Red-Jack's page

Jack nods towards Tarial, then once again stands up from his seat.

"I believe I have some.. unfinished buisness to attend to. I will leave you to.. whatever it is you're set to do. I am weary and I believe it is time for me to retire. If you have any more questions - I'll be down in the main room in the morning."

Red-Jack places his right hand on his chest, takes half a bow and leaves the room. He proceeds down the stairway, walks over to the bar and pays his tab. He spots the half-orcs, then pulls out a chair and takes a seat with them.

You're free to discuss what to do next and go through what you've gathered and what not. Let me know when you'd like to retire to your rooms - Rythari has arranged for your lodging by the time you want to rest; seeing as you told Red-Jack about his tab. If you wish to speak to any of the patrons in the main room, you are free to do so as well.

Red-Jack tries to keep up with the bombardment of questions hammering down upon him. You notice how he's struggling to stay awake - but he manages, and sighs heavily.

"A group of sell-swords were talking about a Kyton? After our little.. seance, I will have to speak with them myself. Perhaps.."

He ponders for a moment, then shakes his head and points at Keilaan.

"Clever girl, scarred one. As I was saying; Ihren used to be one of the most prominent members in the largest Thieves' Guild in Door. As far as I know, something happened once the Plague struck the Innards, and the guilds' been causing a lot of trouble for the Trims on the outside ever since."

He quickly retrieves some parchment and a pencil from his belt pouch, and begins drawing what resembles a map.

"You see, the Innards is a walled-in district - inhabited by those afflicted with the Plague, the thieves guild and the cloister of shapeless shadows. Oh, and the pleasing plane tavern, great place for getting your teeth knocked in! Anyway. Everyone who ever knew Ihren, knows that she's a tactical genius, a skilled thief and a kind-hearted soul - but rumor has it, not anymore. She's been hitting the other gangs as well as Trims outside her walls - and she's taken control of the whole district now. With eyes and ears all over the city, how could she not know about the plague."

He leaves the piece of parchment on the table, then rises once more from his chair, wearily - and rests his back on the wall near the window with both arms folded over his chest.

"A drink would be magnificent, my dear. I will be speaking with the half-orcs myself, before long. As to how and what you should do with Ihren once and if you find her, I cannot tell you - as I never knew her, I know of her. I have drawn you a map, and answered your questions - it is up to you, how you decide to solve this little, puzzle box of yours." He grins broadly.

"The eastern gate would be the closest one to the tavern, though I do not suggest entry by night. The mention of Crall's name should be enough to get you inside."

Yes, I cannot draw for the life of me.
Red-Jacks Drawing

Jack's smile turns to a grin as he leans over towards the dwarf, the light flickering across his face.

"Ihren Taldrisair would know, what with her guild being the biggest in the city and all. Her district got hit the worst, or so I hear."

He takes a few moments to collect his thoughts, as his fatigue is clearly creeping in in him.

"Now you didn't hear anything from me, but she's bunkered up real nice at the Innards, though you might find yourselves stepping on a few toes if you head up there. I'd watch my back real careful-like if you do go out looking for her, that place is crawling with cutpurses and what-not."

He resumes his posture and heads back to his seat.

Jack bides his time until Keilaantara has said her piece, listening intently to her words. He bites his lip several times during her dialogue - most prominently when she mentions Crall.

He leans forward in his chair, his left hand resting on his thigh.

"You're all working for Crall, are you? Hrmph. Good man, though somewhat.. Stubborn.. But I degress. That particular puzzle box is known throughout the planes as Tildrin's box of puzzles, usually trapped with meager spells - not like the one this was trapped with. Word reached my ear that Harken, one of the.. cruder slavers in Door, had one of these boxes for trade - but it would seem that I have been duped. You see, I have been tracking a murderer - a Kyton, through several planes - and I believe he is hiding somewhere near Door. These boxes usually contain powerful scrying scrolls, perfect for finding those whom wish not to be found. Alas, it would seem that someone did not approve of my.. Curiosity.. on the matter.."

Jack pushes himself slowly away from the table, rises from his seat and walks back and forth while scratching his chin.

"As for the Plague, well.. I don't rightfully know too much about it. Sure, I pick up a few things here and there - but as for this particular conundrum, I am quite blank."

He halts in his path, lowers his arms - a smile manifesting itself on his face.

"But I might know someone that would."

Jack nods and takes the lead, already climbing the stairway as Ladder pays for the privacy. Upon reaching the second floor, Jack leads the group towards the western edge of the balcony surveying the lower level, through a door - into a well-lit dining room. The floor is carpetted, red with golden markings - and in the middle rests a large table with accompanied chairs, well crafted and of good quality all.

The room produces its own lightsource, a candlestick senterpieced upon the diningtable, though light from the chandelier outside sneaks inside; through large glass windows aligned on the southern and eastern walls.

Jack takes a seat at the end of the table, directly opposite of the doorway leading into the room, his back towards a window leading out into the darkness. The flickering light in front of him dances across his red skin, portraying him more like a devil than a man.

"Very well then, travelers - this room should suit your needs for privacy, I am sure. But before I answer any of your questions, then perhaps you could sate my curiousity and answer the one I asked you first." His tone is calm, collected and precise - generously accompaning his hand gestures and soft yet cunning smirk.

Barely noticing Marcus approaching, Red-Jack's eyes stay locked on the puzzlebox he's holding in both hands while he mutters: "Hmm..? Yes, yes - go ahead." You notice how he seems to be struggling with the item, spending long periods of time in silence before he twists the interlocking plates decked across the square container carefully. His hands are somewhat shaking, and it is apparent that the man has been deprived of sleep for days.