down ale had hit his brain, Gregorii was sitting in a tavern in a empty table, stopping by for a drink, he needed a drink, alcohol was his best friend, well more like his only friend, all of Gregorii's other friends were either dead or left behind. But no matter what he lost, he could always drink, how ironic, he wasn't even old enough to drink, yet he wasn't going to stop himself. His search for answers had yield nothing, the Library had nothing for him, so he would visit a church, as much as he hated them, he would have to put with their religious bullshit if he wanted to get answers, after all they knew the gods the most, it would only be natural that they'd know how to destroy them.

Then he saw the eye's of the bar patrons, move towards the door, curious he looked as well and spotted a bleeding man, clearly wounded in some one-sided fight. Gregorii lifted the cup up, downing the last of his ale and left it, He got up and sat down next to the man, with a look of worry on his face, "You look like a dog mauled you, what's wrong with you lad!" he demanded a answer, though he came off as rude and brash, he was simply worried about what happened to the young lad.

@Default

Culmith Woodhaven

Culmith looked next to him, and was surprised to see a dwarf sitting next to him. When the dwarf asked him about his wound, he grimaced. "The only dog around here is the one that just cut me up and got away." He looked at the dwarf. "Some slaver was carrying a woman along. I tried my best to stop him, but..." He shook his head, and gestured to his wounded shoulder. "This is where it got me." He quickly shook off the frustration and anger. "All tragedies aside, my name's Culmith Woodhaven. I came here to do a bit of celebrating, but instead I got a little caught up. Good news for me, I don't plan to be giving up my good day yet. Of course, those quacks who worship the gods are getting close to making me." It wasn't wise to offend this dwarf if he believed that the gods were doing what was right, but he didn't care anymore. The slaver, the pain in his shoulder, and the fact he hadn't gotten a drink yet wore away at him. "If there is such thing as helpful gods, then why do they let innocent people get punished for one man's crime? That's my question."

---

Saya moved with a quick suggestion from Ahrem to head towards the watchmen they could find. The two they could nearby inside the guardhouse were eating what looked to be their lunch, a rather pungent fish stew. As they talked between bites Saya could overhear quiet curses about the upcoming festivities and how they brought more trouble for the guard. Unlawful and unruly characters like to also show up with the oncoming festival, and the guards were none too pleased about having to work longer shifts and deal with such commotion. Their mood already hampered, Saya carefully stepped forward and spoke up towards the men. “Sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping one of you could tell us more about the posting on missing women.” The guards glanced over momentarily as they took a last bite of their stew, faces clearly indicating their annoyance at being approached. The larger of the two leaned back in his chair with a groan and spoke up with his chin held high.

“Look what we got ‘ere. A hedge knight and a beggar priest. They want to ‘elp us do our jobs. That’s just peachy, ‘innit Frank?” Across the table, the smaller but more wide eyed guard immediately spoke back

“Oh yes, peachy indeed, ‘arold!”

“Why don’t you two sleuths make for Founder’s Bridge Keep. Can’t you see we are on our lunch break?” Harold spat out in response.

Saya was displeased and glanced away, hand going up to her necklace to hold it as she noted she probably doesn’t want to leave that visible to others. She had kept it safe for several years, but it seemed to call attention by the way the guards acted. However, she didn’t give up and tried to play into the guards desire to feel superior. So, she bowed and attempted once more.

“Please, if you could just tell us anything at all about the missing women we would be grateful, and we’ll leave to be out of mind.” While this genuinely annoyed her to have to deal with guards like this, sometimes she knew she needed to play along. But, in this case she failed as Harold began to suck his teeth aloud.

“Talk to Sergeant Rieburt at the keep, e’ll ‘elp ya! Now off with you both!” he spoke before spooning up one more large bite of his lunch ignoring Saya who turned around to Ahrem and whispered.

“Let’s just do that then…”

@Default

"There is no helpful gods" He answered Culmith's question bitterly, no god has ever done an act of altruism, if the gods were kind, then he'd still be at home, eating a roast chicken with his father, his dad always loved Chicken. if the gods were kind, he'd still have his youth, his strength and the light of his life. No god could call itself helpful when his children suffered around him. He shared the same sentiments as Culmith, religion was a joke, anyone that says they should be worshiped is a joke. But the even bigger joke was those who believed the gods. "Gregorii" he introduced himself, he was never one to talk much, what is the point of ten words when one could do the trick.

"Get up, we can stop that bastard if we're quick!" he commanded, with the hint of anger in his voice, Slavery was the most awful thing in existence, it gave the slaves a scar that could never heal, it ruins the slaves of innocents just to please the needs of one, his anger gave him a renewed strength, he ran out of the tavern as fast as his dwarf legs could carry him, pulling Culmith with him, his eyes darted from side to side, scanning the area for that degenerate slaver, he would save that poor girl, and gods save anyone who gets in his way.

Culmith chased after his friend. "Gregorii! Perhaps we should formulate a plan of some sorts? At least so we do not underestimate our enemies in Slaver's Square?" Gregorii quickly called over his shoulder. "I was thinking we'd just beat the shit out of him." However, Gregorii realized that he would need a decent plan to be successful. "You’re right, I got two ideas, I'll fight him and you take the woman and run, or we simply buy her." He wanted the first plan a bit more, simply because he was rather low on money at the moment. He would also consider any ideas Culmith produced.

Gregorii had a plan, it was not a wise one, it would most certainly land the two in a jail cell, but if he truly wanted to stay out of trouble, he'd leave the poor girl to live a life of rape and torture, he'd sooner die than let that happen, he spotted a dwarf in a rich tunic, who was fervently trying to fit a wheel on a wagon, which had been filled to the brim with "Cure-Alls", the Wagon had a sign which said "Oakbeard's Outfitting and Cure-All's", it was clear he was a travelling salesman, he grimaced at the sight, the dwarf was a scammer, the Cure-All's were more like Cure-Nothing's, he profited off of the dying, like a vulture, Gregorii would not lose sight over what he would do to the Dwarf.

"You see that midget over there?" he stopped rushing to Slavers Square, and raised a finger at the Scammer, "Let's take his shit, we'll use his wagon to rescue the slave and run off, we'll be too fast to be stopped" he schemed, Culmith looked back at him, with a worried face, his face changed as he considered the idea "hm..Risky, But a good idea nonetheless. Let's do it, once we get away with the horses, perhaps we should lose the wagon. it'll slow us down" he accepted, to which Gregorii nodded, Gregorii walked up to the Dwarf, without saying a word he grabbed the wheel from the dwarf, and shoved it in the Wagon, fixing it easily, the Dwarf bowed and tipped as his hat, "Why thank you kind sir!" he thanked, completely oblivious to his fate. Meanwhile Culmith watched for guards, spotting two walking towards them, with urgency he looked towards Gregorii, pointing to the guards and mouthing the words "Gregorii, Two guards, If we're going to do this we need to hurry up".

Gregorii nodded to Culmith, adrenaline was rushing through his veins, if he was caught he would be screwed, but he was fighting for a good cause. He turned back to the Dwarf "Your welcome" he replied, as he suddenly shoved the dwarf, causing him to fall face first into a conveniently placed pile of manure, He immediately hopped on the wagon, waving at Culmith to get on, who hopped on beside him, Gregorii whipped the horses, causing them to suddenly break into a sprint, the crowd divided like a sea in front of them, the wind was flowing through Gregorii's hair, the guards ran to catch up, but faded from view, The wagon turned quickly through a less crowded Street, Though Gregorii was terrified, the hint of a smile appeared on his face, youth came rushing back into his veins, he felt young once again, Culmith whooped, filled with excitement at their heist, "Let's go rescue our Damsel!" he yelled and laughed heartily after, Gregorii couldn't help but smile, he knew that him and Culmith would be good friends, and it seemed that Culmith shared the same sentiment. With the wind rushing throughout their hair, they raced towards Slaver's Square, to go save a slave.

@Default@Home Brewed

Sylvia let her breath settle, as she looked to the allegedly renowned pirate. His face gone from jovial to less so at the comment made by her attempted robber. She smiled at him with a grin of slight deviance, walking towards his table. She came along-stride another young looking deckhand and put her hand on the back of his seat. "Darling it seems most seats are taken. Be a gentleman and move over?" she wasn't sure how threatened he'd feel in the company of his whole crew so she leaned in close. "I can sit on your lap if you're brave enough. Though be careful, I bite." The last statment was only a hlaf-whisper. Clearly a challenge made to him in front of his friends.

I do not exist

Eudaxia vs The Rat Swarm

It was a strange figure that had bumped into Eudaxia's horns. A man in dark robes, taller than she, and with strips of white cloth wound tightly around his eyes. Grimacing, he apologized to nobody in particular before carrying on his way, a tapping cane guiding his path.
A possible mark, she thought to herself, making an assessment of him. He was walking in the same direction she was, and she felt curious despite herself.

He wore an amulet depicting the great wheel around his neck which looked like it could be of value, though it would be too difficult to lift that. It suggested he was a priest, though he looked like no priest she'd ever seen. Apart from that he didn't look rich, and that ought to have been the end of her interest in him. But gut instinct held her back, and she slowed down her pace and fell in step with him in spite of herself. "its no bother..." she said, eying him curiously. "Are you not afraid?" she asked "wondering around these parts of town like that." she made a pointless gesture to his blindfold. "Someone could rob you bl-" she stopped the pun just in time.

"Ah, I know this city like the back of my hand... at least how I might picture the back of my hand," the stranger smiled. "On Founder's Day however... the crowds tend to have me turned around. Perchance may you be heading toward the cemetery?

"might be... thereabouts anyway" she answered evasively.

"Ah, luck favours me. Another lost to the Grey Plague, and I need speak blessings over the poor soul. Might I lean on you for direction, my new found friend?"

"Depends... wossinit for me?" she replied bluntly, rolling her eyes, having little interest in wasting time guiding a priest on an errand. From the way the streets were gradually clearing she could tell it was evening, and whilst that didn't really make much of a difference for the lighting, she would rather get back to her hideout than spend all night hunting for rats.

"Comfort in knowing a soul will be sped to the Divines upon Their return... a bite from these cursed rats that plague the city, its all one can hope for."

Eudaxia froze in her tracks as he walked on. He had already rewarded her, even if he didn't know it. So the rats are carrying the Grey Plague. The noticeboard failed to mention that, she thought angrily. five silver pieces a rat had been too good to be true after all. She had heard of the Grey plague of course, but honestly she just hadn't paid too much attention to it. Plagues were just something that happened in this rotten, sunless world. You didn't panic, you just got on with your miserable life and either you would get sick and die or you wouldn't and that was that.

Off to the side she noticed an officer of the watch humiliating a kid, far younger that she was. The guard held out his mace, pointing it down at a pile of manure.

"Pick it up boy, and dump it in the bin there. That is 'lest you want trouble." The urchin scratched his neck nervously, looking about as if for a way out of the confrontation.

She'd been like that once. A helpless, snivelling child. Unable to fight for a crust of bread. But not anymore. She'd grown cunning. She'd learned to be persuasive, and defend herself from those you tried to pull her down into the mud. Now, she had power, even if she didn't understand it. She could help that kid if she wanted. Distract the guard, save him from a little of the suffering she'd had to endure. A tiny part of her wanted to.

She snuffed it out and kept moving, slipping through the shadows to avoid the attention of the amused office. That wasn't how life worked on the streets. You had to look after yourself. She wasn't going to risk getting caught and being interrogated for being a Tiefling just to help some runt. It was only manure. He would get over it.

With a hurried pace, she caught back up to the blind man with his stick. "Alright, I'll guide you." she said begrudgingly. Without his obliviously given tip she would probably have ended up catching the gray plague in her ignorance, and she didn't like owing people. Though she would be lying if she said she didn't have an ulterior motive: finding out more about the rats. She wasn't about to give up on some quick money so easily. A new plan was already forming in her brain. But for it she would need meat. Something that would lure the critters.

And by the sounds of it, they were on their way to see a corpse.

"You wouldn't mind telling me more about this disease would you? I was hoping to poach a few rats for the watch, but if they're all infected..." she trailed off, thinking.

The priest placed a hand on Eudaxia's shoulder, following along behind her with a steady tap of his walking stick. "Of course, child. It is a horrific disease, one that renders vibrant youth withered and frail upon their deaths bed, as if they'd aged a hundred years in mere weeks. I am Shaemus, by the way. I'd wager one in ten carry the disease, but I cannot be certain."

"Sounds awful." she said flatly. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance. You can call me Eudy" she said, trying to sound friendly, but staring at him intently, unafraid because of the blindfold. But paranoia wouldn't let her buy that he was completely blind. It was naïve beyond belief to trust a tiefling to lead you blindfolded around the dark city, and so she kept looking for signs that he could sense his surroundings somehow. But no amount of squinting or trying to produce subtle reactions told her anything, so she gave up.

When they reached the cemetary. The wrought iron gate was open, and swinging slightly in the breeze, a mist covering the ground as owls hooted from their perches on long dead trees. "We're looking for a Wallum Undertree. His grave should still be open. Will you be so kind as to be my eyes, child?"

It didn't take long in the mist filled grounds to find the grave, empty save for its simple coffin. Shaemus easeed himself into the earth. "IF you're intent on dealing with these rats, perhaps I could be of assistance. I may be blind, but I assure you, I am capable." With a grunt he opened the coffin, allaying her fears that it might be sealed and revealing the body of what appeared to be an ancient, withered human. "Not nineteen years old," Shaemus said sorrowfully.

she blinked as she looked down at the corpse. She herself was only nineteen. "And how could you help exactly?" she asked. He didn't look capable. He was either a blind, naïve fool, or mysterious and powerful. She hadn't been able to decide which yet. She peered in at the body, fingering her small knife in her pocket and trying to figure out if there was a way she could take a chunk of flesh without the blind man noticing. If she could lure the rats with food, then fry them with magic from above, she wouldn't need to risk getting bitten. But by the looks of it there wasn't much meat on the corpse at all.

The priest opened the palm of his hands, and what began as a flicker turned bright and hot, rising up in the air above their heads, changing colours and illuminating an everchanging glow down upon their heads. After a minute, the flame faded and disappeared. "I may be blind, but I am not useless," he said. he almost seemed to be saying it to himself.

Mysterious and powerful it is she decided, excited. Magic. This was the first time she'd seen anyone but herself use it and been sure that she was seeing the real thing. The rats were secondary now. She had to talk to this man. Tease answers out of him. "Hmm... alright then." she said, impressed. "we'll take the rats on together." With two magic wielders, maybe they wouldn't need to bait them. She avoided mentioning the reward. He seemed like one of those deluded 'do the deed for its own sake" kind of guys.

The priest deftly placed incense at the four corners of the coffin, lighting them with a strike of his tinder box. he kneeled over the coffin, cramped within the tight space, speaking some sort of incantation she do not recognize. After a few moments he stood up. "In the land of the dead, Nerull will come for you, but he will find you are blessed, and He will not touch you. Now child, shall we begin our search for these parasites?"

Eudaxia shuddered at the mention of Nerull. Up until this point in her life she hadn't concerned herself with the gods. Why would she? They had abandoned the world. Her parents had been heretics. They'd thrown her and their lives away in the name of a decrepit mythology. It had been a source of pain. Then the Fiend had given her the pact and everything had changed. She needed answers. It occurred to her that she'd never had such a long interaction with a member of the clergy before. In fact this was the longest conversation she'd had at all in ages.
"Alright. Though we could do with some kind of bait. There's a sewer not too far from here that probably sees some rat traffic. I'll lead the way."

It wasn't far to the grate. Shaemus followed with his hand upon her shoulder, steadily behind with the tapping of his stick. "I hope you don't mind getting a little dirty" she said. Wrenching the rusting grate open and descending the ladder. It was cold down bellow. The darkness was scarcely different from the one above, though the smell was considerably worse. She was glad she'd gone to the sewer before she went to get new clothes.

"you should probably know I have a little magic of my own, so that its not a surprise later." She said, picking a direction and advancing slowly.

"Ah a fellow descendant of the Godsbane. May Redemption find us, child."

"Ahem. yes" she said awkwardly. "Though I don't know much about it if I'm honest. Do you know much about the different kinds of magic? I know the demons had their own brand they gave during the Warp". It wasn't the most subtle way of broaching the subject but she was nervous.

"Ah yes, cursed infernals! They lure mortals with promises of power, twist them to do evil things, then rob of them of their ever lasting souls! A horrible fate awaits those who fall for such machinations!" With that, the priest fell quiet.

She felt a chill despite herself. Calm down, she thought. You haven't lost your soul. He's just spent too much time listening to them ridiculous priests' sermons. "H-how?" she asked, against her better judgement.

"Perhaps I should speak no more of this, child. There are men wiser then myself in this subject."

She nodded. It was probably best. "Who might they be then? I'd be interested in finding out more about magic. Even magical urchins don't get much opportunity for education."

"The faith would be happy to receive you child, and give you all the answers that you seek, you merely need to walk the path of Redemption. Come to Godsreach, the Temple of Larethian. I will inform my masters to expect you."

She gave a snort in the darkness. There wasn't much chance of her becoming a nun. "hmm... thanks". she carried on in silence. Her unlikely ally's hand still on her shoulder as she led the way. She hated being a tiefling most of the time. But sometimes she had to remind herself that many others couldn't see in the dark like she could and that for most of the day most humans weren't much better off than Shaemus was.

Eudaxia knew the sewers fairly well. They were useful for getting around. Indeed some parts of them could be considered streets as much as the roads overhead for how much traffic they received by those wishing to avoid notice or take a shortcut. However these were not the parts they were in now. These were the parts that led nowhere or were avoided, because the twists and turns were not worth it, or a shortcut wasn't worth meeting something terrible in the darkness. As they progressed, she began to hear the sounds of faint squeaks ahead, followed by scratches. "Do you hear that!" said Shaemus in a hushed tone.

she nodded, then remembered herself and answered vocally, approaching quietly, keeping her eyes peeled for movement.

turning the corner, there was a narrow tunnel that stretched on ahead. The sound came echoing down along with the trickle from the stream of waste that ran along the middle, flanked on each side by a narrow walking path. "I can see something" she said, noticing some kind of movement at the edge of her darkvision. She was afraid now, the form looked big and the noise was growing.

"Point me toward danger, I'm ready!" Shaemus replied briskly. She grabbed him by the shoulders uncertainly, rotating him to face the cacophony that was descending the tunnel, suddenly assailed by doubt. The form was much closer. It was moving fast. she could make them out now.

Rats. Lots of rats.

They were countless. Endless. They rushed and swelled like a giant living ocean wave of ravenous hunger. She could only watch in horror as an instant later the giant mass crashed into them. The rats crawled everywhere. They were in her hair, scrabbling in her clothes. Damp and rancid, she felt their biting, felt them scratch and dig into her skin in their craving for flesh.

In that moment, she was suddenly nothing more than a child again, and certain she would be eaten alive by rats. She screamed, and that primal fear became power in her blood. Fire sprang from her fingertips, spraying and killing rats and lighting the tunnel though there were more to take their place. They cascaded off of her like water, fleeing the flames and creating a small space around her. She ran, staggering down the tunnel, trying to escape the terrible hunger. Now free of the swarm she turned, seeing Shaemus similarly overwhelmed. He had dropped his stick and was walking blindly, tossing away the rats that attempted to scale him. She called out to him, trying to give him a voice to guide him over the screeching of the rodents, as she hurled a blast of eldritch energy into their midst, but it was weak and feeble, unable to quench their numbers. That's all I have in me, she thought with despair. After that one spell. For all her bravado, she was still a powerless urchin.

Then Shaemus began to chant as he stumbled towards her, a glow growing within him and a sword made of light appearing in the air. It cut through the angry swarm in large swathes, cleaving rats and scattering their bits around the tunnel as they attempted pursuit. She grabbed his hand as he approached, practically dragging him back towards the exit they'd come in. "I've lost my stick" he lamented, now clutching a dagger.

"There are other sticks." She replied, still running for her life from the terrible sounds that followed them down the tunnel. She practically dived on the ladder to the surface when they reached it, clambering out of the oppressive underground to fresh air. Turning to help Shaemus, she saw him misstep and slip on the ladder. She dived for his hand but it was too late. He fell back and disappeared into the churning, awaiting horde.

No..., she thought in despair. She'd led him to his death. He didn't deserve this. She knew it didn't matter. That the world didn't care. But this time she had to try. She summoned the energy inside of herself once more, shooting another blast of energy into their midst, but this one was even more pathetic than the last and barely fizzled as it made contact with the rats. So useless... Always at the mercy of others.

Fire, She thought numbly, they fled the fire. She dug amongst her things looking for a torch, losing precious seconds fumbling with a tinderbox to get the pitch lit. She dropped it limply down the hole, and heard the squeal as the pack moved to avoid the heat. As they cleared she caught sight of a figure trying to get to its feet, slashing with a dagger and seeking the ladder. They were starting to diminish now, retreating to find easier prey.

Eudaxia dug deep inside herself. Searching for the power she needed. The power she craved with the furious intensity of a thousand starving rats. The power she knew that she had. A beam of crackling energy sprang from her palm with a cry, smashing into the monstrosities and sending them flying against the tunnel walls. Those that did not fall dead scattered into the depths, leaving the tunnel clear. In the long silence that followed, it took everything Eudaxia had to descend back down the ladder. She helped the priest to find it.

"My thanks child.... I fear I won't so much as look at a latrine again!"

Now that the adrenaline was fading she found herself growing angry. Furious at having put herself in such danger, and for overestimating both herself and her companion. She never relied on others, that was her rule. What had gotten into her. Now a new fear settled on her, the fear of the Gray Plague. Now that she could focus, she realised she could feel a burning in her wounds, slowly seeping into her. Then something seemed to resist, the burning retreated and the injuries subsided to a dull throb.

What was that? Part of my powers? Did that mean the Gray Plague was magical too? Now that she thought about it, she'd never heard of rats being so aggressive, so relentless. It was almost as if they had been possessed by some kind of force.

In any case one thing is clear, she thought, as Shaemus healed her with a spell. I need to get stronger.

---

@dndragons@Home Brewed

Ahrem raised a hand at Says’s notion, requesting her to wait just a moment. “I’m sure the last few days have been rough on you both, brave Watchmen. Would you be willing to tell us what you know in exchange for a... song, perhaps?” Ahrem asked, before taking a flute out from a special case strapped to his belt. “I will be playing a song called ‘Rest by the Mountainside.’ It is one many bards of my caliber know, and it is played in many taverns to invigorate weary travelers.” Ahrem mentioned, before whispering a few magical words and gesturing at his flute, using the Prestidigitation spell to let it glow faintly.

And at once, Ahrem began to play the flute…

The guardsmen frown as the flute glows, sure they are being had by some parlour trick. One of them, Frank, gets up to shoo the pair off the Gatehouse stoop, before a moving melody stems from the flute, Ahrem's fingers moving deftly across and ushering forth an invigorating tune. Frank shrugs, nodding his approval as he sits back down and has a bite of stew. After the last note plays, the guards' disposition had warmed. "Alright, alright, if it will give us a moment's peace... Head up to the Fairview Estate by the Cistern. Their daughter is the most recent to have disappeared... And here - " Harold hands Ahrem a scroll of recommendation, identifying the holder as an errant of the City Watch. "Gods be with ya - now may we finish our meal, my lord?"

Ahrem bowed in thanks to the guards and shuffling his flute back into its case, and holding onto the scroll. Turning to Saya, he nodded his head before he began walking, gesturing her follow. Saya was standing rather astonished that it worked out, as well as simply not expecting it in the first place. Seeing his attempt to make his performance enhanced with a little magic as well made her question who he seemed to be even more as she carefully followed him out. As they got away from the guards and out into the public she stayed following behind silently. Contemplating if it was a good idea to stay nearby more unsure of who he may be, but he seemed perfectly casual with his use of magic and his successful act. For now, she decided it was harmless but the curiosity remained.

Once they were well away from the guards, Ahrem threw his hood back up. After mulling over about their encounter for a bit, Ahrem had realized his use of magic earlier. Was he beginning to feel less subtle about it, now that he was officially recognized as magically sensitive? Despite that, he felt like he had absconded from telling his new ally of all his skills.

“I know a bit of magic,” Ahrem spoke, suddenly, “Though, it is mostly just a few minor magical tricks most mages know, I also learned a few defensive spells, as well. I didn’t mention it because I...” Ahrem paused, suddenly. He was about to mention his curse to her, but shook his head after a few seconds of pausing. “Never mind about that. Was it true what the Watchman said about you, being a priest, by the way?”

As Ahrem spoke she listened carefully for possible lies in his voice out of the desire to keep herself safe, but she didn't feel as if he was lying. As he asked her about being a priest she stopped for a second as her hand once again went to her necklace, before taking a few quick steps to catch back up to Ahrem and respond. "It makes sense that you wouldn't be forward about magic." she first responded quietly before she lifted her head up to glance over to Ahrem. "As far as priest, no... I don't work at any temple though I guess he mistook me for a priestess or an aid."

When Saya stopped, Ahrem didn’t notice until she was out of his peripheral vision, stopping and turning to let her catch up. “Ah, I see,” He nodded. “Might I ask what god you worship, by the way?” Saya continued to look around, knowing that she had heard Haven became more open to faith and the like made her slightly more comfortable, but she was worried how touchy of a subject it was. "Issaries." she said after a moment. "Though, I understand that all the gods play a part with one another.”

"Issaries?" Ahrem repeated, thinking for a moment. "I remember a passing bard mentioning the same goddess. It's where I got the idea of the song I improvised, earlier." Ahrem began thinking of the gods, a bit more, and the prospect of worshipping them. He wasn't raised to worship the gods, learning not to depend on their blessings from his Mother, and understandably so, given the Curse both he and his father have or are currently suffering. Ahrem would have scorned the gods, too, if not for what he learned earlier today about just where this mark of Jydes originated from. Ahrem clutched his chest at the thought, remembering the stinging pain of it, once again.

---

As Ahrem seemed to grab his chest without thought, Saya stole a quick look at the action before turning forward again. "So you aren't a Bard yourself? You could be, you played fairly well.” she complimented to remain nice before her gazed was drawn back towards their arrival at the Fairview estate. Luckily it remained in a less crowded region of the city since the markets were now away from them and the main festivities were towards the square. "And it seems we have arrived-" she quietly added to her previous statement. Gazing at the home before her that seemed to contain quite a bit of wealth. At least, far more than she even thought about owning herself. "Perhaps you should knock-"

"I actually wanted to be a Bard when I was younger. I always loved to brighten peoples' day, even if it were just from a small gesture..." Ahrem mentioned, looking down and remembering his childhood days where he would try his best to cheer up his mother, who was generally miserable due to his father being lost to the curse. He could only imagine how devastated she feels, now, knowing her son is afflicted with the same malady.

Looking up to the estate, Ahrem nodded to Saya's suggestion, pulling down his hood and walking up to it...

For the final match, they had put an older goblin up against a nervous goblin with shifty eyes and a jagged cleft mouth. Durwith raised an eyebrow at the announcement of the odds being in the older goblin's favor and at the whispers of said goblin being a magic user. Although he couldn't tell for sure whether Old One could use magic or not, Durwith decided to bet his 4 gp on him anyway. The fight that followed was a pathetic display as Cleft whimpered and moaned, refusing to raise his claws against the old goblin, merely allowing himself be beaten to a bloodied stump with a rock. The spectators jeered and booed at the poor excuse for a fight and Durwith won 4 more gold pieces.

Once he'd collected his winnings, Durwith walked up to the ringside to get a better look at Old One, thinking that a closer and longer examination would tell the dwarf if the goblin could use magic. Two slaver's fitted the aged goblin with ropes as it barked and spat and the lead slaver slapped a collar on him. "This ones all used up!" the leader snapped "We're not going to make any gold if none of these scrappers will fight him!" Durwith took a closer look at the Old One. Cloudy eyes, elongated claws, and a tattoo scrawled on his withered chest, faded and easy to miss. A rune of Nerull, one that gained notoriety when the City Watch struggled against the Shadow Cult two years ago. It was a good bet that this goblin could indeed wield magic. But that didn't matter to Durwith anymore. He knew that rune tattooed onto the goblin's chest all too well. The people who served under it, killed a good friend of Durwith's 2 years back. Now all that mattered to Durwith was killing that goblin.

"I'll fight the little bastard!" Durwith called out to the slaver "I might not be a goblin meself, but I'd very much like to dice the rancid thing anyway!".
The lead slaver looked over to Durwith and shook his head. "You and about a thousand others would like a try at these scrappers" the leader replied "But ifin 'ee be dead, I don't make any gold, see?".
"And 'ee ain't about to make you gold if the other scrappers won't go near 'im" Durwith replied "Besides, after that farce you just put on, I think you owe the crowd at least 1 last decent fight".
The slaver rubbed his stubbled chin for a moment in consideration. "Alright" he finally said "let me clear it with the ringmaster". The lead slaver walked over to the ringmaster. After a brief exchange with the ringmaster, the lead slaver returned. "This ain't exactly regular, but he's agreed" the leader said "Just put on a good show!".
"Oh, I intend to" Durwith replied as he vaulted over the ring border.

As the slaver led Old One to the other side of the ring, the ringmaster's voice carried out over the crowd, who had just started to leave. "Ladies and gentleman!" the ringmaster called out "One more fight for your viewing pleasure! Behold the mighty Dwarven Grimblade! A newcomer here in Haven living out in exile from Razor Mountains for his sheer butchery! And with us now, intent on killing goblins! 3:1 Odds for our Dwarven hero! I know you all cannot pass up that action!". The crowd shuffles in closer to the fighter ring, holding pouches of copper and silver for betting while Old One hissed and spat as the slavers prepared to unleash his collar. Durwith donned his shield, drew his battleaxe, and pounded the flat of the blade against his shield in a gladiatorial manner. "Let's see how you do against someone who isn't afraid of you, ya filthy goblin!" Durwith exclaimed as he prepared to fight.

The slavers pulled the collar free, and Old One's eyes darkened toward Durwith. "Sho gro la' gahmuush!" the goblin snapped. Suddenly, Durwith felt an energy surround him, similar to an electric charge at the onset of a storm. The ground trembled and out of the rock and sands at his feet, thorned vines sprouted with incredible speed, spanning the entire fighting pit. The crowd made a collective gasp as they saw the vines entangle Durwith's feet, reach up to whip across his arms, binding them tight, and creep up ever closer to his throat. But before they could get that far, Durwith summoned up his strength and broke free of his bindings. Upon freeing himself from the vines, Durwith charged the goblin and struck him across the chest with his battleaxe, cutting through the tattoo as it went. Old One howled in pain, stumbling backward from the blow, its legs bent, squatting low to the ground with one claw firm against its bleeding wound. "R'mash! R'mash!" Old One called out suddenly. About fifty feet from the fighting pit, there was a large cage that housed the goblins. They began jumping and hooting at Old One's words. One slaver, standing to close, was pulled tight to the cage, claws reached out and sliced his throat while others groped at his leathers. "Secure that cage!" the ringmaster hollered.

Old One's lips curled up in a whisper as a fog formed around the cage, enveloping it, concealing the dying slaver and the caged goblins. Durwith's shield then slammed into Old One's face. While taking advantage of the goblin's momentary stun, Durwith then severed Old One's right arm at the shoulder. The left arm was quick to follow in a similar manner before Durwith moved onto the legs. With a single sideways slash, Durwith severed both of Old One's legs at the knees. With the goblin now prone on the ground, Durwith lifted his his battleaxe into the air and brought it down a few inches to the left of Old One's head, embedding the blade into the ground. Durwith then dropped his shield, placed a foot on the goblin's chest, reached down, and ripped Old One's head from his shoulders. Durwith lifted up the goblin's head for the crowd to see, but quickly realized their attention was focused on the cage. After dropping the head and reclaiming his weapon and shield, Durwith walked towards the cage. The countless growls and barks of the goblins filled the air behind the smokey veil. "What are you waiting for?!" the ringmaster shouted to the slavers "Get in there!"
"After you!" the lead slaver barked back.

Suddenly, goblins came pouring out of the cloud. They leaped at the slavers, claws and teeth ripping into flesh as they pounced on them. Panic set into the crowd and they turned to run in all directions as small goblin forms lunged out of the cloud in all directions. "Well shit" Durwith said before pulling out the horn he used during his time in the watch and blew into it as hard as he could in the hopes of summoning the watch and drawing the goblins' attention so that others could get away.

The Fairview estate loomed over the pair. It was a three story building surrounded by a low stone wall. The gate was open, leading to a winding path that might have been a sight to behold a decade earlier. At present the manor grounds were invaded by brambles that threatened to overcome the path. The door opened as they approached, as if they were expected, and they were greeted by a man with close cropped blonde hair, a clean white shirt, and carried an air of dignity. "Greetings, and welcome to the Fairview Estate. I am Renold, valet to the Master and Lady Fairview. How might I be of service?"

Saya wordlessly gazed her eye upon the more unkempt estate within the city of Haven. With leaves and twigs still strewn about and the shaking brambles as a light breeze went by she herself didn't think of it as bad since nature was free to do as it pleased. Yet, she knew it was a sign of the family's possible turmoil but how long ago was the daughter even taken? She had forgotten to ask, but a strange thought in her mind was that the family likely was going downhill already for it to already be this overgrown on their arrival. However, there seemed to still be an air of some pride as the valet revealed himself before the duo. Saya kept quiet at his greeting for now to allow her unhooded compatriot to introduce them and their cause.

As he walked up the path, Ahrem couldn't help but disapprove at the estate's state of disrepair. Before today, he would have offered to cut these gardens for them if it meant he could raise more funds to take care of himself, and his mother. Now, he couldn't help but feel like this was left out of carelessness. If he were a lord, he thought, he would make sure to keep at least his own lands pleasing to look at. At the same time, though, Ahrem did understand why they were in such a state... if his child ever did go missing to something nefarious, he would have fallen into despair, after all. But now is not the time to think of having children, especially if you have a curse that also affects said children.

"Hello, and thank you for welcoming us." Ahrem began, digging the scroll of recommendation from his belt. "My name is Ahrem... Grenstone. My associate, Saya, and I, know of your Master's plight, and wish to help. We have the good graces of the City Watch to work on this case, if you would so allow us to speak to your Lord. Here's the scroll detailing so." Ahrem completed before handing the valet the scroll.

Renold took the scroll, inspecting it carefully. "I shall submit to the good master. If you will please wait here, I shall return, post haste." Without awaiting a reply he shut the door, disappearing inside with the scroll of recommendation.

With the door shut Saya turned her glance back to the yard they had passed through. Gazing at it in silent thought for a brief period before she spoke to Ahrem. "They don't even seem to have the wealth to keep their yard clean right now... Even if their daughter had gone missing, that wouldn't stop paying their servants unless something was up." Her observation was slightly solemn, as this news could mean a few things for them and none of it felt like it would be good. At least, she also hoped they were servants not slaves, but if they had slaves they didn't even need to pay them to keep them cleaning which made it unlikely.

While waiting, Ahrem crossed his arms in thought, putting his hand on his chin, in thought, for a moment. That was, until Saya began to speak to him. Turning towards her as she spoke, he gave her analysis thought. He didn't even think of some of the clues she had been talking about to such length until now, and nodded in agreement. "Hm... fair point. It might be wise to ask if we could see their business ledgers and recent dealings with other parties. If they won't relent, then one of us might just have to sneak in and find any evidence on such shady dealings. Lords and Ladies tend to have a significant amount of pride, and as such, may not share such scandalous information with us at the get-go, even if we ask nicely and have the best intentions."Ahrem replied, quietly.

Saya glanced to Ahrem and quickly stated. "There wouldn't be too much use in that however.... if it was business why would other women such as escorts been taken? Some of them had no connections to wealth."

Ahrem gave it thought, before leaning close to Saya's side, whispering. "They may have dealt with someone who may be selling illegal or otherwise questionable substances. I've heard it many times before, that some... escorts tend to use their money on such vices, growing up in this city, and all."

"....I hope it's just that," Saya responded.

After a while the door opened once again. Renold returned the scroll to Ahrem before stepping aside and motioning for them to come inside. "The good master shall see you." Much like the exterior of the house, the main hall of the manor must have been a sight to behold at one time. At its present state, it left much to be desired. Sheets were draped over furniture, a large chandelier hung over head unlit, and shadows loomed over every corner of the hall. Renold looked over the pair with a degree of superiority... "May I take the lady's cloak?"

Ahrem given a quick glance into the scroll, once more, before stuffing it back into his belt. Once they are inside, Ahrem made it a point to try not to stare at its state of disrepair. When Renold asked for Saya's cloak, Ahrem couldn't help but feel suspicious why he is asking only for her cloak.

Saya once again found herself taking a moment to use the peripherals of her eyes to gaze at the state of the estate. With everything together, it was even clearer how bad their finances were. It didn't look like ransom, usually pay once and be done with it was that, but right now it looked like a long downfall was the correct answer to her question of time. Uncomfortable was the word that most matched how the interior made her feel, and as the man asked for her cloak she turned her head in his direction and nodded almost immediately as a response. Her gut instinct for now being that she needed to be approachable for the family if they didn't have anything to hide, or to be able to get them to talk more to her. "Alright-" she quietly replied as she threw the hood off and carefully took it off to hand over. It wasn't a nice cloak by any means either, so at least if she didn't get it back there wasn't a monetary loss to associate. Keep optimistic- she told herself.

Renold draped the cloak gingerly over his arm before turning to Ahrem. "And the gentleman?"
Ahrem gazed at Renold, quietly removing his cloak before handing it to the valet. Might have just been manners, after all, he though... Chivalry isn’t as dead as they say it is, huh? “... Thank you,” he mentioned, a few seconds after handing over his cloak.

"The good master is in seclusion in the east wing," Renold said with a sweeping motion of his free hand. "If you'll follow me." the valet strut out in front, leading them across the hall to a doorway, where he picked up a lantern to illuminate the hallway ahead.

Saya once again nodded in affirmation and began to follow the valet through the darkened halls. The fact they didn't even have lights on in their halls was difficult to get past. Considering how there was no sun, candles and oil had become commonplace for one to own and purchase frequently, but they didn't have it. The feeling this estate wasn't going to be theirs for long came across her body, but she refused to ask anything of the valet and seem intrusive yet.

Ahrem followed quietly, sneaking a quick glance at Saya without her cloak. She looked... manlier than he thought, at the very least. Then again, perhaps it is just the armor she was wearing, of which he didn't expect. He always pictured priestesses as wearing more... robe-like chain mail, after all. At the very least, it seems his suspicion of her racial heritage has been brought to light. She was a half-elf, as expected... not that this was any problem, to him. As they traversed the dark halls, Ahrem seemed more relaxed than earlier, seeing that Renold was nothing but courteous towards the two. Still, though, he couldn't help but feel the slightest suspicion that they were walking into a trap. Leaning closer to Saya, once again, Ahrem began to whisper a few things to her. "You can see better than I in the dark, right?"

Renold led them down a long corridor. To the left they passed a series of doors, along with dust outlines where paintings used to hang. To the right, long windows offered a view of the grounds, however they were overtaken with the brambles, casting thorny shadows across the hall.

Saya kept her eyes forward now that they were traveling through, beams of moonlight or city lamps going through the gaps in the branches illuminating what they could, but the dark was still fairly oppressing outside of the lantern their guide held. In the eerie silence of their walk Saya carefully tucked her necklace away under her armor and kept her ears keen of other movement that may be occurring in the lone halls. Wondering if any other servants such as the valet were left.

At last they come to a door at the end of the hall. Renold hangs the cloaks up on the wall before turning back to Ahrem and Saya. "I ask that you keep your voices to a hushed tone as the Lady Fairview is at rest, and do try to keep your business here brief." With that Renold turned and opened the door and announcing, "Master Ahrem and the Lady Saya to see you, good master Barot of Fairveiw."

Beyond the door is what appears to be a study, looking much more lived in then the other rooms they've seen. A fire burns warn and bright in the hearth, book cases line the shelves, and a door on the far wall is shut. There is a table where maps and scrolls are strewn about, and the good master stands facing the fire, leaning up against the hearth with his back to them.

Barot Fairview spoke with a gravely voice, tinged with sorrow. "A man loses his daughter, pays all that he has to see her returned but it is not enough, and now, as a final humiliation, must endure hosting brigands and peasants whom deem they know more then the City Watch." he nods his head toward the table. "Might as well have some wine." A bottle lay on its side on the table, a small pool leaked out

It wasn't hard to catch onto the dark clouds looming over the room and tension thick enough to cut through. Saya easily forgot about the strange feeling she got being introduced as 'lady' as her gaze towards the fire caught the exhausted lord. While she had thought his fortunes were bad before his daughter was taken, it seems his daughter may not be the most recent missing woman and that it was going on for a while for this to occur. When he indicated wine, all thirst was lost as the drips of wine trailed from the table to the floor melodically. With every beat in time, Saya felt a little more tense in approaching the man as she took a step forward and bent over in a bow. Even if he didn't look, the formality remained for her to act on as she spoke up in her soft voice. "The City Watch can only fulfill what they are ordered, but we can act on our own experiences and instincts they do not have." Her response aimed to simply get him thinking about it rather than fight back against his words. Getting back to her upright position she then added on. "And, if I could start by asking.... what is your daughter's name?"

"El.... Elonna," Barot choked out.

"Elonna, she has a nice name. How old is she?"

Barot turned to face them. His hair was an unruly mop of black and grey, his face unshaven and an unruly mustache covering his mouth. He had an unkempt shirt, unbuttoned, and a dirty vest. His eyes were bloodshot and weary. The look of a broken man. "She would have been twenty four next moon."

Lord Barot looked completely distraught, his negative words further adding on to that assumption. The look on his face reminded him of his own mother’s when she found out his father’s cursed had passed on to him. Knowing how terrible he felt, Ahrem chose to stay silent, for now. He was never good at these delicate situations, and Saya seems to be doing well, so far.

Saya took another step forward and quietly responded. "She will be twenty four, at least she may be if you could help us find her." Looking up into his eyes to show sympathy, she noted how ragged the man looked and felt any suspicion she had for the man fade since for now it seemed clear that he genuinely cared and was giving his all for her. "With everything you have given up to find Elonna have you been able to uncover anything of her disappearance, and if there is anything that relates her to the other women who are missing?"

"Not a Godsdamn thing!" He said, clenching his fist and turning back to the fire, pounding it hard against the mantle. Dust and soot sprinkled down the chimney from the impact causing the fire to brighten for a moment. "Like my Elonna all were beautiful, so says the Watch. Yet I am not entirely convinced they are connected. I believe this to be the work of the Bloodwines. They stand to gain the most for my ruin! And I am ruined.... utterly and completely."

Saya tilted her head after almost jumping from his lashing out. Carefully moving slightly closer again to say "Please, tell us more about your daughter then. What she did, where she went, and the last time you saw her. If you haven't found anything, they we simply need to look elsewhere. You have already eliminated so many theories, which means you have helped find the solution in more ways than you beleive." Barot slumped over, falling quiet as he stared at the fire.

Ahrem crossed his arms as the Master of the estate lashed out. The Bloodwines, he said... they do sound awfully familiar to him. Ahrem remembers reading about them during his restless nights spent in the library, although his memory was rather hazy on their history, aside from what they have influence over.

"I will say no more of this," Barot sighed, waving to the closed door along the wall. "Feel free to check her room. We left it exactly as it was when she disappeared. "Renold," Barot summoned

Renold stepped forward. "Of course, good master. Follow me, if you will." Renold led them across the room to the door, opening it up and stepping through.

Ahrem nodded, turning for the door at once. He had nothing else to say to the lord, as well, in his current state, knowing that words of comfort and assurance may have a chance to further anger him.

Saya glanced back to Ahrem as it seemed the man was about to be done with her, but she didn't want to give up just yet as she looked back and moved to kneel down next to the Lord. "Silence is what allows secrets to be powerful. The more you can tell me the more that silence is able to be broken through and unlock the mystery. Please, even something small can be the key that fits."

Barot slammed his fist against the mantle yet again, sending a shower of soot into the flames. "I'VE SAID MY..." He inhaled sharply, steadying his voice. "I've said my peace. Look if you must, then Renold will show you out."

Ahrem bowed his head down at Saya’s recent attempt. He didn’t blame her for it failing, as he has seen mad grief, before, and what it can do to a person. He stood near the exit of the room, silently waiting for Saya to stand and join him.

Saya flinched slightly as he let his anger out again, finding her words futile on the man that seems to be on the edge of breaking. He was hanging on to a small hope, but to her at least she was worried he had grasped to many threads and doesn't have the strength to pull one more. So many times the threads only brought in disappointment. "Yes, my lord..." she politely said in a whisper as she stood up and carefully moved away. Failing once again to get the information she wanted as she turned back around and moved to follow the valet once again. Hands gently being formed into a fist waiting for anything more.

The valet led them down another hallway, around a corner and up a staircase. Stepping inside a large bedchamber, Renold set to work lighting a wall side brazier just inside the door, along with candles in the corners of the room. "I will be just outside, should you have need of me." Renold gave a bow and closed the door behind him.

The chamber was well kept and clean. Tapestry partitions formed a barrier around the large canopy bed in the center of the room, with a desk and book shelf opposite the bed. Two large armoires flanked the bed, and a large window and door led out to a balcony overlooking the manor grounds.

Ahrem took a quick glance at the room before starting at one of the more obvious places. He walked forward, inspecting the window to see if it has opened recently.

Saya slipped inside behind Ahrem and quickly began gazing around. More somber notions filling her mind as the room was left without it's proper owner. As she carefully moved about to not disturb anything laying about less it looked promising, she simply wanted to find anything that may be a lead. If that means looking under the bed or checking drawers and more so be it.

The two begin combing the room. Sticking out in contrast with the rest of the manor, a large painting hangs overlooking the bed. It is a portrait of, presumably, Elonna of Fariview. Blond and beautiful, the blue eyed lady offers a hint of a smile in the portrait, her eyes seeming to follow the pair as they go about the room. Looking over the balcony door, Ahrem finds what appears to be a new lock fastened along both the top and bottom. In the armories an assortment of fine clothes signal an impeccable sense of fashion. Within the drawers there is parchment, letters, jewelry and Elonna's personal journal, fastened with a locking mechanism.

Ahrem took note of the new locks, keeping that in mind before shifting his gaze for the painting. It seemed quite... offputting, to him.

Saya, looking at the lock, sees that its not a traditional lock requiring a key. Instead, it has a series of radial mechanisms that together, spell out a four letter word. Currently it reads DEAD.

Saya carefully cycled the letters of the locked journal, noting that a message had been left behind. Her first instinct was to change them to LIFE.

Nothing notable happens, and the book remains locked.

Without currently further clues, Saya kept the journal in hand to possibly find out more later. If they got a clue for it she would take it, and that's really what she focused on now. Looking for letters or words on plaques, titles of books that may indicate a word or anything in letters she had.

Ahrem inspects the painting hanging over the bed. The eyes do seem to follow him. There doesn't seem to be much more to find, except on closer look, an amulet draped over the girl's neck catches his eye. It depicts a white bird.

"Ahrem, there's this journal I found... it requires a four letter word to unlock."

“Hold on a moment...” Ahrem held a hand up to Says, gesturing her to wait as he tried to recall what sort of bird this was.

“... Try ‘Bird’ or ‘Dove,’ maybe.”

"Alright." She responded as she moved the letters to attempt both. Nothing happened with the attempt at bird. With dove, a faint click is heard ,and the book opens. "It worked-" she stated as she carefully opened it, looking more towards the last pages of course.

“Let me know what you find in that journal.” Ahrem replied, his lips curving slightly at the new breakthrough, making his way back to the window. “Renold! Have the locks on the balcony window change, recently?” No answer came from outside. With growing suspicion, Ahrem breezily marched towards the door, a hand hovering over his sword. While he approached the door, the sound of conversation became apparent. Ahrem puts his ear by the door, attempting to listen in on what’s being said. One voice he recognizes as Renold, the other from a woman.

"My lady, please. The good master has asked you to retire for the night."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Renold, last I checked I am the Lady Fairview, and you're a mere sycophant of my darling husband. Perhaps you're jealous.... Perhaps you wish it was you who shared his bed and not I?!"

"My lady, you are drunk."

Meanwhile, Saya flips through the pages of the book. Two of the more recent entries catch her eye... 'I cannot help but fret. Something Aunt Chara said. A jape perhaps, but it got me thinking.... Will I age like mother? I can't bear the thought. She is wholly insufferable, and their poor excuses for suitors they keep bringing to my door only ensure I will live under their roof forever! I must see this herbalist in Hero's Square. Although Becca made a good point. If this miracle cream worked, then how is it the herbalist is so frightfully ugly.'

The second entry... 'I've had it with my parents! They have insisted on grounding me and keeping me confined to my room. I thought father was going to kill poor Gentry. So what if he's a Bloodwine, I love him! Slaves are not real people anyway. They're lower then baseborn. Yet Father only grew angrier when I said this. If he catches Gentry sneaking through my balcony again, I fear he will kill him.’

Ahrem decided it would be best if he didn’t go outside. In order to protect their investigation, he went over to lock the door. After a few minutes the voices cease, and the hall outside is quiet once more. Ahrem then unlocked the door and checks outside.

Renold is stood outside the door. "Everything in order, master Ahrem. Shall I see you out?"

“Ah, not quite. I was wondering if the locks have been changed on the balcony window, recently.”

"Ah, yes. That's right. A matter of routine, you see." Renold said quickly.

Saya had been intently reading the journal for a time, feeling several emotions course through her at the comments on slaves and her views. However, she did her best to contain her displeasure as the pages turned and turned. The lead for the herbalist didn't sound like much until she thought about how beautiful women may have used it to try and stay that way, but the bloodwine entry almost seemed to imply she would run away. Which one was dated later she supposed may be more prevalent.

“Routine? Tell me about this routine, please, and how recently the locks were changed.”

Saya could see that the entry about the herbalist was most recent by a day

"Ahrem... I found a lead. And I get the feeling it might mix in with one you had made- We need to go before the markets close."

"I'll have you know that we change the locks reg..." Renold began, stopping at Saya's interrupting and tilting his head. "You found a lead, really?"

Ahrem feels like this is suspicious. The locks are changed regularly, yet the rest of the house is left in disarray. Renold could be telling the truth, seeing this is a more lived in area of the manor, but Ahrem couldn’t quite be sure he was.

Its clear to Saya that Renold is lying, and when pressed he caves. "Very well.... I suppose the good master has trusted you enough to let you search, so I will be honest. We had a break in several days after Lady Elonna disappeared. Someone had entered her chambers and defaced a family portrait. So we changed the locks."

Saya blinked as he explained and checked towards the window in thought. "Why would they come deface a painting... did it have a message?"

Renold looked down... "No message that I could decipher, merely black ink scratched across the portrait, covering the face of Lady Elonna.”

Ahrem then spoke up, “Very well. Thank you for your cooperation... What was that lead you were talking about, again?”

"The Hero's Square, there is an old woman selling a supposed cream that would keep her looking youthful. She was afraid of turning into her mother- And I suppose other beautiful women have been looking to purchase it as well. I think it may be the link and could drugged. The only other connection may be the bloodwine, but I want to look into this first."

“It adds up. Why else would someone break in only to vandalize a painting by blocking out the young Lady’s face...” Ahrem thought, before turning back to Renold. “Very well, send us out, but I need to speak to you before we go.”

"Very well, milord." Renold spoke before he lead them back down the stairs, taking a different door to avoid the study, where the sound of arguing can be heard, followed by broken glass. "This way, if you'll please. I'm afraid the good master and Lady Fairview are at their breaking point. I pray the Gods have brought you here."

Saya wanted to turn back to the sound of glass, and even more so wanted to get it to stop but knew her intervention wouldn't be welcome. The answer to that would be saving their daughter, so the only path was forward on that front. "Thank you, Renold." She said to the valet as they moved to leave. "I hope we can finish this soon."

“We’ll need to make haste, then...” Ahrem agreed, as the made their way down the hall.

Renold leads them back into a familiar corridor on the other side of the study. The shadow of thorns seemed to have deepened in the hall. The valet hastily grabs their cloaks as more shouting can be heard from the study, followed by a woman crying. "These are ill times indeed. Follow me please!" Renold stepped out in front, leading them back to the main hall, away from the study.

Saya gritted her teeth with the sounds of more fighting, noting how Renold seems to be used to ushering people out from their battle. "Yes, with haste."

Back at the front door, Renold sets his lamp down on the table, holding up Saya's cloak to drape it over her shoulders. "So you're both headed to the market then... I shall pray you make progress."

Saya gladly put on her cloak and put her hood up quickly as she gave a nod, letting Ahrem get his and really feeling the desire to almost run at this point... but restraining herself from doing it.

Similarly, Renold holds up Arhem's cloak.

Ahrem grabbed his cloak, as well, leaning to Renold, to confide in him.

“Thank you, once again, Renold. When we’re gone, and when the Lord and Lady of the Estate have calmed down, I need you to tell them that we know where Lady Elonna is, and that we will bring her back. I know it may be dishonest, but I’ve seen the grief they’re going through. They will need the hope.”

Saya turned to Ahrem quite wide eyed, especially since they didn't know anything for sure and the fact the hope might be crushed within the next 24 hours.

Renold looks doubtful. "I will tell the good master you have found a promising lead, my lord."

Renold opens the door with a bow. Outside alarm bells are heard in the distance, coming from the Slaver's Ward. "Ill times indeed," says Renold, before shutting the door.

---

Slaver's Square in the city of Haven is far from serene. Prisoners of war, debtors, criminals and other unfortunate people who find themselves in the bonds of slavery are corralled to here, where they are branded, chained, and sold off. The city's affluent tend to gather here to view the stocks and cages, and slavers frequently bring in new captives.

On this night, just before Founders' Day, the preliminary rounds of the goblin fights are held, a taste of the main events that was to come during the main festivities in a day's time. Goblins, while nasty and horrid creatures, weren't thought of as so much of a threat, especially when caged and clasped in irons, and only brought out two at a time. It was something of a routine, though usually held within the arena.

At the far side of the square, up the main street, a bright red wagon stocked with supplies and cure-alls rode into the square, driven by an old Dwarf and a wounded human. Just as they entered a horn cut through the air, carrying its deep note high and far, hopefully attracting the attention of nearby guards.

Goblins have escaped their cages, attacked the slavers, and cut a swath of death through the square. Even in times of peace, death and fear rule Slaver's Square. Tonight would be no different.

Upon hearing Sylvia's whisper in his ear, the sailor looked to Lockwood, who gave him a nod. The sailor grinned at Slyvia as he stood up, clearing his seat. "I'll be takin a rain check, lass, of that you can be sure."

"A true gentlman." Sylvia retorted, taking the seat and propping her elbows on the table. Her chin resting on her knuckles. "So. Fancy finding you here, right around Founder's Day." She raised a brow at the captain. "Coincednce?"

The man who's seat she took was clearly out of her world, as far as she was concerned.

Lockwood took a long inhale of his pipe, letting a silver puff of smoke roll out of his lips. "Nah, there's gold to be made lass! Founders Day?! Pah! Tis a golden day for me and my mates!"
His crew laughed, raising their mugs in cheers

A smile flashed on Sylvia's lips. Barely averting her eyes to witness the rousing of the crew. She took her hands off the table and placed one to her chin, as if to ponder an idea. As if she didn't have this already planned out.

"I like the sound of that. At the moment I happen to be looking for work." She motioned around her with her arms. "Surely my reputation can garner me a place in this scheme?" She looked to the boy who had tried to rob her not long ago.

"I certainly wouldn't be the worst pirate of your bunch."

Lockwood looked to his crew. "What do you say, lads? We need another to share in on the gold?" The crew laughed, hollering a resounding "NO!"
Lockwood laughed. "Ah me matey's have no heart! Barkeep! A mug o' ale for my friend! I be thinking a little charity is in order. 'Tis Founders Day, after all!"

The corner of Sylvia's lips turned a little higher at the response of the crew. She didn't blame them for their answer, and she wasn't done here yet.

When a server came over to give her the drink, she made sure to pay. She wasn't the type to take handouts, and she made eye-contact with Lockwood while doing so.

"Well. I can't blame ya' I suppose." She remarked as she took the tanakrd in hand. "But I figurerd I might as well ask." She took a long swig before continuing. "I'd rather work with you than against is all."

Lockwood tossed his head back with a laugh. "Oh aye, lass. My mates are short sighted and greedy, but I'll work with ya! Just so happens I'm in need of another mate on me ship. But you'll earn your keep, lass! There be no slackin'!"

She let a chuckle loose at the reply, raising her mug to the crew. "Not the worst traits for pirates ey?" She stood then, and outstrethed the drink. "Slackin ain't in my lexicon. A clink to good buisness?" She wiggled the tankard a little, motioning for the captain to collide his cup with hers.

Lockwood leaned forward, clashing his mug with hers, beer splashing from the impact. "There be no more sacred oath between sailors, then a cheers of ale!" He laughed.

She laughed with him and threw back the rest of her drink, wiping it off her chin after doing so. "Runs deeper than blood it does!"

"We cast off in eight hours, lass... Be at the fourth pier when that north star is bright! "

"You've got it...captain." She smiled at him and slammed the tankard down onto the table, moving the chair away from her to leave. With the alcahol still in her blood from last night, this drink would be enough, she hadn't been on the seas for some time and she wanted to gather some personal effects before taking off. "See you gents then!" She threw her hand up in a lazy wave, as she walked away from the crew.

they laughed and hollered as the bard started in with a jaunty tune.

---

With a manor closed behind Saya and Ahrem, besides for the dim streetlamp sparsed out the area felt uncomfortably dark. The moon was just coming off being new, and without the light it gave the streets were met with heavy shadow wherever the lamps couldn’t quite reach. A brief chill ran across Saya’s spine as she closed her cloak slightly more to begin moving ahead. They had a goal, and now all they had to do was find this culprit. The fact they had taken advantage of the women possibly in this way was disturbing… and if this search for cream by them was truly the reason for their absence Saya could only wonder why their criminal was doing it in the first place. Was it to simply kill them or something worse? The question hung in her head making her feel morbid, but shaking it off after she had made it a few blocks she told herself to stay hopeful. If the women were still alive, it meant she couldn’t hesitate to bring them home. “Alright, we are looking for a rather ugly herbalist in the market… possibly selling a beauty cream still.” She spoke up to Ahrem before glancing over. “I don’t like the thought of it… but it may be useful if I set my hood down and see if it draws their attention.” Clearly planning on using herself as possible bait for a crooked herbalist to try and sell cream, Saya was looking for either agreement or another option from Ahrem as they reach the square.

Pushing past the stalls that were being built for the festivities as well as the normal crowd looking to shop, Saya kept her eyes out for anything related to herbal medication or products. Under her cloak, her hand clutched against her chain shirt to calm herself in the case she found her target. Letting her mind remain clam for the time being as focus to find them was a necessity. If they didn’t find the crooked woman or let them run off they would have done this work for naught.

At the fighting pit outside the arena, the long drawn note from Durwith's horn echoed through the square. Goblins, pouring out of the cage, turned toward the source of the note in a frenzy as the slavers struggled to hold them back, fighting them with swords and whips, the ringmaster stood off to the side paralyzed in horror, and the few brave commoners that hadn't run away in terror prepared to fight the monsters. Once he had placed his horn back in its holder, Durwith looked over at the ringmaster. "Y'know, if yer not goin' ta help you should start runnin'!" Durwith called out him.

The ringmaster blinked, yet seemed to remain frozen in place. Ahead of Durwith, a pair slavers fought the goblin horde as they poured out of the mist. The lead slaver, with a howl, swung his sword down on the goblin ahead of him. The nimble creature attempted to dive out of the way, but not before getting a large gash across its arm. "Good hit!" Durwith called out. Ahead of Durwith, the slavers struggled against the onslaught of goblins. Three of them took on the lead slaver, their claws tearing at his leather armor, one of them armed with a jagged scimitar. The blade plunged into the slaver with a shriek from the little terror. Meanwhile, a trio of goblins rushed towards Durwith, angered by the sound of his horn. The goblins struck at Durwith, their claws scratching at his armor. For the most part they couldn't get through, but then 1 of the goblins managed to jump up on Durwith's shoulders, digging his claws into a vulnerable spot on his underarm.

Dropping his shield, Durwith grabbed the goblin on his shoulder by the throat and threw it down into the ground. Durwith then gripped his battleaxe with both hands and attempted to bring it down on the goblin's neck. However, the goblin rolled clear of Durwith's strike. Cursing in dwarvish, Durwith quickly picked up his shield in preparation for the next round of attacks.

Behind Durwith, commoners rushed forward to aid the dwarven fighter, they surrounded the closest goblin and struck with fists and daggers and rocks, injuring the goblin. "Get yerselves ta safety, you lot" Durwith said to the commoners "I can handle the goblins". Although he appreciated the aid, his watchman instincts kicked in and told him to order the commoners to safety. Heeding Durwith words, the commoners made a run for it. The goblin attempted to lash out at them, but missed since it was still stunned from the blow. Suddenly, Durwith felt an arrow bounce off his chain mail. Durwith glared in the direction the arrow had come from. "Watch yer aim, boy!" Durwith called out to the archer before re-focusing on the goblins, not catching the archer's aggressive reply. The goblins surged forward, howling into the night air. They assaulted the slavers with a flurry of blows, however most of the attacks were turned by the slaver's leather armor. Meanwhile, the goblins spit and howled at Durwith, 1 of them jumped up on his shoulders again, this time slashing at his neck and face ineffectively. Nearby, alarm bells could be heard from the battlements. Shouts were heard from the south, and the gallop of horses.

Swatting the goblin down with his shield this time, Durwith attempted to decapitate the goblin again. But once again the goblin rolled clear. "Hold still ye little bugger!" Durwith snapped. To the south, three officers of the watch appeared, mounted on horseback. The three of them drew their swords, preparing to attack the goblins. One slaver brandished his sword against the goblins, swinging it through the air and sinking it deep in 1 goblin's shoulder, cutting down to its midsection. "Good hit!" Durwith called out again. The goblins, seeing the oncoming guards and the alarm bells striking fear into them, began to make their escape. One goblin, holding a slaver's mace screeched at his brethren. "Graoot! Velmash g;nash nash!". The goblins nimbly rolled away from their attackers, hooting and hollering as they fled into the darkness, some fading from view as if from some dark arts.
"That's right! Run ya bloody cowards!" Durwith called after the goblins as they ran. With that said, Durwith sheathed his battleaxe and put away his shield.

Once the mounted watchmen had passed by and the watchmen on foot began securing the area, Durwith walked westward out of the goblin pit. As he did so, Durwith noticed that the ringmaster was still there. When he reached the ringmaster, Durwith stopped and looked up at him. "I liked that introduction ye gave me earlier" Durwith said "And the name ye gave me too. Grimblade is far more apt a name fer a pit fighter than Durwith".
"W-what?" The ringmaster uttered, still in shock. "Oh yes.... theatrics you see. After tonight I think I'm worn out on that for a long, long time."
"I'd probably be worn out too were I in yer place" Durwith said, looking over at the aftermath of the battle before returning his focus to the ringmaster. "I apologise fer my part in all o' this" Durwith added "Do let me know if I can make it up to ye in any way".
The ringmaster twirled his mustache in thought. "Hmm.... there is one thing you could do" he replied "The one lad who died, killed by those wretches, I'll need to notify his brother. He's hotheaded at the best of times. To hear this, he will be sore indeed! Do me this favor and notify him. This time of night you can bet he's getting pissed in the Trotting Mule - a tavern just off Hero's Square."
Durwith nodded at the ringmaster's request. "Very well" Durwith said "Give me his name and I'll give him the news".
"You will?" the ringmaster said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Paxton Truter is his name. Best ease him into the news. Like I said, he has a fiery temperament."
"Thank ye fer the advice" Durwith said "And again, sorry about the mess". With that said, Durwith turned and walked off in the direction of the Trotting Mule.

---

Hero's Square is typically quiet this time of night, especially on a Loreday when most are in bed before heading out for a day's labour come the morning. However, with Founder's Day so close and the city full of visitors, many are in the square setting up stalls, while others are keeping their stalls open late to take advantage of the increase traffic.

"Beef on a bun, here!" Shouts one vendor standing over a cook fire, seared beef sizzling and popping over a spit, its aroma filling the square.

"I got elixers! Elixers to cure what ails ya!" Shouts one standing over a row of glass vials of assorted colours.

"Bits and baubles! Get your bits and baubles!" Cries another, ringing a bell as he calls for customers.

Several beggars roam the square, pleading for coppers, and a pair of officers of the watch patrol the area. A small crowd walks the square, visiting the stalls and buying wares, bartering and looking for deals before the day of festivities. The word on most people's lips are the rumours coming out of Slaver's Square. Alarm bells were heard earlier and rumours abound that range from escaped slaves to goblin wizards razing the square. Most trust that the City Watch have it under control as the bells have since ceased.

At the east end of the square, a large building overlooks the chaotic arrangement of stalls and pavilions, a sign swinging in the cold breeze reads Trotting Mule Inn. A drunk snoozes on the porch, another looms over his pack mule threatening it with a switch, while merchants and farmers shuffle in and out, some after a drink other heading home to find their bed.

The stars shine brightly ahead on this cool, clear night. However it is a moonless night, and shadows creep over the square, breaking for the street lamps that line the edge of the square and the dozens of lanterns that hang over the open stalls.

@rush99999@dndragons@Cu Chulainn

Durwith took a moment to take in the peaceful atmosphere of Hero's square. It was a much nicer atmosphere after coming from a small battlefield. Once he'd taken the peace in, Durwith began to make for the Trotting Mule to find Paxton. But before he could enter, Durwith heard the shouts of watchmen chasing a thief. Turing in the direction of the shouting, Durwith quickly identified the thief and threw 1 of his handaxes into her leg, allowing another citizen to tackle the thief and the guards to catch up. "Tiefling bitch!" Durwith heard a guard curse as he approached.
"Why do they let these vermin walk the streets?" the other guard asked as he cuffed the thief.
“Wait, she’s with me!" the man who tackled the thief said as he pulled out a scroll of recommendation "Part of a case!”.
"Well you should work on keeping her under control then" Durwith said as he walked up to the thief "I'll be taking this". Durwith pulled the handaxe out of the tiefling's thigh. "Good day to you all" Durwith said before walking back towards the tavern.

Eudaxia

"It's a real shame I dropped that stick you know. It's served me well for years, you wouldn't believe how long it-"

Eudaxia tried to contain her annoyance as the Shaemus plodded along beside her, hand on her shoulder to guide his way. Her eyes darted around her as they walked towards the main gate, looking for a stray length of wood or stick that might be lying around so the old priest would shut up, a heavy sack full of rats an uncomfortable (and not to mention smelly) weight on her shoulder. She was half tempted to ditch the blind man for his constant lamenting, but even though she had the rats now, she told herself it was a waste to discard a new ally.

She'd managed to gather fifty of the rodents in the end, though it had been grim work. Many of the rats had been in cloven into pieces or fried by their magic. She'd also given most of them a good squishing before picking them up, to make sure they were well and truly dead. Eventually they'd run out of rats around the ladder base, and she hadn't had the courage to move further down the tunnel.

It wasn't long before Hero's square came into view, and the pair entered the late-night crowd. Thankfully their dishevelled state was good for one thing and people parted to avoid the pair. Eudaxia continued indifferently, scanning the stalls as they walked past out of habit, she was getting tired now, and looking forward to returning to her hideout, but you always had to keep an eye out for opportunity...

"Bits and baubles! Get your bits and baubles here!"

The cry caught her attention, as did the carved walking stick the stall had for sale. The merchant sneered at her as they approached, likely worried they'd keep other customers away. "You there, Tiefling! If you aren't buying, move along." Then he spotted the priest, instantly switching from defensive to welcoming. "Why, Shaemus, I didn't see you there!"

"Ah yes Craton, my old friend. You have nothing to fear from my friend here." Shaemus replied. Patting Eudaxia on the shoulder.

"ah of course! My apologies!" He said, without a hint of sincerity. The two chatted for a second, but Eudaxia urged them on to the gate, she had no desire to sit and listen to the slimy merchant fawn. They could return for the stick later.

Soon the crowd faded and the city gates loomed before them, shut closed for the night, save for a small side gate, where a small line of miserable looking individuals clutching sacks lined up before a desk. Eudaxia approached, noting with a small amount of satisfaction from their envious glances that their sack was the largest. She lined up, shooting glares at anyone who looked their way too long. A small tiefling and a blind priest must have looked like easy targets, and the last thing she wanted was to have to fight off scavengers who wanted their rats.

It wasn't long before it was their turn. An eccentric looking adventurer with a red Mohawk cursed under his breath as he left the desk. "fucking tieflings"

Eudaxia stepped up, eyes forward. "FIFTY" she said, almost proudly as she dumped the sack on the desk, not envying the poor slaves who stepped forward to count the haul.

The guard who sat across from her with a quill in his hand stared with dead eyes. "Where came you by these rats, tiefling?" he said imperiously after a pause.

"The sewers, can't you smell?" she snapped, her irritation at the suspicion bleeding through in her tired state.

"Impossible to tell the stink from sewer and tiefling." spat the guard, a spark of hatred creeping into his lifeless eyes. "Let me see your scroll of recommendation." he said, rising. From a guard post, a second guard emerged, hearing his colleagues firm tone.

oh hell no she thought, seeing where this was going. Deep down she felt that silent fury, that seething anger she'd carried all her life at having to fight harder for every scrap, grovel more piteously for every handout, just because of her horns and tail. She'd been swarmed and bitten and nibbled on, how dare they try and take this from her. She wanted to flare her magic and punish them, but that not how she fought. Not yet.

Instead she rolled her eyes tiredly. "I ain't no professional. if you didn't want lowlifes hunting the rats you shouldn't have put the notice up. C'mon lads, can't I just get my silver and get out of your way? " she gestures at the line of people with sacks. "folk aren't going to bring you rats no more if they hear you're screwing them over their money."

The guard looked back to the line hesitantly, then sighed, his eyes returning to boredom as he settled back into his chair. "I suppose you have a point" he grunted, slowly counting out shiny coins into a pouch he slid across the table. "Take your silvers and begone, wretch, 'fore I see you in stocks."

Eudaxia snatched up the coins, enjoying its weight, and flashed him a winning smile. That was how you did it. Convince them you're not worth the hassle of bullying. It was the only victory she had ever been allowed. She bounced away from the desk, re-joining Shaemus. "I think that went pretty well." she said, her mood reversed. "Your friend back in the square had a stick on sale you could buy if you want."

"Ah splendid! Though knowing him he'd charge an arm and a leg, and a blind man sorely needs those appendages, my dear!" Shaemus laughed, before turning to the guard. "My good sir, a moment of your time!"
The guard sighed, his patience near its end. "What is it priest?"
Shaemus leaned in close, speaking in a hushed tone. "Are you aware, officer, that these rats carry the Grey Plague. It has been a harrowing ordeal for me and my friend here. We were most alarmed when we found out, and I'd wager the line here behind me will be equally alarmed...."
The guard pinched the bridge of his nose, and Eudaxia's mood improved further as he paled visibly. "Name your price, priest."
"Why only another 250 silver, my good sir." Shaemus smiled. Could he wink, perhaps he would have toward Eudaxia.
The guard tossed a fat pouch at the priest. It bounced off his arm and onto the table, before he seized it, and slipped it into his robes.

"Not bad at all." she said, surprised and impressed. She wished she'd thought of that. But then again she'd though she as the only one ignorant of the plague. "I thought members of the faith didn't stoop to such strategies."

Shaemus smirked. "I feel like a scratching post for rats. Surely the city coffers can handle a little extra silvers, besides this alm box isn't going to fill itself."

"to the stall then?"

"No need, child. I head for Godsreach, back to hearth and home." The priest seems to think for a moment. "My invitation is still open, Eudy. Should you need a place to stay, find a hot meal and some rest, as well as answers, the Temple of Larethian is open to you."

She hesitated. "I'll consider it, thanks." This was the second time the offer was made. If she could really find answers... But not tonight. She was tired, and though she had no doubt Shaemus meant well in his own way, she wanted to be at her full strength before delivering herself into the hands of the clergy.

"Very good." Shaemus was quiet with thought for a moment before speaking. "I shall think we saved some poor soul from the grey plague thus night."

she shrugged indifferently. "Probably. it was a lot of rats. Though another two poor souls nearly ended up catching it themselves. and those rats seemed.....strange. this whole plague seems strange. Magic even." she said hesitantly.

"Indeed it does. These are dark times, child." He took a step and stopped short. "Ah Eudy.... which way is east?"

she grabbed his arm and pointed with it. "That way. you sure you don't want that stick?" She had an inkling of an idea, if she could get him to distract that sleazy merchant...

Shaemus laughed. "Like the back of my hand, child. Like the back of my hand! At least now that I have my bearings. Fare thee well, and Gods be with you! Until our next meeting." Shaemus bowed low, making his way eastward.

She shook her head as the strange man left, no stick to guide his way, and walked back to the square. She had some spending money now, she could retire, but it still felt like there was more to be done. In the pitch darkness of the night market, it was easy for things to go missing. Since she was here, she might as well take advantage.

This line of thinking would ultimately prove to be a mistake.

She moved around the edges of the crowd, scanning for a good mark. She caught a flash of a priestly looking woman. She wore chainmail,
but more importantly had a golden holy symbol around her neck. Too risky, she thought. necklaces were difficult. She looked around and spotted other suitable looking targets in the crowd, but her mind kept coming back to the sleazy bauble merchant. If anyone deserved to be robbed tonight, it was him.

She wandered back over to his stall, noting how diligently he eyed his wares. With a whispered word and a gesture, a ghostly hand appeared floating underneath his stall, barely visible in the darkness. It was a neat trick, handy if you worked alone like she did. The merchant eyed her suspiciously as she approached, sand stood to the side of his stall. "I'd like to buy the stick please" she said pointing. "Shaemus lost his and I think it would make a nice present." She slowly manoeuvred the hand with her mind as she spoke, creeping it up the other side of the stall. There was a nice golden brooch on that end of the stand.
"It's a gold coin for the finely carved stick..." he said suspiciously.
"Oh come on, a gold piece for a stick? I'll give you fifty silver" she said, maintaining eye contact with the man as she willed the hand to move over to collect the brooch.

Except it didn't. It ploughed into stand, scattering a few bits of jewellery. The peddler gaped in surprise, swatting the at hand which vanished into the mist.

well crap. This was what happened when you didn't watch where you put your hands. cmon, I can still smooth this over. She opened her mouth.

"I should have known! Guards! Thief! Thief!"

She made the call, and bolted. There was an alleyway nearby. Nobody knew these streets like she did, she would lose them th-

Pain. Pain in her leg. She staggered, looking down in shock. There was an axe in her thigh. She barely had time to process this before she felt something else overcome her. She suddenly felt sluggish, like she was moving through water. The feeling washed over her, and in a way it felt strangely familiar. It feels like... like my magic. From the crowd ahead, she could see a man charging towards her determinedly, the feeling was coming from him. He collided with her, catching her in a grip. She felt too lethargic to slip away, so she pushed and shoved instead, with all her might, but it was fruitless. She couldn't get any purchase with her wounded leg.

No... Not like this.

"Tiefling bitch!" a guard cursed as they caught up with the pair.
"Why do they let these vermin walk the streets?" another questioned, slapping irons around her wrists. It was Over.

She struggled defiantly in the mans grip, still stunned at how quickly things had gone wrong. “Wait, she’s with me! Part of a case!” the strange vigilante said, not relinquishing his hold.

From the crowd, a dwarf approached, walking up to Eudaxia. "I'll be taking this" he said, and she cried out in pain as he yanked the handaxe from her thigh, as if he were simply collecting his hat from a tavern cloakroom. "Good day to you all" he said, leaving without giving her a glance, even as she glared after him, eyes full of cold fury at his indifference.

"Take it up with the watch commander. This ones coming with us to the Keep." they said, wresting her from her captor's grip.

W-wait! Let me just ask her one question! Time is of the essence, right now! Do you know anything about a haggish herbalist selling potions to young women?” They turned her around to face this strange man who had magic like hers, and looked at her, waiting for a response. She raised her head and looked into his eyes.

And spat in his face.

Then everything went black.

---

The old gaoler examined his desk with a feeling of pride. The ledger, the inkwell, his quill, and the ring of keys where precisely where they were meant to be upon the table. Not a speck of dust assaulted the rich oak table, cut and fashioned when the sun still rose and set. He sighed in satisfaction. The dungeon may be a messy hell, but here at his office, where prisoner's names were recorded and their possessions taken and recorded, it was pristine.

The door opened, two officers of the watch walked inside, dragging an unconscious tiefling between them. "Ah, what have we here," questioned the gaoler.

"A thief," said one of the officers. "Caught this one trying to rob vendors down in Hero's Square."

The gaoler stood up from his desk, a finger to his scraggly grey beard as his sharp eyes inspected the body. "A nasty gash upon her thigh. Your handywork?"

The officer smirked. "What this?" He asked giving the wound a slap, blood leaking out onto the clean floor. "The work of a... a... a smartian."

"Good samaritan," he corrected. "And I'll thank you not to let her bleed on my clean floor. She'll need a wrapping of gauze and some stitches." The gaoler made some notes in his ledger.

"I'da thought you'd let this creature bleed out," smirked the officer.

"I'll remind you that the Gods Laws rule in Haven, by the grace of the High Lord. I would have had her hands, but now a fine will do, or barring that, slavery." He continued writing in his ledger. "Lay her possessions out on the desk - neatly if you please!"

One by one, the tieflings items were laid out. The gaoler eyed them suspiciously. "No coin purse?"

At last the guard's smirk faded. "Ah no! No coin purse."

The gaoler put down his quill. "I'll ask once more. No coin purse?"

This roused a punch in the arm from the officers comrade. "Did you say coin purse? Oh yes, it did have a coin purse." He tossed a fat purse upon the desk.

"Mhm. As I thought." He opened the purse, counting out each coin, and jotting down in the ledger. "250 silver pieces. A tidy sum. Very well! Have her fastened in the stocks. I'll see to her wounds at once."

The dragged her away as the gaoler locked the possessions and silver in a sturdy cabinet behind him. He sighed. She'll be awfully surprised when she comes too; locked in a stockade in a cramped dungeon. "Always so busy on Founders Day."