Mi'Dre makes note of the information Cruxcarr returns with after his reconnaissance, and spends a few minutes ensuring he knows the location of the dwarf's rooms, but otherwise just relaxes for the afternoon. When night falls he watches the dwarfs downstairs until Jack engages them, and then heads out the front door. Once out of sight he doubles back, circling around to the exterior wall that the dwarf's rooms are on, and flies his way up to their window to peer inside.
Mi'Dre easily finds his way to the dwarf's room window and peers within. It is bereft of inhabitants and the window is even cracked open to help clear the musty smell that you find emanating from the room. It is spartan, mostly bunk beds laid out in rows - it would seem the dwarves have little need or want for privacy... but there is a small desk at one end of the room that has papers upon it.
With the coast clear and the security light to non-existant, the little Devil will pull the window open and slip inside. He pauses, calling on Asmodeus' dark powers to sniff out magic, and slowly pans his gaze around the room around, crouching to peer under the beds and any other obvious hiding spots that occur to him. Assuming nothing of interest, he heads for the desk.
Mi'Dre finds nothing of interest with his arcane sight, there is naught but items mundane here. He does however find something of note on the desk. They are rough and perhaps incomplete... but he has found a full set of maps of the watchtower itself!
Mi'Dre scans over the papers and then rummages around in the desk to check that he hasn't missed anything. If any of the pages of sketches seem to be less than helpful, he will find a bag or some other piece of equipment, and attempt to make it look like the pages were improperly stowed, and fell out somewhere along the path back from the castle. Then he will slip outside, and head to the next place on his list, the alchemist's shop.
Oh but liquor is something I know of. Smiling
I have seen you fine folks drinking for a while now. If that stuff in your mugs were Talingrad's Finnest you would be passed out by now.
Not your fault, I am sure you didnt know better.
The dwarves chuckle dismissively at Black Jack, before sliding over a full tankard "Fine then, show us how manly you are" in a dismissive tone.
____
Mi'Dre finds nothing more of any value, either from a monetary or tactical perspective, and instead backs out of the room and moves off towards the alchemists' shop. He comes upon it finding the door locked and a light shining out from the back room.
Would you care then for a friendly wager? I will drink whatever you are drinking and you will drink mine southern liquor points at his glass. and we shall see who is the last one standing.
The devil frowns at the light coming from the back of the Alchemist's Shop, before sneaking around to peak in the lit window.
As morning sobriety dawns Shendalyn seeks out Cruscarr in whatever grotesque ritual the obese man performs when wallowing out of his bed pit.
"Come Cruxcarr we need to answer the question on what to do with our erstwhile fellow student of the arcane in the tower. I have some ideas in regard to how to get his attention but you likely have better expertise than I in the question of basic mystic mechanics."
Cruxcarr finishes placing the final leech under the folds in his blubber thick neck.
"Of course Master Shawn. I am... your willing servant..."
The corpulent wizard pulls together his belongings and readies himself for the visit.
"Please indulge me of your innermost thoughts on the matter..."
"Just fragments and pieces for now. I want to discover what kind of man he is first. Is he, say, one of those mages who spends all their time locked in a tower disdaining human contact except for those regrettable occasions where they must be a part of civilization, or the sort where the study and art are just a way to get by. Or perhaps something in beween? I need to know whether his attraction to whatever bait we propose will be driven by academia, lust for power, or sheer curiosity. Above all I want what happens to appear to the layman to be some wretched magical accident."
Cruxcarr nods appreciatively at Shendalyn's rationale;
"Indeed. The nature of their expertise and arcane interest will prove a useful foundation to any "solution" we may wish to explore..."
Gathering his belongings together the corpulent mage smiles once again;
"Besides they may have pretty skin..."
Black Jack finds that the dwarves don't answer him... as he has not yet quaffed the tankard that was put before him. An eyebrow is raised questioningly... it would seem that he needs to at least make an attempt at drinking before he'd be entertained any further.
________________________
Mi'Dre finds the alchemist asleep with a lamp on in the attached bedroom to the storefront. There appears to be a partition between the front room and the back.
________________________
The next day Cruxcarr and Shendalyn decide to make an attempt to visit the tower magister, and make it as far as the main doors leading into the Tower Balentyne where they are challenged by the guardsmen "Halt, stop and name yourselves and what brings you here this day."
Cruxcarr still disguised as the rotund jolly merchant, smiles disarmingly;
"Of course... Of course... I am Mario Marrvikk, a merchant of the arcane and vendor of the vacarious... My companion and I were hoping to meet with your Magister of the Tower to discuss some potent propositions that would assist in the defence of your fair realm's bulwark..."
:
The guard grunts "He's not one for visitors... especially un-announced. He know you're coming or not?"
"Unfortunately not. Though if you can point us out where we might inquire into making an appointment that would be appreciated. There are other private matters we wish to discuss with him. Intersecting parallels and such like."
Noticing his gaffe Black Jack quaffs the tankard before him and gives a burp.
Mi'Dre scans around the lit room for anything interesting or valuable, before slipping away to find another means of ingress, preferring a window, but if none are easy to open he will check the door.
Black Jack feels the weight of the liquor as it passes down his gullet, it is a strong and fortified brew... but he weathers it. The dwarf turns back to his own tankard and takes a draw before answering "I ain't drinking yer sh1te Southern liquor... iffin ye want tae be drinkin ye'll need tae do it wi' proper feckin booze."
______
Mi'Dre sees a lockbox at the foot of the bed and a leather shoulderbag cast over a nearby chair. - though cannot see aught of contents from outside the building.
Moving to the front, he finds the door the easiest portal to crack and makes fairly short work of the lock. Pushing open the door he thankfully finds it reasonably well oiled and the shop's interior is open to him...
_______
The guard snorts "Heh... Tacitus ain't much for any visitors, regardless of what you've got to say. Leave a message with us and we'll see if he's interested... don't be surprised if you don't get an answer though... so long as the bastard doesn't set us alight on sight."
"A shame if he were to set you aflame. Assaulting a soldier with magic is a hangable offense in the nicer parts of the nation. Temperamental man is he?"
Grunting "Too bloody right... bit keen on the stick he holds in his hand. Likes setting things into a big ol' fire with that he does."
Mi'Dre heads straight for the locked cabinet Cruxxcarr previously identified, though he keeps an eye out on the other items in the store in case anything catches his eye, especially anything explosive or otherwise destructive. Once he reaches the cabinet he looks it over for traps before putting his tools to opening it.
Cruxcarr shares a concerned look with both the guard and Shendalyn at the soldier's words;
"...Interesting... and worrying too... In our experience those of an (ahem) infernal bent oft favour such arcane devices and incantations..."
The disguised wizard cups his heavy chin and shakes his head with a concerned look upon his face;
"Pray tell us... Is this Tacitus a cruel man? Does he revel in his power?"
then lowers his voice, to a honeyed whisper...
"Of course your words go no further my loyal defender..."
... before pressing a brace of gold coins into the palm of the guard.
What an insufferable bunch. the black guard thinks to himself while still smilling and ordering two more tankyards. One for each of them. Your loss. Shrugging. Lets see what the north have o offer.
The guardsman looks at Cruxcarr with a stern expression and all humor drops from his voice. He refuses the gold being proffered and speaks rather pointedly "Best you be moving on now sirs."
______
Mi'Dre finds the cabinet that holds the arsenic and easily removes the lock to plunder it's contents. He also spies what he thinks are alchemist's fire and some oil elsewhere... though they are behind a glass cabinet and would be easily found to have been stolen. Ripe for the plucking... but would suspicion arise?
______
The dwarves take the liquor that Black Jack provides with grunts of acknowledgement - but seem to continue to converse in dwarven among themselves. From the mimed actions it seems ribald tales are the topic of the evening. If Black Jack seeks to keep pace, then the dwarves do as well... but it might take more than mere drink to provoke anything of note from the evening.
Mi'Dre heads towards the cabinet of dangerous goods, but slows as he approaches. They are to be here for a month, or at least a few more weeks to disrupt the operations of Balentyne, it wouldn't do to alert them too soon, and he can always come back, he hasn't exactly had much trouble infiltrating the place.
The devil takes the time to shuffle the bottles in the poison cabinet slightly to mask the absence of the arsenic, and then relocks it, before making his way out again. He belatedly activates his magic sense, looking around for any spells he may have inadvertently disrupted, as well as observing to make sure he hasn't disturbed any of the mundane goods. He then lets himself out and locks the front door behind him.
The night is still early, Mi'Dre takes to the air, slowly gaining altitude until he can look down upon the city below, enjoying the freedom for a few moments, and looking to spy any night-time activities.
Mi'Dre is easily able to lift the poison that he came in search of and leave the room exactly as he found it. He spies no spells of warding within the room, and leaves to the skies confident his work was professionally done.
The town of Aldencross is relatively quiet by night. Mi'Dre spies some torches and lanterns lighting up the gloom - but there are few persons near to them. The only place with some semblance of activity is the inn that you call home for the moment. In the distance at Balentyne, Mi'Dre sees the tower more clearly lit and wagers that there would still be some guardsmen on the lookout.
Now I know why most of Talingrade's best taverns dont allow dwarfs. Bah! For all the entertainment this guys are I may as well be drink by myself. Never though I would say that but I miss the capital. Only the city folk knows how to truly indulge in vice.
Black Jack will take a couple more of tankyards and call the night.
The rotund mage backs up a little, palm upstretched, but his warm words continue;
"Forgive me... most noble bulwark of Balentyne... I meant no offence... I am used to rewarding good deeds and kind words... My coin was not meant for you; merely to offer alms to the widows and orphans of soldiers such as yourself...
:
... Please - recieve it as a humble token of good faith and admiration of yourself and your battle brethern and the families the fallen leave behind..."
He once again offers the coin with a disarming and sincere smile.
Black Jack finds that the dwarves remain at their own cups, and though keeping track of the southerner's tally - they don't go out of their way to engage him in conversation. He retires back to his without any incident.
____
Cruxcarr finds his amelioration met with a grunted acceptance. "If it's for good works, best you see it makes it's way to the chapel in town... We'll pass your message on, but if thats all - best you be on your way"
With nothing of seeming interest below him, the Devil simply enjoys the chance to stretch his wings, and after a half hour wings his way back towards the inn. He climbs back in through Albina's window, unlocks the chest liberated from the Frosthammer, and locks the Arsenic away for future use.
He adjusts his appearance back to the surly halfling, and settles down onto the floor to rest.
The group rejoins each others company the next day after Cruxcarr and Shendalyn's attempt to see the mage of the tower and have a chance to review what is known... and perhaps look over the map?
Mi'Dre descends the stairs still in his halfling guise, assessing the conditions in the common room. If it seems secure enough to avoid being overheard as they plan then he will settle into a chair at a corner table. If eavesdropping seems likely he will instead invite the others to one of their rooms.
"We've got some more recon done and some resources now. Unless the alchemist is particularly meticulous he shouldn't notice the arsenic missing straight away. From what Albina said yesterday, we should put on a show about looking over the goods in town to keep up our ruse, and sow some mischief; but I think we should leave this afternoon or evening and get ourselves in place to ambush the good Captain Varning at Freeman's Rock tomorrow night."
Did you find anything of use in the dwarven quarters Mi'dre? I am hoping you were luckier than me. A nun of Iomedae would be more receptive than those bastards! And warmer too. he mumbles to himself.
"Yeah, I got your maps..." he mutters, pulling out a slightly crushed roll of papers and tossing them on the table.
Mi'Dre spreads the Map that was liberated out on the table for you to review.
Mi'Dre figures that the populace aren't likely to be too inquisitive if you depart for a short time... but there are farmlands in the surrounds, some with woods that could be used for weapon stock and bow shaft. The rock itself is maybe a little short of a day out and the same to return.
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"Your plan sounds appropriately diabolical. I wonder if there is any sort of native danger, such as owlbears or trolls, that we know of, so that we might mimic the marks of such a creature on the bodies of the guards we ambush, to make it seem tragic, but un-suspicious..." Albina says to Mi'Dre's plans.
Much more comfortable in his own stretched skin Cruxcarr survey's the map with interest before acknowledging Mi'Dre's scheme;
"I concur my dear... and with certain gifted Blackhearts of this particular Company... a ruse that the good Captain has succumbed to the predation of beasts or worse should be easily achievable.”
"I was just going to hide the bodies, let the horses come back on their own..." he turns to the corpulent wizard. "You are from here? Do you know of any creatures we could lay blame on?"
Cruxcarr smiles, the sharpened points of his teeth brushing his full lips;
"Indeed I am most infernal Mi'Dre... but alas I was but a lad when sent away from here by misguided and fearful parents... Mmmmm"
The wizard mulls the Gaav's question searching his memories for scraps that might be useful.
:
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Some blood should be good to lift the spirits and keep the boredom away.. Black Jack thinks to himself.
Very well, this sounds like a good idea. Its a start to thin our enemies numbers and break chain of command.
Besides, if we kill enough of them they may start recruiting to fill their ranks. the blackguard smiles at the idea.
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Your collected knowledge suggests that a simple staged bear attack would be less likely to draw attention than one involving predators more exotic. An attack by monstrous humanoids may draw enough interest for a sally forth of guardsmen... but may also result in a call for help from nearby garrisons to deal with the threat ascendant.
Excuses are made to any who care to inquire and you move to stage your ambush at a site they are known to frequent on their way back to the tower. Three hours travel out of town you come across a small lake that bears a copse of trees upon one of it's flanks with an oft-used fireplace. There is much in the way of minor cover among the brush as well as them being near enough together that horses may not be easily brought to bear.
The troupe is expected to make camp in the late afternoon, leaving you to your devices for a few more hours to prepare.
Shendalyn has spent much of his time in deep thought after the incident with the mages tower. After a few moments waiting for the coming ambush he pipes up. "Dearest Albina were it necessary would it be possible for you to pose as one of the clergy inquisitors of Iomedae? I believe Cruxcarr attempted something rather clever for an on the spot bluf and I feel more careful planning may yield riper fruit."