“I as well, but all will be revealed soon. All that the gods see fit to show us.” Ibdur’s simple response was all the dwarf would say during the short trek to Gunalar’s abode, keeping his eyes forward and hands resting against his axes.

---

“This is where that half-orc fancied as his home?”

These words were spoken by Willory Copperbridge, one of the two that had met with Elthel, Iliskra, Leon, and Ibdur on the way to Gunalar’s place. Willory and Firoz - a scruffy halfling and a tall, thin Turmish man - had been sent out by Elthel before she had come up from Yanoriim’s basement to speak with the three newcomers. Elthel explained that the pair had used an underground system of secret passages that was intertwined with the sewers to go on ahead. Iliskra had raised her brow at this willing revelation to which Elthel had smirked and stated that it was common knowledge that thieves, assassins, fences, and other “shadowy sorts” used the sewers. “The trick is to know where the passages are and which tunnels are safe to go skulking through.” Elthel explained.

After leaving Yanoriim’s shop Elthel and her three companions went east down the street and then cut through a small cluster of houses perched upon a park area. They came out on the south end of the park, holding back for another armored patrol to pass, and then headed southeast down another short street where they had met Willory and Firoz. The halfling and his Turmish partner seemed quite impressed with Elthel’s tagalongs but quickly composed themselves and followed in tow. After rounding one final corner the six came to another group of houses that sat upon a small hill encircling a fenced-in grove of oak trees. Elthel with a point of her finger singled out Gunalar’s house. It was the most dilapidated, hideous excuse for a lair that Iliskra had seen in some time.

“Gunalar was not one for class,” Elthel remarked, “the inside looks even worse, you will see.”

The six were crouched low in an alley across the street from the “compound” which was basically a charred, falling down, two story estate surrounded by a crookedly placed palisade of stakes. The walls of the mansion were cracked and crumbling, most of the windows were shattered out, and the moss-covered shingles and gutters hung by splinters. There was a single entrance through the palisade which was guarded by two men in ragged clothing and common make leather armor. A crude, rickety “tower” was hugged against the front of the structure right next to the front door, a particularly lazy-looking guard with a crossbow stood atop it with his back against the front wall. Iliskra had seen amateurish defenses before and this was just a pitiful display. Would they even need six in number?

“How many men would you say are inside?” Firoz whispered next to Elthel.

“Gunalar never had much more than a dozen men,” Elthel said grimly, rubbing at her chin,”we killed two during our escape earlier, and there are three rotting in the alley with their boss now. Counting those three out front I would say maybe there are… between four and six inside.”

“If we do this quick and do it right we can kill them all without them spotting us.” Willory said energetically. “Once we cut down those three we can sneak inside, split up, and slit every throat we see.”

Firoz seemed to concur, nocking a glistening arrow into a short bow he had slipped from his shoulder and looking to Elthel waiting for her to make a call.

“Gunalar was not one for class,” Elthel remarked, “the inside looks even worse, you will see.”

Great... so while he may not have been the type to lay out traps, the building itself could be its own deathtrap, Leon thought, eyes scanning the shadows of the building. Honestly, he was wondering if Gunalar had some special attachment to the building. There was no tactical or economical reason to hang onto such a shoddy building that he could see. Then again, thugs rarely had to make sense with the decisions, they just beat the shit out of anyone who voiced a differing opinion.

"Still, I think it best to take every advantage we can get," Leon said, reaching up to touch the mask on his face, "excuse the touch, archer." He reached in and opened the connection to Mask, muttering a prayer of guidance for Firoz.

And then something more for all of us.

Leon reached deeper, the shadows writhing around him and a hint of a smiling mask glimpsed in the shadows at his feet. "May the divine favor I am blessed to receive, the shadows that shelter me, the dark that obscures my blade from my enemy, be of use to you all," he said, channeling a Blessing to his allies.

"The blessing will last five, maybe six minutes. It will not save you from certain death, but trust the shadows and your foe may find their sight obscured when defending themselves," Leon said, the best explanation he could offer for Mask's blessings.

"At your ready, Elthel," he said, drawing his longsword and holding it under his cloak to prevent any reflections, "my team can handle the two guards easily and slip into the house. Ibdur, can you hold the pallisade and prevent any rats from escaping?" He knew this was going to be murder work, and while he had no issue with taking the dwarf inside, if someone needed to hold the one obvious way in or out, it would serve well to be the armored and armed priest of Tempus.

“By Tempus, guard duty for an Arahar…” Ibdur growled, “As if plodding though sodden alleyways with thieves were not degrading enough.”

Iliskra rolled her eyes and unsheathed her dagger, keeping her mace at her hip for now. Elthel meanwhile as well as Firoz were both squinting closely at Leon, eyes boring into him and then back between themselves.

“My masked companion here is a man of the cloth, his magic is quite helpful.” Iliskra said lowly, hoping to dispel the obvious suspicion.

“I do feel more… vigorous.” Firoz said, wiggling his fingers against his bow.

“Very well, Maskarran,” Elthel deliberately drew out the name, “you can handle those two, but we all go through the main entrance together. Once we are past the palisade we each pick a door or window and move inside.”

I knew it. Iliskra thought to herself in regards to Leon’s identity even as she nodded in understanding to Elthel, the others also nodded after which Elthel nodded directly to Firoz who raised his bow and took aim. The Turmish man lined up his shot, Iliskra could hear the bowstring straining as Firoz pulled the waiting arrow back tight. He released, there was a sharp snap followed by a faint whisking side as the arrow went sailing high over the palisade and two guards below. The man atop the rickety tower fell backward suddenly, his arms outward as he slammed into the wall behind him and his crossbow fell to his feet. Iliskra gritted her teeth in angst, expecting the two men at the entrance to hear something and investigate. As fortune would have it they did not, one was absently looking down and scraping his boot against the sidewalk while the other’s head swiveled left and right looking both ways down the street. The man atop the tower slowly slid down into a sitting position, grasping at the arrow in his chest before slumping over to one side dead.

“Well done, Firoz.” Elthel said quietly.

Firoz released a sharp exhale and hurriedly pulled another arrow from his quiver as he looked to Leon, “You will take those two then? If you need me to drop one just quickly rise your left fist high and I will shoot.”

Iliskra pulled her hood tight around her head as she flexed her grip against her blade, ready to rush forward if need be. She was not quite sure what Leon planned to handle the two men up front but was ready nonetheless.

“Very well, Maskarran,”

Leon shrugged, not bothering to confirm or deny his faith. Which was just as good as admitting to being a part of the Lord of Shadows flock. If any of the group had been servants of a god of Light, he might have been hesitant, but all thieves owed part of their lives to the shadows. Either way, they would use his skills just as he would use theirs.

“You will take those two then? If you need me to drop one just quickly rise your left fist high and I will shoot.”

"Appreciated, but I suspect your arrows will do more good aimed towards the house," Leon commented, "my partner with the knives will cover us if I screw up." He nodded towards Iliskra, a plan already coming together in his mind.

"Sorry Ibdur, I know you'd love a good fight, but this is murder work, not battle," he said, trying to cheer up the dwarf, "I promise, next bastard I see that looks like they could make you break a sweat, they are all yours."

He turned his attention to both of his companions, "silence will be key for taking out the guards. They shout. Their friends will dig in." He took out a silver coin before he continued speaking, "I will tie a silence spell to this coin. Again, sorry, my friend, but your armor is much louder than ours and I doubt you will need Tempus's blessing to handle these layabouts. It will last about five minutes, but will nullify all sound within fifteen feet. Enough to allow us to kill the guards quietly. Once that is done, I'll toss away the coin. Ibdur, you'll need your hearing to catch anyone trying to escape us."

"Iliskra, I'm trusting you to handle the man on the far side, you move through the shadows better than Ibdur or myself," he admitted, "once the targets are down, we'll stand by for Elthel and hit the house together. Come on, we're burning time."

It was probably overkill compared to the forces they were arrayed against, but Leon was a careful man, always assuming the enemy had some hidden ace up their sleeve until they proved otherwise. It was how he survived.

Leon skulked through the shadows, muttering the prayer of silence, then tucking the coin into his boot for safekeeping until the guards could be downed. The air deadening around him was supernatural, touching on a fight or flight response from some primal early age of human history. He couldn't even say his heartbeat pounded in his ears... there was simply, nothing.

He made an effort to make sure Ibdur kept close by. True, even if he fell outside of the spell, the guards still wouldn't be likely to hear him coming since the spell would nullify the sound as it passed through the space around Leon, but better safe than sorry. He pressed himself deep into the shadows as close as he dared to the gate guards and waited.

Once Iliskra made her move or signaled him, he would dash in rapidly, letting his silence spell overtake the two guards.

With a flick of her thumb Iliskra popped the rubbery cork from the invisibility potion she pulled from her bag. Iliskra felt hesitant as she always did relying on elixirs and brews to help her finish a job, but this job was rather crucial in being done as flawlessly as could be. If she and her fellows helped these rogues in killing off this gang it would solidify further trust with this Zilaster and give she, Leon, and Ibdur a solid link to the underworld of Scardale Town. Hopefully.

Iliskra gulped down the potion, recoiling at the bitter taste as she tossed aside the empty flask. Elthel, Firoz, and Willory watched as with a flicker and an accompanying twinkling sound Iliskra disappeared right before them. Firoz lined up a shot on the closer of the two thugs but held firm, waiting for a signal for help Leon or possibly Iliskra.

Iliskra stayed in a crouch as she moved across the street, arcing off to one side intent on coming up next to and slitting the throat of her mark. The snow was thin on top of the street so there was no risk of the two hooligans spotting approaching tracks or hearing crunching snow. As she drew near Iliskra spotted two shapes atop the first post on each side of the entrance - heads. Bloody, pallid, and swarming with flies. The head of a blonde woman and a dark-haired man with a short beard.

These must be the two thieves that died during Zilaster and Elthel’s desperate escape. Iliskra thought to herself, peeling her eyes away from the gruesome sight and ignoring the smell as she stepped around as close she safely felt near the armed man. Iliskra could see Leon and Ibdur on the opposite side drawing nearer.

What Iliskra did next was nothing short of a gamble, but she felt lucky enough. Iliskra raised her dagger and with a swift swing flayed open the throat of the totally unaware gang member. Blood poured instantaneously down the front of his tunic and stained the flesh around the wound, the man’s eyes widening as he gargled and sputtered and crumpled to the ground - droplets of red spewing from between his thin lips. The sudden motion instantly counteracted the effect of the potion and with another flicker and twinkling Iliskra appeared in full view, standing over the dying man with her dagger still raised. His comrade turned and, on seeing the half-elf and his fallen fellow hurriedly yanked his weapon free and turned to face her - his back facing Leon and Ibdur.

As soon as the crimson fluid sprayed out from the man's throat, Leon dashed forward, the silence area traveling with him to cut off any chance of a call for aid. He probably hadn't needed to bother with it, but small mistakes could cause big losses if you underestimate your foes. Just like the former Gunalar's thugs were now learning.

The thug turned towards the no revealed Iliskra, it's weapon flashing free of it's sheath in a curious lack of sound that went unnoticed. Leon knew better than to let an advantage go to waste, sprinting forward and throwing himself into an extended lunge with his sword, his off hand gripping the base of the pommel to increase the power behind the piercing blow. A shadow drank in the light along the blade as Mask's blessing lent and extra bit of supernatural edge to the weapon as it pierced the man's armor, sinking through his back, and bursting out of his chest. The man futilely gripped at his chest, trying to understand what had just happened, his mouth moving soundlessly. Leon reached out with a powerful arm, dragging the man backwards out of direct sight of the building and then shoving the rest of the blade through and twisting, splattering blood across his armor and pooling around his boots.

Three targets down, six potentials remaining.

As Ibdur trotted up, Leon shrugged as though to apologize for not saving a kill for him, then took the silenced coin out of his boot and tossing it into the shadows of an alleyway. Sound returned to the area, and Leon flinched as his ears adjusted to the sudden increase in noise.

He raised his hand and twirled his fingers in a circle, a universal sign to gather up for Elthel and her companions to see and then he nodded to Iliskra, looking towards the dilapidated house.

"Front door is almost always trapped and watched," he muttered, more to speak his thoughts aloud than to actually advise Iliskra. She was the true thief here. His eyes flicked to the barely covered windows and weakened walls, some of which had gaping holes in them. What a wreck of a hideout. As the rest of the kill team arrived and ducked into nearby shadows, Leon spoke again, "I'll take the window to the right of the front door. If you get into trouble, fall back towards the front door and if possible, we will assist. I'll breach last."

His reasoning for picking the closest window was sound. Despite any hangups Elthel might have, Leon was a proven healer. Which meant that he needed to be in the position everyone could find or that could go to them with little trouble if their need was dire. His decision to be the last one in was motivated by similar cause. Despite his skills, his allies had clearly made a life of their ability to slide through the shadows. Whereas he relied on the shadows welcoming him. He did not want to give away their presence by accident before the others had a chance to move fully inside and not risk being caught halfway into a building and halfway out.

He stalked through the shadows, his armor designed to make little noise and allow for freedom of movement at the cost of heavier protections like Ibdur's chain and plates. Stepping through the treeline, he sprinted while keeping his form low to the window he had designated, belly crawling up the last ten feet or so to minimize any chance of him being spotted. Once there, he listened intently, trying to hear if there was anyone in the room he was about to enter.

Once he was satisfied, he looked around to make sure none of his companions appeared to still be outside the building, and then picked himself up off the ground, sliding in through the window.

“Huh?”

Leon’s choice for an entrance could not have been worse. He had slinked his way right into the estates’ parlor - which two of Gunalar’s thugs were residing in at the very moment. The pair of crooks had been sitting slouched in matching dark brown comfortable chairs that were side-by-side with a small table nestled between them - on it rested a nearly empty bottle of whiskey and a smoking pipe.

The thug closer to the window had lazily turned his head, at first disregarding the movement he had seen in the corner of his eye as being his imagination or maybe a bird flying close by. When his eyes focused on Leon however he lurched upright in his chair and wobbled to a stand. “Who the Hells are-…” The man did not finish as his sharp call was cut short by a knife that came whirling from the far left through a nearby door and buried itself into the side of his skull with a sick pop. The man crumbled onto the dirty rug that adorned the wooden floor. His companion by now had also staggered up from his seat and on seeing his friend fall to the floor fumbled for the mace that was propped against the offside of his seat.

Elthel suddenly darted through the door to the left and set upon the other man, plunging her blade straight into his throat. With equal swiftness she delivered a sharp kick over the back of the chair that sent the man tumbling down onto his back, gurgling and spewing blood as he grasped at his neck. Iliskra stepped in after Elthel, her dagger drawn as she looked over her shoulder into the hallway behind her.

Once the second man’s last agonized breaths ended and he lay dead Elthel cleaned her blade off on the back of his chair and then turned to face Leon with a vile look on her face.

“Perhaps you should have allowed the one who has been here to take the lead and decide who goes where.” Elthel spat. “The front door was not guarded nor trapped. These are not the sharpest of criminals we are facing.”
Elthel stomped over to the first man and pulled her throwing knife free and cleaned it off as well, then slipping it back into her belt.

For a moment, Leon's pride stung and he felt a sharp retort building in the back of his head, threatening to make even more noise than Elthel had with her tirade. After all, the last time she had been here, she lost half her party and nearly got her... boss? lover? both? It didn't matter right now... Killed. Even if the man had been the one responsible for making the decision to meet Gunalar, they had already failed to inflict serious damage on his group before.

A Maskarran was trained to kill their emotions first though, so he suppressed it and admitted to himself that perhaps she had a point. He was not used to working with anyone other than other Maskarrans so the idea that one person in his group might have more information than the rest had slipped his mind. "If you're done?," he asked, idly wondering what the odds were that the remaining two to four possible targets, assuming they didn't have visitors of their own, were on their way to this very spot. "Thank you," it was his best offer at peace.

"Two more dead," he continued, turning to look through the corridors, "either lead on, or by all means, stay here since we're tied up on kills."

Part of him was curious at the anger. She had deliberately called him out as a Maskarran earlier, and the name was hardly unknown among thieves and assassins, so he had written it off as unimportant. Regardless, there was a job to do, and they were now over halfway to finishing it if Elthel's numbers had been right.

Elthel said nothing else for the moment, her head turning as she looked over the parlor. In all its’ splendor it must have been quite the fine drawing room. But after being abandoned by the owner, enduring through riots and fighting in the city streets, and now acting as a hideout for filthy bandits, the place was to say rundown and disgusting. The floorboards were starting to rot in places, the expensive wallpaper was peeled off in massive amounts revealing molded planks, and the furniture was stained and dirty. Only the mantle and fireplace seemed in decent order still, the latter of which crackled with glowing red embers that brought warmth to the room. Above the mantle piece on the wall were three crude circles drawn in the shape of a practice target which was lined with throwing knives and arrows.

“Firoz is upstairs,” Elthel finally spoke, “and Willory went around back to find a way down into the basement. I will go see to him and we will search this floor over. You two can look upstairs.”

Iliskra nodded and motioned for Leon to follow as she stepped out into the small foyer. Just down the hall - straight ahead from the front door - was a door on the right and the left. Directly across from the parlor door was a square-shaped staircase that reached up to the second floor. Hanging directly above the staircase was a dust-covered chandelier with candleholders encrusted with heavy layers of dried wax. Iliskra started up the stairs, noting the lack of decoration on the walls. Obviously anything of value had been taken with the original owners or looted during the riots and whatever may have been left behind was pawned off by Gunalar’s band. The place stank of body odor, spoiled food, ale, and unwashed clothing. Iliskra had dealt with the filthier ilk of bandits and thieves plenty of times before but that did not mean she ever truly grew comfortably accustomed to their dirty ways.

After ascending three flights of creaky stairs Iliskra and Leon reached the top floor. Directly across a hallway from the staircase was a double door entrance while to the right and left were two doors at each end of the hallway across from each other. Five upstairs rooms in total.

“I will take the two rooms down left hallway. You can take the right.” Iliskra said tightening her grip on her dagger.

Leon nodded, carefully stepping along the ground, testing the strength of the floorboards with each step. It was unlikely that any of Gunalar's minions would come running at the sound of a creaking floorboard in such a dilapidated building, but he still preferred to be careful. As he reached the first door, he stopped and stilled his breathing, closing his eyes to focus on the sounds around him. As expected Iliskra quickly faded from his senses, and while he could hear the occasional rat scratching away inside of the walls he could hear nothing larger for the moment.

Slowly, he reached out and touched the door handle, the lock broken long ago likely by looters or one of the thugs. Pushing it open carefully, he eyed the room only to see an empty bedroom, likely originally belonging to one of the children of the owners before the house fell into disrepair. The bed was in reasonable condition, but also looked used, probably one of the more comfortable places to catch a nap in between whatever it is that Gunalar and his minions did. A broken window let in a chill draft, stirring the dust in a way Leon might have found spooky as a child.

As tempting as it was to search for any secrets that might have been missed by Gunalar, the job came first and there were clearly no targets inside of this room. Leon carefully pulled the door closed, but with the broken lock it was not going to latch. The maskarran glanced down the hallway towards the main double doors, wondering if perhaps that would be the master bedroom. If Gunalar was into maintaining appearances, he would have claimed that room as his own to show ownership over the hideout, but Leon doubted he was the type to walk up four flights of stairs every time he wanted to take a nap.

A check of the second room revealed much the same as the first, though the bed was missing. Perhaps it had been dragged downstairs or broken up and sold for scrap. Aside from dust and rodents, the room held nothing of interest to the Maskarran. Looking back for Iliskra, Leon began to advance on the double doors, waiting for her to join him or for the sounds of trouble to reach his ears.

The far door on the right opened and suddenly Firoz emerged, a bloody dagger in his right hand. At first he tensed up on seeing another person in the hallway, though he quickly relaxed on seeing it was the masked Leon.

“Where is your companion?” Firoz asked as he gently closed the door behind him.

Firoz’s question was answered by the door between he and Leon swinging open and Iliskra stepped out rather boldly, her blade likewise bloodied. Using her right foot the half-elf pushed the door shut behind her, cleaning her blade off on the doorframe.

“I killed one that was asleep. What of you two?” Firoz asked, sheathing his dagger.

“As did I,” Iliskra said, “there was nothing of value in this one’s room though save for a few pairs of boots that most likely would not even be worth the effort of peddling.”

“Ah,” Firoz nodded, “the same. Well… there was this.” The Turmish man dangled a small bulging coin purse in the air before slipping it into his belt.

“I take it this must be Gunalar’s room.” Iliskra nodded towards the double door, approaching it with Leon and keeping her own dagger handy.. “Leon, did you find anything or anyone across the hall?”

"Nothing worth mentioning. Dust and decayed furniture," Leon admitted quietly, keeping a sigh from escaping his lips. Two more kills. Two potential targets left. He had never been the type to complain about a lack of activity when said activity could end up cutting his throat with a lucky strike, but his pride was still stung from Elthel and he wouldn't have minded the brief workout of aggression. He felt Mask's blessing fade, the divine power his prayers had purchased fading as time pressed on.

The room ahead would be the prize room, he suspected. Gunalar didn't strike him during their brief interaction as the type to keep documents, maps, or secret passphrases laying around, but he did seem the type to store his personal treasure where it could be easily checked on and hidden from greedy eyes. Then again, maybe the fates will smile on all of them and a large book titled 'the secret identity of Shagarm and their critical weakness' will be laying on a desk inside, right next to the secret location of a dead dragon's treasure hoard.

Leon let a smile pass over his face at the ridiculous thought. Stranger things had been known to happen in history though.

Knowing Iliskra was the quieter of the two of them, he simply readied his shield to cover her and let her handle the door. If there was an immediately violent reaction, he would do his best to protect her from it and buy her time to flank or otherwise deal with whatever was on the other side of the door.

Firoz pulled the first door open, Iliskra holding for two breaths before opening the second door. Had there been anyone lurking just inside they would have very likely pounced on Firoz making them vulnerable to an attack by Iliskra and Leon. But no one came and the coast seemed clear.

“Watch your step,” Firoz pointed down with the tip of his blade, “tripwire.”

A thin, shin-high wire reached the full length of the doorway, pulled tight. Firoz stepped carefully over the wire followed by his two new counterparts. The wire was firmly tied to the trigger of a crossbow that sat perched on a small rack of a sort which was placed neck-high on the right side of the doorway. Anyone who tripped the wire would get a bolt to the side of the throat or skull. Firoz reached to disarm the trap while Iliskra and Leon looked the room over. As Leon had suspected it was the master bedroom, nearly three times the size of the other rooms. Even in the squalor and dishevelment of the bandit hideout it was more than clear that this was the abode of a half-orc.

“Elthel was not jesting at all.” Iliskra wrinkled her nose.

The room had a strong smell of bestial sweat and a musky scent that made Iliskra’s stomach roll inside her. The large bed that sat directly across from the door had only a stained heavy mattress and dirty sheets spread upon it - and scattered around the bed on the floor were without mistake women’s undergarments. Several in fact. Empty whiskey and ale bottles were carelessly cast about the floor and on a large end table to the right of the bed sat a silver platter with a stripped bird carcass on it, the bones dark and riddled with buzzing flies. To the left of the bed a heavy wooden chest sat against the wall with a bulky padlock sealing it shut. Next to the chest was a small desk with an accompanying chair. The desk had various items atop it; rolls of grimy paper and a writing well and quill, a stray dagger, a cracked silver amulet, what looked to be a shark tooth necklace, and a rather out of place neatly written note.

“What have we here?” Iliskra raised a brow as she snatched the note from the desk top. The half-elf’s eyes darted back and forth, right to left as she read - her expression turning noticeably intrigued. There was a soft thump as Firoz dismounted the crossbow from the wall having just cut the wire, and as he turned to face them Iliskra quickly passed the note to Leon.

“Did you find something?” Firoz asked.

“Just this locked trunk,” Iliskra motioned over her shoulder, “and perhaps that wardrobe over there has something interesting in it.”

Leon grimaced at the state of the room. Sure, Gunalar had been a brute, and idiot, and undoubtedly a savage, but this was just... awful. And what in the Abyss was up with the women's underwear scattered on the floor? Trophies? Or perhaps Gunalar had a delicate flower side that the rest of his life seemed to be in opposition of. The more he thought about it, the more he regretted thinking about it.

Thankful for the distraction, Leon palmed the note effortlessly into his armor before Firoz could see it. "Nothing terribly deadly lurking it seems... I think I'll leave the possible treasures to the professionals," he said, glancing towards the locked chest. He walked back over to the door, leaning against the door frame to give him partial cover against anyone coming up the hallway and started to keep watch while Firoz and Iliskra did what they wished. Once he was in position, he pulled out the note and kept it low so that Firoz couldn't see it in the open.

His eyes scanned the content as quickly as he could, picking out the keywords and memorizing them for later recall. He then folded the paper back into his chest armor. There would be time later to decide if they would share it with Elthel and Zilaster. It was nice to have suspicions confirmed though, it seemed they were already dealing with Ashaba's Talons. Or at least their remains.

Whomever this 'J' was, they were undoubtedly going to be trouble, but it was trouble for another day. It might be possible to learn more about the writer if they could find a diviner in the city, but it was just as likely that either Zilaster would have some idea of who this was, or could find out.

Leon waited for the two to be ready to leave, his shield and sword held loosely, but ready for trouble to spring up in either the form of someone coming up the stairs, or for some trap to go off from the chest.

The only thing to be found in the wardrobe was a mess of dirty clothes and worn boots. Iliskra looked under the bed and found only more empty bottles and undergarments - the latter of which made her shudder - and on realizing there was nothing more Firoz started to work on the chest.

“It seems Gunalar was quite mindful of intrusion into his room.” Iliskra nodded towards the only bedroom window which was not only tightly boarded up but had a wicked-looking bear trap set on the floor just below it.

“The half-orc was the smartest of his band. Which does not say much.” Firoz chuckled as he rattled the lock against the chest in his efforts to pick it.

It did not take long for Firoz to get the chest open, the lock clattering to the floor followed by a loud creak as the lid was raised. Iliskra peeked over his shoulder to gaze at the contents within. There was a single bulging sack that clinked of coins which Firoz quickly pulled from the chest. Most of the rest of the contents within were miscellaneous - a keen-looking short sword, an amulet bundled in its own cord, a few trinket gems such as quartz and pearls, and a suspicious-looking wand. Iliskra quickly grabbed the wand and stepped back before Firoz could protest, though he did look over his shoulder at her with a raised brow.

“The gold goes to us,” Firoz quickly asserted as he stood, “and I will take this amulet as well.”

Iliskra reached back into the chest and took the short sword from where it lay. The blade was fine and dangerously sharp and the hilt and pommel sturdy and blunt. The blade felt strangely perfect in her hand, as if it were the finest sword ever made and that it was forged just for her. It was most likely enchanted, which meant that even if Iliskra or Leon neither wanted it they could sell it for a fair amount of coin. Iliskra scooped up the gems and left the amulet to Firoz. As the half-elf approached the doorway, sword and wand in each hand, she looked up and her eyes instantly widened.

“Firoz, the stairs!”

Coming up the stairs, just rounding the last flight, was a crouched man dressed in the same tattered clothes and cheap armor padding as the rest of Gunalar’s gang. Most likely he had heard the talking upstairs or found his dead fellows below and came up to investigate. When he saw Iliskra and heard her shout he impulsively drew his sword and came charging up the rest of the stairs - straight into Leon’s line of attack.

Leon countered the charge with a shield bash, stepping solidly out and cutting short the man's charge. As the man was suddenly swept off of his feet, the masked cleric followed with a stab downwards, but the man managed to get his blade up to deflect Leon's sword at the last moment. A slash at Leon's legs for him to take a half-step back, but he pressed the attack, not letting the thug get back onto his feet.

Leon's boot crunched into the man's face, breaking the nose and spraying the surrounding floorboards with blood, allowing his next stab to pierce the thug's chest without resistance. There was a shudder and then the man lay still, Leon twisting his blade before pulling it out for good measure, then wiping the blood off on his latest victim.

"If we're done up here," Leon said, briefly patting down the corpse just to see if the man had any treasures of his own, "Elthel and Willory went down to the basement. We should finish clearing the floors and meet back up with them. I can't imagine there are too many more rats left in these walls.

Standing back up, Leon looked over at Iliskra and eyed her new treasures briefly. "Good finds, hopefully they'll serve you well," he said, offering a small grin of support. He had little desire for treasure unless it helped him serve Mask or his comrades better, though coin did have a way of making the world go round. Unfortunately while he could pray to mask for the ability to determine what around him was radiating magic, direct identification was not one of his abilities. Mask kept secrets, he did not reveal them.

"Ready when you are," he muttered, turning back towards the hallway and readying his weapons in case he was wrong about the number of thugs left over from Gunalar's reign.

Iliskra, Leon, and Firoz met Elthel and Willory downstairs. Elthel revealed there had been one man downstairs passed out drunk that Willory dealt with. Firoz asked if there had been anything of note in the basement to which Willory said it was mostly just trash and assorted junk save for a few kegs of ale that he insisted they leave with.

“After we finish here, yes.” Elthel stated which pleased the halfling.

“What is there left to do?” Iliskra asked.

Elthel turned her head sharply, saying, “We want all the time we can gain for ourselves. We need to hide away the bodies of Gunalar’s men and make things seem… orderly as the usual here. Should anyone come here and find Gunalar’s men dead and he nowhere to be found it will spur his cohorts.”

“We should return to the alley you say you were trapped in and dispose of Gunalar’s body.” Firoz stated.

Elthel nodded, her eyes darting about in calculation. “Firoz, return and gather three of our number and bring them here. And then you and I will go to do away with Gunalar’s body. Willory, you and the others must hide the bodies here as best you can.”

“Any suggestion?” Willory asked.

“How many kegs of ale did we see? Eight?” Elthel asked, rubbing her chin.

“Y-Yes…” Willory stammered.

“Dismember the bodies and stuff them into the kegs and seal them. Anything that cannot fit inside you can toss into the fireplace or oven.”

“No!” Willory barked shrilly making everyone but Elthel wince back from him and look around nervously.

“Do as I say!” Elthel immediately snapped with a scolding point of her finger.

The halfling recoiled at her retort and then began to sulk but gave a nod of affirmation.

“And remember to salvage their weapons and armor.”

Another solemn nod from the downtrodden halfling.

“What about the chest we emptied upstairs?” Firoz asked, clutching one ear.

“Lock it back up. If you cannot then the others can stow it away in the basement.”

“I will set the crossbow trap back before we leave.” Firoz added.

Elthel nodded and then looked back to Iliskra and Leon.
“Your companion is out front, posing as a guard. We, as you can see, have much left to do this night. You handled yourselves well for the most part.”

“I am glad you think so.” Iliskra replied, stuffing her newly acquired sword, wand, and gemstones into her bag of holding.

“Zilaster will without doubt wish to speak with you soon. And I must admit we may have more to talk about as well,” Elthel lowered her hood for the first time, letting her thick red hair fall free around her shoulders and face, “the Dragon’s Tail tavern has rooms for rent. It lies in the center of this side of the city, you will see it. The owner pays his protection to Shagarm and keeps the place in running order. I will meet you there the morning after tomorrow - if you are interested in working with us further. And making solid coin.”

Iliskra nodded in understanding and looked to Leon.

“And just in case you happen to get the idea of going to Shagarm’s people - or someone else - with word about us,” Elthel smirked, “Zilaster has already been moved from beneath Yanoriim’s store and the underground passage sealed. And we do not take kindly to betrayers.”

No, you usually die to them, Leon thought, glad for the mask covering his face and hiding his irritation. Distrust he was used to, but paltry threats were just an annoyance. Still, he was not about to pick a fight with Elthel in front of everyone and there was no real harm in letting her think she had the upper hand on their relationship. And an ale and a nap sounded wonderful so the sooner they could get to this tavern, the better.

He considered pointing out that anyone who came here would undoubtedly know something was wrong anyways... since they had killed everyone and were in the process of hiding their bodies, but if Elthel or her team screwed up that part of the operation it was of little concern to him for now. Maybe she was already thinking about moving in and disguising some of the Talons to look like the regular thugs until Shagarm or someone powerful were to come asking questions.

"Seems to me we've pretty much thrown our lot in with your side anyways," Leon commented, though he supposed if he did go running to Shagarm, he could probably take Gunalar's place in the organization and see to the eradication of the Talons. However, that wasn't the mission, and he sensed no favor from Mask towards either of the two groups. "As long as both sides benefit, I see no reason not to at least hear out any jobs you've got on offer."

And with that, Leon turned and headed for the door, walking out and over to Ibdur. "Apologies again, Arahur, but as I suspected there was little glory to be found in that place and your presence here served us well," he said, "the house has been cleared of rats, and our friends are seeing to the cleanup now. We've been given a place where we might find some rest and friendly company. Thank you for holding the exit route open for us."

Once Iliskra joined them, Leon would wait until they were a few blocks away before taking off his mask and hanging it on his waist again. A gold coin was lifted from his pouch, dancing between his fingers with the skill of a moderate street magician. "Coin for your thoughts on our friends and that little operation?," he said, looking towards Iliskra. If the note or the fact that they had indeed found the Talons were referenced, he would pull the note out of his armor and hand it to Ibdur for the dwarf to read.