He looks to Joran, his eyes seem to grow redder, almost in an animated way. "I hope I get to kill something in the next mission, I've been holding back for far too long now, and my teammates seem to like to tease my blood-thirst, I can withhold myself for only so long. I am not always in complete control of my actions, and I would prefer my fasting didn't cause the Syndicate any unnecessary complications." He glances towards Rileng as he says the last words.
You never noticed it before as you've seen him talk, but now you can see his teeth are sharp, or perhaps the aura of Pain his causing some sort of illusion or your mind is playing tricks on you, but as his thirst grows he seems to turn savage; this much you can tell.
Froth smiles as the men are dispatched, taking a conspicuously deep breath as the coppery smell of blood fills the small shack. Before they allow the weasel of a pirate to leave, Froth gestures for the others to hold him, while he heats the tip of his massive knife in the flame of their torch. Once it's hot enough, he takes it over to the man and marks him, slitting the nostril of his nose. He doesn't cut him, so much as let the knife burn its way through the skin, so the blood doesn't run, and the wound is cauterized shut. He reheats the blade and makes a second application, excising a "v" shaped wedge from the man's honker, so that even if he found a healer this night, the nature of the wound would remain clear. With a notched nose, every man he met for the rest of his life would know him marked as a thief and a coward. Once finished, he nods for the others to let him go.
As the rat flees, Froth's smile fades to a bit of a scowl. As they step towards the door, his appearance shifts from that of the red-skinned Teifling form he took before the encounter, back into the tall, dark-skinned sailor he had been earlier in the night.
Leaning in to Rileng as they wander out, he whispers, "As much as I hate to agree with the whiners, we prolly should have held onto him until morning, at least. The ship will be a lot harder to take if he does decide to head back there, whether they let him live or not. Pirates are a strange bunch; he may decide he can weave a story that makes him the hero - all the other witnesses are dead. The notch'll help, but nuttin's foolproof."
Seeing Joran outside, he gives the human a nod of acknowledgement, but not necessarily a deferential one. A bit paranoid by nature, he continues to take no chances. He scans the man for magic, and should he spot any illusory auras, he concentrates on seeing through them.
"Any more instructions, O' my captain my captain? We found their ship; desired outcome still the same?"
Responding to Froth as he knew better then to ignore him. He used the magical means bestowed upon him to whisper back.
"Truth be told, I tend to keep my word and I am careful when I give it. I made the wording so that only I was bound, as I knew I had no right or ability to bind any other. As well it only extended to the door, perhaps if I had not been distracted I could have positioned myself without drawing suspicion. It is my failure for not keeping my plans in check or signaling you. What's done is done."
Joran looks thoughtfully at Rileng. "Custom as well." he says, ashing his cigar lightly.
He looks at Pain sympathetically after his little outburst. "I'm sorry to hear this particular mission wasn't to your liking, but I certainly hope that wasn't a threat Master Pain, the Dark Ones don't like out of control assets. I don't like out of control assets." He takes another drag off the cigar.
He breathes out a cloud of smoke.
He listened to Froth. "I have sent you to deal with pirates, you've found something more? What have you found."
The way Joran talks to you, it is unsettling, like a man speaking to pig he is fond of but knows is destined for slaughter. The cold concern is uncanny and uncomfortable to be around.
Rileng suspicions seemed to be finding more ground. Joran was not surprised or intrigued, he likely had known from the start or at least had a good inkling to the whole affair. He didn't like being played with or being a blind pawn. At the very least he would like to be a pawn with clear sight. He pushed all those thoughts aside for another time, refocusing on the here and now.
"The so called pirates, turned out to be cheliaxian soldiers. They were interrogated, after we killed those that resisted. Just finished killing the rest that proved unwilling to talk. The information that was given and I believe to be accurate, places their pirate ship east off the pier about a half mile towards the strait. Their is a Captain Fordman and Signifier Le'Vassh on board, their cabin locations given, and another fifteen soldiers along with the remaining crew. They are due back at dawn. The ship's name is Lucky Lady and their orders were to disrupt the dealings of both the Royal Salt Consortium and Monsallbum Merchant Alliance. How would you like us to proceed?"
Things could go a few ways. They could be sent home, their mission done. Or they could be given an expanded mission. He did not mind one way or another but he knew with their current resources, taking or destroying the ship would be very difficult to put it mildly.
Joran puffed thoughtfully, the haze of smoke further filling the small alleyway. "Interesting." he said quietly. "Fordman and La'Vassh you say?" He looked quizzically at the sky. "For now, let us bring this information back to the warehouse and report. You've all done well to discover this plot. Our next move must be planned and discussed. Let us collect Mr. Haas and reconvene."
With that he turns heel and leaves the alley in a swirl of smoke, heading back out into the street towards the Old Salt.
An hour later, you all make it back to the warehouse just as the light of predawn begins to turn the sky grey. Jorran shows you an entrance that is waterside, through a drain outlet into the sea, just down the tunnel a few yards is a door that with a ladder inside that leads to the lower level of the warehouse.
It is dark with sparse lighting from low burning braziers at this early hour. Jorran walks down the corridor ignoring rooms of sleeping members and takes the stairs at the end up to the hangout you started in.
With a word and gesture, an early rising servant disappears into the kitchen and returns with cold meat and cheese along with some tea.
Virgil sits at a booth already and only one other is in the room beside you. He sits in the very back, in a lush corner booth. You recognize him as one of the few that were here before you left. The one who feels unsettling, looking at him, you feel fear.
Jorran says "Take a seat lads." then he approaches the frightening figure and leans in speaking low. Inaudible to you from across the room he seems to be in conference with the figure for sometime.
Alexander walks over to where Virgil sits and takes a seat of his own. He has returned to his normal clothing and appearance. "Looks like we successfully completed our first mission. I wonder why he is here..."
Rileng sat in silence, something was going on or would be. Until they were told their mission was a success, he would not think it so. He had not removed his mask, he had changed his clothes again but still not reverted to his own. He believed in keeping his personal life and professional life separate, that applied to all his professions. He would not have his identity exposed anymore then it had been already. He would have to craft a persona when he worked for the syndicate. But that was nether here or there at the moment. He had noticed the deadly man before and here he remained, waiting by the looks of him. He had a sneaking suspicion it had been his intent from the start. Again the feeling of a pawn in a game, a disposable one as their numbers were less then when they began.
Taking some of the meat and tearing a piece into his mouth, he stares at the two converse as he takes his seat.
Without making eye contact he answers Virgil, "Apparently our comrades could handle the pressure. That 'Z' lady got on my nerves so good riddance to her, and maybe now I won't have to worry about my partners getting drunk and passing out on me. tsk, amateurs."
A few minutes pass. Joran continues to speak to the deadly looking man. Finally he approaches the quartermaster cage and exchanges a few words, he then signs a sheet of paper and is handed something.
Approaching your table he says "Well done lads, mission successful. Your salary." he plops down a small pouch in front of each of you containing 50 platinum pieces.
Joran eats some cheese. "Gentlemen, feel free to fence items you acquired to the quartermaster and take some rest. Rooms downstairs or feel free to return to your residence. Now we use street urchins, so if one of the little ones gives you a copper, come in. To this warehouse for now."
The next day, maybe an hour past midday, a dirty waifish child presses a copper into your hand and disappears back into the crowd.
Making your way back to the warehouse, you find the large double doors at the front, where you killed in your initiation to now be open, full boxes and several shirtless workers unloading a cart. Behind them though, you see the wall, the one you know isn't a wall. Pushing through you find yourself back in the hideout.
Joran sits at the bar, wine glass untouched in front of him. He is twirling a sealed envelope in his hands. Seeing you he motions you to sit wherever and he will wait for all to arrive. Gathering you together he says, "This letter is your next mission lads. It will take you inland a bit. To the Academy de'Arcane, some of you are familiar with it I think." he smiles and takes a sip of his wine. "Are you all equipped and prepared to begin?"
|
Virgil sells everything but a horse and saddle for him and each of his team mates, the potions of invisibility, the drow poison and one of the noble's outfit
-----
When inbetween jobs he can be found at his blacksmithing shop, working on various orders or on little tweaks to his creation, or at the local library, reading a variety of books, the vast majority being not fiction or historical.
---
He shrugs "so long as I have Dryden I'm good...the academy eh? I've always wanted to visit... This should be fun
Joran hands the letter to Rileng. "Read this and work it out amongst yourselves the best plan as you see it." He states before returning to his drink.
The letter is on white parchment written in a scrawling hand. Its black wax seal embossed with a hooded skull crossed by two daggers.
Your next task is an infiltration. You must go to the Academy and enter the 6th floor of the complex, two levels above what students are normally allowed, there will be sporadic faculty and I would hope that casualties could be kept to a minimum as I don't wish to draw unwanted attention to your activities right now. On the 6th floor the Grandmaster of the Academy and the Leader of the Mage's Collective is quartered. He is a powerful spellcaster, possibly above the likes of you. He is away however for several days and during that time, I would like you to liberate several documents and any magical artifacts you find in his personal safe.
Return them to Joran when you have succeeded.
-Stay in shadow,
-A Friend.
Inside of the letter a small piece of parchment marked AT has the following scribbled on it.
Master Torav, perhaps looking in antiquity storage would be beneficial. 5th floor Faculty wing.
"Ugh, I'm more suited for assassinations, not much for breaking and entering. Consequently, not a fan of the bloodshed regulations... I think I will keep guard out front. Perhaps the next mission will make better use of everybody's talents." He seems impatient and growing frustrated with the lack of action he has seen lately.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Rileng shows up this time in plain black and brown clothes made of cloth and leather. A hood covering his head with a mask upon his face. He accepts the letter with a nod before reading it to the others. Handing the scrap of parchment to Alexander.
"I would prefer if during any syndicate business I be referred to as Oris. It is best for all involved that my name not come up, I will do the same if requested by any of you in turn. Concerning out latest assignment, my expertise in magical matters is limited at best. It is not my specialty, as such I propose those with such expertise take point. Ideally someone with the ability to detect magic, identify it, and if need be rework it. Strangely enough in my experience those with abundant magic make use of nonmagical means to protect their valuables. In that case anyone specializing in traps and mechanisms should also be on the look out as well as on point."
He remained silent on Pain's desire to remain outside. On the one hand it was pointless, students and teachers would be coming and going. It was a well used location with plenty of foot traffic and likely guards. He would not be able to aid anyone six levels up from the ground floor. But then again with his seeming lack of control concerning bloodshed, it could prove better to have him outside. He would not get in their way, if he should start murdering people then he would serve as a good distraction. He would see how Joran and the others reacted first.
Joran tsks at Pain's complaining. "We serve the will of the Dark One's young one. Not the other way around." he scolds.
"Besides, it is very rare, though not unheard of that we engage in willy nilly mass murdering as that seems to be all that interests you. In addition, the letter said kept to a minimum which means only killing people who get in the way. Not "no killing whatsoever" outright."
The darkheart smoothes his black hair. Lighting another cigar. The bitter scent of tobacco permeates the room. He looks concerned. "There is something going on here, that I am not privy to. I advise caution. The Shadow is playing a game with someone, and you've been chosen as pawns. I'd hate to lose such promising agents to stupidity." he says with sympathy.
A female member enters the room and hands Joran a rolled up piece of paper. She nods and departs. "This should help though." rolling the paper out on the table. It is a map of the Academy. Main compound and both east and west wings.
"If you've been here before, you'll know that the Mages collective and the academy are some of the oldest inhabitants of Monsulla. Your target is on the 6th floor of the Compound and Young Alexander's note mentions the 5th floor of the west wing. Plan as you see fit. And respect each other's monikers if a teammate so wishes to have one."
Time passes and you prepare. When ready, the group departs and makes its way from the piers around the outskirts of the Grand Bazaar toward the embellished stone and marble of the Noble's district.
Here you find the entry to the Academy. The grounds are surrounded by storie high well maintained hedges, and a black iron gate stands closed.
|
|
"well then, the institution lies before us, does anyone have any plans? he pauses to see if anyone speaks up, if no one speaks up he offers "I could distract the guards by pretending I wanted to study here, while the rest of you sneak around their defences heck we all could pretend to be prospective students, of course that'd be a subtlety different strategy"
"Hmm,ya, not bad; perhaps I could pretend I'm your innocuous, 9 foot footman."
The green skinned giant stares down at his teammates for a few seconds.
"Ya, sneaking around isn't exactly a specialty of mine. And with that many wizards around, I'm not going to be counting on my Hat'o disguises to keep my beautiful mug out o' the limelight for long. I'm more of a bust down the front gate, kill everyone kinda guy, usually. Not that I'm keen to try that in a bloody wizard's academy."
"Any other ideas?"
Rileng does not bother to speak until he observes the situation. Noting if there are any guards, their numbers if so, as well as any defenses besides a locked gate that was apparent. Their was no point to going in when the place was thick with people, everything had a proper time and place. Impatience was the failing of fools and lesser men, something he was nether.
The team stakes out the academy from the road.
During the day, it bustles with students, wizardlings and mage apprentices talk in the garden, studiously taking notes. School staff bustles about, cooking, cleaning, and tending the grounds. Faculty members, marked by their golden pins in the shape of a hand grasping a scroll can be seen occasionally.
At night, the courtyard grows dark, but lights can be seen from windows, throughout the complex, Wizards keep bizarre hours, and elves seldom sleep as long as humans. Academy guards patrol the grounds with lanterns, every hour or so, checking the gate and outbuildings before returning to their post at the entrance to each of the three main access points.
"I'm afraid I ain't much good at planning. My usual instinct would be to rush in, maybe sneak as far as we can, but then when everything goes to hell, we just do our best to kill everything in sight. Wadda you think?"