Gorfang and Eloy, having turned over in their minds the events of the last 24 hours, decided to head back to the Assassins' Guild and do a little more investigation. Lynien split off, heading for her own Guild to check up on something.
The assassins' guild building was still watched by a 'gardening' watchman as before, and Gorfang walked past him with a quiet nod and entered the building. There, differences were apparent; four sturdy-looking guards in mail stood watch in the hiring-room. Two clerks leaned against the counter, ready to assist where required, and one other person was standing near the contracts board, reading carefully. This individual was heavily - almost comically - cloaked, with folds tucked around his hands to hide them, the length selected to cover any hems of his other garments, and the deep hood pulled so closely around his head that his face was completely invisible. Eloy stepped up soundlessly behind him. "Hello," he said quietly. The man started violently, skewing himself around in an impossible set of contortions as he tried to see who was there without exposing his features. "What? What?" he cried. "Are you looking to take on a contract?" asked Eloy. "No! Of course not, I'm here to take out a contract," stammered the man.
At this point one of the Guilders came up and gave Eloy a level look. "Remember the rules, guilder," he said evenly to Eloy, "only senior journeymen or masters may negotiate contracts." Gorfang guffawed heartily. "Rules?!" he cried. "What rules? This Guild doesn't follow rules!" Both Guilders looked at him in alarm, their faces showing plainly that this wasn't the sort of conversation they liked in front of a paying customer. One turned slightly to face the orc. "I assure you, sir, that we do have very firm rules." Gorfang didn't like the tone of this. "Do you want to take this outside?" he snarled. "We are assassins, sir," the man said, "we do not brawl. You are Gorfang, ex-Governor, and I know better than to start a fight with you. But I cannot agree with you; the Guild has firm rules and its' word is its' bond." Gorfang sneered. "Rules? I have a crossbow bolt in my back," he said effectively if inaccurately, "that shows you don't keep to the rule of disallowing unofficial independent contract killings in the city." The man's eyebrows raised. "I assure you, sir, you are known to us. No Guilder would take a contract on you, and we'd know if one had been offered. Freejacks are tracked down and dealt with, severely, by the guild, so if someone has taken an unlicensed contract on you, you can lodge a complaint."
The conversation went on as Eloy watched. He noted that the guilder talking to Gorfang had distracted him from the cloaked man, and allowed his colleauge to guide the latter away where he could close their business in peace. Very adroit. He murmured a quiet apology to them both for the disruption, then turned to the contracts board, and ran his eyes down it in search of anything interesting. Halfway down he found it, all right. Darnivarn, Grandmistress Guild of Thieves, 50,000gp, patron anonymous, completion by 6th November, it read. Masking his reaction with a concious effort, he turned casually to Gorfang. "There's nothing here," he said easily. "Let's go for a drink instead. I'm buying."
Lynien had previously sent out enquiries for the likely locations of sell-spell wizards powerful enough to create the enchanted gems she had wanted made to add to her mithril mail. The magic required was considerable, and of all the mages of the Lossal guild, only Pokkyr the guildmaster and Méabh's old patron Erilas were skilled enough for the job - and, for different reasons, Lynien trusted neither of them.
She had entrusted the gathering of this information to her emerging group of followers of the Way, and they had not let her down. With the destruction of the capital, the major centres of arcane learning in Tarlanor were the four Academies, satellite schools of magic founded by graduates of the Dark Tower in various parts of Tarlanor. Beyond that, the options were New Tellare, Belamir and the Elves, and of course Thornal, the largest city in Known Alair and home of its' oldest and most prestigious magical scholae. There were rumours of an archmage living in Nasirolan in Dalaghendor, but no confirmation that this was the case. The academies were the nearest by a long shot, and she spread a map out to locate them.
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Krissa, Lynien's most advanced student and the nearest to earning the position of Balancer, leaned back and regarded the tiefling speculatively. "What happened yesterday?" she asked. "Rumour had all three of you dead." Lynien smiled reassuringly. "Not me," she said, "winged the orc, but nothing serious. That does remind me, can you keep an eye open for someone for me?" She went on to describe Larira as closely as she could, adding a caution at the end; "She was almost certainly magically disguised, so be aware of anyone asking questions about me." she finished.
Gorfang had just lifted his first mug of ale when Eloy broke the news about the contract on Darnivarn. "WHAT?!" bellowed the orc, standing up. Eloy raised a hand. "Sit down and let's think about this," he said. Gorfang paused for perhaps two seconds. "All right, I've thought about it," he said, "I'm going over there." Eloy tried again. "I have an idea we may be able to work with," he said winningly. Almost against his will, Gorfang listened. After a minute or two, he sat down again, and the planning began.
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Gorfang reached the sanctum of the Thieves’ Guild to find Darnivarn kitted out ready for an evening job. He looked her sleek, leather-clad form up and down, then commented, “Better change your plans for the evening, darlin’.” Darnivarn lifted an eyebrow. “As I understand it,” said Gorfang, “the assassins aren’t allowed to take contracts on thieves, yes?” Darnivarn nodded. “Guild agreement,” she said, “only the Grandmaster may set up contracts on serving members.” Gorfang sat down. “There’s something I need stolen from the Assassins’ Guild,” he said conversationally.
Darnivarn stared at him. “Do you have a good reason for wanting to start a second Guild War?” she asked sharply. The orc chuckled. “How about a contract on your head?” he suggested. “Eloy’s picked it up and is on his way here now.” Darnivarn’s eyes wavered for a moment. No-one likes to hear that their death has been commissioned from their city’s most professional killers. Then her expression hardened. “That’s a good reason,” she grated.
The door opened, and Lynien appeared, having heard that Gorfang was in the building. The pair brought her up to date, and she shared their surprise that the assassins would break the agreement so blatantly.
Eloy stepped quietly into the Assassins’ Guild, walked up to the contract board, ran his finger down the list to Darnivarn and pulled free the numbered slip which assigned the contract. With a tiny bronze seal given him when he was accepted, he embossed the space next to her name with his scorpion sigil. The contract was his now, and no-one else could take it up until he succeeded or died.
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A quiet voice spoke from behind, one of the guilders in charge of the ‘shop’. “Don’t you feel that there’s a conflict of interest here?” he said softly. “She’s the lover of one of your associates.” Eloy grinned nastily. “Who better to get close enough to kill her?” he said.
The guilder shrugged, accepting the point, and Eloy left, heading back to the Thieves’ Guild to meet up with Gorfang. Like the others, he was known there, and had no difficulty finding his way to Darnivarn’s office. When he entered, however, his welcome was not quite what he was expecting. The Grandmistress of Thieves was poised, tense, behind her desk, a hand on a hilt and ready to draw and throw at a moment’s notice – and from the look in her eyes as she glared at him, that moment was not at all far away. Eloy froze, and kept his hands in clear sight. “I’ve just bought you five days’ grace,” he said carefully. “I’ve taken the contract, but only to prevent someone else taking it and trying to collect. It specifies completion in five days, so we have that long before anyone will start asking why you’re not dead. Didn’t Gorfang explain the plan?”
"Oops,” muttered Gorfang, not especially regretfully, “I forgot to mention that part.” Darnivarn’s blade slid back into its’ sheath.
Lynien broke the silence that followed. “Can’t you lay a complaint before the Guilds’ Council?” she said. “Even the Assassins couldn’t resist a judgement by them.” Darnivarn looked interested at this. “I’d need evidence though,” she said thoughtfully. Eloy held up the Guild ticket, but all it had on it was a number – hardly damning. “They must have records up at the Guild,” said Gorfang, “go and steal them.” Darnivarn shook her head. “I can’t go down there,” she said, “If anyone recognizes me the war will start on the spot. We need another Masterthief.” Slowly everyone turned to look at Lynien. “What?” she said innocently.
Lynien stood in the night shadows at an alley corner behind the Guild building, looking it over. Out front, Eloy was snuggled down into as deep cover as he could, while Gorfang was disguised as a drunken orc ‘sleeping it off’ in the road. Although the role was convincing, the disguise wasn’t going to fool anyone, but the others hadn’t made a thing of this as Gorfang had seemed pleased by the idea.
 DM Note: It’s always awkward when a PC takes a new class and the log has to describe why they suddenly have new powers and skills! |
In the last couple of months, Lynien had worked some more of the aspects of Nebekheshut’s Way into her thief training, and had some new techniques she was keen to try out. Shifting her perspective relative to the material plane, she moved herself partially onto the nearby ethereal plane, becoming insubstantial and unsolid. Like a veritable ghost she faded through the wall and into the building.
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Having studied the sketch map Eloy had provided, she had a good idea of the layout of the guild HQ, and was unsurprised to find herself in a narrow wooden corridor lit by lamps. Two reasonably-alert guards stood watch at either end of the corridor. She passed through the far wall and into the armoury, which was dark and unoccupied, though well equipped with weapons and armour. The next room was the one she was aiming for, the offices from which the Guild was run. Desks dotted the floor, all but one unoccupied, and a low barrier separated out a private area for the guildmaster Yanral. He was seated behind his own desk, flipping through a stack of papers.
She got around behind him, and noticed that he was sifting through requests for the guild’s services, approving or disapproving them and assigning the fee for each one. As she watched, he picked up one bearing a name she recognized – Nomshim the Pocket, a skinny pickpocket who had been one of the few thieves of the old ‘kingdom’ to survive the massacre and one of the few survivors to remain in Lossal. Another thief!
Yanral himself seemed unhappy about this contract, alternately picking it up and putting it down again, lifting a pen to sign it and then frowning and laying it aside. Lynien noted the patron’s name at the bottom; Ghanim. Something about that name tickled at her memory but she couldn’t bring it to mind. Yanral finally tucked the paper under all the others unsigned and turned his attention to the next. Looking up, Lynien glanced across the office and her gaze fell on a large safe, standing – she couldn’t quite believe this – wide open. It was the work of a moment to drift across and, still invisible and inaudible thanks to Maedar’s Ring, return to solidity and silently lift the ledger for 1655 out of the safe. She also scooped up a dozen washleather bags of coin and gems, which was beyond her remit; but breaking the guild financially could only help, and anyway, it was all hers in any case, she was just taking it back. She leafed briefly through the book, finding the entry for Darnivarn in Yanral’s hand – though it struck her that the writing looked wobbly and uncertain compared to those around it. Then she tucked her loot into her Bag of Holding and faded into the shadows again and out of the building.
On meeting up with Gorfang and Eloy back at the Thieves’ Guild, Lynien related what she’d discovered. “Here’s your book,” she commented, dropping it on Darnivarn’s desk before unpacking her other loot and happily counting it. Darnivarn chuckled. “Technically you owe me a percentage of that,” she said, “but under the circumstances, I’ll take this,” she lifted the book, “in lieu with pleasure.”
Both Eloy and Gorfang noticed what had eluded Lynien; Ghanim was a Krultac name, probably belonging to a lizardman. They agreed with her feeling that there was something wrong about all this, and decided to go back and see what they could find out from Yanral himself.
The building next to the guild was a genuinely half-derelict slum, and breaking in was a mere formality. The space was divided up with tatty partitions into ‘rooms’ for the owner and his family, and for their livestock. The wall backing onto the Guild building was on this side the back wall of the pig-pen, and the three waded across the mire to the wall. Cracking off a couple of the rickety boards was easy, but in between the two buildings the walls were reinforced with bronze plates, and they realized that breaking through wouldn’t be as easy. Gorfang put on Gozan’s helm which he still had, and teleported them all through into Yanral’s office.
Yanral started up in amazement as the huge orc appeared out of nowhere in front of his desk; alone as far as he could see, as Eloy and Lynien were invisible. Eloy had previously readied a wand, and as they landed he cast a Dispel Magic on Yanral to remove any magical protection the latter might have had running. The effect of this was far beyond what he had been expecting.
The guildmaster’s eyes slowly widened, and an expression of shock, horror and fear spread across his face. Slowly he crumpled into his chair and dropped his head into his hands. Gorfang growled. “If you’re going for a weapon, I will kill you, do you understand?” Yanral’s reaction was not one Gorfang was used to; he ignored the orc. From between his hands came a miserable moan. “What have I done?” he groaned.
Across the room, his clerk had finished boggling at what was happening, and reached surreptitiously for a drawer of his desk. Lynien leaned over and slammed it on his hand. Glancing around wildly, the man subsided, removing the need for Lynien to kill him.
Gorfang whirled Anaric off his back and drove it into the desk directly in front of Yanral with a terrific crash, shocking the guildmaster back to reality and scattering papers. “Have I got your attention?” he rasped. Yanral nodded. “Good. You have accepted a contract on the Mistress of the Thieves’ Guild,” Gorfang continued. Yanral shook his head frantically. “No! No! I’d never do that… and yet… I have, I did… why? Why did I do that? I must have been mad!”
Gorfang eyed him sceptically, thinking his confusion an act. Eloy appeared suddenly and Yanral practically screamed with shock. “You!” he cried, “I recognize you; you’re a Guilder. Who else knows about this?” His voice was rising constantly as he slid towards blind panic. The orc pulled the contract on Nomshim from the pile. “Here’s another,” he commented. “I never signed that, though!” said Yanral hastily. “Tell us about Ghanim,” said Eloy. The Guildmaster stared wildly at Eloy, who as a member of his guild should have been defending him. “Well… he was tall…” he said vaguely. “Lizard man, I think; I don’t remember very well.” He blinked. “That’s not like me.” He concentrated for a moment. “Now I think of it, I think it was him placed the other contract.” His voice began to shake again as he remembered it.
"Should we kill him?” said Gorfang. Eloy paused for a moment for effect. “No,” he said, “I believe him. We need to find the patron, and he’s our only lead. It's obvious he was under an enchantment that made him make these ... unfortunate ... decisions; my Dispel Magic must have broken it.” He turned back to the shaken guildmaster. "If it will help track him down, my wife is the most skilled scrier in Lossal." Yanral shook himself, seeming to get something of a grip. "This has got to be hushed up before the Thieves Guild hears about it," he said decisively. "Do you," he asked Eloy, "know who took the contract?" Eloy produced the slip, and Yanral siezed it and shredded it. Then he eyed the two. "I'll pay you five thousand each to scotch this rumour," he said, his tone firming as he found a hope for a way out of the mess. Gorfang drew himself up, scowling. "I am insulted that you'd offer me money for this," he growled, as Eloy gazed oddly at him thinking What?. Then Gorfang continued blithely, "Anyway, she already knows." Yanral sank back into his seat, sweating. "Why are you helping him do this to me?" he said accusingly to Eloy. "I did it to save my Guild from disaster," the Man in the Shadows answered with absolute plausibility, clearly convincing his Guildmaster. Bloody weasel! thought Gorfang with grudging admiration.
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