"Oh, like those girls who used to visit Tachyk." she observes. She glances at the others as Daina suggests they'll handle that part, before giving a shrug of agreement.
We will go after the one under the arena first then. I hope after that we are strong enough to go after the other. We need someone who knows the streets to find us the way down. Grit pockets the charm for now. Will you be ok here Nell? Or shall we move you before we begin?
Safia looked at Nell sideways, "I'm not sure I want to send him into the Grey." She sighed, "I understand removing him here would be a good thing, but I am afraid he'd twist and corrupt the Grey. I don't want that and I don't think you should either." Safia was visibly uncomfortable, though whether that was caused by the idea of such a powerful, evil being entering the Grey or her current conversation wasn't clear.
Gorkhan listens to the talk impassively. Get involved in taking down the Sorcerer King? Never pegged myself for a rebel, but that's got to be one of the toughest assassination jobs on the sunscarred plains. Sounds like we wouldn't be directly involved... so we wouldn't catch much of the glory... but still... even having a piece of that job...
He turns to Nnn'etc.. and waggles his eyebrows sending out a thought hoping it to be transmitted to the others as they had done in the past.
<<Y'know... if we're going to be talking high treason and assassination and whatnot... we might want to stick to non-verbal routes of communication... I like my head where it is, attached firmly to my shoulders,>> he smiles. <<Now... do we know if the fellow keeps an eye or guards of some sort around his fresh bodies? Is he aware of their condition? I am thinking that, if he is, the first one may be easy, the others will get progressively difficult, and whoever has the fun of confronting the fellow themselves, will likely go up against someone... prepared. I don't suppose there's a way that this won't be traced back to us? At least until after the final deed is done?>>
<<I do not know the Grey. Is it possible that if we help with this task that the sorcerer king will be greatly weakened in the Grey and at least much less of a threat? >>
<<Gorkhan makes a good point. It might serve us well to do the leg work for both locations before we enter the first. That would allow us to rapidly move from one to the other. >>
<<Yes, this is a better way to discuss plans>> Nell thinks, her pain bleeding through the mental connection before she learns to rein it in.
<<As for your questions: I’m not sure Kalak even remembers the clones exist. One of his pet defilers created them several centuries ago – necromancy is not Kalak’s strong suit. The king’s attention has been focused on the ziggurat for decades; I don’t know the details, but the word from the upper levels of the alliance is that it is related to some new bid for immortality. The clones were never more than a contingency plan.>>
<<I’m not sure what kind of guardians you’ll face. The clone we destroyed in the Templar District was concealed in a secret chamber guarded by fairly powerful but simple wards, but there were no guards beyond those in the quarter already. We were careful to conceal our work – we weren’t spotted until we tried to leave the district – so it’s possible no one realizes the clone was destroyed. The alliance has been mounting regular attempts to sabotage the ziggurat, so Kalak may think our presence was just another attack.>>
<<Even if he knows someone is planning his assassination, he may not take the threat seriously. It’s been tried before and failed. Kalak is incredibly powerful … I don’t know what they plan to do this time. I can only have faith that it will work.>>
<<That said, I don’t think you can count on any aid from the alliance in the next few days. After the templars’ counter-attacks everyone will be laying low. But you should seek aid from others you trust. When I mentioned finding a gladiator, the face of a woman – a half-elf? – appeared in Grit and Nnn'tkklik'l’s thoughts. Is that someone that could provide information about the arena? The Bard’s Quarter might be the place to inquire about the Belly of the Noble, although I’m not very familiar with the area.>>
Nell shifts to look directly at Safia before continuing.
<<I don’t know as much about the Gray as you, but I’ve always been told that the souls of the dead – good or evil – don’t last long before they start to fade, forgetting their former lives as they meld with the greater fabric of the Gray. If Kalak can be killed, and kept from returning, perhaps the Gray can overpower his evil and scrub it from existence.>>
She then addresses the rest of the group.
<<I’ll be as safe here as anyplace, I think. With some rest I think I should be able to manage a few simple spells to conceal myself if needed. This wound may fade in a few days – if it doesn’t, I’ll have to wait until I can reconnect with the alliance and gain access to more powerful magic.>>
<<bar owner spy woman had scars of battle.>>
<<And we owe her a response in regard to her offer of employment. I suspect we can negotiate this extra bit of knowledge, if she does indeed possess it, as part of payment.>>
Raun grimaces as the conversation moves to inside her head, glowering at noone in particular. Her mental tone is sullen, her voice still slightly 'raised' despite attempts to convince her it is unnecessary. <<That who Raun meant, lady wants us to kill templar. We go see dancing ladies, you go talk to her.>>
<<Sometimes, beings of immeasurably power, like Kalak, retain themselves in the Grey and wreak havoc. Sometimes the desires of others bring them back to their senses. I speak to my mother in there and I found her because I sorely wanted to. All I say is that it is possible and may not end with his death. There may be an increase in nightmare beast attacks once Kalak is gone.>> With the last words she sends an image of an enormous, twisted beast stepping on a shack as if it's nothing.
<<Will the others like Kalak not move on to try and take his city?>>
<<Good point. Perhaps one of the other 'god-kings' will want to expand their empire. Or perhaps some young upstart would wish to prove him or herself as one of them... What is to keep this city "free"? We may wish to leave once the deed is done.>>
<<In any case, you three can go speak to this 'lady' and perhaps the rest of us can explore the Bard's Quarter for information that can lead us towards the second objective.>>
<<We shall meet back here then. Say 3 hours?
<<Sounds like a plan. Let's get moving Raun, lead the way.>>
Leaving Nell in a corner of the warehouse, concealed behind a stack of old crates with Grit's tigone to guard her, the six of you head out into the afternoon heat. You travel together to the Crystal Spider, which sits straddling the edge of the Elven Market and the warrens beyond known as the Bard's Quarter.
As Gorkhan, Daina and Raun disappear into the twisting alleys seeking a bard, Grit, Safia and Nnn'tkklik'l head into the cool confines of the gambling house. Recognizing the mul and thri-kreen from their earlier visit, one of the half-elf guards fetches the major domo, who disappears upstairs before returning and leading the trio not to Krysta's office, but to one of the second-floor rooms reserved for gamblers seeking "companionship" in between games of faro downstairs.
Inside the room, a pair of comely half-elves recline on a silk-draped bed. As soon as the door closes they rise, their smiles replaced with the disinterested masks of experienced sentries, and move to the back wall. A panel slides free of the wall and Krysta steps through.
"I wondered when I might hear from you," graceful former gladiators says as she glides to a table on one side of the room. Sitting next to it, she almost nonchalantly puts her back to the corner while forcing you to face her, leaving her guards at your back. "You were supposed to contact me through the weaponsmith, Grik. But I can see how that might have been forgotten after the recent ... upheaval. Is there something you need from me? Or are you here to accept my earlier offer. I'm afraid the terms have changed, somewhat - Vackus was called back to the city when the gates were sealed, so you won't be able to attack him at the villa. He'll be spending his days and nights at the arena now, preparing for the upcoming games. He should still be reachable, especially for someone of your reported skill.
She looks at you quizzically, waiting to see what you have to say.
~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~
Parting with Grit and the others at the Crystal Spider, Daina, Raun and Gorkhan continue into the tangled warren known as the Bard's Quarter. Mudbrick hovels decorated with peeling paint and wispy drapes of once-fine silk line the crooked sheets, colored lanterns painting passers-by in garish colors.
You pass musicians and prostitutes, each filling the air with impossible promises. A few words and a handful of ceramic bits get you directions to an inn - the House of Fingers - that serves as a sort of safehouse or neutral ground for bards, allowing them to meet and do business without danger from outside, or each other.
The inn is a ramshackle place, haphazardly expanded over the years in a half dozen styles. Once inside, you see where it gets its name. Hundreds of gnarled hands and arms have been mounted on the wall, taken from humans, demihumans and creatures you can't begin to name. Brittle and poorly preserved, the thousands of fingers cast strange shadows across the common room, where perhaps a dozen patrons can be seen sitting alone or in small groups, their features hidden by leather masks or hooded cloaks.
As you enter, a pale-skinned half-elf approaches from the bar, wrinkles framing her sunken, yellow eyes. You see her nails are long and sharpened to wicked points as she brushes her wild hair behind one pointed ear.
After squinting suspiciously at Raun and Daina, she turns her gaze to Gorkhan.
"This is neutral ground," she tells him. "You may discuss business here, but not carry it out. And no poison, whether used or bought or sold. And 'ware the fingers - to break one is to bring death."
"Now, would you like a table? Something to drink, perhaps?"
Däina gives a friendly, disarming smile. Despite Gorkhan being addressed she gives a short nod, agreeing to the terms. She begins scanning the room for any bards that look alone or otherwise good targets to talk to.
I feared as much. Grit states when Krysta explains about the Villa no longer being an option. Krysta, I want you to meet Safia, part of our team. We have come here to tell you that we do wish to accept your assignment, but that we need one additional piece of information from you. I had thought to say it was unrelated to what you have asked us to do, but now I do not know. We need you to show or tell us a way to get below the arena. We know there are passages below, and we must get into them as soon as possible. After speaking he observes the former gladiator for a reaction.
Thankfully navigation is not left to Raun, and Daina and Gorkhan are saved from wandering the city for the three hours as the others leave them on the doorstep of the bard's quarter. If the others follow her she still does her best to get them lost, but eventually directions get them where they need to be. She frowns at the half-elf as the woman dismisses her and brusquely informs them of the rules of the house.
"Does house buy hands from people, or did take them yourself?" she asks, curious about the display despite the woman's rudeness.
Gorkhan snorts at Rauns question and nods to the pale half-elf woman. "Table and drink to start, yes. Then we'll be wanting to discuss business, of a sort."
Safia gives the Half-Elf a strange look, "The Grey clings to you yet doesn't claim you nor does it want to, yet. You are like me in that." Her eyes, while directed at Krysta, seem to look at a world behind her.
Safia scorpion crawls out of her clothes and perches on her shoulder, it seemed more interested in the two sentries in the back than in Krysta herself.
Krysta eyes Safia carefully.
"I've sent men to the Gray when I've had to, and avoided the same fate myself. But I've not made a friend of death - I prefer to keep a professional distance," she says. "As for the arena, yes, I think I can help. When I was a fighter in the arena there was a baker with a shop near the arena, and a passage from his basement into the tunnels under the city. Bettors would pay him to sneak extra food or even magic potions to certain fighters before the games. I benefited from the arrangement myself a number of times, and made sure to express my thanks after I was released."
"I am sure he could be convinced to open the tunnel once again, if you are willing to eliminate Vackus during your visit. But the passage may not be entirely safe - the tunnel passes through an area of the old city filled with old catacombs. Strange, mutated creatures wander the darkness, I am told, and others speak of restless dead crawling from the pit where they toss the corpses killed in the arena. You will have to pass through those catacombs to reach the arena above."
"Still, you have proved capable so far. I will send word to the baker that you will be coming, but you should move soon - as the games approach Vackus will be moving more creatures and gladiators into the arena pens in anticipation of the tournament."
The raven-haired half-elf motions to her guards, who move to reopen the secret passage.
"Unless you need something else, you should go - the templars are watching closely today and there is no reason to catch their attention unnecessarily," she says. "Next time, send word through Grik the weaponsmith as instructed."
~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, in the House of Fingers, another pale-skinned half-elven woman leads Gorkhan, Daina and Raun to a corner table, leaving them with a pot of wine that no one is anxious to drink, despite the prohibition against poison.
Responding to Raun's question, the yellow-eyed hostess replies: "The fingers come from many places, brought here by those seeking favor. Some come from those who have fallen from favor - or asked too many questions."
As Daina scans the half dozen figures in the shadowed common room, one catches her eye. Seeing her interest, the cloaked figure rises and approaches, throwing back his hood as he arrives at your table.
"Greetings!," the man says, straightening the bright orange shock of hair atop his otherwise shaved scalp. Short and thickly muscled, the man has the broad build of dwarf or a mul but appears entirely human. "I am Thuffir, and I am at your service, in this hallowed place. Do you find yourself in need of acquiring certain goods? I can help you with that! Or perchance you wish to rid yourself of something ... or someone? I can help with that, too, or arrange to find a suitable, handler."
Seeing the pot of greasy wine on the table, he wrinkles his nose.
"Ah, I see Sarkea noticed you were new here, as well. Sad to say, this is one of her better vintages. Luckily for you, I have something better with which to quench our thirsts," Thuffir says, reaches under his cloak and producing a stoppered glass bottle filled with amber liquid.
"Thornberry brandy, all the way from Raam," he says, pouring just enough for a toast into four wooden cups provided with the wine. "Ah, do not look so nervous. I have been a patron at the House of Fingers for many years, and do not choose to ignore its rules now. And business is best conducted with a bit of fire in the belly, I have found. Do you not agree?"
The strange man raises his glass and looks at you expectantly.
Raun misses the hostess' innuendo, still looking around at the variety on the walls. It would be better if she got paid for it, but she makes a note to collect any cool looking hands in the future as the others actually take care of business.
She looks at the others when Thuffy comes over and introduces himself, trying to remember why exactly they'd come here. She takes the drink when he does and hurls the small amount of liquid back smiling at him when the warmth hits her belly.
Däina gives a small smile. "It certainly smells delectable, but I don't drink. Thank you though. However, there is another belly that's on my mind. One a little lower, and nobler. You couldn't possibly be able to help us with that, could you?"
Grit nods at Krysta's demand that they use the weapon smith for their next meeting, agreeing to the necessity of such caution. The changing climate required this additional meeting, but I agree that same climate his increased the risk of any such meetings. We shall call upon your baker friend as soon as later today. Expect to hear from Grik about our success very soon. He stands to indicate that for him at least the meeting is over. Offering his hand to Saphia to help her up he says Shall we go?
~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~
"Not even a taste! Well, my dear, I see you wish to keep your faculties about you and I cannot say I blame you, given the appearance of our fellow patrons," Thuffir says, sliding Daina's drink toward Raun. "Perhaps your friend here would like yours - she seemed to enjoy the first taste rather well."
The thick-necked man leans back, considering the bottle of brandy a moment.
"I assume you look for a way to enter this noble belly, and not simply hear tales of its wonders, eh? It is a cruel one, that belly, prone to chewing up those it swallows and spitting them out in pieces, if they come out at all. ... But I may know a way, or rather know one who knows a way. Give me a day, and I can be certain. We can have another drink then, here among the fingers, and settle on a price for whatever information I obtain."
Thuffir settles his chair on the floor, brushing his garish hair back.
"Is that all you require, or can I help you with something more material - or mortal, perhaps?"
After Grit and Safia depart the spider and are well away from any potential listeners Grit asks the oracle Do you have any stops to make before returning to the warehouse?
Raun takes Daina's brandy as it is pushed her way, but nurses it now. "Not first to try, we chewy, break things teeth that try to eat us." Raun observes happily.
Daina gives him a grateful smile. "That is all we need for now, it is much appreciated."
It seemed the woman didn't quite understand, She was blessed, in a way. The Grey had chosen not to take her when it could have. Safia decided she'd keep it to her, it was not what they were here for.
When Grit asks about making stops she stands still for a moment, "I don't think there is any more that I want to do. Let us return."
"Perhaps one more thing before you go," Gorkhan says as Thuffir rises to leave. "I'm in the market for a mask ..."
The two bards conclude their business quickly and set a time to meet again the following day. With that, Gorkhan, Daina and Raun head back out into the warm night, dodging the catcalls of prostitutes and beggars as they make their way through the Elven Market toward Iron Square.
They join Grit, Safia and the others back at the warehouse. Gathering Nell, everyone shares what they learned with the wounded preserver.
"The baker's cellar sounds like a good route into the arena. I know there are strange things in the depths ... undead and mutants and darker abominations. But if these tunnels were used in the past, they may be relatively clear. Best to be prepared, however."
"You should meet with the bard before you go, I think. I don't think Kalak and his templars were alerted to the destruction of the first clone, but that doesn't mean our luck will hold. You should be ready to move quickly to the Noble's Quarter. Other than that, do you have what you need?"
Gorkhan rises, waiting to see if he is needed before heading out on an errand. "I'll be back before morning - but I need to see a man about a knife ..."
You do understand the price of admittance to the below the arena through the baker's cellar includes this quite dangerous assignment of killing the templar. Grit explains. I do not know, but this errand could prove more dangerous than eliminating either of the clones.
Daina's palms begin to sweat as she tries to grasp the gravity of the situation. We're really doing this.
"Going after the templar increases the danger, true, but it also provides cover. If they assume your purpose was assassination, they're less likely to go searching for other reasons, increasing the chance that the clone's destruction will be overlooked," Nell says.
Grit smiles at this idea. I had not thought of that. And this Sorcerer king is not so focused on his servants that he would mount a rapid strike against only the assignation of someone in his service. Turning to the others he asks We we still need to gather information from this Bard before we depart. When will that happen?
Raun shrugs easily at Grit's concern. "Do two missions with one attack. Sound good plan to Raun." she observes
<<Caution.>>
"We're to meet the red bard at noon tomorrow," Gorkhan says, heading for the door. "I'll be back by then."
Slipping quickly down the alley, Gorkhan took up a position in the shadows, watching the House Tsalaxa warehouse on the other side of Iron Square. Soon enough he caught sight of his target.
Not long now, if he sticks to his pattern.
Shift change comes half an hour later, and four guards leave the warehouse. Sticking to the shadows, Gorkhan follows them to a nearby tavern, waiting long enough to be certain the pattern hadn't changed.
Plenty of time now, so don't get in a rush. You've rehearsed this enough you could do it in your sleep.
Leaving the tavern behind, Gorkhan makes his way to the boarding house on the edge of the Warrens. Slipping around back, he finds decayed section of brambleweed and activates his power stone of defy gravity. Holding lightly to the wall, he floats up to the roof, settling on cat's paws on the crumbling tile. Moving swiftly but quietly, he crosses to the other side of the roof and flips down through a second-story window. Taking position next to the door, he settles in to wait.
The twin moons rise before Gorkhan's prey comes stumbling down the hall. He's two steps into the room when Gorkhan toes the door closed, one arm wrapping around the man's neck as the other pulls the obsidian bard's friend from the sheath at the man's waist.
"Answer me straight, and swiftly, and this will go better,"Gorkhan says, bringing the black blade to the man's eye. "Now tell me, where did you get this blade?"
The man gasps a breath as Gorkhan loosens the arm around his neck.
"The knife! I, I ... I won it in a card game. From the Viper. I mean Orrus, they call him the Viper. He's in charge of the Tsalaxa garrison. Half-elf, bald, chalky skin with lots of tattoos. Said he got it in Urik, took it off some stripling bard ... some patsy that got crosswise with a noble," the man says, trying to swallow. "That's all I know, I swear."
"I believe you," Gorkhan says, tightening his grip and squeezing the air from the man's throat. He stops short of murder, easing the unconscious man silently to the floor.
Orrus the Viper. A new name, at least ... and the return of an old blade.
Sheathing the blade at the small of his back, Gorkhan levers himself back out the window, leaving the way he came.
~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~
Gorkhan returns to the warehouse before dawn. Using the morning to run errands, the group heads back to the House of Fingers at noon. The same sallow half-elf woman seats them. Thuffir enters a few minutes later, flipping a green silk cloak over his shoulder with a flourish.
"My friends! And new friends! I have good news. I believe I can help you with your ... stomach problem."
The red-haired bard settles into a chair, removing a bottle of wine from beneath the cloak. Uncorking it, he pours a round before continuing.
"First, I have this," he says, sliding a silk bag across the table to Gorkhan. Inside is a black leather mask stitched with copper thread. Satisfied, Gorkhan slides over another small pouch filled with clinking coins.
Pleased, Thuffir tucks the pouch into his belt before continuing.
"Now, as it happens, I have located someone who has ventured where you wish to go," he says. "This man is, shall we say, an explorer ... of other people's houses. He assures me he can get you into the tunnels beneath the Nobles' Quarter. In return, he wants you to retrieve something."
Thuffir looks apologetic.
"Apparently this man and his partner ran afoul of a rather large beast in the depths. This man escaped, his partner did not. The man was apparently very fond of his partner, and wants only to retrieve a pendant the other man wore ... a pendant likely still in the belly of the beast that killed him."
"Also in the belly of that beast - within the Belly of the Noble, aha! - is a rather large gemstone the men had appropriated from a house in the district above. That gem is rather valuable, and will serve as the second half of my finder's fee. The first half, due when you wish to enter the tunnels, is 20 gold pieces, or the equivalent in silver."
Thuffir leans back, expectantly.
"What say you? Do we have a deal?"
Grit complete ignores the pored wine and watches the bard talk. When he names to prices he makes a small gasping sound but says nothing. This is not his deal. He turns to watch the others expectantly.
the kreen also remains silent, wondering just how many people they can task themselves out to.
Raun frowns as the bard names his price, not only doing a favor, but paying what she believed was a very large amount of money. Something about a gem too! As she tried to put the pieces together--the gem had been taken by the man who would let them in, so it belonged to that man, but the bard wanted it, and he wanted more, which was half, so the gem... Needless to say this did little for her disposition.
"That too much. Won't give you other mans gem and pay. You not even doing anything! We killing monster, other man showing us in, so why we pay you so much?"
Grit jumps in. You know, she has a point. And she is very large… Perhaps you could consider something more reasonable?
"Er, well, I suppose when you put it like that ...," Thuffir pauses a moment, thinking. "Here's the thing, this explorer is rather ... damaged, emotionally and so on. He just wants the pendant back. I want a cut - deserve one, really, for setting all this up - but I also have to make sure you don't take the knowledge of the passage and then never come back with the pendant. So, how about this: You give me the 20 gold pieces up front, I show you how to enter the Belly of the Noble. If you cut and run - or end up a meal for some great beast - I've got the money and all's fair. If you get the pendant and the gem, you bring them to me and I'll give you your money back in exchange. How's that sound?"