As the night wore on, Uruk, Eloy and Gorfang became more and more comfortable with the Blue Knight's bar. The inn was heaving, but for some strange reason - even among hardened mercenaries - they found they had ample elbow room at the bar.
Long past midnight - none of them were counting, even the reasonably sober Eloy - a man came hesitantly up to the human and tugged at his sleeve. "Would you like to make some money? You're a warrior, brave, not afraid of small wounds....?" Eloy frowned at him, bemused. "What do you want?" he asked bluntly. The man produced a small bowl, and a dagger. "If you'll fill this bowl with blood, I'll pay you fifty in gold," he said, with a thread of eagerness running below his words.
Eloy looked him up and down. The man was skinny, above average height, and unkempt, with wild hair and beard and a brown robe which looked none too clean. There was a light in his eyes and a set to his moves that Eloy didn't quite like, so he decided to pass the problem on. "Go and ask him," he said, pointing at the massive bulk of Gorfang, and expecting the man to quietly fade away rather than risk an encounter with the orc.
The man, however, turned and walked straight up to Gorfang. "I'll pay you fifty in gold to fill this bowl with blood for me," he said in the same tones. Gorfang looked at him for a moment - and then in one smooth movement, produced a dagger from his hip and drew it swiftly across the stranger's throat. Coughing and gurgling, the man folded onto the floor without another word. Looking up at the others, Gorfang lifted the bowl, which he had rather deftly caught on the way down. "Done," he said with a very nasty smile. The bowl was nearly full of fresh, hot blood.
No-one in the 'Knight seemed at all bothered by this sudden reduction in the clientele. Eloy bent to the corpse and ferreted around it for a few moments, and then dragged it to the door. Another mercenary stepped over to him and helped, and between them they got the corpse ejected before returning to their drinks. The others peered in interest at the possessions Eloy had collected from the peculiar man; sixty-three in gold (which Gorfang pointed out they'd earned), half-a-dozen spell scrolls (which none of them could read), a nicely-made dagger, and a finely-made necklace of golden wire with five rather dull red gems strung along it, which Eloy suspected of being magical and they decided to keep for the ladies. Gorfang suggested they should get them to wrestle for it, and the mental pictures of that kept all three happy for nearly an hour.
Next morning dawned grey and threatening. Lynien woke, stretched, and dressed, then sauntered downstairs for some breakfast. When Eliil asked her what she wanted, Lynien toyed for a moment with the idea of eating the inn's dog, just for the reaction, but settled for a more conventional meal. That done, she gathered some items of their plunder together, and set out for the streets. On the way out, she asked Eliil where she might find a competent sell-spell mage. The lizardwoman reminded her that the mageguild was one of the two main powers in Lossal, and that the Guildhall was probably the best place to go.
Half an hour later, she was entering the impressive stone pile of the Mageguildhall. The arched doorway was lined with tiny rubies, and the tiefling girl's quick eye was caught by a flicker of light; several of the gemstones flickered with light as she passed under them. A moment's thought and it occurred to her that the locations of the lights paralleled the location of the items of magic she was carrying. Interesting...
She was directed across an airy courtyard to a doorway, behind which was a workroom with several wizards working on items brought to them. The man seated near the door looked up at her, and looked her over. "Adventurer's loot for identification?" he enquired shrewdly. Lynien nodded, and handed over some items; the bracers looted from the clumsy mage, her Translator's Ring, Méabh's staff, the Headband of the Stout Heart, and the Shadowdagger, and was told what each was capable of. Satisfied, she headed out again.
Gorfang and Uruk, despite their heroic session the night before, felt little the worse for it the next morning, and were soon out and about looking for breakfast. The landlord, having heard of the events the night before, offered Gorfang blood sausage for breakfast. The orc, appreciating the joke, dug in with gusto.
All three had things they wanted to do today, and planned to go into the city later on. Bog tugged Gorfang's sleeve. "We stay town, nice town, stay here one day, two day maybe?" he asked in his fractured Common. Eloy shrugged; "At least a couple of days; why?" he replied. Bog grinned. "Make more Boom Boom!" he declared. "Come to shops with you for in-gre-di-ents."
"What do you need?" asked Gorfang with some interest. Bog thought a moment. "Starfern, Rastfoot and Berringil," he said. "And fine brandy!" Gorfang grinned. "Let's go," he said with anticipation.
The streets of Lossal were busy despite the weather, and the day's trade was starting up. Mercenaries and soldiers mingled on the streets, most of the latter in the black Dragonarmy uniform of Tarlanor's standing army.
Lossal's herbalists were found, along with those who practiced medicine for those citizens unable or unwilling to donate to temples for magical healing, on Bone Street. Bog - who'd done some asking around - led them to an open-fronted shop behung with bunches of herbs, shelved with jars of spices and distillations, and emitting a sharp, spicy, pleasant odour. The rather morose-looking proprietor was sitting behind a counter, reading. 
Bog and Gorfang marched up to the counter, and Bog declared "I would like to buy some herbs please," in his squeaky voice. The man looked up, to see only the hulking Gorfang standing there, and frowned in puzzlement... Had that voice really come from this great brute? Gorfang reached down and gripped Bog by the back of his jacket and lifted him effortlessly up until he was visible. "Oh!" said the herbalist. "I see. My name is Galuril; what can I do for you, small sir?"
Bog's needs were dealt with easily for a few silvers, and then Gorfang spoke up for the first time. "Got anything I can smoke?" he asked meaningfully. Galuril looked around, confirming there were no other customers. "I may have the very thing," he said quietly. He rummaged under the counter and produced a wooden box filled with about a pound of dried, shredded plant material. "This is Redeye Weed," he said. "Can I try some?" asked Gorfang. Galuril packed a little into a clay pipe, lit it, and handed it over.
The next thing Gorfang knew was that he was emerging from a dreamy, pleasant haze, to find himself face-to-face with Bog. He blinked in mild surprise; had he fallen over? Looking around, he realized that the little crossbreed, worried by his unresponsiveness, had climbed up the front of his armour and was clinging to his chest, gently patting his face to bring him around. Lowering Bog to the ground, he grinned at Galuril. "Good stuff, that," he commented. "How much for the box?" They struck a deal at 75gp for the whole box, plus a rather handsome brass pipe to smoke it in. Gorfang asked if he had any cigars, but Galuril shook his head - "try Varnal two doors down," he suggested.
Varnal's cigars were fabulous, but so were his prices; "These are all the way from the Empire, sir, and customs taxes are high!" and Gorfang didn't fancy paying them.
Eloy and Uruk were on Cloth Street, wandering from drapers to drapers looking at clothes. Uruk fidgeted, bored, as Eloy chose out some more travelling outfits, a couple of finer and more presentable ones, a long leather duster, and a red leather waistcoat for Gorfang. The limit was when the human announced he was going for a wash and a shave, and Uruk wandered off to look for a beer. The pair planned to meet up later to seek out some ladies of negotiable affection.
All four met around lunchtime, and followed Galuril's directions to the herbalist Grisirsoc's. Gorfang eyed the waistcoat Eloy had bought him, but there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it, other than being a bit clean for his tastes. He shrugged into it; not a bad fit either.
Grisiroc's range of cigars was rather smaller, but included some of the larger ones Gorfang had in mind. Scrounging a sample he lit up, and took a deep, reflective lungfull. It was awful. "How much?" he queried, rather raspingly. Grisirsoc seemed very surprised that anyone would want to buy these duds, and replied that these were five in gold for a box of twelve. To his delighted bewilderment, Gorfang proceeded to buy ten boxes of the worst cigars he'd ever been stuck unable to sell... Eloy chose out a slender cheroot and struck a good deal for seven boxes of those.
The next stop was a brewer's. Varnal had recommended one Typril as a good brewer who also distilled spirits for sale, so they went there. As they walked, it started to rain heavily. Gorfang swung the heavy blanket from his pack over his shoulders, added his rain hat, and bit down hard on one of the foul cigars from Grisirsoc's shop; for a moment, he resembled another warrior, from another time, a man with no name....
Typril's 
Brewery was a well-kept business, with mighty barrels slowly developing the ale and porter that formed the bulk of his business, and the intestinal piping of his still producing his trademark brandy. Bog and Gorfang tried samples of the brandy cautiously, and both broke into delighted smiles; the stuff was quite possibly the best brandy in Alair. After a little negotiation, a price of 80gp for a case of 12 was agreed on, and two - one for Bog and one for Gorfang - were bought.
Typril looked at Gorfang and grinned. "Wouldn't have pegged you for a brandy drinker," he commented. "More an ale man. Here - try a pint of this," and he handed the orc a tankard. Gorfang swigged and smacked his lips, and Typril gestured to the rows of barrels. "Try 'em all, knock yourself out," he said. Eloy and Lynien looked at each other; they knew how this would end. Handing Typril a pile of gold coins, Eloy pointed at Gorfang. "He'll drink now until he falls over," he said. "Hide the brandy. Once he's passed out, will you load him on a cart with it and deliver it all to the Blue Knight?" Typril nodded. "Sure," he said.
Lynien headed home now, but Eloy and Uruk were hungry for a little feminine attention, and set out for the red light district of Lossal. To begin with, all they could locate was a few tawdry, tired-looking streetwalkers on corners, and Eloy particularly had something more sophisticated in mind. It occurred to them that this was likely to be a nocturnal facility, and that most of the suppliers were probably asleep. Grumblling, the pair went off for a beer and some dinner, and returned later that evening for another try.
Some research had pointed them to the House of the Lilac Lanterns, widely reputed to be the cleanest, safest, and best quality cathouse in Lossal. Entering the wide-open doors, they were greeted with some enthusiasm by the proprietor (especially once it became clear Bog wasn't expecting to be included). Each was introduced to a selection of attractive and enthusiastic young women, and once they had made their choices, provided with a night of extremely pleasurable relaxation. Entirely worth twenty-five in gold each, they agreed in the morning. Bog slept in a chair in reception.
Lynien returned home, and changed into something more comfortable as evening approached. Very comfortable, in fact, and the silken swish of the dress around her supple form attracted no few admiring glances as she headed out in search of somewhere to eat. A few questions directed her to a very good restaraunt on the east side of the Noble Quarter, where she had an excellent dinner. She'd reached the brandy course by the time a tall, handsome man with close-cropped dark hair and a dazzling smile approached her table and politely enquired if he might buy her a drink. "Thank the Gods," she thought to herself, "I was beginning to think I was going to have to pay for all this!"
Coquettishly she 'allowed' him to summon more drinks, and to join her at her table. Introducing himself as Savono, the man engaged the pretty part-demon thief in witty, flattering, interesting conversation, courteously ensuring that her glass was never empty, and slowly moving his chair closer to hers. She had to admit, it was a masterfully executed seduction, and had she really been a young innocent girl unprepared for the darker side of life, she'd have been lost.
The dinner and drinks bill disappeared with no fuss, and of course he couldn't hear of her walking home alone at this time of night; he would gladly escort her wherever she was going... or he had a very comfortable room here, of course....
Ten minutes later they were wrapped in each other's arms in his sumptuous room, and his hands were beginning to wander with practiced skill (fortunately nowhere near the little horns under her hair) when she whispered in his ear, "No, no... it's more fun if I undress you, close your eyes...." Savono grinned and shut his eyes, and she worked slowly around him, loosening his clothing as she went, until she was behind him. Drawing her fingers across the back of his neck in a delightful tickle gave her a perfect target, and her other hand slammed forwards in a lethal punch to the back of his head. Bone crunched and he folded up without a sound; Lynien caught him and lowered him silently to the floor.
Sorting out her own clothing, she swiftly and expertly searched the room, finding a mere 180 gold, a rather nice cloak in a dove grey that took her fancy, some other clothing, and a velvet box containing a selection of ladies jewelry she estimated as worth four or five thousand. Maybe he was in the same business after all then? Just as she was about to leave, she saw a fairly unremarkable ring around his finger, and prised it off. She wasn't sure, but it had the feel of a magical item.
Sorting through the late Savono's wardrobe, she chose out a tunic, trews, and hat in black and pulled them on over her own clothes. Cracking the door open she listened; there were still voices coming from the restaraunt and she knew she'd be marked if she walked through carrying this lot. Closing it again she opened the window and looked out. Not bad; climbable. She swung out of the window and worked her way down to the alley at the back without incident.
As she turned to leave her eyes were caught by a slight movement above. Looking up she realized that there was someone on the roof opposite. A movement on the thieves' highway could only mean the local Guild, unless there was another freelancer at work. Damn. She was going to have to go and square things with them.
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