Adventure Log, Session 28: Almë Gets Visited By Some Old "Friends"

General Summary

It was about midafternoon when the group left Hearavgizan. There had been a short discussion about whether to take the day-long overland route, or to just take a few hours and use a boat to go downstream to Port Karn. Almë nixed that idea fairly quickly, since he got motion sickness pretty badly. He and boats did not mix well.

Almë was still suffering from the injuries he had sustained when he broke into the healer’s house and caught an Ice Dagger in the chest. After suffering all day through his belly-aching and complaining about how much pain he was in, Elitheris finally said, “I’ll heal you up a bit.” Taid had already healed Almë for what he could earlier in the day, so he couldn’t do much more for him. After Elitheris had worked her magic on him, he felt much better. Not completely healed, but pretty close. Now the wound on his chest merely itched a bit. Most likely, by morning, he’d be fine.


As they were going to go the overland route, and there were only a few hours left, they started the journey expecting to stop in Donnington for the night. They knew the inn there, and they hoped they wouldn’t be recognized. While they hadn’t done anything too terrible in town, Lennerd might be on the lookout for them, and they didn’t want to have to deal with him. Plus, they didn’t know what kind of rumors had been spread around town by Daryl and Renora, the parents of Lucia, the little girl Lennerd had turned into a zombie. It was entirely possible that they had been blamed for the misfortunes of the town, just because they were the messengers.


They struck out from Hearavgizan in the midafternoon. It was a hot, clear day, but a bit lower in relative humidity than the days they spent in Isleton. So it was uncomfortable, but nothing they weren’t used to. They half-expected to get accosted by bandits or griffons during their trip, despite it being on “civilized” roads that wound their way through tilled farmlands and orchards, so they kept their armor on. However, those who could unlaced or unbuckled their gambesons for increased airflow and cooling. Taid and Eykit, however, had to stop to rest every now and again to prevent heatstroke. Neither was willing to doff their outer layers of armor. Elitheris removed Mr. Wiggles’ armor, however, since he was more susceptible to heat stroke and dehydration, and wouldn’t be able to tell anyone he needed a drink.


It slowed them down, but they weren’t in any big hurry anyway. The walk was scenic, and gave them plenty to look at. It was especially nice not to have to worry overmuch about something trying to kill them. They saw lots of farmworkers in the fields, mostly harvesting, since it was the harvest season, although they did see several pulling weeds in the fields that were not quite ready to be picked yet. They also saw farmers’ wagons, laden with picked crops and bales of hay making their way toward the markets in Hearavgizan.


They also saw a mass of khaki and green uniforms, surrounded by dust. “Army units, doing road work,” Taid said. “I did quite a bit of that during my time in the army.”


“Me too,” Almë said. “They had me excavating road beds too. And when I couldn’t cast any more, I got to rake sand.”


“Oh, you had it easy then. Try laying the stones or bricks. My hands could barely hold my halberd, let alone anything smaller.”


Occasionally, high above, circling raptors could be seen, both the standard variety hawks and eagles, and the occasional sky folk.


By sunset, they came over a low ridge and saw Donnington before them. They made their way to the inn they had stayed at an eightday before.

But no one at the inn seemed to recognize them, or no one cared to make a fuss, and they got a good night’s sleep in fairly comfortable beds. That night, Almë examined the toys that he had purchased from Nathan. He’d been too busy to do it before, but now he had some down time to really take a good look at them.


They were, of course, wood. Well-crafted, sanded smooth, and painted or varnished, depending upon the wood, the subject, and the needs of the toy itself. The first was an articulated unicorn, very similar to the horses the two kids were playing with in the tavern the first day they had arrived in Isleton. He posed it in various ways, and made it prance in the air in front of him before setting it down on the side table in their room. The next two he pulled out were toy soldiers, Tondene marines, based upon the blue wood stain of their uniforms. They are armed with the hooked spear, and their arms pivoted at the shoulder, and their legs at the hip. Their heads could also turn left and right. He stood the two soldiers on the table as well, one flanking each side of the unicorn.


He pulled out the next toy, a two-wheeled farmer’s cart. It was the simplest, an open box with an axle, two wheels, and a pair of lead poles that the horse would be attached to in order to pull the cart. The wheels could rotate, and the rear gate was hinged via pins in the lower corners of the gate. Almë wondered if Nathan had ever planned to make a farmer or a horse for it, or even some carved wooden produce to put in the back. The unicorn seemed to be made to the same scale, so he placed the cart such that the unicorn stood between the leads.


The next toy was a dhow, with a cloth lateen sail that could rotate around the mast. There were strings that could be tied to various small pegs around the deck of the boat, and the rudder could move, albeit stiffly. It was likely that the rudder movement was stiff so that it would stay in place while the boat floated in the bath.


The last one was an articulated puma, finished in glossy black paint. It was built in similar ways as the horses and unicorn, but it was feline instead of equine. Its lower jaw could open and close, and its limbs were posable. He set that one on the table as well, and he looked over his collection.


They were beautifully made. And it still amazed him that Nathan just gave these things to the town’s children. They were works of art, and likely worth a lot more than what he paid for them. He suspected that Nathan had wanted to get rid of him, and selling him the toys for much cheaper than they were worth was likely the way he did it.


The next morning, they headed out to finish the journey back to Port Karn. They had all gotten a good night’s sleep. Even Almë, who usually seemed to wake up screaming in the middle of the night. This night, however, he had somehow managed to sleep quietly.


The morning was crisp, a welcome relief from the oppressive heat of the day before, although it didn’t last much past dawn. But they enjoyed it while they could before the temperatures rose to the usual, uncomfortable levels.


They arrived shortly after midday, sweaty, hot, and tired, and they made their way to the territory controlled by the New Square Skulls. They felt reasonably safe there, and they knew where a good inn was, that wasn’t too expensive. Eykit also needed to check in with his guild bosses, to fill them in on what had been going on. He didn’t mention too much about the connection to the Shards; he and the others were a little reticent still to discuss that aspect of the situation. Plus, much of it was speculation, and they still weren’t sure how much to trust Nathan, or even if Nathan was right about the Shards.


They settled in. They could have stopped at Vesten Manor, but they didn’t know its current disposition. It had been several days, and they had no clue if Eykit’s guild master, who had told them he would see what he could do, had managed to resolve the issue. There had been talk of him trying to get them an audience with Baroness Walters, who, if they managed to hold onto the manor, would be their liege lady. But, so far, Baroness Walters had been too busy to want to see them. Or so her staff said.


The other question that had been filtering into the backs of their minds was “should we talk to any authorities about the necromancer activity?” After some spirited debate, they decided that they would keep that information to themselves for a while. Besides, who would they tell? The City Guard? That would only draw their attention to Eykit, who had something of a history with them, and the less he saw of the City Guard, the better, as far as he was concerned. There was the real possibility that he would be arrested and held in prison. He was, after all, a member of the criminal underground, no matter what the stated and public reputation of the New Square Skulls was.


While Toren Ghent and his underlings tried really hard to shape the public’s perception of them, that could only take them so far. There was no getting around the fact that the City Guard figured that all of the thieves’ guilds were criminals, regardless of how much actual crime was being committed. And, to be sure, crimes were being committed.


They went to a tavern, both to get some drinks and to discuss how they wanted to approach Eykit’s associates with what information they had so far. Almë opened up about his wife, telling Taid, Eykit, and Elitheris what had happened. He related how he had burst into their house after hearing his wife cry out, and immediately getting clubbed unconscious. When he awoke in a pool of blood with a nasty scalp wound, his wife lay dead. He pointedly didn’t tell them about how she died. Or, more accurately, his mind just didn’t go there. It never did, except in nightmares.


He further explained that he didn’t know who the people were, only that there were two that he saw for a moment, before the third one knocked him unconscious. There may have been more, but he only saw two, plus the one that he assumed had been behind him. He suspected that it had something to do with some magical research Viryalassë had been working on. He didn’t truly understand the research, only that it was some combinatorial variant of Essential Earth and Plant Growth, with the express goal of making the plants less susceptible to fire.


As a result of these horrific events, he didn’t trust mage guilds, mainly because he had no idea which mage guild was responsible for the killing of his wife. He suspects that they tried to kill him too, but didn’t realize that he was still alive. So, if he anything to say about it, he wasn’t interested in telling any mage guilds anything.


“I also suspect,” Almë continued, “that it might have something to do with Shards. Viryalassë and I didn’t have any, although others in Nendo Lantasirë had a few, here and there. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time.” He paused, in thought. “You know, there did seem to be an increased amount of travel, mostly those with Shards. Which makes sense, given that Nendo Lantasirë was rather small, and there were never any Shardmeets there.”


He wanted to convince his companions that it might be very dangerous to spread the new information they had about the Shards to just anyone; his wife died, and he almost died. Almë knew that it was unlikely that the Shards had anything to do with his wife’s death, but it was a useful argument for him to make, even if he was stretching the truth like taffy on a warm day. It would be better if they kept it a secret, at least for the short term.


They had also heard, as they entered Port Karn, that there were rumors that the Tondene Empire was gearing up for war. There was nothing definite, and nothing specific, only that it seemed as if recruitment was increasing, and materials and supplies were being stockpiled.


“Yeah, but the Army does that all the time,” Taid said, after he had heard the rumors. “The Army is always planning ahead, and stockpiling gear and foodstuffs in case there is trouble. So far, we haven’t heard any rumors of any specific trouble. No one is attacking our borders, and if we had attacked anyone else’s borders, I’m certain we’d have heard about it. Nothing travels faster than gossip!”


The worst case scenario was that the Empire was in an expansionistic mode. Again. They were likely due for another round of conquering smaller nations; it had been hundreds of years since the Empire had flexed its prodigious muscles. If things were heading towards war, that would mean that the nobility would call in their bannermen, and start raising peasant levies. Which meant that people of fighting age might get drafted into the levies. Which was all of them, they realized.


Were it to come to that, Taid would likely start as a low ranking officer, based upon his former service and the fact that he had retired as a sou-tethys, and even Almë might end up in a position of leadership. Although as a plant mage, he would likely be relegated to defense works. Elitheris would end up in the infantry as an archer, and Eykit would likely be in the front lines. Unless he got lucky, and they officers recognized his stealth skills and made him a scout.


But none of them wanted anything to do with the Army. They had no interest in invading any other nation. The thought that some other nation might invade the Empire, and they might be called on to defend it, was too ridiculous to contemplate. The Empire was too big and powerful for that to happen.


“What about the repairs to Almë Manor?” Almë asked. “And we need to find an alchemist for the lab.”


“We’ll need to find people to fix up the place,” Taid said. “Best I can do is maybe manage some minor blacksmithing work. Like nails, or gate hinges or the occasional bracket. And I wouldn’t be very quick at it. I’m a jeweler, and while the skills may be similar, the scale is and focus is completely different. And we don’t even have the rights to do that yet. We don’t own it, or have formal permission to use it.”


“We will need some construction specialists,” Eykit said. “Isn’t it just falling into disrepair? Wouldn’t it just be better if it were occupied and taken care of by people that cared about it? I’m just saying that it would be an advantage to all for us to be there? Right?”


They would need to survey the manor and figure out what parts of it was in disrepair. They had the ability to to that, even if they lacked the skills to do the repairs themselves.


But first Almë wanted to find an alchemist. They were planning to rent the lab out week to week, despite the fact that most alchemy took weeks to brew. He figured that $500/month would be fair, plus another $250 deposit for insurance against accidents.


The group knew that there was a lot of work that needed to be done on the house, so they decided that the money from the alchemist’s rent payments would be dropped into a house repair fund.


“So,” Elitheris said, “I think one of the first things we are going to need is a butler or seneschal to oversee the house.”


Almë was fixated on the alchemist. “Where can we find an alchemist? Where can we advertise that we have a lab? Does anyone know somebody? Eykit, does your guild have any alchemists on staff?”


Elitheris rolled her eyes. She knew that if they found a seneschal first, they could offload all of this minutiae to them, and let them take care of it. But no one was really listening. The alchemist was all they were thinking about.


“Not specifically as part of the guild, no,” Eykit replied. “But there is an alchemist in our territory. Pays pretty well to prevent theft and arson, too.”


“We should go there first, I guess,” Almë said. “We want someone we know a little bit because that lab is expensive, and we should have some leverage on them. And Eykit can do the bargaining.”


They went to the alchemist’s shop, which was only a few blocks away, and had a sign that showed a mortar and pestle. The door had a bell, which jangled when the door opened. Like most alchemists’ shops, the front was basically a counter that kept the customers in the front of the shop. His lab was presumably in the back.


A Human came out, wearing a stained apron, wiping his hands on a rag, which he stuffed into a pocket of his apron. The man’s name was Ekain Julen, and he was a dark-skinned, blue-eyed man of about forty, with greying hair at his temples. He wore spectacles. “Yes?” he asked. Then he saw Eykit, recognized him, and got a pleading look on his face. “Hey! My payment isn’t due for another two eightdays!” He seemed irritated.


Eykit was quick to put him at ease. “No, no, you’re fine. This isn’t about that. This is much, much better!”


The alchemist got a disbelieving look in his eyes. Eykit continued, “No, really! We have an opportunity for you.”


The man seemed wary. It wasn’t like the New Square Skulls to offer opportunities without some major obligations. He finally said, “Okay, what opportunity?”


“The best alchemy lab in Port Karn. And you could run it.”


Now he was really wary. There was no way a working man like him could get this kind of luck. But, if it were real….His lab was adequate to his needs, but there was always some piece of equipment or special ingredient that he needed by didn’t have. “Go on,” he prompted.


“The lab is top of the line, with two elixir brewing stations, furnace, ventilated hood, and disposal drains. Beautiful glassware of kinds that can only confuse me. Beakers and tubes of the highest, clearest quality. It’s also discreetly located, just outside of town. Very private.” As in, ‘hidden in a basement behind a secret door private’.


This was actually intriguing to Ekain. “Okay,” he said, still not believing that this could be real. “I’m interested, but I’ll need to see it first. And how much is the rent?”


“$500 per month, plus $250 deposit.” AlmëAlmë said. “We can meet you later today and show you the lab.”


“I close up shop at the twelfth bell. Just before sunset.” Each settlement had a bell tower that tolled the time. The bell wasn’t actually a bell with a clapper, but a tubular bell that was struck with a mallet on the hour, every hour. The first signal was a quick code for which sixth of the day it was, followed by the hour of that sixth, from one to four. Twelfth bell, sunset, was the last hour of the third sixth. Three quick strikes, followed by four slow, measured ones. “Where is this place?”


“It’s a manor just south of town. Formerly called Vesten Manor.” He gave some more specific directions. Ekain indicated that he seemed to think he had a good idea of how to get there.


There were still several hours before they could meet with the alchemist at the Manor. Almë wanted to sell the toys.


"There is a trader's market not to far from here," Eykit offered as they walked away from the alchemist's shop. "Up this street, second street on the right. Then about a block."


Almë wanted to let Eykit do the talking and bargaining. He wanted to sell all of the items except for the cart, which was the simplest, plainest toy. It was also the toy that was most related to their recent adventure, so Almë wanted to hold onto that one, for sentimental reasons.


He took the cart out of the bag, then handed the bag to the Goblin. They continued up the street, following Eykit’s directions to the market. The street was relatively crowded, the usual state during daylight hours as people went about their business. The buildings on either side were primarily multifamily residences; apartments, flats, and tenements, all three or four stories tall. Street vendors had set up their braziers and were selling all kinds of food, and the spicy, aromatic smells from grilled meats and vegetables struggled to balance out the less pleasant smells of living bodies, garbage, and waste. The organic smell of the river to the north was only a small part of the melange that suffused the city in the heat of summer. It was loud; there was the general hubbub of dozens of voices, the hawking of wares by the street vendors, and the occasional happy shrieks of playing children.


Up ahead, Elitheris noticed a pair of city guardsmen, dressed in quartered blue and cream uniforms, walking toward them, doing their standard patrol. Knowing Eykit’s issues with the City Guard, she warned him that they were coming. He was short, so he wasn’t able to see them yet, which also meant that they couldn’t see him either. They wove through the crowded street with authority, and people moved out of their way. They scanned the crowd as they pushed their way through, looking for troublemakers.


For the most part, the City Guard didn’t really do policing. They were there mostly to make sure that there weren’t any riots or violent crimes being perpetrated. It was more about security, rather than punishing criminals. Most of that work was done by the citizen protection groups that, for various historical reasons, were called “thieves’ guilds”. Members of those groups didn’t have uniforms, although they would often have some sigil or sign on their persons to show who they were. Eykit could see them here and there, mostly enforcers, keeping an eye on the people passing back and forth on the street. But while they might be able to provide a distraction, they wouldn’t really interfere with the City Guard. That would only make the City Guard aware of them, and cause problems in the future.


Eykit stepped behind Taid, using him as a body shield to avoid the City Guardsmen’s sight. He didn’t want to do anything obvious that would draw their attention. They passed by, and didn’t seem to notice the thief, but the majority of their attention seemed to be on something across the street, likely involving sudden loud voices, but whatever argument was brewing didn’t make the two guardsmen change their path. They didn’t even bother Taid, who was walking around with his halberd, which caused most people to avert their eyes and scurry past him as quickly as they could. They wanted no part in whatever trouble he was bringing.


As the four of them passed by an alleyway, Almë was suddenly enveloped by a net, the strong ropes entangling his limbs. Then he was jerked away with a surprised scream, into the alley, thrown to the ground by a large, muscular Orc.


The alley was about three meters wide, with a pile of large bricks stacked up alongside the wall. Beyond the bricks were three stacked crates, and a doorway, inset in the stone wall of the building. Further down was a sewer grate, and judging from the smell, it was the spot where the residents dumped their chamberpots. Opposite the pile of bricks was a large open wooden crate, which was used as a trash receptacle. The buildings on both sides of the alley were three story apartment buildings, made of stone, with tile roofs. Each building had narrow balconies on each floor, connected by ladders.


The first thing that Almë noticed when he slammed into the cobblestoned ground was that the stones were sticky. His body, both legs and one arm were stuck to the ground, unable to move.


Elitheris, Taid, and Eykit saw two people who seemed to be the threats: the hulking Orc, standing at the corner of the alley and the street, and a Dwarf, who stood on the far side of Almë, near the stack of bricks. Mr. Wiggles started barking.


Eykit didn’t recognize either the Orc or the Dwarf. He really wasn’t sure if he really wanted to get involved.


The Orc pulled out a short sword and a dagger, and he wore a green and black brigandine over his brown gambeson. Brigandine pauldrons and sleeves protected his arms and shoulders as well. He wore a legionary helmet on his head, the nasal and cheekpieces protecting most of his face.


The Dwarf wore a breastplate over his gambeson, and had a stone in his left hand, and a throwing axe in the other. A legionary helm sat on his head.


Taid surmised the Dwarf held a powerstone, although the rock looked like a simple river rock, rather than the usual gemstone.


Eykit stood, gaping. He looked around, but so far, none of the passersby had really noticed what had happened. The two City Guards were somewhere down the street, invisible to the short Goblin.


Almë struggled to get up, but he couldn’t. He tried to get his dagger, but it was on the other side of his body, and it was awkward. Then he felt a pain in his right leg. It stung, in an unexpected way that Almë would not have expected from the arrow which now protruded from his calf, quivering. His gambeson leggings had blunted the force of the arrow. But there was something odd about that stinging….


Elitheris saw the arrow slam into Almë’s leg, shot from somewhere above their position, likely the roof. She knew she couldn’t see him or target him from where she was, so she leapt forward, doing a series of forward handsprings until she reached the opposite corner of the alley. As her body rotated, she could see a glint of metal on the alley wall, but it was too quick to really register what it was. She pressed her back up against the wall, letting the corner provide cover as she readied her bow.


On the way past, she glanced into the alley to get a sense of what was in there and where. She saw the Orc, against the corner where she had just been standing, the Dwarf by the bricks, and Almë, who was struggling to get up but seemed somehow stuck to the ground. She also saw a Hobbit on the roof, armed with a bow.


The barking Mr. Wiggles stood his ground, unsure as to what was going on. He tilted his head up at Elitheris as she flipped past, but he got no immediate direction from her.


Taid figured that there might be another, invisible opponent. He sidestepped, away from the Orc, back against the wall and using the corner as cover. He started casting the Flash spell.


The Orc stepped out from the corner, turning to face Eykit, Taid, and Mr. Wiggles. “This doesn’t concern you! You can go!”


The Dwarf crushed the rock in his hand, sand and dust running from between his fingers, the lighter dust being blown back by the breeze channeled between the two buildings to either side. He flicked his other hand, and a brick shivered, wiggled, and launched itself at Almë. The ashlar brick slammed into Almë’s free hand, bruising and scraping it. He tossed the axe at Almë, but it was a bad throw, and missed the Elf by a couple of inches, adhering to the cobblestones.


Eykit was wondering what the hell Almë did that would make a bunch of people ambush him. He certainly seemed to be the target of this altercation. Almë had told them about a mage guild, but these guys, with the exception of the Dwarf, didn’t seem to be mages. The problem was that Almë didn’t know which mage guild it was, making it hard to prepare and defend against attacks.


He noticed a glint on the wall, and he saw a mirror attached to the wall. Mages could use mirrors for things, right? He contemplated throwing a knife at it to break it, but figured its small size would make it too hard to hit. He was in sword range of the Orc, which didn’t seem very safe, so he backed up into the street, putting some extra distance between himself and the large, burly Orc. He figured that the Orc would think he was following the Orc’s suggestion and leaving.


Almë managed to reach his dagger, and pulled it out of its sheath. He tried again to see if he could pull up his hand, but he was unable to do it. The thought of the Shape Earth spell went through his head, but he couldn’t think of how it could help him.


The Hobbit on the roof, one leg wrapped around a vent stack to hold him in place, drew an arrow and fitted it to his bow string.


Elitheris pointed at the Dwarf, “Sic ‘im!” she said to Mr. Wiggles. He took off, running at the Dwarf. He made it about a meter into the alley before he got stuck just like Almë was. He whimpered in fear, unable to move or lift his legs.


The Elven huntress readied her bow. Taid continued casting his Flash spell, his fingers waggling an twisting and intoning the magic words that helped to shape the magical energies into something useful.


The Orc attacked Taid, but he shifted Maggie just enough to deflect the sword with casual ease. He made the parry look effortless, and it didn’t interfere with his casting at all. The Orc began to have second thoughts. Oh shit, he thought, this guy is really, really good!


The Dwarf in the alley reached into a pocket, and pulled out another stone.


Eykit gathered his courage, assessing the tactical situation. He couldn’t see the Hobbit on the roof, but he knew he was up there. The Orc had just attacked Taid, but his friend parried it so easily that the Orc looked like an amateur. But the Orc only had gambeson on his lower body, and Eykit was conveniently short. It was time to shove his rondel dagger into the Orc’s junk. Eykit put his off hand on the pommel of his rondel, ready to fully sink the blade into the Orc’s flesh. With a yell of defiance, the blade slid into the target, the Orc’s eyes going wide in surprise and pain, and not a little fear. Blood welled up, soaking the crotch of the layered linen garment. The Orc’s vision was obscured by pain, tears, and shock.


Almë, his dagger in his hand, sawed at the ropes of the net, the sharp blade slicing through a couple of the tough strings. “Leave one alive!” he shouted. He wanted to question them after he freed himself and they averted the ambush. Which of course they would do. He had almost as much confidence in his friends that he did in himself.


The Hobbit on the roof aimed at Almë, sighting down the length of the arrow.


Elitheris saw the Hobbit sighting at Almë, thought that that wasn’t such a great idea, and fast-drew an arrow, nocked it, and loosed all in one smooth motion. Her arrow flew true, slicing through the three stories worth of air, burying itself into the sniper’s right arm. The arrow wound weakened the arm, which had been pulling back the bowstring, and the sniper slackened the draw. His shot had been ruined; he’d need to pull the bow back all over again.


Mr. Wiggles, still stuck, barked and whimpered alternately, not really sure what the best reaction would be to his current situation. He just didn’t understand what was going on, and kept trying ineffectually to raise his feet off the ground. But they were trapped.


Taid finished casting, and the Flash went off, the bright light causing the Orc to see spots that obstructed his vision. He couldn’t be sure if the Dwarf had been affected or not. Eykit and Elitheris, fortunately, blinked at the right time, so the Flash didn’t affect them. Using the Flash as a distraction, he aimed Maggie’s spike at the wounded Orc’s neck.


The Orc stepped back, but he wasn’t fast enough, and the spike plunged into his neck at an upward angle. Blood flowed, and the Orc stumbled against the wall of the apartment building. But there was no escaping Maggie’s range.


The Dwarf crushed the rock in his hand, and again launched a huge stone brick at Almë. Almë attempted to block it with his dagger, deciding that a strike to the hand was better than one to his head, especially where large bricks were concerned. He was successful, but the heavy brick slammed into the hand, wounding it instead of his head. It was worth it.


Almë managed to hold onto his knife, although he almost dropped it, his fingers crushed between the stone and the grip.


By now, the crowds of people had noticed that there was something happening in the alley, and they started to shout. Most of it was “What’s happening?” or “Can you see what’s going on?”, although a few started to call for the City Guard.


Eykit rushed into close combat with the staggering Orc. He did his impression of an angry woodpecker, stabbing into the Orc multiple times. The first two strikes skittered off the brigandine, but Eykit compensated and he stabbed into the Orc’s boot. He was pleased to feel the blade plunge through the leather and into bony flesh.


Almë, shaking his damaged hand to lessen the pain, cut another string of the net. He noticed that his left arm nearly had free movement from the cutting of the net. Things were improving….


The Hobbit loosed a snap shot; he was running out of time, and needed a shot downrange quickly. The arrow slammed into Almë’s leg, crippling it. Almë yelled in pain as the broad bladed arrowhead slid through his flesh. Again he felt that strange stinging again.


Elitheris saw the arrow land in Almë’s leg. She drew, nocked, and loosed all in one smooth motion again. It flew true, puncturing the Hobbit in the chest, and doing significant damage. He slammed back into the sloped, tile roof, the bow dropping from his hand as he slid down the roof a bit. It clattered down the slope, fell onto the balcony railing, and then into the alley. He moaned in pain, his hand going to the arrow shaft.


Taid wanted to take out the Orc. So he swung at the Orc’s leg, and the halberd sliced through muscle and bone, severing the leg at mid-thigh.


“My leg!” the Orc screamed in a higher than usual pitch, toppling against the wall, bouncing off and dropping to the cobblestone alley. His hands scrabbled at the stump, trying to staunch the flow of blood. His life as an enforcer was over. No one was afraid of an enforcer rolling along in a little wheeled cart. And he wasn’t sure of the status of his family jewels, either. He was afraid to think about that.


The Dwarf saw his companion lose his leg, his eyes wide. He crouched behind the pile of bricks, and pulled out another stone.


Eykit saw the two city guardsmen that had passed them earlier running towards the ruckus, people jumping out of their way. They would be there soon. He could see the Orc’s blood pooling at his stump, and moved to the corner where the Orc had originally been stationed, trying to stay out of visual range of the two guardsmen.


Almë could see the Dwarf and his rock, and figured another brick was going to come his way. He didn’t have any spells that could help him in time. He cut at the net some more. He wasn’t looking forward to the brick’s impact.


Elitheris aimed an arrow at the Dwarf. She could see her dog, still struggling with the stickiness. She yelled, “Stop! Your friends are done, and you’re next!” She was trying to get his attention.


The Dwarf just grinned in response. He was unaware of how good Elitheris was with her bow, not having seen what she had done to his Hobbit companion.


Taid glanced to the side, and saw the approaching guardsmen. Eykit likely moved into the alley to avoid their gaze. He evaluated the alley and what he thought was a Glue spell. He figured that he could move along the wall, skirting the sticky area. He knew the Dwarf was going to launch another brick, but he had a plan. He noticed that despite the pile of bricks, there was nothing that was being repaired. There was no construction, and nothing had any new bricks in it. Those bricks were likely part of the ambush. He moved closer to Almë, stepped into the area with the Glue spell, and got stuck.


Something occurred to Almë that he had been too busy to focus on, with all of the other stuff happening. Something about the bricks made him uncomfortable in a way he didn’t understand. He just couldn’t put his finger on why, however.


The Dwarf crushed the rock and launched another brick, but Taid was ready for it, and his hand snapped up in a brushing aside motion, blocking the stone block with a Deflect Missile spell. The brick flew out of the alley, into the street. They could hear a voice shout, “Hey! Look out!” before they heard the sound of it hitting the cobblestoned street.


“Thanks, Taid!” Almë shouted.


Eykit was standing next to the Orc, and Taid was stuck right in front of him. So, it was time to finish off the Orc; his back was to Eykit, and he was busy trying to keep his blood on the inside of his body, instead of letting it all drain away. Eykit plunged his knives into the Orc’s back. One knife slid across the brigandine’s plates, but the second one went through, causing a minor wound.


The Orc coughed in pain as the blade went into his back and nicked his lung. He groaned in pain, unable to do much else except hope that people would stop sticking sharp, pointed things into his body. He already had a whole laundry list of wounds: a hole in his crotch, a pair in his neck where the point of the halberd went in and through, an amputation that would likely kill him, and now a hole in his back. He wasn’t having a good day, and tears leaked down his face despite his efforts not to let them.


Almë sawed at the net, cutting more strings, trying to free his leg. It would still be stuck to the Glue, but at least it wouldn’t be hampered by a net when he tried to get free.


Sandy dust clattered from the rooftop, falling onto the balcony above. Elitheris saw the Hobbit shake dust from his hand, roll over onto his stomach, and spider climbed up the tiled roof, her arrow sticking out from his side. One arm wasn’t doing much, since it too had a nearly meter long arrow protruding from it, but the Hobbit seemed to stick to the roof tiles like a gecko.


She dropped her attention back to the Dwarf. She could see only his face; the rest was hidden behind the cover. Since it was the only target she could see, she put an arrow into it. It hit with a wet thwack!


The Dwarf was flung back, and he reeled back into the crates stacked behind him in the alley, and he slumped down. The arrow shaft had struck through his cheek, cracking the cheekbone and sliding along it, the point emerging near his ear and protruding ten centimeters beyond it. He was in trouble, although it was too soon for his mind to realize that.


Taid used Maggie’s hook and cut through a bunch of strings of the net that was entangling Almë and opened up a big gap in it. He stepped back, out of the area of stickiness. But his halberd could still reach Almë.


“Hey!” they heard from the street. “What’s going on over there?!” It was the two City Guards, approaching at a run.


“Taid,” Eykit said, “Toss me over the sticky shit!” The City Guard knew Eykit; he had a history with them. And he wanted nothing to do with them. He could see the two guardsmen in the mirror mounted on the opposite wall. It was a pretty handy way of seeing who was coming up the street while remaining in hiding.


Taid crouched, his hands together as a step for Eykit’s foot. Eykit stepped into the step, and Taid heaved him upwards. Eykit pushed off at the apex, and hurtled up and over the sticky area. He hoped that all the time watching what Elitheris was doing when she did her acrobatics had rubbed off on him; Taid managed to toss him pretty high. High enough to be level with the first balcony. Coming down was going to be like jumping off of a roof.


Almë was still struggling with the Glue. The Hobbit sniper was still making his way up the slope, trying to get up and over the ridge before Elitheris put any more arrows into him. He hadn’t really been expecting a counter-sniper, and was cursing as he laboriously climbed up the tiles.


Elitheris drew a bead on the climbing Hobbit. Mr. Wiggles was still barking and whimpering, still stuck. He just wasn’t strong enough to escape the magical sticky coating on the cobblestones. He didn’t like it one bit.


The Dwarf started to shake his head to clear it, but as soon as he started he winced in pain and stopped. The arrow shaft was wiggling in the wound, causing more pain. He groaned.


The Orc was still conscious, and still holding onto his stump in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. Orcs were tough.


The two guards arrived, skidding to a stop at the entrance to the alley. “What’s goin’ on? What’s goin’ on?” The scene in front of them was a chaotic one: an Orc lay bleeding out, the stump of his leg clutched in bloody hands; an Elf in a net lay in the alleyway, struggling to get up but for some reason unable to; a dog stood motionless, barking away, his legs seemingly stuck to the ground; a Dwarf lay leaning up against a pile of crates, an arrow protruding from his face.


“What the hell?” one of them said.


Eykit landed, and tucked and rolled behind the trash crate, keeping out of the guards’ sight.


Almë still struggled with the Glue. “Help me! I’m stuck!”


Elitheris loosed the arrow she had been aiming at the Hobbit as he scrabbled up to the roofline. It struck his foot, piercing the boot and penetrated the sole of his foot, the arrow point emerging from the top of his boot. He screamed, cursed, but he didn’t slide down the tile roof. And now in addition to a barely functioning arm, he had a leg that was compromised as well.


Taid turned and talked to one of the guardsman. “Our friend was attacked, and we are helping him.”


The guard squinted, peering first at Taid, then at the alleyway in general.


The second guard turned to Elitheris, “Is that what is going on?” He indicated Almë, lying stuck to the cobblestones. “He was being attacked?”


“Yes,” she replied, “that is correct.”


The Dwarf shakily got to his feet, using the crates as support.


Eykit saw the Dwarf getting to his feet. He charged across the alley to the Dwarf, distracting the Dwarf with one knife while sliding the other into his groin. The Dwarf groaned, too weak to scream, and his legs got wobblier than they already were. His eyes glazed over in pain. Eykit was all about busting balls; a one man reproductive wrecking crew.


Almë was still stuck. “Help,” he repeated. He struggled to unstick himself.


Something occurred to Taid. Neither guard commented on the fact that he was armed with a halberd. Normally, walking around with a halberd was just not done in town. It was dangerous, and likely to provoke the locals into thinking that the wielder was looking for trouble. Although there was enough other things going on that it was likely the two guards just hadn’t got to that yet. But still, in the back of his mind, it bothered him.


The Hobbit, slowed by the newest arrow to puncture his body, climbed up and slid over the ridge of the roof, dropping out of sight, leaving a trail of darker red on the red roof tiles.


Elitheris glanced at the Dwarf, who was, surprisingly, still standing. But he looked pale, in shock, and stunned, so she didn’t consider him a threat. She pulled out a rope from her pack, throwing an end to Almë, who managed to catch the end before it hit the ground. It hadn’t been a good throw, but Almë was quick enough to snatch the end out of the air.


“Hey,” Taid said, addressing the guards, “can you help us get our friend free?”


The first guard was tourniquetting the Orc’s leg using a rope, the end of which also tied the Orc’s wrists. The second one joined Elitheris in helping to pull Almë out. Of the two of them, the second guard was visibly stronger than the first.


Taid grabbed the end of the rope, helping to pull. Almë, holding onto the other end, was pulled to his feet. It hadn’t been terribly pleasant; being peeled up off of the cobblestones had been rather uncomfortable. Mr. Wiggles was at his feet and within reach.


The three people pulling on the rope couldn’t get a good grip, and were unable to get Almë out. They tried again, and this time Almë was pulled forward. Almë was getting closer to the edge of the sticky area. He grabbed Mr. Wiggles. They tried yet again, and Almë and Mr. Wiggles were finally free of the Glue spell area, the dog yelping as his pads were pulled free of the alley.


The guard saw the two arrows sticking out of Almë’s leg. “It looks like you need medical attention!” He started going for a pouch at his belt. “Have a seat over there,” he indicated the corner of the building, where Elitheris had been standing earlier, “and I’ll take a look at that for you.” He pulled out a wad of bandages. He smiled at the Elf, now seated in front of him. “I’m Jack.”


During the tug of war with the Glue area, the Dwarf pulled out an axe. He stood, wavering a little, trying to focus on the Goblin with the flashing knives.


Eykit, seeing this, attacked with three quick strikes. The Dwarf managed to parry one with his axe, the second stabbed into an arm, the third glanced off of the breastplate. The wound to the arm was minor, but blood seeped down the forearm, staining his gambeson.


The Dwarf struck back with the axe, hitting Eykit in the chest, but the chainmail, backed by the gambeson, protected the Goblin with ease.


Eykit reeled a bit from the strong but ineffectual hit to his chest. He didn’t like that axe, so he did something interesting with his knives, moving them quickly around the head of the axe and the Dwarf’s hands and sending the axe into the trash crate with a clattering thump. The disarming maneuver had been too fast for the Dwarf to follow in his barely-conscious state. The thump of the axe falling into the trash bin was followed by the Dwarf’s body hitting the ground as his legs ceased to support his weight. He had fallen unconscious, the wounds to his face, groin, and arm doing him in.


The first guard, who had been wrapping the Orc’s leg wound in a now blood-soaked bandage, called towards the Dwarf, “Hey! What’s going on over there?”


Eykit said, “It’s all good down here.” Taid stifled a laugh that almost bubbled up uncontrollably.


Jack started examining the wounds to his leg, then stabbed Almë in the chest with a knife he had been using to cut the bandages he had been planning to use on the wounded leg.


He was surprised his strike didn’t do more damage; Almë’s armor was better than it looked. But the wound, minor though it was, was enough to make Almë worry about losing consciousness. Already his head was swimming, the edges of his vision blurring and darkening.


If we get out of this, Elitheris thought, Almë has some explaining to do!


Almë grabbed Jack’s arm, fighting for control of the knife. Jack was stronger, so Almë knew it was only a matter of time. He hoped that his friends would get this guy off of him. He could see the other guard level his spear at Elitheris.


Eykit, meanwhile, started going through the Dwarf’s pockets. He was on the other side of the glue area, with no quick way over to his friends. He couldn’t really help them. He glanced at the bricks, figuring he could toss the bricks and use them like stepping stones. But that would take too long, and he concentrated on the unconscious Dwarf in front of him.


Jack and Almë fought over the knife, the point hovering in front of Almë’s chest. It was a struggle, but he managed to keep the point from penetrating him again. Jack’s eyes glinted in the shadow of his pot helmet’s brim, a grim smirk on his face. He knew he was stronger than the wounded Elf, and it was only a matter of seconds before the target was dead.


The second guardsman lowered his spear and stabbed at Elitheris, but she knocked it aside with her bow, then backflipped over the seated Almë, putting some distance between her and the spear-wielding guardsman.


Mr. Wiggles saw his companion get attacked, and charged at the second guardsman, ears and tail down, growling. The guardsman hopped to the side, and the dog went past, trying to reverse direction as he did so.


Taid, standing next to Jack, and not far from the second guardsman, stepped back into the street to gain some room to use Maggie. He shoved the point of the halberd at Jack’s right arm, but during the struggle with the knife, Almë inadvertently pulled the arm out of the way, causing the strike to miss.


The second guard stabbed at Taid’s leg in an attempt to neutralize him as a combatant, but missed as Taid’s attack on the arm shifted his weight forward. The spearpoint poked into the empty space between Taid’s legs. The guardsman swore under his breath, and retracted the spear for another strike.


He didn’t get the chance. Elitheris had landed on the other side of Almë and Jack, and quickly loosed an arrow which passed above Almë and Jack, flicked past Taid, and sunk itself into the second guardsman’s chest. The guardsman yelped, and the impact transferred enough energy to knock him off his feet. He flew back, slamming back first into the cobblestoned street. He didn’t immediately get up, although he clumsily wrapped a hand around the shaft of the arrow.


The dog bit into the leg, his teeth struggling with the gambeson leggings.


Jack forced the knife forward, his teeth gritted. This Elf was starting to get on his nerves, and he knew that the Elf’s companions were going to be attacking him. It was time to end this. Almë, however, was having none of that, and adrenaline gave him enough strength to push the knife to the side just enough to deflect the strike from his guts to the space between his arm and chest. “Damn it all!” grunted Jack in annoyance.


Taid noticed out of the corner of his eye that the second guardsman was down, and Jack was busy with Almë. He wound up for a big swing with Maggie, the halberd’s bladed edge glinting in the sunlight. The blade swung at a downward angle, chopping into Jack’s leg just above the knee and severing it.


Jack screamed, falling over, dropping the knife into Almë’s lap and clutching at the stump of his leg. Blood spurted all over Almë and the cobblestones. “My leg! My leg!” he cried, tears of pain and loss starting to flow from his eyes.


Both guardsmen were out of the fight. Although Taid and his companions were beginning to think that they weren’t really guardsmen. Almë moaned softly, the two arrows shifting in the wounds in his leg.


“These guys are totally stumped,” Taid said, to no one in particular. Mr. Wiggles gnawed on the second guardsman’s leg, growling.


The Orc had pushed himself up against the wall he was leaning against, trying to finish the bandaging of his stump that the second guardsman had started. The rope was no longer around his wrists. He had never really been tied up in the first place.


Almë glanced around, seeing no immediate threats for the moment. He waved at Taid.


Taid cast a healing spell on him, the mana suffusing his body, focusing on his hand and leg. He immediately felt much, much better, and much more alert.


Eykit, going through the pockets of the Dwarf, found some more rocks. There were three of them. Two had dots of green paint on them, one had a yellow dot. He also found a playing card, a jack of diamonds. The Goblin exhaled. Oh shit, he thought. The Everyman Jacks! He knew about these guys. They were trouble. Big trouble. If there was one thieves’ guild in Port Karn that could be called an assassin’s guild, it was them. They were known to do wet work, something that the New Square Skulls avoided as much as possible.


They didn’t want that kind of reputation; Toren Ghent worked very hard to make the guild seem like a positive force in the neighborhood, despite the…less than legal operations. Killing people wasn’t one of the services they offered. If it happened by accident, that was one thing. Eykit had killed many people, but never as a contract killing. It had always been in self defense.


There was a rumor, one that Eykit believed, that the Everyman Jacks had no problem killing entire families to avoid leaving witnesses. Which meant that since Almë was known, the rest of them were too, and it was possible that the Everyman Jacks would consider Taid, Elitheris, and himself as “family” where Almë was concerned. And the Everyman Jacks had failed, or had been prevented from fulfilling their contract, which meant that their reputation was on the line. They would want to correct that, and soon. They couldn’t afford to seem incompetent.


He shivered, looking at the unconscious Dwarf. It’s not a contract killing, he thought. It’s proactive self defense. It was a bullshit rationalization, but he still slit the Dwarf’s throat, before he could wake up and make Eykit’s life difficult.


Jack pulled off his belt, and wrapped it around his stump. He was still whimpering.


Taid went over to the Orc, Maggie’s point ready to poke into the freshly wrapped stump of his leg. Elitheris called Mr. Wiggles off of the second guard, who she could tell was still breathing, but it didn’t look like he was in any shape to do anything. He was either unconscious, or pretending to be in hopes he would be left alone.


Now partially healed, Almë stood up and limped over to the Orc. He still had two arrows in his leg that needed to be removed, and every time he moved he could feel them in his muscles, cutting him up inside. He addressed the Orc. “Who sent you?” His tone was menacing, and Taid’s halberd point hovered dangerously near the Orc’s leg wound. “What was your task here?”


The Orc narrowed his eyes, and while he really wanted to give the Elf nothing, there was really no point in holding out. His life as an enforcer and assassin was over, due to his crippling injuries, even if he survived them. He sighed in resignation. “I don’t know the name of the client, but we were supposed to kill you. Obviously we didn’t do a good job of it.”


“How much did they pay you?”


The Orc grinned ruefully. “We were each paid a thousand each.”


“Which guild do you belong to?”


The Orc thought about not telling him, but after a moment, he reached into his gambeson and pulled out a playing card. It was a jack of clubs. Taid had lived in Port Karn long enough to recognize the literal calling card. Members of the Everyman Jacks each carried a playing card, and they were always jacks. The suit didn’t matter; it could be clubs, spades, hearts, diamonds, swords, sticks, pentacles, whatever. But they all carried them. And they were all called “Jack”.


He knew that this was serious. These guys didn’t play around.


“Who are you?” Taid asked the Orc.


“Jack,” the Orc said, smirking.


Taid poked the point of the halberd into his stump.


“Ow!” the Orc yelled. “Fine, Jack Muscles.”


“Seriously?”


The Orc just lifted an arm and flexed, the muscle bulging up his gambeson. The fact that it was evident through the thickly layered cloth was explanation enough.


“And him?” Taid pointed at the unconscious second guard with the arrow in his chest.


The Orc glanced over, winced, and said, “Jack Fletcher”.


“Shut up!” called the first guard, who had introduced himself as Jack. “Stop talking!”


“Doesn’t matter,” the Orc replied. “We failed. You think the Jacks are going to forgive us?”


The other man winced, crestfallen as he looked at his options. They were pretty bleak.


The Orc continued, in a subdued voice. “That’s Jack Manco,” he indicated the other guard.


Almë started to disarm the Orc, but his arms were batted away. Almë saw that the Orc’s weapons were not on him, so he kicked them into the glued area. Then he moved over to Jack Fletcher. Fletcher wasn’t putting up any fight, but Almë kept a knife in one hand while his other dug around in his pockets. In addition to a jack of cups playing card, he found a pouch of money with thirty coins in it. He also had a folded piece of paper, with a drawing on Almë on it. It was a pretty good likeness; whoever drew it had some skill. A second piece of paper had a drawing of a female Elf, a Dwarf, and a Goblin on it. They looked very familiar. Also good likenesses.


“What are we going to do with them?” Almë asked.


Elitheris had been guarding Jack Manco, but he didn’t seem to be going anywhere or doing anything besides trying to stop his stump from bleeding. He was having mixed results. The tourniquet was doing most of the work.


Eykit wanted to know who sent the guards, but realized that they weren’t guards when they found playing cards on all of them. They were all Everyman Jacks. He collected the cards from the Orc and the one called Jack Fletcher; he already had the Dwarf’s. He wanted to take them back to his own guild.


Almë looked around, and saw that there were a lot of spectators gawking at them.


Elitheris wasn’t big on killing, but she was capable of letting someone else do the killing. She wasn’t willing to slit throats, even if these guys were deadly assassins. She wasn’t an executioner. If they were to die, she would rather have some authority do it, preferably lawfully. Taid was of the same mindset. He’d killed as a soldier, and killed as a mercenary, but it was never personal. They needed to decide what to do with the wounded assassins.


They heard whistles from up the street, and Elitheris could see a pair of city guardsmen running towards them. Likely actual guards, alerted by some member of the crowd that had seen the conflict happen.


They needed to take one of the assassins to question him. Preferably in some safe house, which meant the New Square Skulls. They didn’t need all of them, just the lightest. Which meant Jack Fletcher; the Dwarf, Orc, and Jack Manco were heavier.


With a convenient stick, Eykit tested the sticky area to see if the spell had lapsed yet. It had; the spell only lasted ten or so minutes and it had been longer than that. With trepidation, because he didn’t trust magic and figured that maybe the center might still be sticky, he stepped into the area. His feet didn’t stick, and he managed to get back to the street side and his companions. “The Dwarf died from his wounds,” he said as he joined them.


The Orc chuckled with grim humor. “I don’t know who you pissed off. But sheesh.”


Almë asked Taid to point his halberd tip at the Orc’s neck, and Taid shrugged and complied. “Any information you want to give us to get you out of this situation?”


The Orc stared at him. “There is no getting out of this situation. I don’t expect you to let us live.”


Almë stabbed him in the face, driving the knife through the Orc’s eye and into his brain. A quick, quiet death. Except it was witnessed by a dozen spectators, many who gasped in shock as their hands flew to their mouths. They didn’t know the context, or who the assassins were, they only saw a “harmless”, wounded man get stabbed in the face by a seemingly vindictive Elf. It was just like an Elf to not value the lives of “ephemerals”. Their lives were over in a blink of an eye anyway….


The city guards were on their way.


“Eykit!” Almë shouted. “Kill that guy!” He indicated Jack Manco, who simply closed his eyes and rested his head against the brick wall he was seated against, accepting what he considered to be an inevitable outcome.


There were more gasps from the crowd, along with several people expressing concern at the wanton killing. “Let the guards handle it!” and “The guards are coming!” could be heard from anonymous voices.


Eykit wasn’t willing to kill Jack Manco in cold blood. It was one thing to kill the unconscious Dwarf, it was another to kill an awake person. He shook his head in negation.


Jack Muscles, the Orc, was given his card back to allow the city guard to know who caused the ambush. They never took Jack Manco’s.


Taid grabbed Jack Fletcher, and with Eykit’s help started moving him down the alley. “The Hobbit escaped, but I’m not worried about that,” Taid stated. “They obviously know who we are. But if we leave that Manco guy alive, he might tell his buddies that we jacked the Jacks. And that might be good for us, since they might be reluctant to lose more guys.”


Almë and Elitheris scooped up the fallen knives and swords. The bow used by the Hobbit sniper hadn’t fared well when it fell from the roof to the alley; its string was snapped and the bow itself was cracked.


What they didn’t know was that the Hobbit had indeed made it up and over the ridge of the rooftop. However, he fell unconscious shortly after that. And for a while, he was fine, since the Wallwalker spell kept him stuck to the roof tiles. But it ceased to function after a while, and the Hobbit slid down the rough tiles, becoming conscious as he struck the metal gutter, and plummeted ten meters to the stone pavers of the courtyard below, snapping his neck and fracturing his skull. He hadn’t escaped.


“It’s better that we leave Jack Manco alive as a storyteller,” Taid said again, “so he can tell them how badly we fucked them up.”


“I’m fine with that,” Eykit said. “We’ll leave the Everyman Jacks here for the city guard to deal with.” He said that loudly enough that at least some of the spectators heard it.


They moved down the alley, supporting the unconscious Fletcher between them like a passed out drunk. The arrow in his chest was a dead giveaway that he wasn’t simply drunk, however. Almë, limping, realized he couldn’t make it much further without removing the arrows in his own leg. Every time he took a step they bobbed and jostled in the wound, the edges of the broad heads cutting into his flesh. “Ah, Elitheris,” he said. “I’m going to need these arrows out of my leg.”


Once around the corner, and out of sight of the spectators that had witnessed the fight, Elitheris helped Almë slump down against the wall, the cobblestones hard under his backside. But he didn’t care; he was focused on the arrows in his leg.


Elitheris crouched at his side, slit open the gambeson leggings around the shafts, and examined the wounds. Both were enflamed, with blisters along the edges of the wounds. She recognized the blisters; they were an effect of a poison called cantharides, made from the shells of green iridescent beetles. She actually had a few doses of the poison herself, for use when she really needed an extra punch for her archery. In addition to the wound exacerbation that the toxin caused, it also was very painful.


“It’s going to hurt a lot when I pull these out,” Elitheris said. “I’m not a surgeon.” She grasped the first arrow. “Ready?” Before he could answer, she yanked out the arrow, the broadhead tip cutting its way out of the wound channel.


Almë yelped in pain, but he cut it off quickly, stifling the rest with whimper through clenched teeth. Elitheris grabbed the second one, and pulled that one out without another word. Then she got to work on the blood oozing out of both holes in his leg. “Gods damn that hurt,” Almë said, his teeth still clenched. The blood only made the purplish gambeson darker; it wasn’t terribly noticeable from a distance.


Elitheris quickly wrapped his leg in bandages, then cast a healing spell. Almë was at least able to walk, albeit with assistance. It would be a little while before his leg was back to normal.


Elitheris supported Almë as they made their way after Taid and Eykit. Eykit contemplating the throwing axes he had gotten off of the Dwarf. He hadn’t thrown axes much, preferring the smaller, more concealable knives, but they weren’t very effective against anyone with any armor at all. Axes might be better. He’d have to see. If he didn’t like them, he could always sell them.


“He drunk,” Eykit said with a chuckle, loud enough for eavesdroppers to hear. “You can’t drink this much in the middle of the day! Gods damn, ya gotta start later! Pace yourself! By Kalshebba of the Infinite Tankards! You’re a gods damned city guardsman! You should know better!” They were able to hide the broken off arrow shaft well enough to not draw too much attention as they walked down the street, Eykit muttering about “drunkards” and their bad drinking habits the whole way. He even managed to weave a little, as if he had partaken of drink, but had held it together better than his unconscious friend.


They hurriedly moved several blocks back to the New Square Skulls territory. Once there, he signaled to several guildies that he needed assistance. He asked them to divert any City Guardsmen they saw, and had a pair of them shadow them to act as backup if they were attacked again.


They needed to find a safe house to dump the prisoner. Eykit knew several different safe houses they could use, and directed them to a large, dilapidated warehouse, owned by the guild. They needed a place to lay low for a bit, until the city guard calmed down. It wouldn’t hurt to have some protection against retaliation by the Everyman Jacks, either.


There was an office in the warehouse, and a closet. The closet had a very strong, lockable door for a closet, and an architect looking in would notice that the walls were thicker than they needed to be, and the rear wall of the closet was a meter and a half closer than the outside wall. It was a safe house, after all, and needed somewhere safe to stash things and people. But none of that was obvious.


There was a warehouse manager there, along with a stock boy. Eykit had a word with the manager, and the stock boy was sent as a runner to Iceman, the second in command of the New Square Skulls, and operations manager of the guild. This was information that the guild should know, and be involved in. Before he left, Eykit instructed him to let Iceman know that they needed assistance and an “interview”. The young Human boy looked quizzically at the Goblin, but Eykit just said, “Just tell him in those words, and where we are.” He handed the kid the playing card he had gotten off of the Dwarf. “And hand him this.”


The stock boy nodded, and then took off at a run. Eykit nodded in appreciation. The kid could run, and seemed very agile and able to dodge around the crowds of people out in the street. In moments, the kid was gone, vanishing into the mass of people that flowed up and down the street.


They placed a chair in the closet, set Jack Fletcher in the chair, and tied him up. They packed some bandages around the wound in his chest to minimize bleeding, but the shaft was still in the hole, so until it was pulled out it wouldn’t bleed too much. Pulling it out would likely be part of the “interview” the captured Everyman Jack would be subject to. Elitheris had used a barbed broadhead arrow on him, so it was going to hurt coming out.


They had some time before the guild got back to them. Elitheris took some time to do a proper medical intervention for Almë. She even put together a poultice that made some of the pain go away.


Jakkit the Iceman arrived, flanked by a pair of enforcers and followed by Envinyatar. Envinyatar had been the healer for the New Square Skulls since the Skulls had been a thing: over a hundred years. An Elf, he hadn’t changed much in that time. But he wasn’t just the healer. He was also their interrogator. His demeanor was that of a dentist who eschewed anesthetics, although this was just an impression, not an actual fact. He just seemed like a guy you did not want to cross. He often went by the name “Croaker”, on account of an old wound to his throat that had damaged his voice.


“What’s the story?” Jakkit said without preamble, looking about the office and the open closet with the bound man in it.


Eykit told him what had happened. He left nothing out. He even showed his boss the drawings of them that had been gotten off of the Jacks.


“And this Jack is in there?” he asked, indicating the closet with the lockable door, which stood open and exposed the tied up Human.


“Yes, sir.”


Jakkit looked them all over. “Apparently, you guys did something, because there is scuttlebutt already from our contacts in the City Guard.”


“Yeah,” Almë said. “Two of them had City Guard uniforms.”


“Like that guy there,” Jakkit said, indicating Jack Fletcher.


“Yes, exactly. And they weren’t really City Guards, were they?”


Jakkit grinned ruefully. “If they were carrying those cards, they definitely weren’t City Guards.”


“They ambushed us after we had been ambushed by the other three of them.”


Taid spoke up. “They were the lookouts. They had walked past us just before the ambush.”


Jakkit thought about it for a moment. “They were likely backup.”


Envinyatar had gone over to the prisoner, and was examining the wound in his chest. Satisfied that the bandaging was competently done, he slapped Jack Fletcher’s face. “Wakey wakey,” he said slowly in his croaking voice.


Fletcher’s eyes snapped open in panic. His eyes rolled around, taking in his surroundings: closet, tied to a chair, his targets hale and whole standing in front of him, and the scariest Elf he had ever seen playing with his wound. He was not having a good day, and wished desperately that he was anywhere but here. He had heard rumors of Croaker. He knew him as “Doctor Death”. Definitely having a bad, bad day.


Almë looked over Envinyatar’s shoulder and down at the bound man. “You are one lucky motherfucker; you’re still alive, unlike your friends.”


Eykit looked at Jakkit, who had hopped up onto the desk and sat on the edge, his feet hanging down, hands clasped in his lap. He seemed perfectly willing to let Eykit and his friends ask the questions. He gave his underling a look that said, “It’s your show.”


Eykit asked the bound man, “Do you have any idea who sent you? Who is this client?”


Fletcher looked around, saw no hope, and said, “Aw, fuck it. I’m dead no matter what.” He spilled his guts.


He had been brought into a room after being blindfolded. The room seemed to be an office, with a large imposing desk and in the corner of the room was a small wine rack with some bottles in it. A Human man sat behind the desk, a fragrant glass of red wine in front of him. He had been tall, with dark hair, dark skin, and brown eyes. He had never given his name, and he had never seen him before. He had a tattoo of a snake partially visible on his neck.


He seemed to have a lot of money, and was likely either a rich merchant, or a noble of some stripe. He had even poured Fletcher a glass of whatever wine he had been drinking, which Fletcher had drunk, despite thinking that it might be poisoned. It was good, too, definitely not poison, and although Fletcher wasn’t the type to have good wine often, even he could tell it was a prime vintage.


The guy smelled of wine; possibly alcoholic, or had just had too much with lunch. The orders were to kill the male Elf; the others in his company were optional, and any loot was theirs to keep, including any of their enchanted gear besides the Elf’s staff. They were paid $1000 each in advance, most of which has been spent already, and given the two drawings. He didn’t know who the guy was who provided both the drawings and the contract to kill Almë. Fletcher, and presumably the other assassins, had also been told that Almë was a mage, but not likely a combat mage, and would likely be found in the company of a Dwarf, a female Elf, a Goblin, and a dog.


Given that there were five assassins hired to kill him, Almë seemed to have a $5000 price on his head.


Eykit was shocked. “Five thousand!?” That was a lot of money. The going rate for killings in Port Karn was about half that.


“Almë,” Taid sternly asked, “What did you do? What. Did. You. Do?”


Elitheris said, “It also means that Almë—and us—have been followed by someone who fed this snake guy information.”


“Yeah,” Eykit said, “our reputation is preceding us.”


“So, alcoholic, just drunk at the time, or maybe he stomps grapes with his feet.” Elitheris ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face. “With a snake tattoo. At least that would seem promising.”


During the “interview”, Jakkit had mostly been listening, although he had, on occasion, thrown a question or two into the mix for clarification.


“Boss,” Eykit asked of Jakkit, “Does the snake tattoo mean anything to you? Ever hear of this guy?”


Jakkit looked worried as he shook his head. “I don’t think he’s a local. He doesn’t fit the description of any merchant or noble that I know of, and I make it my business to know who’s who in town.” He turned and addressed Almë. “Someone really wants you dead.”


Almë himself had no recollections of any snake tattoo; it didn’t mean anything to him. “Hey,” he asked the Jack. “When did you get the job?”


“Yesterday morning,” the bound man answered glumly. “Wish I hadn’t taken the job.” He thought a moment. “Although that would likely have meant I would have died yesterday, instead of today.” He was certain he was a doomed man, and that his captors would kill him. After all, were the places reversed, the Everyman Jacks would definitely had killed any prisoner they had.


“What was that sticky stuff?”


“Oh, we were given some tools to use.”


“You didn’t have a mage with you?”


“No.”


Eykit reached into a pocket, and pulled out the rocks he had liberated from the Dwarf, and showed them to the Jack. “These are from your source as well?”


“Yeah.”


Eykit showed the rocks to Jakkit. Maybe he knew what they were. But Jakkit just shook his head.


Envinyatar spoke up. “Oh those? Those look like spell stones. Mages cast a spell into the stone, then hand it off to someone else to activate and use.”


“So,” the Goblin said, “these are marked so the user knows which is which?”


“Correct”


“But we have no way to know…”


“Unless you know what the color codes mean, or if you were told what they were when they were made.”


Eykit asked the Jack, “What kinds of stones were you given?”


“Jack Sybok was given two Glue, two Grease, and three Poltergeist.” Which meant that the stone with the yellow dot was the remaining Glue spell, and the two green ones were Grease. The Dwarf, Jack Sybok, had used the three Poltergeist stones slamming bricks into Almë.


Almë got an uneasy feeling when he heard about the Poltergeist spells. He just wasn’t certain why. Something floated in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t tell what. Like a memory he no longer remembered. The memory ran through his mental fingers like water; he couldn’t hold onto it long enough to figure out what it was.


“Hey,” Elitheris said, “what about the Hobbit? He had a stone too! What did he have?”


“He had been given a Wallwalker stone.”


Eykit turned to Envinyatar. “Does it take a powerful mage to create these spell stones?”


The healer shrugged. “Powerful? Sort of. You have to have some enchantment skills.”


Taid asked, “Are they expensive?”


“Kind of. It depends upon the spell. But they are usually created for specific purposes. It’s a way to give non-spell casters a way to have some magic powers.”


“Are there marks on them, like a maker’s mark?”


“No. Those, for example, simply look like someone dipped their finger in whatever convenient paint was around, and daubed it on the stone.”


Taid thought for a moment. “Maybe if we can find the mage that made these, then we can get some clues on who ordered them. Are these sold in the market?”


“No, at least, not commonly. These were bespoke.” He took a breath. He’d have to explain how these things worked. “A spell stone is a pre-cast spell. Which also has to include the specific area to be covered, if the spell can encompass an area, like Glue or Grease. Which means they only work for whatever area they were preset to. Judging from the size of the alleyway, the Glue, and presumably the Grease stones as well, have a significant area of effect.”


Elitheris asked, “The client made them?” She looked at the bound “guardsman”.


“I don’t know. He just gave them to us, or so Jack Sybok said. I don’t know if he made them. He just said that we might find them useful.”


“So it wasn’t equipment from your guild,” Almë said, “but from your client.”


Jack Fletcher nodded.


“Did the client outline how this was supposed to go?” Eykit asked.


“He just wanted Almë dead. We were free to come up with our own plan.”


“Were you told where we might be?”


“We were told what area of town you guys usually hang out in. But we weren’t told about specific streets you might be on. We had to make a few guesses.”


Almë asked, “Was there anyone else in your group? Or was it just you five?”


“And who was your leader?” Eykit asked.


“Just us five. I guess he figured that five Jacks would be sufficient. It has been in the past.” He coughed. “Not this time, apparently.” He grinned at his attempt as gallows humor. His breathing was becoming labored. The length of arrow was still in his chest. He took a couple of pained breaths. “And Jack Sybok, the Dwarf, was our team leader.”


Taid asked the Jack, “Where were you first contacted about this job?”


“On Cobbler’s Row.” Cobbler’s Row was a street in the northwest part of town, presumably in Everyman Jack’s territory.


“How long did it take to get to this guy’s place?”


“Maybe a half hour. There were some turns, though, and I was blindfolded. They could have been leading me around the same street over and over. Or they could have led me out to who knows where. When I left, I was blindfolded again for a while and walked back to our home turf.”


“You didn’t hear anything during the blindfolded trips?”


“Just the standard road and street noises. People walking and talking, the creaking of cart wheels, the shouts of vendors. Occasional horses.”


Eykit thought for a moment. “How many of you were blindfolded?”


“All of us. We all were led around blindfolded, until we were sat in the chair facing the client.”


“So,” Elitheris said, “everybody in the crew met this guy? Independently?” Jack Fletcher nodded. “That’s kind of weird.” The man tied to the chair shrugged as best he could. Apparently, in his line of work, that kind of arrangement wasn’t too outside of the norm.


“So they were hand-picked!” Eykit reasoned. Jack Fletcher just grinned. All five of the chosen assassins had been competent, despite their poor showing against the two Elves, the Dwarf, and the Goblin.


Elitheris frowned, then asked their prisoner, “Is that the way you guys normally got jobs?”


“Not really, no,” Jack Fletcher said. “Normally jobs come down from the higher ups. There is a chain of command. This one, as far as we know, was known only to the guys in the crew.” He paused, then said, “And I’m beginning to think we were set up.”


“Sounds like it,” Elitheris agreed.


“Did your boss know about this?” Eykit asked. If he had gotten a job, he for sure would have let Elend know about it.


“We were told to tell no one,” the prisoner answered. “I shouldn’t be telling you guys, but I figure it doesn’t matter now.”


“Would you prefer that we didn’t tell your boss?”


Jack Fletcher looked resigned. He sighed, then said, “It doesn’t matter at this point. The client may come after me, or not. And I likely wouldn’t be welcome back with the Jacks. You guys may kill me, my guild may kill me for failing to fulfill a contract.” He had spent quite some time while tied to a chair trying to figure out what he could have done better, and really couldn’t fault his actions. They just hadn’t been enough against these people.


Eykit asked, “What do you think will happen to the Hobbit?”


Jack Fletcher shrugged. “By the Everyman Jacks? Or by the client?” Eykit’s reaction indicated the latter. “Well, I really don’t know. It depends upon how vindictive the client is.”


“It was pretty bold of you to pull the job during broad daylight,” Elitheris mentioned.


Jack shrugged. “The streets are crowded during the day, it was a busy street, and people were being loud. We felt we could kill the Elf quickly, and be gone before anyone really noticed. And being dressed as the Guard ensured that we could control any passersby that got out of hand.”


Almë, trying to be helpful, said, “At least we know he was within 30 minutes walking distance from his home turf.” That encompassed almost all of Port Karn. And Port Karn was pretty big. “What should we do with this guy? Maybe Jakkit can ransom him or whatever?”


Jakkit shook his head. “Not likely. His crew knows he’s likely been compromised. They won’t want anything to do with him.”


Eykit said, “Obviously, they weren’t concerned about whether it worked or not since they were paid in advance.”


“Well, they seemed pretty overconfident,” Elitheris said. And she was right. They had had a pretty good plan; immobilize the target, then shoot him full of poisoned arrows. What they hadn’t counted on was how dangerous Almë’s friends were.


Almë turned to the Goblin operations manager. “Jakkit, what do you want to do with this guy? I have no idea.”


“I haven’t decided yet what I want to do with him. I’m debating whether I want to return him to the Everyman Jacks.”


Taid still had some questions. “How were you to provide proof of Almë’s murder?”


“Bring back his head,” Jack Fletcher replied. “That would have been sufficient.” He suddenly remembered something. “Oh, and bring back his staff.”


“Bring back where?”


“Back to Jack territory. We would have been contacted.”


“Because as far as anyone knows, you’re still alive. No one knows you’ve lost this whole battle. We left Manco alive, or whatever his name is. And the Hobbit.”


That was news to Fletcher. The male Elf had said all his team mates were dead. He wasn’t sure how to react to the fact that some might still be alive, given that he believed that he would be killed, and there wasn’t much he could do to stop it. He had heard the Goblin boss say that he might be given back to the Jacks, but that would likely be worse than just being killed. Some of it might depend upon what Jack Manco and Jack Sharps revealed to whoever had them.


Fletcher suspected that both were likely in the custody of the City Guard. It might be possible that the Jacks hadn’t gotten to them yet. The Everyman Jacks were pretty unforgiving of failure, capture, or disloyalty. But Fletcher hadn’t said anything about the guild, although he had talked about the client that had gotten them killed or captured. And he really wasn’t feeling too loyal towards the client at the moment.


“It would be better if we were on the offensive and could confront this,” Taid said, “as opposed to waiting for the next attack.” He turned to Almë. “We know your wife was killed, and you were wounded in the attack, and now you’ve been attacked again.” Taid was not okay with moving on and gardening or farming as if nothing had happened. He didn’t like surprise attacks.


“Should we go to the Everyman Jacks and ask to talk to the guild master? They know what we did to them, maybe we can send an envoy or something. Maybe we can get the name of the client from them.”


“Maybe Jakkit can send a messenger to them,” Almë suggested. “He could send someone to negotiate getting their Fletcher guy back.”


Jakkit gazed at Almë. He was still trying to figure out why that Elf over there warranted a $5000 bounty on his head. “How special are you, anyway? What do you know? What did you do to piss these guys off?”


Almë shrugged. “I don’t know. Survive, I guess.”


“Perhaps I should rephrase the question. What do they think you know?”


Almë shrugged again. “I think it had something to do with my wife’s research, but I wasn’t involved with it, and didn’t really understand it. At least, not the derivations and thaumatic equations. Why fire resistant wood is such a big deal to them, I have no idea.”


Eykit had filled Jakkit in on the attack that killed Almë’s wife and left him for dead. So he had a sense of the overall shape of the story and the events that comprised it.


Almë asked, “Is it possible that you could send a messenger to negotiate with the Everyman Jacks?”


Jakkit shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll do what I can. I don’t suspect they will be amenable to listening. There is a good chance they will kill the messenger and raid us. They are ruthless cutthroats who would do a lot of damage even if we were fully prepared for them.”


“Well,” Eykit said, “I suggest we don’t stray too far from Skulls territory. That way, if we have any Jack problems, there is a good chance that we could get some help quickly enough to do some good.” If Eykit were anywhere within New Square Skulls territory, he could consistently find one or two guys he knew on any street.


Taid spoke up. “We’ve got some clues. We shouldn’t just drop them.”


“And the guy sounds rich,” Eykit said. “It didn’t seem like he was faking being wealthy.”


“Hey, Eykit, is this the guy you stole the painting from?”


The Goblin shook his head. “No, Kraite didn’t have a snake tattoo, although it would be appropriate if he did. But I saw him. No visible tats. Plus, he has no known beef with Almë. Just me.” Eykit wasn’t too pleased by that; the thought made him wonder when guildmaster for the Flower Street Harriers was going to strike. He was sure he would. He had been insulted, and his house security compromised. Eykit was sure he was on Kraite’s shit list.


“We need to follow this up, and find this guy,” Taid said.


“We can also ask Jakkit to follow up, using his spies and whatever,” Almë said.


Eykit and Jakkit exchanged glances. Thieves’ guilds didn’t typically have those kinds of resources. They were small time, local citizens’ groups. Eykit shrugged, his facial expression telling his boss’s boss how sorry he was for Almë’s assumptions. Informants weren’t spies.


“This guy has enough money to put five thousand marks on Almë’s head,” Taid said. “If we can find him, and get into his Chateau de Loot, we can maybe find some take-home money.”


“Five thousand for my head, plus the additional expenses that it cost to put this assassination together,” Almë said. “He had to hire people to lead blindfolded people around town for a while.”


“Maybe I can go to my military buddies. They might know about a guy with a snake tattoo.”


“Couldn’t hurt,” Almë said. “While you are doing that, we can sell the toys and the weaponry we just picked up. Eykit, let’s go sell some shit!”


Eykit, of course, knew where the markets were located in the New Square area.


They followed the Goblin's directions, and soon came to a plaza filled with market stalls. Most were foodstuffs, vegetables and fruits freshly picked, but some were crafted goods. Candles, sachets of herbs, soaps, perfumes, and homespun yarns were all on display.


There was also a woodcrafter. His stall displayed mainly small pieces of furniture and household goods, such as stools, shelving units, end tables, and planter boxes. but there were also a few more artistic, carved items, like signs and small carved animals.


Eykit did the haggling, of course. He always did. But he was good, and managed to get 350 marks for them. The woodcrafter seemed pretty excited to see them. He obviously knew quality when he saw it, and likely figured he could sell them for a profit later. Or maybe he wanted them for his kids for holiday presents.


Almë gave Eykit 50 marks for his services. Eykit took it, and the money disappeared so fast Almë wasn’t sure he’d ever had the money in the first place. He wasn’t even sure where Eykit had put the coins.


They still had armor and weapons to sell. Used, but serviceable. Almë spit on the helmet, and wiped the blood off with his sleeve. “He got stabbed in the face a little too hard,” he muttered.


They went to a weaponsmith, and were able to sell the various short swords, knives, and helmets for almost 700 marks.


Almë then wanted to go to a mages’ guild to learn a spell. He had done some research, and had decided upon the Sentinel Group, since the spell he wanted was classified as a Movement spell. They were good at such spells, along with Protection spells and Elemental spells.


He and Eykit set off, heading north until he got to South Wall Street, which ran along the outside of the old wall that had, at one time, surrounded Port Karn before its growth made the city spread southward. They passed through the district of Cherry Rock, a rather small, poor area mostly made up of squalid houses and a large expanse of jungle that had never been cleared away for farming.


They passed through Golden Hill, and they could see, over the intervening buildings, the round Old Arena towering over them. Pennants of various colors flew along the top rim, snapping in the breeze off of the ocean.


When they got to the Raven Tower District, they reached Fourth Street, one of the roads that passed through the walls and into the older area of the city. The Sentinel Group was located in Merchant’s Heath, only two blocks away from the gates the two of them were passing through.


The building was an imposing three stories high, with a basement. It was constructed of pale green painted bricks with a red tile roof and white painted trim. A set of stairs led half a story up to a small patio; a sign showing a shield with a helmet in front of it adorned the stone wall by the stairway. Two people sat on benches set along the stone walls that surrounded the patio. A Human and a Dwarf lounged on the benches. The Dwarf looked dully at the Elf and Goblin coming up the short stone stairway, while the Human barely glanced up at them, his attention on his fingernails, which he was cleaning with a knife.


Both looked tough, and any mage guild that offered body guarding services would have burly guards. If push came to shove though, Almë was sure he could take them. He didn’t expect trouble, however, and he nodded to them as he went to the door, which was under an awning.


He pushed the door open, and the two of them entered into the lobby. It had three sets of three chairs, each around a low square coffee table. Set back towards the rear wall was a desk with a clerk. There was a nameplate on the desk that said “Schist Stoneweaver”. The desk had a low partition along three sides, forming a short wall at about chest height. There was a door on the left side of the lobby, which led into the rest of the building.


A Dwarf sat behind the desk. He put down the pen he had been writing with, and said “What can I do for you?”


“I am interested in buying some movement spells,” Almë said, “but also, do I have to join the guild for this? I am not currently a member of a guild, and I am a garden mage.”


The Dwarf looked at him quizzically. “Garden mage? And you’re not with PKAC? That’s surprising. They always need more farming mages. They are the ones that are all into agriculture and stuff.”


“I used to work for my town, for basically my whole life, and I am currently traveling for a little while.”


“Okay.” The Dwarf still was a bit confused; PKAC was a good gig, for the plant-loving types. Plenty of exercise, usually without the dangers of conflict. Unless the weeds were particularly aggressive and bloodthirsty….


“So what does your guild do? What are the benefits of joining your guild, how can I help you and you help me?”


“Well, we don’t have a lot of cause to grow a bunch of plants. But, we specialize in Protection and Warning, and Movement, with Body Control and Elemental spells thrown in for good measure. But our main service is as body guards and security personnel.”


The Dwarf went on, “We have 19 mages and a support staff of 20.”


“That sounds great. How much does it cost to hire somebody for protection?”


“Bodyguards?”


Almë nodded.


“Depends upon which mages are available at the time, and their skill set.”


“How about a rough price range?”


“Oh, it could run from 100 marks per day to over 400 or 500 marks per day.”


“Interesting. Um, so I would be interested in learning the spell of Haste, do I need to join your guild for that, or would there be anybody around who could teach me? And how much would that cost?”


“I’d say, yes, you have to join the guild. Unless you want to pay a lot of money for us to teach you sensitive information and take the risk that you might end up using it against us at some point.”


Almë wanted to figure out a way to lower the exhorbitant price he was expecting to have to pay, but there just didn’t seem to be anything in his list of spells that would benefit them very much.


“Tell you what. I’ll go talk to some people, and see what price they would be willing to teach you the spell of Haste. Have a seat,” he said, pointing to the chairs in the lobby. “I’ll be right back.”


“Should I come back another day? I don’t have to wait weeks?”


The Dwarf grinned, “Nah. Nah nah nah. We are much more efficient than that! Look, man, we’re not the government!”


He turned and went through the door that led to the rest of the facility. Almë sat in a chair.


Eykit eyed the desk. It was a large flat space that seemed filled with interesting doodads. There was a silver orb, about 4cm in diameter, that caught his eye. It was in his pocket before he even realized he had taken it.


The Dwarf came back in. “Okay, there is a mage who really wants to get some cash, and he says he will teach you for 1500 marks.”


“Okay,” Almë said. “I’ll take it.”


The Dwarf nodded, then said, “Come with me.” He started to lead Almë to the door, but turned, and said to Eykit, “And you. Put that back on the desk.”


Eykit put the orb back on the desk. “Didn’t think you’d notice that.” He gave the Dwarf a sheepish grin.


“We’re the Sentinel Group,” Schist said with a smirk. “We notice everything. It’s our job.”


Almë followed the Dwarf back to an office, where he was shown a seat at a table. There were several other chairs around the oblong table. The room seemed to be a meeting room, paneled in a blonde wood. The window looked out upon an alleyway. The view wasn’t spectacular, but it provided light.


The Dwarf left, then came back about thirty seconds later with a man in tow. The man was Human, and looked middle aged. Schist left, leaving the mage with Almë.


“You want to learn the spell of Haste, huh?”


Almë nodded, and said, “Yes.”


“1500 marks, please. And my name is Edain.”


“I am Almë.”


“We will start tomorrow morning. Be here at seven.”


Almë, being an Elf, had no idea what seven was. Edain might as well as said “Be here at squirrel tree silk”. Minutes weren’t something that interested him, and the ephemerals’ obsession with chopping the day up into little pieces was anathema to him.


“Excuse me, what did you say?” Almë asked the mage.


Realization dawned on Edain’s face. “Oh. Yeah. Elf. Be here just after dawn. Second bell.”


“How much do you want up front?”


“All of it. I won’t cheat you. You’ll learn it.”


“See you tomorrow, then,” Almë said, standing.


Edain stood as well, and held out his hand. Almë shook it, and the deal was struck.


The Elf went back out into the lobby, and propelled Eykit out the door before anything else could be stolen. However, Eykit wasn’t stupid. He knew he was being watched somehow, and had kept his hands to himself. He wasn’t about to piss off an entire mage guild just to steal a bauble. His greed, although a powerful force of nature, could be controlled. And he had a lot of incentive to control it here.


Taid had gone to the Tondene Army Base near Port Karn. It wasn’t a large base; Port Karn hosted a large naval base, but only a small army base. It was a walled enclosure in the southern area of The Crests District, on the outskirts of the city. It sat on a hill and overlooked some residential buildings, and, past them, the Liscerne Race Track, which was where the horse races were held. The distant sound of horns could be heard from that direction, which likely signaled the start of another race.


When he told the gate guard his unit number, he was allowed into the base. He hadn’t taken his halberd with him, so there was nothing to confiscate and store until he left. They let him keep his sidearm. Like all military bases, it was a hive of activity. People and materials were being moved all over. A centisenti was performing drill on a paved, flat area, practicing with their spears. He could hear the officer yelling instructions, trying to instill muscle memory in the soldiers so they would act properly in a crisis and not freeze up.


He didn’t see anyone he knew; he wasn’t surprised, it had been years since he’d been active military, but he had been hopeful. It would have been nice to see some of his old army buddies. He wondered where they were now…likely either out, like him, and with a family, or transferred to who knows where. He’d have to see if he could find his old buddies, one of these days.


He made his way past the barracks, marked with numbers and blocks of colors. They were simple wood and stone buildings, four stories tall and filled with large rooms filled with bunks. Past the barracks was the administration building. That was where he figured he could get in contact with someone in command. Someone who might actually have some information.


Soldiers, he thought, were like mushrooms. Kept in the dark and fed a bunch of shit. Soldiers were told only what they needed to know when they needed to know it.


The administration building was only three stories tall, and mostly made up of offices for the army of clerks that tracked everything the Tondene Army did. He entered the foyer. It had a pair of guards just inside the door, who looked him over critically.


They must have liked what they saw, because they didn’t move as Taid moved into the room. There was a clerk at a desk in the corner, reading reports or some other kind of paperwork. Taid strode over to him, saluted, and said, “I’d like to speak to an officer, please. A Rhea should be sufficient.”


The military clerk (a sou-themis, judging from the half filled circle insignia on his arm) glanced back at the Dwarf who stood at attention in front of his desk. “And who are you?”


“Sou-Tethys Lasu, retired,” Taid replied. “I was recently attacked by assassins, and I figured that if the client that hired them was rich and important, then the military might have an idea of who it could be.”


“Assassins, you say?” The Human leaned back into his chair. “I haven’t heard anything about it, but,” he sighed, “I am not surprised I wouldn’t be in the know.” He seemed to consider the problem, then said, “Have a seat.” He pointed to some chairs. “I’ll see if anyone is willing to talk to you.”


Taid sat, and waited. It was like old times. Hurry up and wait. Standard operating procedure.


Elitheris and Almë likely wouldn’t even have noticed the length of time, but Taid was feeling a bit impatient. He was hoping for some information. He liked having information, and knowing where to go next. Lately, he had been very frustrated when the intelligence he was needing was lacking. “I need more boots on the ground,” he muttered. “More eyes and ears to keep me informed.” But setting up an army of scouts to give him reconnaissance information was tedious and expensive.


He really didn’t need to wait too long. Fifteen or twenty minutes at the most, before the young clerk came back out and gestured. “Sur-Rhea Killian will see you. Come with me.”


The Sou-Themis turned and walked down a hallway, with doors on either side at regular intervals. He stopped at one that had a nameplate next to it that read, “Sur-Rhea Henders Killian”. He knocked.


“Come,” came a voice from within. The clerk opened the door, then stepped aside for Taid to enter. He closed the door once Taid was inside, then presumably went back to his desk.


Sou-Rhea Killian was a Human, bald, with an impressive mustache. His skin was a light brown, with a few lighter scars crisscrossing his forearms, and a large one arcing across his cheek. The blow that caused that scar had missed his eye by a finger’s width. His uniform was olive and khaki, and looked pressed despite the heat and humidity.


He sat behind a desk, a window to his back. The top of his desk was clear except for two stacks of papers, both face down.


Taid stepped up to the desk, saluted, and stood at attention. The officer saluted back.


“Soldier? Are you a soldier?” He wasn’t sure; Taid wasn’t in uniform, but displayed all of the mannerisms of a soldier of the Tondene Imperial Army.


“Ex-soldier, sir,” Taid replied, still at attention.


“Ah, okay.” After a short pause, he asked, “So, what can I do for you?”


“We were recently attacked by the Everyman Jacks. It was an ambush, and a well thought out one. They didn’t do so well, and I put my military training to use.”


“Well, good. That’s what we train you for.”


“Let’s just say they need a few crutches now.”


The officer grinned. “Oh, you broke their legs, huh?”


“They wish. Let’s just say that a couple of them have had some extreme weight loss. These Jack fellows were hired as hitmen for a mate in my party. We got some information out of them before we sent them off to whatever their afterlife is. The client was very secretive, and hired them one by one. He didn’t go through the usual channels, as I understand it.”


“Special op?”


“Yeah. Seems that way. The client was either a noble, or a rich merchant or something. His one defining feature was the tattoo of a snake on his neck.”


“Snake on his neck, eh. Interesting. Anything else?” He gazed at Taid, his expression unreadable. “And what do you want me to do about this?”


Taid raised his hands placatingly. “I’m just looking for information.”


“Okay.”


“He’s also big into wine. We’re trying to get information because we know that they know about us, and they expected us to be easy to handle, and that wasn’t the case.”


“Glad to hear it.”


“And the other interesting fact was that the bounty for our mate was 5000 marks.”


The Sur-Rhea looked incredulous. “Five thousand? What did this guy do?”


“That’s what we don’t know, and what we are trying to figure out. So, clearly there is something going on, we don’t know what it is, but we know it’s big. And we need some kind of hush hush assistance here, information or if any information comes in. My point is, there aren’t that many people that can pull this kind of job off. We don’t know why our crew mate was attacked, but he’d been attacked before. This wasn’t the first time. His wife was killed in the first attack.”


The officer listened to the Dwarf’s story. “This wasn’t the first attack?”


“No, this was the second attack, and we don’t know what’s going on. We met our crew mate some time after the first attack, and only recently learned any of those details.”


“Let me see if I’ve got this straight. He and his wife were attacked.” Taid nodded. “Then he joined up with you guys, and then he got attacked again while you guys were there and so you guys got attacked as well. You helped him out and took out the assassins.”


“Yes, sir.”


“Well, good on you guys.” His fingers stroked his mustache. “I haven’t heard of anyone with a snake tattoo. He doesn’t sound familiar to me. Not that I know all the nobles in the Port Karn area anyway, but he doesn’t sound familiar.”


“Know anyone who fancies wine more than others? Any nobles that might have a vineyard?”


“There are several in the area that have vineyards and wineries.” He gave Taid some names. Even if they weren’t the tattooed man, they may have sold wine to him. It was a start.


“We just want to do right by our traveling mate,” Taid said. “As we’ve gone around and have come to trust him.”

“Thank you, sir,” Taid said gratefully. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me, and for giving me what information you could.”


Sur-Rhea Killian nodded. “Dismissed,” he said. It wasn’t necessary, but something in Taid appreciated the gesture. He hadn’t realized it, but he sort of missed the discipline of the military. Not the latrine digging, or the road construction, or the terror filled nights of front line combat, but some parts of the military life were actually pretty comforting.


Taid made his way back to the safe house where the rest of his friends were holed up.


Almë was interested in working at the Manor, despite the fact that it wasn’t even theirs yet, if it was ever going to be. They had an alchemist working in the basement, at least for now. But he wanted to start working on the grounds.


But they were going to need to find out the repair bills, first. It was all well and good to be squatting on land “owned” by Baroness Walters, but something else entirely to want to spend any money on it yet. But it was wise to know that if they did get possession of it, they knew what kinds of repairs were necessary, and how much they were going to cost. It would be foolish to get the Manor but have no plan on how they could afford to rehabilitate it.


Manors were profit centers, if run correctly. With the repairs, outstanding and unpaid loans, and the need to hire farmhands, it was going to be a while before they would see any profits.


But the first step was to catalog the issues with the Manor, and get estimates on how much it would cost to fix them. Once those were fixed, they could concentrate on making the Manor a place fit for whatever social station they needed it to be.


It was starting to get late; they had agreed to show the alchemist the lab after he closed up shop. They had to hurry to get back to the Manor.


Almë and Eykit met Ekain Julen, the alchemist, at the gate to the manor house’s courtyard. Ekain glanced at the manor house, noting the falling plaster, cracked masonry, broken roof tiles, and flaking paint. He wasn’t impressed, but he held his tongue.


“The outside is very unassuming for a reason,” Eykit said. “Wait till you see the inside.” Eykit had no intention of actually saying what that reason was, since it was basically “it is run down and falling apart because it was being run by a necromancer who was doing experiments on people and making an army of undead.”


“Unassuming?” the alchemist asked. “As in, derelict?”


“We’re working on that part. Trust me!”


A part of his brain, the safety-conscious, wary, protectionist part, wanted to bolt. A thieves’ guild was “offering” an “opportunity”, in a run down abandoned house. He looked around for a shovel, but didn’t see one. Maybe he wouldn’t have to dig his own grave after all, but that shovel could still be in the shed. He tried to keep his wavering voice under control. He kept looking for the enforcers he expected around every corner.


Eykit noticed the alchemist’s state. “Hey, relax. You’re safe. There’s no problem.”


Ekain glanced down at the Goblin, who gave him a toothy grin. Filled with the typical sharp Goblin teeth. It wasn’t as comforting as he would have liked.


The inside of the house wasn’t much better. Cracked plaster, flaking paint, and a few cracked floor tiles showed that this house had seen better days.


Almë and Eykit took him downstairs, to the pantry/root cellar. Perfect place for a murder. Edain could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“Are you guys for real?” Ekain asked.


He almost ran, until the Goblin reached under the stairs and did something that caused a soft click. Eykit stood back, his arm moving in a flourish. Ekain stepped closer, despite his misgivings, and saw a hidden door.


“Pretty cool, right?” Eykit said smiling, his eyes alight. “Secret door!”


Ekain followed Eykit into the hallway. It turned a corner and opened up into a study. A study that was in pristine condition, unlike the manor house above. Books lined the shelves, and Ekain could see some alchemy books he recognized. He also saw medical books, and several other, darker texts. He didn’t recognize them, but the titles he could read filled him with apprehension.


Eykit opened the door to the lab. Almë placed himself in front of the other door, that led to the surgical theater and necromancer’s playground. There was no reason to show the alchemist that room any time soon.


Almë made a note to get a lock installed on it. Preferably one good enough to stop a lock picker as good as Eykit. That would at least be good enough to stop most curious sneaks.


The alchemist looked into the lab. His jaw dropped. “Whoah.” It was, indeed, a well-appointed lab. Whoever set this up knew what he was doing. There was everything he needed to do anything he could think of. It had two brewing stations, so he could produce two elixirs at once. The tables glittered with glassware of various kinds. Burners, braziers, crucibles, furnaces, mixing beakers, alembics…it was all there. Shelves lined the walls with ceramic jars filled with reagents. He had never seen a lab as good as this one. Hells, he’d never even heard of a lab as good as this one. He didn’t think anyone in Port Karn had a lab this good. It was an alchemist’s dream lab.


“You guys have been sitting on this for how long?” He walked around the tables, looking at everything. “Ooooookay. Wow. Um, how’d you open that secret door?”


“We’ll worry about that later,” Eykit said.


“I would be interested. It’s a bit far out of town…a bit of a walk, but for this? Worth it. Definitely interested. You want the first month and deposit now?” He reached for his purse, counted out the requisite coins, and placed them in Almë’s hands.


“Do we need to sign a contract or something?” Almë asked.


“Sure. Got one?”


“Uh, no. We’ll take care of that the next time we see you.”


“Fair enough.” He rubbed his hands together. He looked around the room again. “All of the ingredients included with the lab?”


“All of it,” Eykit said.


“Okay.” That was good. Really good. This was, indeed, the “opportunity” Eykit had said it was. He hoped that he didn’t have to do anything immoral or illegal to keep it.


“But part of the deal is that you make a few things for us.”


Ah, he thought, there’s the rub. “If I know it, I can do that.” He looked around again. He couldn’t stop looking; it was as if someone else had control over his eyes. They wanted to see everything again, over and over.

“Can I start today?” he asked.


“By all means,” Almë said.


The alchemist got busy, and lost all interest in anything but the lab. The glorious, wonderful, fully equipped with the best tools he’d ever seen, lab.


The next day, Taid wandered around the house, checking to see what kinds of repairs were required. The roof needed some work. There was some masonry issues, mostly repointing, but some bricks and stone blocks were damaged and would need to be replaced. The garden beds, retaining walls, and the exterior stone wall needed work. There were some problems with the Dwarf-pipes, and some carpentry work needed to be done, and then there was the basic plastering.


Furniture was needed. Interior decorations were needed as well. If they did any entertaining, and Manor owners were definitely supposed to do some entertaining, they would have to make it look the part.


The farmhand quarters, barns, and grain elevator needed some work as well. They weren’t ready for habitation. Most of the grounds work Almë could likely handle.


Then he went to town, to look for the craftsmen that could come out and give an estimate.


That took the entire day. He got the estimates. There was a lot of work that needed to be done on the house. It would be expensive, but at least they knew what they would need to do were they to get possession of the house.


The roof would cost around 4300 marks to repair. The masonry work would cost another 3700; the courtyard 6400; the carpentry 9100; the plastering 5400, and the Dwarf-pipes 1200. The various outbuildings and farmhand quarters would cost and additional 17800 marks. It was a lot of money. But they were not going to spend a single coin until they had possession of the Manor. For the moment, they would simply use it for shelter until they got booted out.


Almë spent the next week under the tutelage of Magister Edain, learning the spell of Haste. He also spent some time decorating his room, placing the toy cart on the windowsill, and nailing the picture of him and his three companions on the wall. He put the pickle jar he had made out of the garden gnome’s body next to the cart. He put a marble ball, created out of the nymph statue, onto the window sill as well, but it immediately rolled off; the sill was a little warped and no longer level. He placed it in the cart. He was starting a collection of objects from his adventures. He regretted the fact that he didn’t have any souvenir from the caves of the cannibal Goblins.


Elitheris wanted to learn Disorient from the book she had found at the ruined mage’s tower that she had discovered before coming to the city. But she couldn’t make heads or tails of it; she likely needed to learn a different spell first.


So she spent the week out in the jungle, hunting and gathering. She’d spent a long time in the company of others, and used the opportunity to get away from them, and enjoyed the solitude. Every night she came back with meat, or a pack full of edible plants gathered from various locations. She also came back with wood, antlers, feathers, and various other materials. She was planning on building a new bow. A stronger bow, that could better penetrate armor. She would need materials, tools, and a space to work. And lots of time.


Eykit spent the time doing jobs for his guild. He’d been gone for a while, and needed to fulfill some obligations. They gave him a list, with instructions to steal stuff from each of the locations, and get some revenue for the guild. He spent the week breaking into places and stealing things. Most of the jobs were fairly simple, although one caused some trouble when the residents woke up unexpectedly and were moving around the house too much for Eykit to get a chance to steal anything. He was forced to sneak back out or risk discovery. Better to go back another time.


Taid was interested in giving Maggie some care and attention. It was time to get his halberd enchanted with the Staff spell, and put one of his powerstones into it. The Staff spell would extend his reach, and the powerstone embedded within it would be able to power his spells more effectively, as long as he did so using Maggie.


The Dwarf took his halberd to a weapon smith. He had the smith sharpen the blade, and make a fitting for his large powerstone in the butt end, under the spiked cap. Despite the powerstone being a fifteen carat ruby, it wasn’t heavy and didn’t adversely affect the handling of the weapon.


Then he went to the PKAC offices, the only place in town with an enchanter. Fortunately, the Staff spell was one of the most common enchantment spells, and one of the assistants knew it and wasn’t involved in any other projects. A couple of hours later, the halberd had the enchantment. Holding it, Taid could subliminally “feel” at a distance. It was weird, at first. There, but not there, almost like his arms no longer fit his body. He would have to get used to it; his propionic sense no longer matched the mental image of his body. But it would come, in time.


Word on the street was that the City Guard was looking for two Elves, a Dwarf, and a Goblin for questioning. So it was probably good that they had spent the majority of the eightday separated and laying low. They didn’t need the City Guard up in their business.


Ekain Julen let them know that he was brewing a batch of healing potions for them, “since you look like the type of people who could use a healing potion now and again. Should be done in an eightday or so.” In fact, he knew that they were only squatting, and that his renting of the lab was contingent upon them getting control of the Manor. So, he might need to leave at any time. So he concentrated on making elixirs with a quick turnaround time. That meant, in this case, healing potions, and fetching and carrying potions, both of which only took seven days to brew up. Three healing potions for his landlords, three fetching and carrying for the market.


Taid also was interested in learning the spell of Icy Touch. From what he knew of the local mage guilds, the Sentinel Group had what he wanted. He paid them a visit, and joined the guild. It was a lot cheaper to join a guild to learn spells than try to convince them to teach it to what amounted to a stranger.


The dues amounted to 200 marks per month, and for that Taid got access to the other members and their library. But that also meant that he had obligations to them, too. He was likely going to have to be a bodyguard for someone, which wasn’t terribly different from being a mercenary.


He was introduced to Magistra Sabina, the mage that would be teaching him Icy Touch. He was charged 400 marks for the training.

Rewards Granted

3 CP
Some money from the sale of toys, weapons, and helmets.

Character(s) interacted with

The alchemist Ekain Julen
The Everyman Jacks
Jakkit the Iceman
Sur-Rhea Henders Killian

Report Date

03 Jun 2023

Primary Location

The City of Port Karn

Secondary Location

The Tondene Empire

Related Characters

• Almë
• Elitheris
• Eykit the Eel
• Mister Wiggles
• Taid Tehoredor Lasu

NOTE TO SELF: remember to pound home the fact of how hot it is, and how much slower travel is when you don’t doff your armor. Having to wait for the people in armor to recover subtracts 20% from the distance traveled. Or see below for specifics and detail.
Also, HEAT: If over 80 deg, make a HT roll every 30 min. -1 for each encumbrance level, -1 for every extra 10 deg heat. Failure means lose 1 FT, crit failure 1d FT and you have heatstroke. This FT loss cannot be recovered until you get into cooler surroundings. In addition, at 91°-120° lose an extra FT when FT is lost due to exertion or dehydration.
SUNBURN: Taid and Ruby are the only ones in danger of this; Almë and Elitheris to a very lesser extent. Eykit has dark skin, so the worst he has to worry about is itching. Taid and Ruby: After a day in the sun, they take 1d-3 damage. The Elves (who have “Latino” levels of color) take 1d-4. This is to exposed skin; armor and clothing protect. But armor can chafe, so the collar rubbing on the sunburnt back of the neck can be rather...distracting.
Due to confusion with the currency, we have decided to not use various coin denominations. Just $1=1 coin. I've also (finally) decided on what the in-game currency is called: Imperial Marks, or just Marks.