As the guards leave, Dantrian turns to his fiery, former student, "B'yelka. Compose yourself. Your ire and threats will only give them cause to redouble their cruelties as soon as we have gone. You will bring more mistreatment upon our ward by lashing out so."
Taking the stools and water with several conspicuous lumps of mucus bobbing across the surface, "Heh. It was th' cleanest we 'ad, sir," Dantrian closes the door, providing him and B'yelka isolation with the Beast once more. He sets the stools down and offers the water to B'yelka, "Show him what kindness you will."
B'yelka smiles at Dantrian, "Of course more with honey than vinegar." He's right, but by Asmodeus' pointy beard that felt good! Turning her attention to Aaron, she is confronted by the tragedy of what they discovered this night. Aaron's dead flesh is more than the wraith-children ever will be again; the golem is still here, the children dead and denied their reward. Pharasma will sit a bit more uncomfortable for that... The Diva approaches Aaron, her boots caked in dried mud from their jaunt, but her smile is undimmed. "It does me good to see you alive, Aaron. Soon you will not suffer at the hands of these petty men." She beings cleaning the long-suffering golem, wiping away the grime and congealed ichor from his wounds. She quietly sings a lullaby while she works, as much to calm her nerves as to settle Aaron's.
When she is done, she takes one of the rickety chairs and sits down facing Aaron. "Aaron, did you ever learn to read?" With his answer, she presents the book of poetry, "Have you ever seen this book?"
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The Beast lights up with recogntion. "Ellsa read to me!"
Drosil heads down to the area of the city near Hora and Sons, and begins moving systematically from bar to bar. He portrays himself, as best he can given recent events, as an affable young man whose dear sister, or wounded comrade-in-arms - or whatever else would earn him the sympathies of his target - is in need of a surgeon. He eventually works the conversations around to Hora and Sons, asking for their opinions on their work, their demeanor, and whether they did work outside of the city.
Dantrian's index finger begins tapping against his pursed lips as he observes the Beast's reaction to the book. He offers B'yelka an approving nod, but otherwise remains silent as he continues to watch and listen intently.
Anton accompanies Drosil around the bars in the area. Good to his word, he buys the pair a couple of glasses of Varisian whiskey - a small taste of home - and they take a seat at the bar.
Over the following hours he makes discreet inquiries about a man wearing glasses and an unusually high hat. His description is detailed and the man's look is, after all, quite distinctive so it isn't long before he gets the name of a shopkeeper called 'Radniche.'
He doesn't think they will be able to get much more information this evening so he instead just enjoys a few hours in Drosil's company.
We haven't had much time to catch up, Dros. What do you make of our group? I'm still trying to work out the relationship between B'yelka and Dantrian. Back in Ravengro, I'm sure she mistook my intentions and thought I was coming on to her. She was cool and calm and ever the professional but she practically ran a mile. Do you think there's something going on between them?
Back in the Beast's cell, Dantrian sneezes once then idly scratches at his ear.
Drosil shrugs noncommittally. "I think our group is best described as a bunch of misfits in whom the Professor saw great potential. We each have our strengths and weaknesses, but together we have beaten everything that has been against us." He pauses, introspective. "It's almost as if he knew what would be required of us, and brought us all together in such a way that we could exercise our particular strengths to benefit the whole." Some of us more useful than others. What have I done that could not have been done by another just as easily?
"As far as B'yelka and Dantrian..." He assumes a serious, thoughtful expression, then grins broadly. "I just can't see it, no. I mean, sure they say that opposites attract, but there's got to be a limit, right?"
After a little while, Drosil speaks once more. "Sounds like we need to find out who bought the tools from this Radniche. I'm sure it's too late to speak to him directly. I think our greatest chance lies in finding some sort of ledger or book of sales and using that to determine who, if anyone, bought the tools." He looks at Anton with a sidelong glance. "Of course, that would require that we step into one of those 'grey' areas Dantrian mentioned..."
Drosil heads to Radniche's shop, bringing Anton along to help in case things get...touchy. As they approach the shop, Drosil looks to see if there's anything amiss, for any sign that the shopowner is awake and available for questioning, or for any onlookers that might be witness to what he was contemplating.
After waiting for a while, Drosil looks up and down the street one final time from his position near the shop, then moves stealthily over to the door and pulls out his lockpick set and gets to work.
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Dros, wait a second. We can't just go breaking into this guy's shop. The evidence we have is circumstantial at best and we haven't even had a chance to ask him. He may just straight out tell us what we want to know. Besides think if you got caught? Imagine Dantrians face!
Anton pinches the end of his nose and grimaces in a parody of the alchemist and the impression to accompany it is actually more than passable.
So you two thought the best course of action is would be to embark on some wild night time proclivities in order to glean information that could have just been as early procured through conversational elucidating? In future let me do the thinking! Haha!
His laughter dies down and his face grows serious.
No, really brother, I can't let you do this. What we used to do as kids was really just that - child's play. This is different. This is real. And we have real responsibilities to stay true to what we are doing. I won't let justice be served by criminality - I can't! I know we've grown apart over the years but Im sure you understand where I'm coming from.
He drains his glass.
Im heading back to the inn. I hope you choose to come too buddy.
Drosil looks at Anton for a long while, thoughts racing in his head. You don't understand, Anton...this is what I do. Sure, it might have been all jokes and pranks before, but you're right - we're all grown up, and we each had to make our living somehow. If you have a problem with me doing this for a worthy cause such as this, then what would you think of me if you knew I did this for no better reason than for money?
Finally, he sighs and backs down. "Okay, you win. I won't do anything." ...until we have no other choice. He finishes his drink as well, then the two make their way back to their rooms.
Things certainly have changed, Anton, and if your reaction is any indication, I doubt they have finished...by the end of it, I'll likely have lost a life-long friend.
Things certainly have changed, Anton, and if your reaction is any indication, I doubt they have finished...by the end of it, I'll likely have lost a life-long friend.
Tibideau returns to his room sullenly. He fills a small wooden bowl with lukewarm water and a large wooden bucket with hot water. He lovingly places his pet in the lukewarm water and feeds him some minnows. Then, the witch unceremoniously dunks his entire head into the hot water and leaves it there. He holds his breath as long as he can before whipping his head back out and splashing water everywhere. "Oh! Kas briesmīga haoss!"
"Ūdens nav haoss," Bonbon replies.
"Oh labi, tad man nav tīrīt to uz augšu," Tibideau says, smirking.
Tibideau doesn't dry his hair. He kicks off his shoes, tosses his coat in the corner, and flops down onto the bed. He rolls a fat cigarette and pours a large glass of brandy. He arranges the pillows just so and lights his cigarette. He takes a large drag and sighs. "Augstas kvalitātes!"
The tiny voice scolds him. "Šīs lietas gatavojas nogalināt jums!"
"Tā būs slikta attieksme." Tibideau sips his drink. It'd be a fine night for some breaking and entering. I hope that's what Drosil gets up to, we need a little excitement around here that doesn't involve murder. Those poor children. Ending up in a cave like that. At the hands of some bastard who likes shitty poetry. He shrugs to himself. Even if it IS a classic, there's no accounting for taste. Maybe I'll buy fruit for all the children of Lepidstadt tomorrow. Or put on a charming comedy routine starring Bonbon. Something to repay them for this affront to existence. It's not like it's our fault, it's just so... ICKY. Staring into a totally innocent little face and then destroying it.
He picks up his well-worn copy of Carter H. Crosby's 157th Annual Undead Almanac but can barely read a word. He finishes his refreshments and places Bonbon on his coat. The little guy snuggles into a particularly comfortable spot and promptly falls asleep. Tibideau tosses and turns for a while, then finally falls asleep, dreaming of his big sister and brothers.
"Did she read to you from this book? or another book?" I am missing something here... why would a young child have a book of bad, perverse poetry?
"Yes. She read me that book. Ellsa my friend," The Beast starts to sniffle, and then its face contorts into a hideous expression that might be mistaken for laughter. It sounds sad however, and its tremors are more consistent with crying. Dantrian knows that its dead tear ducts likely don't work anymore.
If you want I can read to you, too. That way we can both remember your friend Ellsa."
Closing the book, B'yelka gives Aaron a moment to compose himself, even going so far as to touch the hard live-dead flesh of his hand. This boy really does not know how to react... Addressing him quietly she asks, "How did you know Ellsa?"
"I live in trees by lake. She come find me. We play, she read book to me. Then bad thing come and kill her. I try to take her home, but everyone want to hurt me."
"Ellsa must have been a beautiful girl to be so kind." B'yelka pats Aaron's hand and asks, "Did you see the thing that killed Ellsa?"
The Beast looks scared. "Black, red eyes! " he shouts, working himself into a fit. He begins thrashing about straining against the chains. They hold fast.
Making the Beast cry by mentioning Ellsa’s name and demonstrating that he is not laughing (+15 on Diplomacy check; 1,200 XP).
Shhhh, Dear Aaron. We destroyed the thing, it will never hurt anyone again..." B'yelka waits until the chains are seen to hold true and then steps close to Aaron, wiping with her thumbs where his tears would be.
The Beast slowly clams down under B'Yelka's gentle care.
The rest of the night passes with B'Yelka and Dantrian entering their evidence for the morning's trial. Janos and Tibideau drift off to sleep, and eventually Anton and Drosil make their ways back and do the same.
The group sleeps a little late in the morning, but are up and ready for the trial by the time it begins.
If anything, the crowd is larger today, and is alive with talk of yesterday’s events. The clerks arrive early to prepare the courtroom, and as the time approaches 10:00 a.m., the other members of the court arrive. The crowd in and outside the courthouse seems to be in a frenzy of anger at the thought of the children of Hergstags' deaths. They hiss and boo as the defense come into the courthouse, jostling against the guards holding them back. When the Beast is brought in, the noise of the crowd booing, cursing and shouting in deafening. It takes several tense minutes for the trial to even get underway. Even so, the proceedings are frequently interrupted by the volatile crowd.
10:00 a.m.: The Trial of the Beast resumes. Chief Justice Khard asks the prosecution to outline the details of the alleged events in Hergstag.
10:30 a.m.: Witnesses for the Prosecution. The prosecution describes the events that transpired in Hergstag 7 months ago, alleging that the Beast slew six children and, when caught, was driven from the village. Otto calls three former residents of Hergstag, the sisters Garrow, Starle, and Flicht, to give their eyewitness testimony of events in the village.
12:30 p.m.: Witnesses for the Defense. Gustav calls the Ravengro Six to present any evidence they found in Hergstag.
Drosil steps forward slowly, amidst the booing and hissing of the crowd. He waits patiently for the dissenters to quiet down and, in a booming voice, begins.
"In my youth, I was a mischievous soul. I would, on occasion, perform tasks of great adventure, but of questionably legality." He holds up his hands, closes his eyes briefly, and nods his head as if to say, "Yes, I know it was wrong, but I was young and foolish."
"I lived near an orphanage, where some of my very best friends lived. It was a large, tall building, with slatted timber walls and a particularly nasty mistress of the house, Ms. Warhurst. In fact, we all had a nickname for her: 'The Dragon'." He pauses, letting the chuckling masses quiet themselves once more.
"Woe betide those who disturbed the Dragon, for they would surely regret it." He slips a quick grin in Anton's direction. "Myself, I was never caught, but it was not for lack of chance. You see, as I grew into a young man, I began to realize that there were treasures up on the second floor of that building. These were not golden baubles or jewels - they were more precious than even those." He pauses once more, letting the crowd wonder what he could mean.
"Girls," he says, answering their unspoken questions. "Yes, there were girls in the upstairs bedrooms, and I made it my personal quest to sneak into their room for some...well, you get my point." He flashes a winning grin and moves on.
"My first thought was, of course, to take the most direct route to them, to climb to their window. It was only a dozen feet or so off the ground; how hard could it be? Let me tell you. There were neither handholds, nor rope, nor ladder, nor trellis, nor vine. Now that I think about it, it was much like the wall outside of little Karin's window." He stops now, all seriousness, waiting for the crowd to build the image in their minds.
"Night after night, I tried to climb that wall. My fingertips could not hold my weight, my feet could find no purchase. The only way I, or anyone, could have climbed that wall would be to destroy it, to gouge the wood to form handholds, to scrabble up with dirty feet." Let the crowd adjust their mental image, dirty up the wall, destroy it.
"The prosecution would have you believe that the Beast, as you know him, did this very thing without making a single mark on the outside wall, without a single scuff or gouge. Do they think that he was, perhaps, able to float up to the window, light as the morning mist? That he, hulking brute of a golem that he is, could be more capable of grace than I? No, of course not. Common sense will tell you no, he cannot, could not...and did not do this thing."
He turns and quietly walks back to his seat.
Anton steps up and clears his throat.
He awoke in the morning feeling drained and lethargic after his long night working the inns with Drosil. But through prayer and the grace of Desna he felt his tiredness melt away. Now, as he stands before the gathered masses, he feels a renewed determination in their cause.
You all see this creature as a monster. And yes, his appearance is undeniable - the very image of childhood nightmares. he says.
But I believe that it is our actions that define us. This creature came across the poor, slain child known as Ellsa. And in his grief, showed a truly noble heart by returning the body to her parents. It was a small gesture. One that may even have been taken for granted if it were you or I. But for this creature it was an act of selfless bravery and you should look upon him with the same kindness as he displayed in the act.
Thank you.
Tibideau takes to the court with a much more solemn tone than the first go-around. This time, he wears only impeccable gray and black suiting, but his hair is disheveled, not even combed after being dunked in the bucket of water the night before. His eyes are red like someone who has been mourning, crying, or drinking too much. When his name is called, he stands up slowly and stiffly, hands folded at chest-height and eyes cast down to the floor. He strides carefully toward the judges' table and the witness stand, then turns around on his heel to face the crowd. He takes their jeers and abuse silently for a few moments, building up suspense. Mustering his deepest, most booming voice possible, he finally speaks.
"A terrible tragedy, unspeakable to all decent, kind people, devastating to the constitution of all moral men and women. Children, innocents, victims of an evil monster." Sentence fragments bring the drama. He pauses, placing his hand to his forehead in grief, then he pushes his tangled hair out of his face. He peers up into the eyes of the rabble, staring them down imploringly one by one. He resumes his somber speech, raising his index finger next to his face in a matter-of-fact gesture. "But that monster is NOT the defendant standing trial. It MUST have been someone else. And I can provide an extraordinarily simple reason why."
Tibideau starts to pace back and forth restlessly, and the audience members, totally silent now, follow his every movement with anticipation. "After the death of dear Ellsa, the defendant found her body and had the strength of character to attempt to return her to her family and community," he resumes, his voice cracking a bit in genuine pity for the dead girl. "The villagers of Hergstag, in their fear and righteousness, believed him responsible for her death and chased him out of town. Then, two days later, when little Karin passed away in her bed, the people of the village needed more answers. Remarkably, though he had been forcibly removed from the village two days previously, the people of Hergstag accused the defendant of being responsible for Karin's death!" Tibideau pauses again, a look of incredulity plastered across his face. Work. "I ask you, how can anyone be two places at once? Especially a simple, harmless creature such as our defendant here. A creature totally incapable of using magic to assist him in this improbable feat." He nods at the jury in a gesture of mutual understanding. "Clearly, the only reasonable explanation is that someone else entirely is responsible for Karin's death." The witch bows to the jury and waves to the crowd, resisting an incredible urge to wink at them. Mourning people are too depressed to wink! Don't blow it! He returns to his seat without further comment.
Dantrian takes his place before the crowd in Tibideau's wake, his tight, stern countenance sweeping over the crowd before turning to face the judges. "Not only is Mister LeClerc right in stating that the Beast could not have been responsible for Karin's death, but the Beast could not have been responsible for the other childrens' abductions either." He pauses for a breath before continuing, his left hand held behind his back as he gestures with his right. "During our foray through the now abandoned village of Hergstag, we discovered a small, well hidden cave on a low hilltop. The cave, much too small a space for the Beast to fit inside of, was where we found the remains of the other children - those children who'd gone missing and never been found." He takes another breath and ceases his instructional pacing, turning once more to face the judges fully. His voice is even and stoic, and rather than carrying an emotional weight, it instead carries in it the heaviness of cold facts and unpleasant truths. "Those children had been taken in life, not by the hulking beast within that cage, but by a smaller villain: a man. In the true fashion of a sadist, this twisted villain likely then exalted in his own cleverness as he abducted the children only to then trap them within metaphorical arm's reach of their loved ones without any hope of escape or salvation. But that last statement is merely conjecture on my part, an educated guess at the possible workings of a mind so twisted and broken as to orchestrate the unspeakable tragedy that befell Hergstag. I do not believe the Beast has a mind capable of such shrewd thought and planning, but my opinion regarding such matters little. The resting of place of the childrens' bodies, the tiny cave turned tomb, is irrefutable on its own. The Beast on trial before you could not, by way of physical impossibility, have been the one who abducted those children."
The others make it seem so easy.
There’s a pause in the room after the last testimony for several minutes until Janos stands. The Ranger chews on his lip slightly as he looks over the people gathered in the room. He looks at the Beast and closes his eyes. When he opens them, he finds Kendra’s face in the crowd and it calms him. Janos looks down at the book of poetry B’yelka had given him. He glances back at the Beast. Forgive me, Aaron. But they have to see. He clears his throat and only tries to picture Kendra.
”This is a book we found in Hergstag. It’s Taldane poetry, simple stuff that a child might enjoy.” He holds up the book so the crowd might see. He turns back to Aaron and says, ’Do you recognize this? Have you seen this book before?” Janos isn’t sure what reaction he’ll get, but the Beast merely nods, keeping his head down.
”Who does this book belong to? Does it belong to you?” Again, Aaron merely shakes his head. ”It belongs to Ellsa doesn’t? It’s her book.” Janos raises his voice and speeds up the questioning, knowing he has to get Aaron to show some emotion.
”Did you know Ellsa? Who was she to you?!” He is nearly shouting at the hulking creature. Finally Aaron speaks in a deep wail. He strains weakly at the bonds. His face contorts and the rapid breathing begins.
”And her death makes you sad? That you’ll never be able to play again?” Janos’ voice returns to it’s previous level, hoping to calm the Beast, but needing for it to be heard by the audience. Aaron wails again and just nods. Janos bites his lip again. I’m sorry.
He turns back to the audience. ”What you see is sadness and grief, not laughter. This is what the Beast was doing when he brought Ellsa’s body back to the town. He was bringing her home in grief of his lost friend. He would cry for her if he could, but he cannot. But make no mistake, his holds no joy in her death. He’s lost his only friend.”
The Ranger turns around and takes his seat again. He looks at the wailing Beast and merely buries his head into his hands at what he's done.
B'yelka is dressed down; a first they have seen in public. Her hair is brushed straight and tied once at the nape of her neck with a long black ribbon, the complicated knot the only point of vanity she wears. Thank the Gods Tibideau can tie elaborate bows! With a solemn grace she moves to the stand, carrying a single square of glass. She sets the glass on a small easle next to the witness stand, and sits down beside it. The crowd booes and hisses for a moment and the young girl on the stand waits until they grow bored of their sport. Once it is quiet enough for her to be heard easily she begins speaking. "Fragile, isn't it?" She addresses the crowd. "Like life, really? We can protect it, some." She runs her fingers delicately over the surface of the pane. "When we push glass it holds firm. Unless we punch glass, then it shatters." Looking back at the audience, she sees eyes agreeing, understanding. "By the Sisters of Hergstag's description, sweet Karin's precious life was taken when she was asleep in her bed, behind an unscalable wall safe behind a fragile pane of glass." She looks to the sisters, and asks them, "Unless I heard your testimony wrong?" When the sisters nod and murmur assent the Diva continues.
Rising to her feet, B'yelka walks across the front of the stand, her fingers tracing along that plain, fragile piece of glass. "Honorable Judges, I ask you this simple question: How could the Beast of Lepidstadt possibly pass through a closed glass window when even my delicate hand cannot?" As she finishes, she clenches her fist and strikes the glass, sure to lead with the emerald ring Tibideau gave her. The glass shatters, pieces fly up and glitter in the torchlight. She looks down and sees a shard has cut into the flesh over a knuckle. B'yelka hisses dramatically as she pulls the sliver out, drawing a sympathetic breath from the crowd. The Diva does not staunch the blood, rather, she turns to Aaron and with her clean hand holds up his dead-flesh hand. "And not a mark on him from breaking glass to get into a child's bedroom." She sets his hand back down, gently, and moves back to the witness stand. "You should remember that yesterday I promised we would find the perpetrator of these crimes. Last night in Hergstag we found the thing that slew the children, turning them from bright beacons of the future to shades shrouded in flickering flames that eat the light." She holds out her arms, blood dripping from her right hand. She curls her fingers into fists and draws in her arms clasping them together at her chest. "But, I think Mr Ardeal will walk that path with you." She turns and walks off the stage, hands still clasped before her as if in supplication or prayer.
Even if the evidence were not compelling they are doing a fantastic job of making it seem so. Surely the justices must be swayed by this.
Rising to her feet, B'yelka walks across the front of the stand, her fingers tracing along that plain, fragile piece of glass. "Honorable Judges, I ask you this simple question: How could the Beast of Lepidstadt possibly pass through a closed glass window when even my delicate hand cannot?" As she finishes, she clenches her fist and strikes the glass, sure to lead with the emerald ring Tibideau gave her. The glass shatters, pieces fly up and glitter in the torchlight. She looks down and sees a shard has cut into the flesh over a knuckle. B'yelka hisses dramatically as she pulls the sliver out, drawing a sympathetic breath from the crowd. The Diva does not staunch the blood, rather, she turns to Aaron and with her clean hand holds up his dead-flesh hand. "And not a mark on him from breaking glass to get into a child's bedroom." She sets his hand back down, gently, and moves back to the witness stand. "You should remember that yesterday I promised we would find the perpetrator of these crimes. Last night in Hergstag we found the thing that slew the children, turning them from bright beacons of the future to shades shrouded in flickering flames that eat the light." Her voice rises as she extends her arms, blood dripping from her right hand. "All of the Children of Hergstag were slain by a wraith." Her voice falls again, pulling her audience in to her, "A type of undead that has no body, and is only spirit, capable of passing through solid walls, and floating through sealed windows. The worst of the Wraith's pain is transferred to its victims; they too rise from death. An affront to Pharasma's Grace, they are turned to evil spirits wandering the landscape seeking only to destroy life. The life that we seek to protect, as The Beast sought to protect his one and only friend, Ellsa." She curls her fingers into fists and draws in her arms clasping them together at her chest. "We have brought justice to this wraith and destroyed it, forever." B'yelka's voice trails into a stage whisper, "We can protect all of your lives, some." She turns and walks off the stage, hands still clasped before her as if in supplication or prayer.
When B'yelka punches through the glass, Tibideau does all he can to stifle a guffaw, which ends up coming out as a snort and a cough. He pumps his fist in appreciation as unobtrusively as possible next to his thigh. He ends up hitting Dantrian in the leg, but is too delighted by Red's theatrics to notice. Di-VA! Why didn't I think of that? Because I wasn't talking about glass, I suppose.
2:00 p.m.: Court Recess for the day. After the trial, Gustav suggests that the Six investigate Sanctuary before tomorrow’s trial if they have not yet done so.
Dantrian pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation before calmly whispering, "Compose yourself, Mister LeClerc." As B'yelka departs the judges, Dantrian offers her a simple but approving nod.
---
"Shall we inquire further into the surgeon's tools prior to visiting Sanctuary or would you all prefer we depart for the latter immediately?"
We found out about this man - Radniche - I think I'd like to follow that up while we have a couple of hours this afternoon.
Maintaining her composure, B'yelka gives a sly wink to Dantrian as she passes by. Once seated she takes a scarf and wraps up her bleeding hand. "I will heal this once we are out of sight"
* * *
Mulling over another night time ride or keeping to the city, B'yelka chooses the obvious course: "Radniche. Maybe he will have sconces and tea, eh Love?" she smiles at Tibideau and assumes everyone else will agree.
The group makes their way to the Surgeon's Falts. Radniche’s cramped shop is piled with skeletons, pickled things in jars, and alchemical components. He prides himself on keeping his customers’ identities confidential and volunteers no information on who bought the tools.
Janos has been even more quiet after his participation in the trial. He walks with the others to the shop seemingly lost in his thoughts. When they enter the shop, he looks up seeing Radiche. He looks to Anton and B'yelka for the lead, but begins carefully poking around the shop as the others talk.
Dantrian's eyes widen briefly in surprise as the group enters the cluttered shop, obviously not having expected such a cramped establishment. He sets himself to perusing Radniche's supplies and offerings, asking pointed and detailed questions about various components as he meanders through the shop.
"Is this powdered saw-wort? Impressive. I would not have expected to find an alpine flower such as this so readily in a region so wet and sodden." He weaves his way further along before plucking a jar from a shelf. "Might I inquire as to what formula you use for your preservative solution? This centipede seems to be in excellent condition and the liquid suspension is less yellow than what I am used to working with. Do you mix the formaldehyde with another chemical perhaps?" Nodding at Radniche's reply, he sets the jar back down and wends his way further into the shop.
Drosil remains outside the shop, out of view. If they don't find what they're looking for, I'd prefer to keep my anonymity...and hope they ask for my help later.