Odds and Ends

Lossal, Tarlanor, 8th March 1655

The next morning, the companions met up for breakfast and to portion out some of the freshly-identified loot. Eloy made a significant thing of presenting Lynien with the crazed blood-seeker's Necklace of Fireballs; despite deep suspicions of his motives, she accepted it and put it on. Méabh cast some Identify spells on various items with the following results:

Méabh, unsure of her next move, retreated to her lodgings to consider things. Lynien knew that she needed to locate the local thieves' guild in order to avoid an unpleasant visit later on if she continued to operate in Lossal, and set out to locate the guild HQ. Eloy went with her, doubtless still fancying his chances. Gorfang wanted to know more about the Veldrin, and set out to find a library or a sage. Bog settled down in the room at the Blue Knight to brew more Boom Boom.

Gorfang paused outside a shopfront. The swinging sign declared "Kelenkos: Master of Knowledge. Questions Answered and Information Discovered.". A humanoid figure was just visible inside, behind a counter, so the orc opened the door and went in.

The room inside was laid out like a shop, with a counter and shelves behind it, though all those shelves in this case were filled with books. Posters on the walls displayed maps of various parts of Alair and erudite quotations from the classics. What the shop didn't appear to have was a proprietor; the space behind the counter was empty.

Stepping in, he called out, "I'm not here to cause trouble, I just want to do some research!" There was a pause, and then a small, bald-headed human rose nervously into view from behind the counter. "You're not here to wreck the place, then?" he asked worriedly.

Assuring him that he wasn't, Gorfang explained his requests. He wanted to know more about the Veldrin, and he also wanted information on its' apparent last owner Vyruru, the last high priest of Shushkrah in the kingdom of Morglas. When he asked about prices, Kelenkos replied that any question he could answer from his memory was a flat one silver piece; if he had to research, he charged five silvers per hour's work. Gorfang was happy with that, paid for his immediate answer, and arranged to return next day for the results on the Veldrin.

Kelenkos then explained some of the history of Morglas. The kingdom had appeared to fill the vacuum left in the land once known as Sinval after its destrucion by the Dark Beast in 900. A peculiar and unstable mix of lizardmen and bugbears had established a robber-baron kingdom in the foothills of the Engereor mountains, and preyed on the unfortunate survivors of the area for two hundred years or so, before an army sent by Varkar wiped them out. Vyruru was the last but one High Priest of Shushkrah, dying ten years before the assault; apparently, the Dragonarmy never found the tomb complex in the mountains.

Lynien and Eloy wandered through the streets of Lossal, ostensibly just strolling but in reality hunting for thiefsign. They found odd marks, but nothing suficient for what they needed, so in the end, Lynien went up onto the rooftops, the 'thieves highway'. After a fair amount of hunting around, she found clues that would direct her to the public front for the local guild, which she noticed with interest went by the name of "Kingdom of Filchers". The directions were clear for someone with her training, and before much longer they were standing in front of the premises of a third-rate-looking fortune-teller's shop with Bradoch over the door in faded writing.

Lynien had been a member of the guild in Vorcrensen, south of Lossal, although this was not something she was in a rush to tell her muscular companion, and knew the correct things to say. After some minutes of conversation, containing several carefully selected recognition phrases, Bradoch relaxed a little. Taking them to the back of the shop, he opened a bookcase and passed them into the custody of two very large toughs in leathers. These escorted Eloy and Lynien down several hundred yards of passage into a secret underground meeting hall.

This was a surreal and disquieting place. While stil, unmistakably, a hovel constructed in a hole in the ground, it was bedecked in shabby, ragged and obviously stolen finery, with gold-thread tapestries rotting on the walls and fine carpets mouldering underfoot. A man, dressed in equally stolen and worn finery, approached them.

"Good day, fellow opportunists," he greeted them. "Bradoch's message said you are visiting professionals from out of town... Welcome, to the Kingdom of Filchers. I am Count Curalthor, the Guild Recruiter." The courtesy was well-simulated, but both Eloy and Lynien were well aware that their position was that of tightrope walkers; one slip would mean sudden death.

Membership cost them 20gp each for the year (the 25% per haul for freelance licences seemed excessive). This gained them access to the facilities of the guild; fencing, poison and antidote supplies, drugs, and cursebreaking ("The mageguild is very powerful here, it seemed wise to hire a full-time cursebreaker"). Both took advantage of the opportunity to stock up on some poisons - and their antidotes! Then they took a look at the noticeboard to see what contracts the Guild had on offer.

Put Tarasaren Endcalled's brothel out of business (50gp).

Collect 3,000gp in 'road tolls' (300gp, plus the chance of becoming Baron of Highwaymen if results are really good).

Go to Beryn in Kalysha (New Tellare) and kill Count Dúngast (2,000gp).

Get Master Animal Dealers to come under the protection of the guild (100gp plus free mount of choice).

Setup a gambling game and collect 500gp (50gp).

Collect 480gp in pocket picking (40gp).

Invest Guild Funds of 2,000 gp and Return at least 6,900gp without arousing suspicion (700 gp and the chance to carry on if results are good).

Settling down for dinner, Méabh looked up as a strange shadow fell across her table. A rather handsome youth stood there, expertly juggling five wooden balls. "If my skills please the pretty lady, perhaps she - " he began. "Go away," she snarled at him, and, looking a little surprised, he wandered off to try his luck at the other tables.

Méabh finished her meal, and wandered over to the bar. Catching Eliil's eye, she complained bitterly about being disturbed in her meal by capering idiots. The barkeep was rather taken aback. "I'm really sorry," she said, "most people rather like his act. My apologies; he won't trouble you again."

Grunting an acknowledgement, Méabh left the inn and wandered into the streets of Lossal. Her peculiar appearance drew many startled glances, but no-one accosted her. Finding the trade district, she began to check on the caravans departing the city in the near future. She discovered the following:

• Celedaur, departing for Nasirolan in Dalaghendor on the 10th March
• Amator, departing for Vorsand in Tarlanor today
• Derask, departing for Kelorsal in New Tellare on or around 12th March
• Radinyr Piercehaunt, departing for Belegond in around a week's time

Making a note of this information, she next set out to find the Mageguild.

Walking along through the city, Gorfang, Uruk, Lynien and Eloy's attention was attracted by a very dense column of smoke rising above the nearby buildings. It seemed to be coming from somewhere near the city walls, and they ambled off to investigate. As they neared the location, they encountered numbers of townsfolk, all fleeing away from the source of the smoke as fast as they could. Lynien was unable to resist the temptation to dip into a few of their pockets as they went past, tucking assorted personal possessions into her doublet as she followed the others.

Rounding the last corner, the four discovered the source of the excitement. Built up against the city wall was large, solid-looking building, stone at ground level and timber above, upon which squatted the shape of a mighty siege catapult - part of the town defences. The building was on fire, burning mainly on the top floor, but spreading to the wooden parts of the lower floor as well. Twenty or so men in Dragonarmy uniforms were frantically running in and out of the building, carrying out huge clay spheres as big as a man's chest, and taking them away down one of the streets. There was an air of suppressed panic and extreme danger to them.

After a moment's consideration, the unpredictable Gorfang hurried forward and joined the line of soldiers heading for the burning building. Eloy shrugged and joined him; Lynien shrugged and didn't. The two found themselves in the lower half of the building, enclosed by stone walls, with a burning wooden ceiling a few feet over their heads. Stacked in the room were dozens of the clay spheres, which the soldiers were grabbing and dragging out as fast as they could. Gorfang, stronger than most normal humans, grabbed two spheres and hoisted them easily before heading for the door. Uruk and Eloy followed suit, and made it through the door, though Eloy's sagging knees and the fires in his shoulders made him hope that wherever they were going was not far away..

It wasn't. The line of soldiers went off down a street and past several turnings. The overloaded adventurers were slower than the soldiers who disapeared around a corner, leaving them alone for a moment. Instantly, Gorfang accelerated again, and swung down a different side alley, rather to Eloy's bewilderment. Coming to a halt out of sight of the main street, the orc lowered the spheres to the ground and started to examine them.

Eloy, less patient, opted for a more direct means of discovering what was inside. He lifted one of his spheres and let it drop to the cobbles. It broke with a sound like an unwanted wedding-present, and a very large amount of clear, oily, slightly viscous fluid sloshed across the alley. Gorfang jumped clear but Eloy was standing in the middle of it. A distinctive smell arose, and he suddenly took a deathgrip on his smouldering cheroot with his teeth as he realized he was standing up to his ankles in naptha......

A few minutes later the three deposited five spheres in the temporary dump the soldiers had established, and returned to the artillery station to continue to help, Eloy minus his new leather duster and a rather nice pair of boots. With their prodigious assistance the squad managed to clear the spheres from the station before the roof came in. As the grimy, scorched soldiers stood with the three adventurers watching the building finally collapse with some satisfaction, one of them walked over and addressed them.

"My thanks for your help, fellows," he said, shaking them warmly by their smoke-stained hands. "But for your help, we'd have lost half a block of the city there, perhaps more. If you ever need a favour, call on me; my name's Henrot."

Méabh looked up at the Mageguild building. Tall and imposing, it reeked of magic, of organized magic; of like-minded practicioners of magic gathered co-operatively to work and study magic. She'd never known such a thing; all her magic had been snatched, stolen, learned alone in secret. She longed to explore the wonders of the guild, but couldn't bring herself to become involved.

Wandering through the grounds, she watched the magicians of the guild for a while; walking, conversing, working minor magics, or merely sitting and meditating. Suddenly she looked up. A wizard, plainly dressed in brown robes but with an air of calm confidence to him, was looking at her and smiling. Startled, Méabh drew into herself, and he raised a hand. "Don't be alarmed. I saw you walking in the grounds, and I didn't recognize you, though I can feel you are a practioner of the Art Magic. I hope you'll forgive me asking; I have never seen anyone before who looks like you. Where do you get such eyes from?" Méabh's face was closed and her voice flat as she replied, "A freak of birth. I don't know any more." The man waited politely, but as there clearly wasn't going to be any more, he withdrew tactfully. "My name is Erilas," he said as he took his leave. "If there is anything you wish," he smiled to show he meant just that, and no more, "ask for me here. Where are you staying?"

"The Blue Knight," she lied. He bowed again. Then he left her to her indecision.

On their way home, Gorfang, Uruk and Eloy turned into Snade Street and slowed their pace. Four toughs were spreading out across the street ahead, unsheathing short ugly swords in a purposeful fashion. Eloy glanced over his shoulder; sure enough, two more had emerged from a doorway behind them to block any thought of retreat. They obviously didn't know what they were dealing with...

"All right, you green thicko," opened one of the men, addressing Gorfang, "Give us the sword and no-one will get hurt." If they expected surrender, negotiation, or hesitation, they were disappointed. Gorfang drew the black sword Veldrin Sk'aal and closed in; Eloy spun and charged the rearguard with a scream and a two-handed grip on his sword; Uruk swung his massive sword to the ready; and Lynien spanned her fae mhor hand crossbow with a single swift motion.

Blades flickered, and Uruk's foeman dropped, practically cut in half. Gorfang disarmed his opponent, then paused. "Go on," he offered chivalrously, "draw another." The man reached for a dagger, and the moment his attention wavered, Gorfang struck, shearing his head off with one blow. Lynien loosed her hand crossbow, missed miserably, and - donning Maedar's Ring - vanished from sight. Eloy began trading blows with the two foes at their back, and bot gave and receieved wounds before he dropped one of them. The other turned to flee and Eloy cut him mercilessly down from behind.

Ahead, Gorfang rolled his blade around his foe's parry and sheared off his weapon arm, dropping the man to the ground whimpering, while Uruk slaughtered the last thug with an eye-watering groin strike.

Gorfang sheathed his sword and hauled the survivor upright. "Who sent you?" he demanded. The result was unusual. Normally, when interrogated by someone like Gorfang, people either broke instantly or resisted stubbornly. This man, while appearing desperate to tell the answer, appeared completely unable to artictulate the words. Applying a rough field bandage, they dragged him back to the Blue Knight and bound him to a chair.

Half an hour later, something happened, and he sprang upright. "McManus!" he yelled, triumphantly, "it was McManus!" Gorfang eyed him. "Who is McManus?" he asked. "He's a lizardman, he hired us in the Dungeon Tavern. He wears blue, but they all look alike to me," answered the prisoner.