Once the group was down the wall, Lexi would whisper to them "Okay, Lady Thunder, where did you store your gear? Also, do we need to make any stops between here and there?"
"Alemaiden, do you want to call your new owl friend? We might need the air support if the fey have affected the griffons that revolted against their knights who might lay down there." Carnadine offers.
Kjeta shakes her head. "Alas, I left her in my stable. Maybe these griffons could be persuaded to allow a new Rider though?
"Anyone who wants to try is welcome to a drink first!"
Thinking, Well, it worked once... Kjeta approaches the griffons with as much calm and confidence as she can project.
Kjeta shakes her head. "Alas, I left her in my stable." Seeing Carnadine's longing look at the griffons, she nods. Maybe another day, but perhaps we should stick with the others for now...and who knows how a griffon would fare in the kobold warrens.""
Once down, she collects her wagon and donkey.
When she sees the street vendor, she waves, "Ho! Are you ok?"
Deimus wraps himself in his heavy cloak and follows Lexi as best he can.
He sees Kjeta call on the kobold vendor and warns her: "Steer clear, Lady of Ale, for his mind is not his own. He is likely like the raven and may peck at your eyes! Or worse, tell of our paths and our conversations."
Kjeta, your wagon and donkey are not where you left them. Instead, they are corralled along with a number of other livestock and vehicles behind a simple 4 ft fence, with an elvish edict posted.
Seing Kjeta about to try to talk to the vendor, Lexi appears for the briefest moment behind him, and knocks him unconscious. She then gives Kjeta the universal symbol for shush, with a rather murderous look in her eyes before disappearing back into the gloom.
The slightest "H" appears on Kjeta's lips, and Lexi's retribution comes swift...with Deimus' apologetic explanation to follow.
Lexi guides the party back to the brewery slowly but with little incident. Crossing the district gates is tense but with some more clever 'negotiations' you manage to go unnoticed by all but the shadows perhaps. The streets are eerily quiet, even for night...the citizens have shuttered themselves inside and only a few fellow creepers can be glimpsed here and there.
The brewery appears unmolested, and you quickly get inside...only to find a curious envelope sitting in perfect view in the common room: a soft white, almost crumbling crepe paper with an ebony seal, held down by a dull moonstone. Very tasteful stationery...contrast with Acolyte Brumdal snoring gently in the corner with a keg spigot stuck to the spit on his mouth.
Lexi more or less appeared next to Kjeta and asked, in a quiet voice completely devoid of emotion "Are you drunken, do you want to get us caught or killed, or are you just monumentally stupid? Until we can resolve what's going on here, assume that anyone is the enemy that is not in this room." Lexi jerked a thumb towards the sleeping acolyte "excluding him. There are stories about Fey swapping poeple with Fey Changlings, and I know for a fact that they have illusion magic among their abilities."
After her diatribe, anger crept back into Lexi's voice, until she tamped it back down halfway through saying "use your damned brain for once."
Lexi then disappeared into a dark corner of the brewery to think.
Reacting to Lexi's rant, Carnadine attempts to calm the room, "It's been a long day. Let's keep it together."
"Can anyone detect if that letter is magically trapped? Otherwise, I volunteer to open it. Then, we need to follow Deimus to the Ghetto, so we get some sleep. Agreed?"
"Whaa!
"I saw someone in need--someone who'd fed me, earlier that day--and I was going to offer aid. If you need to be drunk to think that's a good idea, you clearly need to drink some more!"
Taking a long breath, Kjeta adds, "Being rude, selfish, and a thief doesn't mean you're always wrong though. Sometimes the best good is served by waiting...and I admit patience isn't my strong suit. Thanks for stopping me from getting us discovered."
To Carnadine, she answers, "I'm plum out of spells still...but it's in my brewery. Respectfully, I'll open it."
With that, she casts a protective eye at Acolyte Brumdal and opens the envelope.
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Nothing seems to shout 'trap' as the ebony seal crumbles like a masterfully baked cake.
The finest calligraphy lay inside, each capital letter of the Trade Tongue holding 10,000 embellishing swirls, seeming more a work of art than practical penmanship... The ink shimmers as if taken from a magical crystalline octopus...
A Cordial Invitation
Greetings Special Investigators!
I pray this letter finds you in good health. Your presence at the last public council was viewed with great interest, and from my perspective there is great opportunity for us both. Nothing is off the table for discussion, the transition is a sculpture in progress and we feel only the roughest edges have yet been hewn.
I, Glaninin Thelamandrine, therefore humbly invite you to my residence and working embassy of Winter's Kiss, as peaceful collaborators, respected advisers, and cunning yet fair negotiators.
We realize not all the Lords of our realm are so interested in such niceties, and that perhaps the actions of a few might taint your perceptions of who we truly are and what our goals represent. As a sign of good faith, rest easy next to the included moonstone. I believe it will chase any lingering assaults of the mind from your next rest.
Your admiring servant,
His Excellency Glaninin Thelamandrine
Hidden Ambassador-In-Extraordinary of the Winter Court
to the Fey City of Zobeck
Then, in a less extravagant hand...
PS Please present this document to the doorman for swift entry...
”Hmph.” Hrungnir grunted. ”Tried to kill us and now want to play nice? Well. They are fey.” He walked around looking for a mirror or other reflective surface, so that he could begin scrying on the coin left behind. It would take ten minutes to make the rune, but it seemed like they had time.
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Hrungnir, the rune magic of Otalan tugs at your arcane conscious, as the others of your vast clan for the past three generations sense the mark and vie for your attention. The faces of loving dwarves, angry dwarves, confused and bitter dwarves swirl past...each seemingly grasping at the airs before them, grasping at your arcane projection which scans through 1,000 different locations at once. Such an assault would be too much for any but a hardened runesman, and with your trained focus cut through the images to meet with your coin link...
A hand, a nauseating tumble, a hand and a slap. A hand, a nauseating tumble, a hand and a slap.
The scrying sensor pulls back to reveal a pair of fey walking down a pier flipping your coin. They seem engaged in light elvish conversation, the details of which escape you. However, the word 'Haylcaster' catches your attention, since it sounds so much like the ordinary word 'caster', and you vaguely remember Carnadine mentioning someone with that name earlier in the day.
Such back and forth continues, the coin now falling across his knuckles and back, until they reach a small boat and prepare to launch. Just a dinghy and a single pair of oars, yet the vessel seems oddly familiar to you.
Once in the light of the tap room, everyone can see Raseri's uncomfortable expression and beet-red face. She wastes no time mediating between Kjeta and Lexi and speeds to her things, then to as private a corner she can get to change. Once in an outfit that is more comfortable, she slips back out with the others carrying the dress and the tattered strip of fabric she'd cut off to make the climb down.
"Both of you make good arguments, but we need not fight amongst ourselves, As Carnadine points out. We have enemies enough with the fey," she says quietly as she lays out the bloodied dress and begins casting a spell on it. A few moments later, it is whole again, as if newly sown, but still bloodstained.
"Rest assured, illusions are the least of our worries. The fey can do far worse than that," Raseri says before collapsing into a chair. Now that she's had time to relax, her fatigue is beginning to show, along with something else.
"I am not certain you can trust me, either," she admits, "I may be putting us all at risk."
Lexi returned a couple of moments later, having returned to her normal emotionless demeanor. When she emerged from the darkness, she was putting away what was clearly a poisoner's kit.
Lexi read the letter without touching it, then asked "Can anyone here detect the presence of magic?"
Raseri tiredly shakes her head, several strands of her hair falling loose to cover her face.
"The fey do not lie," Raseri tells Lexi, "it's unsporting to do so."
"Do we believe the Hidden Ambassador's words that we will sleep well tonight with that moonstone? If we do, Alemaiden do you have any proper beds in this brewery? These trestle tables look uncomfortable beds if we can avoid them. It might be worthwhile saving Deimus's location as a future safe bolt hole." Carnadine is inclined to take the fey at their word and long rest here.
Deimus moves up to Raseri and asks her, curious: "I heard you. Why do you think you may be putting all at riszk?"
Hrungnir cut in, saying ”Haylcaster.” With the utmost seriousness. ”The fey had me coin, and were talking about Haylcaster before they went back to their plane. Carnadine, ye mentioned the name earlier, aye?”
"Do we believe the Hidden Ambassador's words that we will sleep well tonight with that moonstone? If we do, Alemaiden do you have any proper beds in this brewery? These trestle tables look uncomfortable beds if we can avoid them. It might be worthwhile saving Deimus's location as a future safe bolt hole." Carnadine is inclined to take the fey at their word and long rest here.
Kjeta shakes her head. "I have a small apartment upstairs, with a room for me and a smaller one for Brumdal. So far The Hero of the Hops is more brewery than Inn.
"If Deimus can keep us all together, that's best, since we may want the strength of numbers."
With a glance at Lexi, she thinks to herself, Even if some of us aren't terribly trustworthy ourselves...funny that I'm ending this say with more trust in a vampire's spawn than in her.
Glancing over at her sleeping acolyte, she adds, "And speaking of Brumdal, I'm going to help him up to his bed. It's at least a touch softer than this table."
She goes over and attempts to rouse Brumdal.
A gentle nudge does no good. A rougher nudge causes his eyes to flutter, and a smile of recognition "...there you are. The owl was making the racket of the damned so I took a nightcap..." he startles "Wait. *burp* Someone was here." he fishes around his vest pocket, producing a soft sack of coin. "Mackledrew sold the acquirements. Said there was more where that came from..."
"A pact made. Fate stolen," Raseri answers cryptically at Deimus' question. She looks off to the side, away from the fire and to the shadows. Fear flickers in her eyes for a moment before she sighs and looks down, wondering if she should just keep quiet or explain further. Perhaps Deimus wouldn't press the issue.
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"Tzk." replies Deimus, unconvinced. Then he uses the most powerful tool in his arsenal to make Raseri talk.
He did not say a word. He waited, watching Raseri, his own face a blank mask of dull brass.
Raseri can feel Deimus' gaze on her, and she turns a little away from him as she hunches her shoulders more and more.
"My memories are vague," she says after a long, uncomfortable silence. "I remember some things, but many of my memories are fleeting, just barely there for but a moment before they are gone again. I know things, but not how I know them. I know I made some deal with a silver-eyed fey, but I cannot tell you what the terms were. I know I was in the feywild, but all I remember is my fate being stolen."
She sighs, turning fully to the table and laying her arms and head atop it.
"I am unlucky. It is dangerous to have me around," she tells the others before burying her head more fully into her arms.
"Yes, Runemaster. The Thorsdottir, Alemaiden and I captured the Master-of-Roads, Haylcaster Montylgrue, of House Roren at the top of the city gates. He was the fey prisoner that the city somehow released from custody." Carnadine replies to the male dwarf.
"Well, if we are to depart for Deimus's lair, let's not delay anymore. I grow weary and suspect we will have to sneak about the city more."
"If the Watch is along the way, we should make contact with the Bastard. He most certainly would be an staunch ally."
Too tired to argue, Raseri puts the repaired, though still stained dress into her pack and finishes gathering her things. She leaves off her armor, knowing it was much quieter in her bag than it is while worn. She wraps up her weapons and the ones she liberated from the fey they'd fought on the battlements the night before, then throws a cloak over her shoulders and pulls the hood low over her head. She appears troubled as she follows the others to the door, her head bowed low and her eyes dark.
"Assuming you were all willing to get dirty, I have an idea on how we might be able to move about the city easier; specifically, the Cartways. They're less used than they used to be, and there are disused portions; we might be able to carve out a temporary base of operations in one."
At Raseri's confession that she is "bad luck", Lexi would move close to her and whisper in her ear
"You aren't that bad of luck. You're one of two people here who I actually like."
She then pats her on the head and pops outside for a quick recon.
"I'll be right back. I just want to check something out right fast." she said as she slid out the door and into the darkness.
To Raseri, Deimus, give a nod and says flatly: "Look at usz. We're all bad-luck magnets... I'm a Kobold; I know..."
As the others prepare, Deimus says: "Ok, let's try through the Cartways, but if we do, then we need to prepare for a fight, and dress accordingly. Who knows what lurks down there... Also, prepare your nose... The smells of the Cartways, and those of the Ghetto, are no doubt acquired tastes..."
When the group is ready, he moves to the middle. He won't lead as long as they are not in the Ghetto.
Kjeta stares blankly for a moment. Sneaking around in the Cartways? Sigh...I suppose The Thief knows best in such matters.
"Alright. Let me walk Brumdal to his room. I can be ready in a few minutes."
After shouldering him awkwardly into his room, Kjeta takes out a quill and leaves a note instructing him to leave the door locked for now, and to only allow in people he knows to be trustworthy--and promising to be back soon. She leaves it outside his door, together with his wages for the week.
"Must we use the Cartways? We were able to get here without problem. If we wave that invitation to the Hidden Ambassador, I bet we can talk our way of fey hassle." Carnadine asks hoping not to travel the sewers. oh, the aroma!
Raseri lifts her head enough to whisper back to Lexi.
"Bad luck would mean I had some luck, some fate. I am fateless. I am unlucky. I do feel honored that I have your favor, though, Lady Shadow."
A ghost of a smile curls the corner of the Northlander's lips, but hearing that she would need to wear armor if they were to go into the cartways banishes it and brings back her uncertainty as she looks up.
"Then I fear I should either go a different way or not at all," she tells the others, "My armor is too noisy to make moving about silently easy, and I am not the most graceful at the best of times. The nightwalking will go poorly if I go with you while wearing it."
She looks down, away from the other's eyes.
"It may go poorly with me along no matter what."
Lexi, you know the Watch prohibits exploration of the Cartways and has sealed most of the entrances throughout the city since the Revolt. You remember Zokhan once mentioned them as a possible discrete transport however, with tanneries and alchemists still using the uppermost levels for waste.
So, with that lead you find a tannery nearby, its occupants asleep inside. The patrols outside seem irregular, or at least you can not casually deduce a pattern. Sure enough in the working space back behind the main drying shacks, you turn up an unsealed but locked grate. There near the sgraffio boards where leathers are intricately cut, the strong smell of horn core poultice and potash alum slowly seep down in the dark.
Picking the lock is a nasty business, the bases corroding the key cylinder which is equally clogged with bits of animal remains pouring over it for weeks. Its a nose holding job, but tedious more than a challenge of dexterity and in time you have it open.
A 6 ft 45 degree chute leads into a walk-able tunnel which ends abruptly in a sealed brick and mortar wall with only smaller ways for liquid waste at its base. The brick seems much more recent than the surrounding tunnel. Demolition seems necessary. A crowbar, sledge or explosive spell would be required to break through and explore further.
On the topic of the Cartways, Deimus knows from his background the area beneath the borders to the Kobold Ghetto are heavily trapped...something of an experimental zoo for traps, indeed. Still, it might be preferred to simply walking the party through the gates. Hrungnir alone was enough to cause a chaotic bustle...a full party would be even more noticeable.
Lexi returns to the brewery and says "Well, it's not impossible, but it would take some work to get in. We would have to knock down a wall, which is doable."
"Anyone have any other suggestions?"
"Yes, I've a suggestion. Since there are not enough beds here, and we seem unable to traverse the city to the lair of Deimus, you are welcome to bunk at my apartment. Either way, I am leaving toward a bed. Mine or at Deimus's. I'm certainly not knocking down a wall to climb through the sewers."
"And for those not leaving toward one of the civilized locations, I bid you good night. For it is beyond late, and even vampires must rest." Carnadine has finally had enough of the indecision. His body verges on exhaustion and needs to recharge.
Deimus feels the tension build up: "Yes, yes, yesz. Let's just pause for a moment. Can we not simply use the streets and, as Carnadine mentions, use our Fey and Council credentials to deal with issues, should our travel be challenged? I'm not saying we should be overt about it, no, we should be like ghosts and remain unseen, if at all possible. But that if trouble arises, that we should use diplomacy and bureaucracy to our advantage...."
”Aye. Deimus has the right of it. Nay need to sneak around it nay needed. Especially, as has been noted, armor such as this does not lead to quiet footsteps.”
Lexi just stared agape at the people here, then sighed and said "Well, good luck getting home. I'll miss you when you're gone."
Kjeta scratches her head. "Yeah, busting down walls and navigating trap-farms doesn't sound like the kind of night I need tonight. No thanks.
"It's humble, but if yall have bedrolls you're welcome to lay'm out here. I've got one I can lend, and some extra pillows that could probably accommodate at least one more o' ya. Otherwise, I recommend we follow Carnadine's advice and walk carefully above-ground, with papers to help us if needed."
And pray to Ninkash that walking safely through our city becomes something we can start to take for granted again...
You all sleep the sleep of the dead. In the morning, you notice the moonstone has lost its luster. At the slightest touch, it crumbles to a fine powder...
Deimus collapses like the others, but just rests sitting oddly in a corner, like a toy a child threw against a wall and abandoned.
In the morning, he stares curious at the moonstone: "I've heard tales of thesze. It's worked and taken our sleep, like a charged wand. The powder will put to sleep the strongeszt of foes. Well, most foes... Someone should keep the dust, just don't breathe it."
He paces a moment. If it were his shop, he would have the espresso machine up and running, but in a brewery...
"Right. Where to? If suggest our priority should be the Ambassador, yes?"
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Despite the good night's sleep, Raseri wakes troubled. Her experience from the day before had badly shaken her and she could not forget the dream she'd had after being rendered unconscious the first time in that horrible fight. Silver eyes had long haunted her dreams, but in this one, the eyes had been her own. She wondered who she could ask about it. Kjeta and Deimus would not understand, and Hrungnir would just as likely kill her as laugh at her for thinking herself a fey. Lexi probably couldn't tell her what she wanted to know, and only left Carnadine.
A dangerous one he is, but if he is most likely to know...
She goes to find the dhampir, hoping that he is alone.
"Carnadine," a soft, melodic voice with a northlander's lyrical accent asks. The voice, as it turns out, belongs to Raseri, looking just as young as ever, but far more uncertain and troubled than Carnadine had ever seen her with her hair falling in disarray over her shoulders and in front of her face.
"I have heard rumors about the blood drinkers and their children," she continues once she has his attention, "Some say they can tell what someone's heritage is just by the taste of their blood. Is this true," she asks, not able to face him as she does so. Whether this is out of shame or fear is hard to say.
[dice=Arcana]1d20+1
Deimus collapses like the others, but just rests sitting oddly in a corner, like a toy a child threw against a wall and abandoned.
In the morning, he stares curious at the moonstone: "I've heard tales of thesze. It's worked and taken our sleep, like a charged wand. The powder will put to sleep the strongeszt of foes. Well, most foes... Someone should keep the dust, just don't breathe it."
He paces a moment. If it were his shop, he would have the espresso machine up and running, but in a brewery...
"Right. Where to? If suggest our priority should be the Ambassador, yes?"
"If the dust is dangerous to those that breath, then perhaps one that does not breath should carry it. Kobolds are cunning folk, so I have no doubts that you will make good use of it, Drakken. And if they are fey of the shadows, then would they not prefer the night," Raseri asks, "I am more worried about the death-singer. He will continue to sow chaos and reap others' lives unless someone stops him."
"Agreed. Just make sure not to use it near us."
At Raseri's comment, Lexi says "I'm more worried about the council. If they've cut a deal with the Fey, they might have decided to offer us up on a platter to the Fey in exchange for their own benefit. I don't think any of us should be sticking around anyplace we're well known for. I'd say we should split up, but that has it's own inherent risks."
Taking a deep breath and exhaling, Lexi says "Any of you who wants to go talk to this ambassador are more than welcome to, but I'm not interested in walking into a trap on enemy turf."
After saying that Lexi seems to deflate a bit, becoming less the badass assassin and more the 16 year old girl in wayyy over her head that she might be and says "I have no idea what to do next, but I know we can't stay here, or any place any of us are known for. When they come for us, it won't end well, and let me assure you that you do not want to be taken into the Shadow Realm if you can avoid it. If one of them starts to take me, do not hesitate to kill me; the alternative is infinitely worse."
"Does not sound much different from the Rey Realms," Raseri observes. "If we wish to hide, the best place would be in a crowded tavern. I've had to disappear a time or two like that," she adds.
"Of course, we may be wiser to leave."