Isabeau nods slowly, processing the glut of information. She still was not sure she could trust these folk, but she was in no position to turn down help. She decided she would need to stick close to Lucia and trust that mutual goals would be enough to keep them allied.
"We were given the pin you mentioned, Miss Annette, was it? I might be able to get a message to it's owner though. What would you have it say?"
"Tell him where he can come for me," Annette says, turning to Isabeau with her eyes bright and hopeful. "If you do not, he will come to the other house, and find me gone."
"They'll have to know where that is, then," the innkeeper says, shaking her head at the situation. She looks at the group of adventurers, and then leans down to whisper in Stanrick's ear.
After more idle chit chat and the meal, Bliznap offers to play a song and try to liven the spirits of everyone.
Probably one of his worst performances ever, but he is off his game with everything that is going on. He can't help but feel sick and nervous every time the Lady's name is mentioned. And every time Lady Anette speaks. His music helps, but eventually it is not enough and he asks Lucia and Isabeau if either would care for a dance.
M'Ladies, would either of you care for a dance? My mind is traveling to wild places and my music just isn't cutting it this evening. Perhaps, if one of you accompanied me, it would settle long enough for me to come up with a good plan?
Wendel considers for a moment as Bliznap plucks at his instrument. "We could bring the message to the dwelling on the river." he suggests. "It's the place where we picked up Alain's trail. But I've got to think someone's watching that place like a hawk."
Lucia listens intently to the whispered conversation between the old woman and Stenrick. She is snapped out of her auditory focus as Bliznap's question intrudes into her ears. She blinks a bit as she straightens taking a moment to process the question he issued to her. She opens, then closes her mouth a bit astonished. She had never danced before, let alone asked to do so. She slowly shook her head with a small apologetic smile to Bliznap. Her ears twitch once more as she catches Wendel's words, but she keeps eye contact with the little gnome. She looks over to Isabeau and smile a bit wider. She then gestures for her to go ahead and dance with the gnome. She felt shy to say it but she thought it would be cute to watch.
Stanrick nods in understanding as Dana Yoller whispers in his ear. ”The best we can hope for in this situation,” he says.
He listens appreciatively to Bliznap’s song knowing that every musician has a poor performance on occasion. As the gnome sings Stanrick walks around the table whispering to each person what the barwoman told him.
”So where do we think the most likely places for him to be are?”
Isabeau smiled to reassure the anxious woman, "I will send the message tonight. I hope that will set you more at ease."
She turned questioning eyes on Lucia as she politely declined the gnome's invitation to dance and arched her eyebrows in surprise as she urged her to accept. The mood did not seem right for dancing, but then again, maybe that was a problem. The sounds of revelry surrounding them pressed in on all sides of their somber dining room. The gnome seemed keen for the distraction, but perhaps the request was more shrewd than playful.
She stood and removed her cloak, placing it on her chair. "I must confess, I am not much of a dancer. But for you, I will try." Her words directed at Lucia as well as Bliznap. She extended her hands for him to take and lead her through the steps as she did her best to follow along.
It seems that Bliznap is still focused on other things at the moment and cannot take his mind off of them. He bows to Isabeau after one song.
Thank you M'lady, I only wish that I were but a suitable partner for your level of skill. Perhaps I must be alone with my thoughts to try and compose myself.
Bliznap leads Isabeau back to the table and allows her to take her seat. He bows to the rest remaining there and retires to wherever they were staying for the evening for an early night.
It seems that nothing will raise my spirits, not even a dance with a beautiful woman. I thank each of you, especially you M'lady, for your kindness. I must take my leave to dwell on my thoughts, I wish you all a pleasant evening.
Lucia giggles her unearthly giggle as she watches Isabeau and the fumbling gnome go about their little dance. It was cute indeed. She enjoyed herself immensely at the distraction. This was a definite relief from the current tensions flowing through the room. When the two finish, she gives them a genuine and enthusiastic applause and a wide glimmering smile. She silently waves at Bliznap as he departs and waits for the other's queue in the event that most of them do the same. Lucia was under the impression that they were to be contacting the gentleman tonight, but figured it would be absurd and quite conspicuous for ALL of them to participate in this little errand.
The innkeeper returns to her work, turning you over to one of her serving girls, but takes Annette with her, covering her head with a shawl and leading her into the kitchen and out of sight. The serving girl is nervous, but she brings food and drink, and at the gnome's request, shows you to a small house a block away from the inn. There are no beds as such, but straw mattresses cover most of the floor, except an aisle between the door and the fireplace, and the odd corners behind.
"If there's anything more you need, Miss Yoller says to come to the kitchen door." She points to an alley behind the inn.
"So where do we think the most likely places for him to be are?"
As they move from the inn to the small house, Wendel mentions what he knows. "There's a boathouse belonging to the Misericordia. He's been staying there the past three days. It's right under the Sefeasa's nose, but there's a wharf where you can watch comings and goings." The warrior shrugs, eyes darting to and fro as he searches the night for any potential threats between the tavern and the house.
...just making sure we're not followed from either the tavern or the street outside.
After looking around, Wendel continues. "There's quite a few of his relatives in town, perhaps we can search at one of their residences for clues?"
"Thank you miss," Stanrick tells the serving girl after she shows them to the house where they can stay. He looks impressed he gets to sleep on a straw mattress.
—————
"Will we need an excuse to visit these residences? Where and when was the last place he was seen?" he asks Wendel.
There's big rats around the boathouse... I get them regular... I don't get to see the fancy folk...much...
Garold hesitates and scratches at the growth on his neck...
... but I see them. Lord Baton's family...is there...well...some, anyhow. About time I go catch rats...
With that said, Garold goes to fidgeting with his walking stick.
After a quiet moment, Garold slips out the back door and heads for his own little rathole to retrieve his longspear before heading to the boathouse. He sticks t back alleys...as usual.
Bane sits through the dancing and planning talk, half listening half lost in his own thoughts. It seemed the boathouse was the target and plan. Standing and adjusting his weaponry and clothes, he followed Garold out the door, motioning the group to follow with an offhand gesture.
Isabeau felt a bit embarrassed after the dancing, as evidenced by the high rosy color that came to her pale cheeks. Lucia's mirth made her smile slightly, but she felt like a spectacle and she did not feel comfortable under the spotlight of their eyes.
She asked the innkeeper for pen and paper and nibbled at her dinner as she thought over the message she would send to Marissa.
_______________________________________________________________________
M,
Thank you for the recommendation, the staff has been very accommodating and we met a variety of interesting people. One lady had become separated from a friend, but she became excited to see the trinket you lent us. She seems to think you might be an acquaintance of her friend, but he may have similar concerns as those you expressed to me when we met. A lonely and impatient noble, he might do something unseemly if he could not find her again. If you are able, let him know she is safe and among friends at that lovely establishment you recommended to us.
~Your friends from the road
________________________________________________________________________
She subtly retraced over the first letters of the words "a lonely and impatient noble", making them stand out a bit more in the hopes that Marissa would understand the code. Satisfied that she had communicated the message as well as possible without incriminating anyone, she sealed the missive and gave it to Dana Yoller and whispered in her ear, "Can you get this to Marissa Ocara?"
She stayed by Lucia's side as they traveled to the flop house and was glad of a place to rest. She felt exhausted after the days events. She only half heard the discussion of plans, but the mention of Baton's family plucks a string of memory and she nods in agreement with Garold's words. "I heard some travelling merchants discussing it on the road, they were eager for the exchange of gossip the Richemuloise tend to engage in." She frowned at the thought of journeying there tonight, though.
"I've sent word for tonight. But I think following up on our next lead will have to wait until morning. I have a contact at the jail I need to speak with, but that will have to wait until we've had some rest, I think."
Wendel nods understanding, volunteering to take the first watch of the evening.
As they all turn in for the night, Lucia retires to her own room for the night. Once she is convinced that most of her allies are asleep, she decides it an opportune time to have that meeting with Father Eldin. Offering those still a wake a good night in the form of a soft smile and bow, but lacking an explination. She enters the dark streets, oblivious of the nights chill, and heads to the Church of Ezra with a determined stride.
Stanrick places his bedroll on one of the straw mattresses. After he curls up into a fetal position he quickly falls asleep. As he drifts off to sleep, the thought of howling at the moon crosses his mind.
The night passes quietly - as quietly as you allow, that is - and the sun doesn't rise in the morning, so much as half-heartedly push the darkness back. The skies are dark with low clouds and slow, steady rain falls. A brisk hint of autumn is in the air, and those that are able to take their business off the streets. Those that are not huddle whereever they can get out of the rain.
Those of you who went home last night did so uneventfully, and wake up after sleeping peacefully. Those who slept at the Inn, found it comfortable if simple.
"You're back!" he says, probably a bit too eagerly. "Come this way." He leads you to a small warren of chambers behind the altar, where he eventually finds the red-faced priest.
"Thank you," the older man says in a rich voice, and waves the boy off before turning to you. "Sit, please, my dear. When I was told of your coming, I have to say, I was absolutely thrilled. The Lady herself has expressed an interest in meeting you, though I don't know if her schedule will permit it ... At any rate, that is beside the point. There is something I hope that you will assist me with."
He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I fear there is an unrecognized danger in our city. The crypts below the Cathedral have been tampered with, and I suspect the work of a necromancer. I would ask that you use your ... gifts ... to find this creature before he can do any real harm. Can we count on you?"
Bliznap will wake up and immediately go through his regular morning schedule. As he does he gets a sense of dread when he thinks about the wedding and Lady Boritsi. As soon as he is finished he goes and joins the others at the Inn.
A little before dawn, Stanrick meditates over the course of an hour, rising from a ball to standing with his arms stretched over his head. His breath is rhythmic though the exhalation sounds like a low growl. He gives himself to the calming and healing that nature’s embrace provides.
He waits in the main room for the others to return and wake.
Garold writes a simple note, after catching a rat or two...and wedges it into the gate, where it'll be noticed:
Lord Baton - you have friends where you'd least expect them.
With that done, Garold heads back to the group, wondering if any of the wrong people know about his little hovel. He dozes fitfully for a while before getting up to relieve Wendel.
Lucia woke just before dawn. The night had held her up longer than she was accustomed to, but her internal clock would not let her miss the suns rising. She knelt at her window and basked in the dawning light as she listened to the harmonies of the morning. After a while of quiet contemplation, she joined the rest of the group for what she hoped would be a hearty breakfast. Today was going to be a long day.
"I'm afraid to say I do not know if there is any connection," he says at last. "The ... the scene you describe, where you found Feodro, does seem as though it might have some ritualistic intent, but what it may be, I could not begin to guess. I scarcely know whether to hope they are connected, or whether there are two great evils at work in Levkarest."
A new day dawns. For some of you, only a few hours have passed since the end of your evening's activities. The inn is doing a slow but steady business, the same woman working the bar and keeping an eye on things. The circles under her eyes are a bit darker, but she keeps one hand wrapped around a steaming mug of black coffee that seems to be working its magic.
"I can't make any promises," she says. "Marissa's been strange, ever since the Procurers confiscated her father's estate. She was ... a friend of ours, but the past year, she's been distant. Even if I had time, I wouldn't know where to look for her, but if I see her, I'll make sure to pass it along."
Wendel awakens the next morning and realizes that the week that seems behind him is only a single day; his first day in what was quickly becoming a den of dark dealings and darker people. Why, in the name of Ezra, had he agreed to embark on this mission for his parents? The warrior knew his brother's life hung in the balance...but his brother was just like the people that served the Dark Lady. Walder is a cruel man, abusive and cantankerous by turns and a possessing such a deep-seated sense of...malice that Wendel often wondered how he'd survived childhood at all!
Maybe I'm not here for Walder... The warrior looks to the others in the small house they'd used for shelter. Specifically, his eyes rest upon Stanrick. If this is my life's calling, do I put aside my original mission to try and save my brother's life? In doing something like that, do I become like him by putting my own desires at the front?
The big warrior sighs to himself, clamoring up from the small straw mat he'd used for bedding and busying himself with getting his gear collected. The ritual of preparation his mentor had taught him serves to drown out his doubts and get focused on the now. He checks his weapons, especially the tension on his crossbow, before gathering his things to leave.
As the group gathers, Wendel asks his first question. "There was talk last night of attempting to deliver Baton a message. How are we to do so? After that, where do we start looking for this murderer?"
Isabeau had fallen to sleep easily enough, aided by the fine wine she had partaken heavily of. But her rest had been fitful as nightmarish dreams chased her through the night. The days images jumbled together in a senseless parade of butchered, eyeless, bloated corpses suspended on a huge spider's web, man-eating insects of enormous size and dark men with eyes filled with fear that promised violence.
Always the dark men loomed from the shadows with blades drawn and bore down on Lucia before she could stop them. They surround her and press her to the ground, ripping and slashing, calling her "devil", "demon" and "monster". She tried to scream at them but her voice caught in her throat like a barbed hook. She tried to run to stop them, but they seemed to skew farther and farther from her as her legs grew heavier and heavier, as if her muscles had turned to wet sand. And then suddenly... nothing. A black silence swept over her and she began to scream, for she knew she had failed. Her sun had gone out, swallowed by the wicked wolf and there would never be warmth and light again.
She awoke with a strangled cry, sitting bolt upright and reaching out for something unseen. She clapped her own hand over her mouth and rocked back and forth, trying to still the shakes that came on her. Trying not to shed the hot tears that welled in her eyes. It was still dark outside and it took a few moments for her memory to catch up with her and recognize the surroundings. As she began to regain some composure, she felt compelled to check on Lucia and slipped silently to her room. Her hand raised to rap at the door, she froze.
What if she is sleeping? Would she be angry with me? What if she sleeps without the disguise? Her fingers trembled at the last thought as her memories of Lucia's true form swept over her. She nearly fled from the door. But a feeling of dread had begun to crawl over her, and she HAD to open the door.
But the room was empty. She rounded on the men keeping watch with a fearsome look, about to demand what they had done to her. But one of them was quick to assure her that Lucia had left on her own decision and was soon to return. She paced for a time but it seemed to make the men nervous, so she settled down against the wall near her door and resolved to wait until she returned. She drew forth a simple pewter locket from her necklace and snapped open the clasp. Inside were the faded images of her parents. It soothed her to see her father's crooked nose and gentle eyes, though the image of her mother was about as comforting as gazing in a looking glass. She let her eyes slip close and soon sleep took her again, so that when Lucia returned, she found her that way. Huddled outside her door, her locket laying open on its chain for all to see.
In the light of the morning, she looked somewhat refreshed though a trace of darkness shows beneath her eyes. She seemed to brighten some as Wendel began to discuss their plans. A problem to occupy her mind usually kept her from darker thoughts.
"Well, my next lead concerning the murder might be just the stone to catch both birds. My message may not find our friend who gave us the pin, but the man I need to interview may know where to find her. Beyond that, all I know is that the three of us..." She indicates Lucia, Stanrick and herself, "have not yet met the Dark Lady. Surely if she sees any of you, she will expect you to deliver the woman you now strive to protect."
Once in an area where they can talk, Wendel poses another question, one that had been on his mind the night before but had flown away in the wake of Lucia's...revelation.
"I wonder at this woman you are searching for, the one linked to the horrific finding of the spymaster...what is her connection to Baton? Are they intimate?" With Mistress Annette not in their company, the warrior feels a bit freer to ask the question.
Garold glances at Isabeau and nods, eyes wide and somber.
Yes...and...most never see Garold...
...unless they look for him.
That said, Garold looks over his very distinctive form.
Best I not seen. Can travel by sewers...rooftops, if need.
Isabeau shakes her head, waving away Wendel's implication. "No, no, nothing like that. We go to speak to her... um... friend soon." Then her eyes go distant and wide as she realizes she's making assurances of which she's not sure. Her brow creases as she blinks several times in rapid succession before speaking again.
"Or at least, I don't think so. I believe she has connections with the nobility here, or she did once." Isabeau shrugs, apologetic she does not know more.
At Garold's words, she cocked her head from one side to the other, scrutinizing the poor malformed man. Then she took a knee before him and reached up toward his face, pausing as he seemed hesitant to allow her to touch him. "May I?" she asked, smiling up at him to show she meant no harm. She put her hand beneath his chin and gently turned his face, considering his features as well as his range of movement.
"I doubt I could do anything to disguise your gait, but Lucia and I might be able to make you look... less like you. Might be a good idea for all of you, frankly." She straightened, brushing the dust from the knees of her breeches and then turned to Garold again, speaking low for his ears alone this time.
The warrior grins with a touch of relief. "That is better than the alternative. My concern is... *ahem* ...how to put this delicately... My concern is that this Baton has two women dancing on strings while at the same time he prepares nuptials for the most dangerous woman in the city." Wendel coughs into his hand, a touch of color at his cheeks. "I'd prefer not to be in the middle of a fiasco of that nature."
"As for disguises, I'm all for it. I've read quite a few accounts where the proper use of a disguise or a cloak was the difference between a messy end and victory." For the briefest of moments, Wendel's earnest bent shines through.
Lucia sits at the table gazing past Wendel who is seated across from her. She holds her far away look as her conversation with the priest replays in her mind over and over. The world around her muted and dulled as her thoughts wandered.
A necromancer. Of all the dark perversions, necromancy may be the most heinous of magics I had ever read of. Tearing the dead from their restful slumber to have them serve a master twisted and evil enough to perform such an act. The torment those poor souls must be enduring...
The tiefling visibly shivered at the thought. She suddenly snaps out of her reverie as she hears her name uttered by Isabeau as a small squeak of surprise escapes her lips. Her hands shoot to her mouth as she looks around at the others wide eyed. Lucia blinks a few times realizing that she had missed the whole conversation.
Garold smiles sheepishly, shrugs...and nods...keeping his thoughts to himself.
So what do you all think our current plan of action should be? Will we be trying to send a message to Lord Baton, or will we be looking for a murderer?
Bliznap eats his breakfast slowly as though his appetite is severely hindered. He tries to think about what the best course of action is and how to proceed.
Leaning forward and placing her forearms down on the table, she looks down at her fidgeting fingers. She looks up at the assembled with a bit of a saddened expression before returning her gaze to her hands. In a low somber near whisper (trying to to alarm any of the other patrons) she addresses the group.
I... I cannot join you. At least not right away. I have another pressing matter I need to address before I can join you on our current endeavor. There... I... {Sigh} I visited my mentor in the church last night and received some disturbing news. There is a Necromancer in the city. I have been tasked with ending his evil.
Lucia seems to brighten a bit after she finishes as she looks up to the rest of them with a half smile.
But I promise to help you all when I return... If... you will have me back...
A...necromancer?
What all...umm...do you know...about...necromancer?
Garold's demeanor has changed radically. His breathing is suddenly ragged, and if he's seemed fidgety before, it hardly compares. He runs his hand through his scraggly hair...hands shaking... but he is utterly attentive, even as he mutters inaudibly under his breath...
I don't know if that helps any, but there it is.
Bliznap gets a look of realization as a thought jumps into his head.
He turns to his newer companions and asks them, So what can you tell me about the murder you all happened upon? I am sure none of you actually knew the victim, but perhaps you could describe him to me and I would be able to garner who he was.
He pauses for a moment.
If we are going to investigate the murder, I think it might be a good idea to get some leads going. If we could ascertain the identity of the victim, that would be a good place to start. Maybe there is a larger plot afoot than we realize?
When Lucia mentions the Necromancer, Bliznap strains in thought once again.
Bane stalks the dark halls alone, trying not to stumble, two whole bottles of brandy, he should be dead. Around the corner, he spies the ghost girl, Isabeau, loitering outside a room, looking uncertain, after a short fit with the men standing watch, he sees her slump down in the hallway to wait. Dedicated, this one. Of course real dedication is rare, and hers maybe, probably, is a ruse. After awhile the dark haired girl nods of to sleep.
Walking past her, Bane notices a small locket and on the ground next to her, and it causes him to gice pause. The locket was identical to the one his wife had worn. Fishing in his coat pocket, he brought forth two lockets, one burnished silver containing a picture of his daughter and his wife who looked so much like this Isabeau, the other his wife had worn it contained a picture of her parents and was the same as the one on the ground before him. Kneeling quitely at the sleeping woman's side, he compared the lockets, and to his surprise, the portraits were the same. Could this woman be related to his wife?
Shocked by the possibility he stood and returned to his rooms where he got no where near a good sleep.
Bane awoke with a pounding headache, and walked down to the main area where his companions were eating breakfast. He sat quitely and listened to their musings.
At the shining girl's mention of a necromancer, his fists tightened. Bane hated necromancers. He could find some sort of sympathy for those that were born monster or were infected, while they still needed to die, they were not entirely at fault for their predicament. Necromancers however, were. Men who knowingly raised people who deserved rest and created abberations. He grit his teeth.
"Lucia, necromancers must be killed, they are a cyst upon the righteouss society, corrupters and defilers, curse them!" he found himself shouting. Not bothering to look embarassed he lowered the volume of his voice and continued. "I will help slay this creature."
Garold watches Bane with wide eyes, terrified...but in the end, finds himself nodding. Wordlessly, he glances at Lucia.
M'Lady, how much information did your church reveal about this Necromancer? Bliznap says to Lucia.
Lucia goes back to the conversation with Eldin about the specifics of the necromancer and shares any pertinent information with the group. She then pauses for a moment seeing her new companions' eyes on her. She sighs and continues.
But, before we proceed, understand that this quest is mine. I cannot in good conscience ask any of you to accompany me on an errand set to me. This has to be your choice and your choice alone. Regardless of your individual decisions though, I have been chosen to deal with this necromancer. The Cathedral's crypts are meant to be a place of eternal rest and the disturbance is unforgivable. I would welcome the help, but none of you are under any obligation to do so. Besides, the dead tend to be a bit on the unnerving side for most.
Necromancer. The word changes the mood of the table. Stanrick has heard of tales of necromancers from his master and other druids. Their perversion of life’s gift fires an animosity in Stanrick. He catches himself before he growls and checks the room to see if anybody is paying attention to their group. For the time being the other issues they were struggling with need to be set aside.
”I freely choose to aid you,” Stanrick says. ”Those who twist and pervert the ways of nature deserve punishment.”
Wendel stands to the side of the room, shield hanging from his left shoulder so it was quick to hand, flail at its accustomed place at his hip. From where he stands he has a good eye on the entryway to the room and a clear path should he need to hold it in the event of an attack.
Perhaps it was the talk of necromancers that put him on edge. Or perhaps it was the image of his brother's body laying in its gruesome repose back at the Duneheim estate flashing into his head when Lucia mentions her given assignment. The big warrior closes his eyes and sees Walder clearly, as though he stands in the doorway to his brother’s chambers and not in a private room at a tavern in Levkarest. The family apothecary ministers at Walder's bedside, sweat beading on his wrinkled brow. On the bed, Walder’s eyes stare up at the brocaded canopy. They blink regularly, but there is nothing regular about his condition.
"I’m giving you an opportunity to do something about your brother’s malady." His father had said flatly.
On the bed his brother lay staring up...eyes blinking...his chest cavity open like some macabre tome from their father's study.
"His chest is wide open, father! Why isn't he dead!!" Wendel's right hand balls into a fist at the memory of his words to his father.
"I freely choose to aid you. Those who twist and pervert the ways of nature deserve punishment."
The man's words bring Wendel out of his memories and back to the present. If I'm to find this Cerny Zvonek, maybe I can get some answers. My father said he knew of the man, said he'd been dabbling in things. Do I really want to know?
He considers for a moment then raises a hand briefly before it returns to his hip. "I'll go too. At the least, we have a direction and an opportunity to do some good in this city."
Where do we start?
The shaft of Garold's spear looks comically long and awkward in the little man's hands, knuckles white from trying to hold off the shakes, but the look on his homely face is anything but amusing.
I thank you all for your courage and kindness in this endeavor. If I may suggest though... If more than half of you decide to accompany me on this errand, then I would suggest we all go together. I do not want too many to come with me and not enough to investigate the murder without enough support. If... If that is alright with all of you that is.
Her sheepish query fell to a soft whisper as her eyes drifted to her twisting, nervous fingers.