Pausing in the lobby of the Museum, the companions considered what to do next. Should they pursue the Blood Snake? With the start he had, and only the dubious lead of his town house to go on, it didn't seem worth doing; or at least rushing into. Most likely, they concluded, he had gone to ground somewhere else, and if he did come after them for revenge they could deal with him then.
Next there was the loot from Thykon's 'house'. Gorfang had retained the pages from the book Weapons of the Fae Mhor, while Méabh had the other 12 volumes of various types. After some debate, the rest of the weapons were distributed as follows:
| Item | Notes | Taken By |
|---|---|---|
| Tarnost | Shortspear of Life Drinking |
Lynien |
| Skagrack | Dwarven waraxe, +4, Spell Storing |
Méabh |
| Treytas | +3 shortsword of Treason. The label says: "Also known as Traitor." | Lynien |
| Varlan | +3 mighty (+4) composite longbow of Frost Burst | Eloy |
| Rilliantorin | +2/+5 longsword, Bright Sword of the Kyraura | Méabh |
| Anaric | +3/+3 Orc Double Axe, Thunderslayer's Axe | Gorfang |
| Belurith's Arrows | Silver quiver of 25 +1, Ghost Touch, Holy arrows. | Eloy |
| Morgorn | (missing) | Thykon |
| Glyviel | Batttleaxe, +4 Flaming Fiend-Bane | Gorfang |
| Nainbor | Bastard Sword, +4, Mighty Cleaving | Uruk |
That settled, they split up and headed off to deal with a variety of private business in the city.
Lynien and Eloy both had Guild business to attend to. Both headed over to the Kingdom of Filchers, the Lossal Thieves' Guild. As members, they knew the process and procedures for gaining access to the hidden places of the Guild, but both noticed that the level of security was much higher than it had been. Asking why, they were told that there was a big increase in the tension levels in Lossal recently. The guilds and the governer were eyeing each other with hostility, and the Thieves did not want to get caught in the middle.
While they were there, they dropped in at the rather grandiosely named 'audience hall' and eyed the board. Available and upcoming jobs were posted there for guild memebers to apply for should they wish. There were four new entries;
The pair looked at each other and grinned. A thousand, to knock over Gorfang Deathdrinker? Evidently the Filchers didn't know him very well. Reflecting, they realized that this wasn't surprising. None of them had really raised much mayhem in Lossal; there was the fruitcake after his bowl of blood the first night, and the attackers in the street. No-one knew who was responsible for the destruction of Damarus' house. Chuckling, they left to find the orc and inform him how badly he'd been underestimated.
Méabh 
had headed over to the Mageguild, where she had several items of business to conclude. Some of the loot she'd acquired was eminently saleable, and disposing of it boosted her funds considerably. That done, she paid a visit to her patron Erilas, only to find the wizard deep in spell research and not very communicative. He did make one telling comment, though. "There is tension growing between the Guilds," he warned, "and you may soon have to choose sides, young arcanist. On that day, beware of warriors."
She briefly filled him in on the events since they'd last met, and took her leave.
While at the guild she excercised her options and rented some acommodation there, moving some of her possessions there from the Bull and Elephant, although she took care to get a bath and change at the inn - the facilities were rather better than those at the guild.
Gorfang, as planned, headed for the stables to check on Shamlakh. The warg was delighted to see his master again, though he grumbled about the food and being stuck in the stables for so long. Gorfang took the huge wolf off for a long ride through the surrounding countryside to stretch his legs and allow him to hunt. Having watched him down a cow and eat most of it, the orc realized Shamlakh had not been kidding about his need for fresh meat. Pleasantly wearied, the pair returned to the inn and Gorfang took himself off to the bar.
There he met up with Uruk, who had been up to the Mercenaries' Guild where he was a member. The half-orc had news; tension between the Governer and Mageguild was rising rapidly - general opinion was that there'd be blood on the streets soon. Gorfang shrugged and ordered another ale.
Bog had already retired to the cupboard he was using as a room, and started making Boom Boom, of which he'd completely run out during the Pyramid adventure.
Eloy and Lynien arrived seperately some while later, and passed on to Gorfang the warning that the Filchers had him targeted. He seemed unbothered, and ready to relax into a night of serious drinking. Uruk had peaked early, and had already passed out. Eloy made sure to locate himself in a corner of the Blue Knight, away from the others, so as to be able to keep watch for any enterprising alleybashers trying to collect on the contract.
Sure 
enough, around ten at night, he noticed two otherwise unremarkable individuals converging on the orc. One was heading towards him from the front, probably planning to 'accidentally bump into him' en route to the bar. The other - wearing a bright yellow cloak - was approaching from behind, ready to try and lift the sword in the confusion. A classic push-n-pull. Eloy waggled his fingers in brief thief-sign at Yellowcloak from in front of Gorfang; Stop, friend, bad idea. The man sneered, and flickered back, my heist. Eloy shrugged; he'd tried to warn them. "Guy behind, yellow cloak," he muttered, loud enough for only Gorfang to hear, and tucked himself in behind the 'push' man ready for what would happen next.
Gorfang turned, drawing the Veldrin quite slowly for maximum effect, and confronted the man in the yellow cloak. With a flick of his wrist, he laid the black point along the side of the man's throat. Yellow-cloak gulped, caught completely unprepared and unarmed as he prepared to unhitch the scabbard and make off with the sword.
Behind him, the other conspirator altered his path and plunged into the crowd, heading for the door, with Eloy heeling him as he went. As the ring of drawn blade penetrated the bar, patrons cleared back from the site of likely hostilities and then turned to observe whatever the entertainment would turn out to be. As they did so, Lynien went down the back of the crowd, clipping the odd unguarded purse while the 
owners were looking elsewhere.
"Tell your Guild," said Gorfang, "that I am keeping this weapon. The next one of you that comes after it, I will kill." Looking into his bloodshot eyes, the man in the yellow cloak was left in absolutely no doubt that he meant what he said. Very, very cautiously he backed away from the rock-steady point, and suddenly broke and fled for the exit.
Eloy, pursuing the other robber, watched rather admiringly as the man slipped around a moving group of people just in time for them to converge with others so as to block Eloy's path. By the time the only mortal follower of Sabath had reached the door, the fleeing man was gone.
Returning, he
found Lynien peering at part of her haul. A tiny, unobtrusive rag doll, it wouldn't attract a second glance except that it was perceptibly cold; far colder than it should have been in a man's pocket in a rather sweaty tavern.
A little later on, Méabh arrived. Like Lynien, she'd cleaned up and changed since arriving, whereas the others were still in the filthy, sandy, blood-stained clothes they had worn through the Pyramid. Looking around, she sought an empty table, but the nearest she could find was a six-seater table with one man seated at it. Sitting down, she handed him a coin. "Here's a gold piece; go away." she suggested. The man slurred his response, protesting he was keeping the table for his friends. Méabh leaned really close, her eldritch eyes staring straight into the drink-sozzled ones of the human, and turned the full power of her dangerous personality on him. "Go away." she repeated in a deadly quiet voice. Pale and shaking, the man stumbled to his feet and hurried away. Méabh attracted the attention of a serving wench and asked for water. This didn't go down well, so - remembering their visit to Typril's brewery - she amended her request to watered brandy.
Eloy settled back into an obscure corner to watch Gorfang's back. Lynien came over to talk to Méabh, and they discussed the state of the city's politics for a while. Then Lynien showed her the doll. Méabh cast an Identify on it, and learned that it was a Point Focus. It radiated quite powerful magic, connected with tracking and targetting.
Once Gorfang was ready to call it a night, he and Eloy lugged Uruk up to his bed, then Eloy went through Gorfang's room to check it over for security in case of more burglarious visitors. While he did this, Gorfang simply went next door, crashed into Eloy's bed, and was asleep in ten seconds. Eloy shrugged; on balance, changing rooms was around the best trick available here to confuse thieves.
The next day, 
Gorfang woke up with a belated memory in his mind. Before they'd left for the Trakar, he'd employed the nervous sage Kelenkos to carry out some research on the Veldrin for him. Now seemed as good a time as any to go and check up on results, so he, Uruk and Lynien headed off to look him up.
On arriving at his shop, however, they were taken aback to find it boarded up and silent. After looking at it for a few moments, they turned their attention to the premises either side. One was a leatherworker, and the other a bookbinder. Gorfang entered the bookbinder's shop, much to the puzzlement of the proprietor, who didn't think he looked like a bookworm sort of a person but had the wit to be polite never the less. Once he realized Gorfang was asking about Kelenkos, his face clouded as if at an unpleasant memory.
"Yes, it was a couple of weeks ago," he said. "Poor old buffer, he was ever so pleased with his new commission, something about a sword he said. Then he started getting worried, looking nervous, jumping at shadows. I mean, more than normal. Then one night... horrible screams, horrible. The next morning, there he was - nailed to the wall in his own home. Dead, though the Watch who came to clear up said afterwards he actually died of poison. No-one wanted to go near the place afterwards; it got boarded up the next day without being cleared or anything. Odd; it didn't look like anything had been stolen, though the place was smashed up..."
Muttering, Gorfang stumped off.
Méabh spent most of the day tucked up in bed, in the warm, reading. The books on magical theory were fascinating, as was the book on the Kyraura; now she knew why her Grandfather had sent her in search of Rilliantorin. Later in the day, she emerged and enquired amongst the Guild for someone who could provide more information on it. After some searching, she was introduced to one Brudwal, the Magic Hacker. Brudwal specialized in tracing magical effects and residues back to their initial origins, though he didn't come cheap; he cooly charged Méabh three hundred in gold to investigate the doll.
What he found was quite interesting; it was a focus and target for some kind of unknown mass teleportation spell, possibly of epic scale, intended to bring very large numbers of beings to a target location from almost any distance. The military implications of this were obvious, and Méabh went away thoughtfully to find Lynien.
The 
Master Fence of the Kingdom of Filchers was a grubby, skinny little man calling himself Earl Circlethorn. He carefully weighed Lynien's collection of gold, calculated a commission and handed her a small heap of assorted gemstones. After checking and pouching them, Lynien offered him the rag doll, describing what it could do, and bemoaning the Mageguild's grasping for charging her a thousand for telling her what it did. With undue haste, Circlethorn offered her a thousand five hundred for it, and she sold cheerfully on Méabh's behalf.
The next morning, word went around the city that Targonis, the deputy guildmaster of the Mercenaries' Guild, had been murdered. Worse, signs were that the Mageguild had been responsible! Warriors and wizards started stalking around the city glaring at each other, and both guildhalls doubled their security. The long-neutral Mercenaries appeared on the point of aligning with Bardrum the Governor against the Mageguild, though the canny Velg'nin, guildmaster of the mercs, wasn't jumping before he knew what was going on.
The party kept themselves as aloof from all this as possible - Gorfang going as far as getting a tunic and daubing the words I Love Magic Users on it - but the rest of the city was a powder keg.
The next morning brought even more shocks. Velg'nin of the Mercenaries and Pokkyr of the Mages had actually met, pooled their resources, and investigated; both were now convinced that the hit had been organized by the Governor himself, in order to set them at odds and weaken the Mageguild, with which he had a long-running hatred. Pokkyr, as head of the most powerful Guild in the city, had called a Guild Moot
Five days went by, during which the companions mended and replaced their worn equipment, rested and healed, and watched the roiling cauldron of Lossal's politics as it became ever more turbulent.
The collected Guilds sent a deputation to the capital, to impeach Bardrum and demand a new Governor. The immediate threat of violence seemed to recede to a deadly quiet simmer.
On the second day after that, a new item of news burst upon the city. The Guild deputation had been 'attacked by bandits', leaving no survivors. This flimsy fiction didn't fool anyone, and the whole city went up like a tinderbox.
Bardrum organized the militia and the Dragonarmy garrison to defend his palace as rioting mobs of everyone from silversmiths to thieves and beggars converged on the palace, but the crude and hasty fortifications, backed by the fearsome napalm catapults from the city walls, deterred them from a frontal assault. Many buildings associated with the government were wrecked, and Bardrum's town house burned to the ground, after which the militia dispersed the main mob outside the palace and a sullen silence fell.
 DM Note: Although Allan and Aimo rolled dice to see how Méabh and Gorfang reacted to this idea - and Aimo threw a Critical Bluff - the final decision as to whether the orc was convinced was of course down to the player... . |
A
gainst this background of unfolding chaos, the party decided to go and pay their own visit to Governor Bardrum. As they walked through the battered city, talking about the state of things, someone said, "Gorfang should run for Governor!" The orc looked distinctly disinterested. Noting this, Méabh began to speak persuasively to her massive comrade, describing all the benefits taking control of Lossal could bring. This didn't appear to make any difference. Then she pointed out that dispruption to local trade might result in serious shortages of the things supplied by guilded tradesmen. There was a pause. "Like beer?" asked Gorfang. "Yes," she replied. "What are we waiting for then?" he responded. The strangely powerful personality of the Aasimar sorceress lent weight to the words, and Gorfang began to see visions of power, ale and rulership flash before his eyes. A new power entered his stride as he approached the palace.
The Palace was an ornate, three-storied building in pale stone. A railed fence divided it from the square ahead, now braced with crates, odd stones, sandbags and any other spare rubble. Behind it lurked two of the huge napalm catapults from the walls. In the centre there was a gap where the steps led on to the heavy doors; ten soldiers guarded the doors. The square was dotted with the implements of justice; a plinth for the block, an impaling pole, a gibbet. It was also filling with people, eyeing the palace angrily and shouting abuse. Lynien climbed up on the plinth and tried to whip them into a frenzy; but a lifetime of stealth and quietness made rabble-rousing too much against her nature and her words were lost in the rising clamour.
"Which window's the Governor's office?" wondered Méabh aloud. Eloy nodded his head and casually pointed up at the sixth window from the left on the top floor. Everyone turned to look at him. "I heard it somewhere," he shrugged. They watched it for a while, and Lynien's sharp eyes caught sight of Bardrum walking past the window and sitting down at a desk. Méabh cast a Message, and directed it into the offices above, seeking the Blood Snake, but he was not there.
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Then she eyed the window Eloy had chosen. "Gorfang," she began, "I can get you up there if you want to go." The or chuckled appreciatively and tightened a few armour straps. The sorceress cast a Telekinesis. "Brace yourself!" she cried, and gracefully the massive orc lifted off the ground. His heavy form described a neat arc across the fence and towards the window, which he could now see had been broken once and boarded over. He hunched his shoulders and pulled his head down as he hurtled towards the window.
At that moment, Lynien, invisible thanks to Maedar's Ring, hurled two gems from her Necklace of Fireballs at the soldiers on the steps. A massive bloom of flame erupted, hurling the hapless soldiers around like dolls.
Suddenly, Méabh changed the spell's mode and channeled all the remaining energy into a single violent push. Gorfang shot forward and smashed though the boards and glass and into the room beyond.
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