"Good question! The watch!" Kiska replied, looking up at Vera as she hopped down from her chair. "Mr. Aelrod's safety is important, but he's a merchant, not the law silly," it seemed that, while adventurer's guilds operated in an ethical grey area, the Wayfarer's didn't turn over criminals for extrajudicial killing.
"Kiska, dear," the voice came from across the common area. Suran Reshta walked towards the group, a half-orc shortly behind him. "It seems our assignment has fallen through, so the Captain would like you to take one of our members to fill in your team, this is Master Mathias Rugal."
"Oooh, more's always better, it's nice to meet you!"
A flash of Kiska's silver pin was all it took to gain entry to the gated Gold Quarter, and they left the bustling of the road behind them as they moved farther in. There were no hawking street vendors here, and it was apparent from their attire that much of the foot traffic that they did see included attendants running errands. There was far more greenery decorating the streets, and the lofty residences, painted a variety of colors, had an elegance and intent to their design that was absent in less affluent districts. Despite that, those who had seen the wealthier parts of the great northern cities there would be unimpressed.
Following the gnome along the main street, the homes turned into stately buildings with signage and banners declaring their affiliation, and the traffic increased to include what were certainly the merchants and craftsmen who did business here. As Kiska walked the street, she pointed out the various halls of Arskel's most prominent mercantile guilds.
"Fellowship of Brewers, Order of Glassblowers I think? League of Masons..." Kiska's ears twitched, dropping almost to her shoulders before righting themselves. "That's the Realm Wardens guild," the indicated building was constructed with no thought to expense, large glass windows spread evenly across the third and fourth floors, and each of its corners were punctuated by an elegant spire. "They were more important before the Wayfarer's started."
Astor Aelrod's mansion was of a finer quality than those closest to the gates, as was clear from the garden of vibrant flowers that greeted visitors at the street. A stone pathway led to the front entrance, with armed guards standing at the ready on either side. One of them lifted his arm to stop their approach.
"Mistress Kiska, if you please," indicating this was routine, Kiska lifted her silver badge for his inspection. The guard revealed a roughly cut crystal and held it against the pin, a few seconds passed. Nothing. He handed it back to her and stepped aside "Alright, you may enter." As they moved to pass, the second guard stepped in behind them, his eyes on the three initiates.
The inside of the manor was, unsurprisingly, well appointed. The foyer opened into a spacious hall with more guards, one of which took the lead upon seeing the troupe enter. Their employer was in his study, a book open in one hand and a quill tapping thoughtfully in the other. He was some variety of elf, gold-skinned with dark amber eyes, but given his long, silvering beard and the smile-lines creasing his cheeks, he could have been a half-breed.
There was an oddity in the room, a dark elf in leather armor levitated near the ceiling, listlessly drifting in circles. His head was shaven clean, and he wore an odd metallic visor that covered his eyes and nose. Kiska gave him a wave with seeming familiarity, to which he didn't respond.
"Lady Kiska, I've been expecting you," the elderly elf stood, setting his book down he looked over the three initiates. "Welcome, I believe you three will be handling this issue for me? I'll be happy to see the end of this business, can't stand being cooped up like an old maid," if he felt any imminent sense of danger, he hid it well behind his fatherly smile. "Well, you don't build the roof first I suppose? Let's start at the beginning, Orga?"
The dark elf descended from the roof, lightly touching the ground beside the merchant. Opening a scroll case, he laid several sheets of parchment from within on the center of the desk before the trio. They all said variants of the same thing.
Stop doing business in Arskel, or die.
"I signed a contract with Helmlenfell one week ago, making me one of a handful of merchants that provide them with textiles, then these notes started to appear. Two nights ago one of my guards, a half-orc named Andar, went missing during his watch, no one heard anything."
"Right, part of this test is the means you choose to overcome the challenges the job presents, and as such-" a knock at the door interrupted Nyrien, and Suran Reshta entered.
"Chant," the faun's manner was crisp and professional, but they clearly weren't close. "Sorry to interrupt, it seems our wizard turned himself in," he rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated. "Caragan wants to round out the teams, since our assignment fell through, this is-" he stepped aside, gesturing to the statuesque woman who accompanied him. "-the Lady Vela Fade," with a small bow to Vela, and a glance back at Nyrien, he left as quickly as he'd arrived.
"Uh, well let's start at square one then..."
A steep, winding path cut into the surface of the cliff was the only way into the district from the lower portions of the city. Nyrien's badge was nowhere to be seen as they reached the top of the plateau, and the cat had donned a dusty cloak that made him a passable urchin. The rubble that the Cliff was known for had been cleared away from the edges, perhaps because it was a risk to the city below, more likely it was scavenged for some other structures.
Before them sprawled a tent city, interspersed with ancient stone and newer wooden structures. As the group moved into the Cliffs, they seemed to attract little attention as of yet. The vagrants were a private lot, keeping their eyes to themselves, and anyone else who might have marked them from the cover of the crowds hadn't shown themselves. The group passed piles of ruined stonework, the fractured remnants of some previous structures which bore as much crude graffiti as they did scratches and pockmarks. There were no shortage of back alleys, shadowed by the canopies of canvas that stretched between some of the buildings.
Many of the hovels they passed were homes, but others were the fragile businesses that eked out a living peddling to those who couldn't afford to go to the markets along the Road district.
"Ah, the
real city," Nyrien glanced over his shoulder at the group, particularly at the initiates. "This is where I pass you the reins, I'll be here to consult but this is your mission," the cat pulled his hood farther over his face and stepped to the back of the group. He'd left them with no firm leads, but possibilities were around every corner and in the cold, side-eyed glances that followed them.
All knew the dangers of travelling outside the cities, most by experience, yet when called upon the adventurers would be expected to brave the worst dangers a breach had to offer. That was the goal of this assignment, or so Logrim had explained as they made their way out of Arskel and into the battered landscape that surrounded the city proper.
The high road ran north from the gates, carving a path that stretched around the hills and out of sight. It was laid with stones as far as the group could see, but not all of the road was so tamed, and in fact many portions were impassable without an escort. Nearer to the city walls, terraced farms took advantage of the uneven terrain, winding unevenly through the hills to fill all the arable land they could. Beyond that, the wilderness quickly dominated their view.
As they left the high road, Logrim kept a stern pace. The forest ahead of them seemed to rustle with a life of its own, branches moving in defiance of the wind. The red and violet hued bark of the trees glistening with moisture.
"Steer clear of their young," the orc grunted, pointing at a sapling from which indecipherable bones hung.
The deeper they descended into the forest, the thinner the underbrush became, starved by the canopy high above them. The journey took several hours, though it might have been shorter had Logrim not stopped to point out each danger they skirted across, even the minor ones. It was an oddly paternal behavior from the orc, almost as if he were taking them camping for the first time.
Eventually, he raised his fist to signal a halt. There was a hum in the air, out of place in the rest of the forest. Ahead of them, the strange hues of the trees had become dull and sickly, and the roots that were tangled throughout the forest floor twisted unnaturally far above the ground, as if trying to escape the soil.
"This is the edge, it's still spreadin'," the orc crouched and lifted a gnarled root for their inspection. It writhed in his hand, like a lizard's severed tail. "That means its spawn'll not be far behind," he stood back up and turned to face the group, eyeing each of them in turn.
"I'm goin' ahead, I'll make sure nothin you can't handle comes your way and meet up with the adept team," he unslung the shield from his back, affixing it to his arm. "Now everything that comes your way, put an end to it, yeah?"
The orc left them their. Minutes passed. The hum of the forest grew louder, and muted coloring of the trees spread towards them, then around them. Minutes passed, and the forest began to move.
