Arriving at the Strangled Gasp, Animir grimaced as the tavern's graphic sign made the meaning of its' name very plain. Entering the dowdy establishment carefully, she realized that the dark entryway, combined with the daylight outside, meant that everyone inside got a good look at new arrivals before said arrivals got a chance to see them. A sign of a haven for the distrustful.
Once their eyes had adjusted, the three companions could see that the Gasp had a long bar along the wall facing the entrance, and two cavernous areas to the sides lined with niches containing tables. Shadowy figures lurked around many of these tables, and unprepossessing-looking individuals leaned at the bar, watching the newcomers.
Zada led the way, walking firmly over to the bar and ordering three ales, which were smacked down onto the wooden bar in heavy leather jacks sealed with tar. Animir eyed this unenthusiastically but took a drink, then mirrored Zada as the latter turned, jack in hand, to lean against the bar facing outwards.
The three scanned the Gasp briefly, but could see no sign of anyone familiar. They remained there, watching customers come and go, for nearly two hours. Then a large party of mercenary soldiers came in, laughing and joking. Animir's attention was caught by the last man in the group. Slightly out of tune with the others, he was dressed in leathers rather than the light armour of the sell-swords, and after a moment, she recognized him as one of the hired thugs from the ambush at Foamwolf's. The man was clearly looking for something - or someone - and walked around the whole Gasp, peering at tables and examining faces. Animir and her companions kept their heads down, and he didn't appear to notice them.
Finally, the thug seemed to conclude that who- or whatever he was hunting was not in the tavern, and he headed for the door. Hastily tossing a couple of silver coins onto the bar, Animir and her friends followed him out.
From the entrance, they just caught sight of him disappearing into the alley formed by the side wall of the Gasp and that of another building. Hastening to the entrance to the alley, they peered in, to see the man reach the far end, turn right, and disappear again, his footfalls echoing loudly as he ran. They hurried into the alley in pursuit.
Once they got half-way down, a tiny flutter sound attracted Animir's attention and she whirled, to see another dark-clad figure at the tavern end of the alley putting away a short pipe and turning to flee. A tiny sting pricked her wrist between mail and glove.
A moment later, two thumps from behind announced the collapse of Thorkil and Zada, and a wave of weakness and disorientation swept over Animir. They'd been shot with poisoned blowgun darts! Clinging to conciousness by a thread, Animir stumbled back up the alley towards the street the Gasp was on, desperately seeking assistance. With fingers that felt like bananas, she fumbled a handful of coins from her pouch and held them out ahead of her.
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Animir struggles out of the alley
Blurred shapes were all she could make out of the occupants of the streets, but the colours of rich robes and the bulk of guards identified a merchant. A face swam into view; swarthy, shifty, eminently untrustworthy. But Animir was out of time. Lurching forwards to place the gold into the surprised trader's grip, she carried on the downwards move to collapse at his feet, forcing out the words "Help my friends, back in the alley..." as she did so; and then everything went black.
Coranix' Warehouses, Poor Quarter, Varensen, May 8th 1601
Much to Animir's surprise, she woke up the next morning in a bed. Not a very splendid bed, true; a straw-packed mattress in a plain room; but waking up was an improvement on what she had expected. Across from her, she could see her backpack, and next to it - to her great relief - Anvarna leaning against the wall. In front of it, her mail made a steely puddle on the floor.
By the darkness against the small window, it was night.
Climbing out of bed, she stretched, discovering herself to be clad in the soft doeskin shirt and green leggings she wore under her armour. She ached, and still felt slightly disorientated, but the majority of the poison's effects were gone. She was alone, however, and that was worrying.
Stepping into her boots, she opened the door opposite the window and looked through. There was another, rather larger, room on the other side of the door containing a table and several chairs. In one of these sat a man with a pleasant, rather round face, engaged in counting coins and recording the results in a small ledger. He was clearly also there to await her awakening, though, because when the door opened he looked up and greeted her. "Ah, feeling better then? My master wishes to see you now you are awake," he said, "please follow me."
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CoranixShe followed him through a door, through two more rooms, into a hallway and up a rather grand flight of stairs, and finally into a well-appointed office. A heavy wooden desk stood at one end, and a well-dressed man was seated behind it. After a moment, Animir recognized the merchant whose aid she'd requested before her collapse.
Two large, burly guards loomed to either side of him; but he rose with a smile and came forward to greet her. "Thank you, Bregan," he said to her escort, who left, closing the door.
"Frankly, I'm a little surprised at myself," said the merchant. "Normally, I would have acquired your possessions and disposed of your helpless remains in the fine river which performs all such functions for this city." He looked a little shamefaced for an instant. "But you interested me. Why would an elf stagger out of an alley, press gold into my hand, and with her last words beseech help, not for herself, but for other people who turn out not to be there?" Animir's heart sank but she said nothing.
"This is the point where I should say, 'I'm just an honest merchant', continued her rescuer. "Well I'm not. I trade on the edges of the law - trade in some things I should and some things I shouldn't. But as I say - I'm curious."
"I left two good friends in that alley," said Animir. "You're in a bit of a mess then," opined the merchant. "My name is Coranix. I trade in all sorts of things; maybe I can sell you some help?"
Animir settled into a chair and told him the whole story - the runes, the weapons that failed, the massacre of Zada's party, Maegnor's treachery and Foamwolf's part in the plot, and the pre-arranged ambush laid at his shop. She was careful not to mention Foamwolf's impressive sword or Anvarna.
At the end, Coranix looked rather as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. "The selling of things that aren't what they appear; the conning of an easy mark; these are part and parcel of my day," he said. "But this is laying traps, this is explicitly trying to kill customers. I never thought I'd ever say anything like this, but this is going to give traders and shopkeepers in this city a bad name. If trade dries up there goes my business. This has to be stopped. And quickly, or your friends are going to end up in gutters somewhere. I'd guess that's something that you deeply....personally... financially... want to prevent?"
They negotiated for a while, but it was a seller's market while Zada and Thorkil hung in the balance, and a deal was struck for Coranix' assistance locating her friends, plus a guide to that location, in return for two hundred pieces of gold; half in advance.
While Coranix' agents got to work, Bregan took Animir down to the kitchens and provided her with a meal. Then she settled down to wait..
Around ten at night, Bregan returned and announced that Coranix wanted to see her again. Collecting all her equipment, she went back to the office, where she found Coranix, no guards this time, and a new individual.
This man, young, supple, was dressed in black leathers. Coranix introduced him as Dorlas, and explained that he'd be guiding her to her destination. "I hire him when I need things doing in the shakier areas.", said Coranix.
Then he explained some more about the captors of Zada and Thorkil. The group that was behind the abductions - and the flawed weapons - was called the Lamenters.
In their beginnings, about a hundred years ago, the Lamenters were a bardic college, dedicated to the study and understanding of death and the reaction of the survivors to death. Initially, the organization had done much good work as counsellers, psychologists and medical researchers. Over time, however, the focus of the organization had slowly shifted, to the point where the perception and understanding of the Mystery of Death far outwieghed the mitigation of its' effects in the priorities of the members.
Gradually, the members began not only to study and chronicle deaths that they witnessed, but to assist the occurence of those deaths.
This particular arm, aware of the high risks adhering to dungeon adventuring, had developed a strategy for arranging often spectacular deaths to order. Working through the smith Foamwolf, they purchased unwanted loot weapons from returning expeditions, and reforged them to bear the now infamous rune. Resold to newly-formed parties, the weapons lurked like timebombs in scabbards and sheaths, waiting to crumble at a critical moment and expose the wielder to unexpected deadly peril.
Members of the Lamenters with the approriate skills would hire on to the party as 'the party cleric' or 'the group thief', and travel with them until the inevitable happened (as did Maegnor). His notes would then be added to the Order's library....
Alerted by Maegnor to their closeness to the answers, Zada, Thorkil and Animir were targeted when they returned to the shop, and tracked back to the Gasp by the Order's agents. Zada and Thorkil were whisked away upon their collapse, but Animir had reached a public place and the Order didn't want to risk exposure by attacking her there, hence her escape.
Coranix looked grim as he related all this. "These people are rumoured to have some pretty powerful backers," he warned, "I wouldn't like to tackle them. I'll lend you Dorlas here - better description, allow you to hire him - but that's as far as I can go. And I'd like paying in advance please; I don't much rate your chances of coming back, I'm afraid."
Animir stumped up cheerfully enough, and then she and Dorlas set off for the warehouse in the Dockside that Coranix' map indicated was the den of the Lamenters.