Dusk was setting on the docks as the pair approached the Sea's Bounty Tavern. Shemill stopped just outside the front door before addressing his companion. "Now, you're going to meet the other two under my care. Namma is a rogue with a sweet demeanour, however in battle she is dangerous as a mountain lion and not to be crossed. Nettor is a bard who has been with us for some time. He does not suffer fools and it takes a while to get on his good side. DO NOT get into a discussion on Athkatla politics with him, you have been warned. Are you ready?"
Bendeg gave a grin before replying. "I am Shemill, lead the way."
The Tavern reeked of rancid sea water. It was dimly lit with lamps that gave off a cooked meat smell. Shemill nodded to the barman pointing to the back. The barman did not even look at him yet started pumping a murky liquid in two clay mugs.
Shemill walked to the back of the room where two figures sat at a table.
A Half Elf looked morose as he stared into his cup. He wore a dark blue cloak of dense velvet. Leather bracers were strapped to his wrists and thick padded armour studded with, what appeared to be pearls, was just visible above the table top. Long, light blonde hair framed his thin almost feminine features. Almond shaped green eyes sat above a long nose and small petulant mouth. He looked up as the two approached before addressing the woman. "He has brought us a child Namma. Quick; order some goats milk."
Shemill sat before speaking. "Hush Nettor, how many cups have you soaked before our important mission?"
"Not enough to suffer your criticism." Said Nettor. "We are on a tight schedule. I have taken great pains to arrange this meeting and I'll not have it compromised as you shop for half a sword!"
"Calm yourself Nettor." Said Namma. "You have managed to insult our guest before introductions have been made, Shemill may tolerate your insolence but you know I will not!"
The bard grunted before draining his cup staring at the wall.
The bartender arrived with the two mugs and placed them unceremoniously in front of the two new arrivals. Nettor waved his cup in front of the barman. The barman rubbed his fingers together to which Nettor shrugged and went back to staring at the wall.
Shemill chuckled and slid his mug to the bard before speaking. "Namma, Nettor, I would like you to meet Bendig."
The Woman gave a nod and a smile before speaking. "It is a pleasure to meet you Bendig. I have heard how you assisted Shemill. I was impressed. Our group was small, too small I think, your assistance will be welcome."
The rogue had close cropped black hair with a long thin braid growing from the front and tucked behind her right ear. Her eyes seemed to be perpetually squinting with web like wrinkles in the corners. Both ears were heavily pierced with silver rings of various sizes. Her leather armour was extremely well worn almost ratty in appearance. Her most striking feature, however, was a thick white scar across her neck which she made no attempts to hide.
"Yes, yes! Welcome!" The bard stood with a flourish. "Now can we go? We can brief the Halfling on the way."
Nettor led the way with Namma close behind Shemill informed Bendig what to expect as they followed the pair.
"Nettor has arranged a meeting to purchase some illegal pelts and parts from some poachers. They trade in endangered species as well as some intelligent ones. Some of the pelts are sold as status symbols for the wealthy and some of the "parts" are sold for spell components and potions. I expect a good deal of trouble once we make our true intentions known so be prepared."
Bendig nodded before speaking. "And what, may I ask are our true intentions?"
The large Warrior gave a wicked grin. "We intend on apprehending them to face Harper justice. Their illegal poaching and murder outside of Athkatla has upset the balance. They may decide they can take us, or they may come quietly. Either way they will not be happy."
Nettor turned at the top of worn stone stairs which continued down into the cold black harbour water before addressing the group. "We are going to come to a grate near the bottom of these stairs on the left. It should be open. Once inside their camp should be set up under the first arch on the right."
Smemill looked to the rogue. "Namma, I only want to see you, or more importantly, them to see you if trouble starts."
The rogue pulled her braid from behind her ear and let it dangle directly between her eyes before tying off the bottom on a silver stud set in the armour between her breasts. She drew two very long serrated daggers before slinking down the steps into the shadows.
Bendig looked at Shemill. "What purpose does the braid serve?"
"It has something to do with balance, and if the braid is ever cut it means her skills need tuning. You should ask her later, she does not mind speaking on it."
Nettor led the way to the large rusty grate which appeared to be opened just enough for the three to slip through. Dim light peaked through what seemed to be two large flaps draped in front of the stone arch on the right. As the trio approached the opening the bard called out.
"It's Nettor! I have brought two friends to trade as we discussed."
"Enter half man!" Rough laughter followed the jibe as the trio entered the arch.
A wave of stale sweat and urine greeted the three as they made their way into the large chamber. The space was dimly lit by torches and animal pelts covered the entire floor some stretched for drying. Three men stood near the back of the room. Two stood casually near the centre figure leaning on long boar spears. They were dressed in makeshift hide armour from various animals. The centre figure was by far the largest of the three and wore a tight fitting leather vest and a wolf skull helmet. He stood behind a mound of skins which served as a makeshift counter. He nodded at the three before speaking.
"To trading then. We have been hunting all day and wish to drink and sleep. What do you seek then? You see we have many skins common and rare."
"My companions are looking for very rare items and will pay well, spell and potion components, Items that the cowled ones might purchase." Nettor pulled his hood up for dramatic effect.
"Yes. They do not come here but if they did they might buy some of these." The large man reached behind him and laid out two skins with no hair in front of him. They appeared to be very small and humanoid in appearance. Next to these grim items he also placed a clay jar filled with silvery dry transparent flakes. "These two are brownie skins. The jar has pixie wings."
"I have seen enough." Said Shemill; drawing his long sword and gripping a thick steel buckler. "You and your men will accompany us to face the judgement of the Harpers."
Nettor stepped back and drew his rapier as Bendig watched carefully thumbing a throwing dagger on his chest.
"My friends," Said the large man hands held open. "We pay the guards well I am sure we can work something out. I have plenty of gold, let me show you." The large man ducked behind his skins and popped up hurling a javelin at Shemill. Shemill knocked the javelin aside with his buckler making a loud CLANG! The two with spears crouched low and started to move towards the three as if hunting a beast. The large man hefted a wicked looking studded mace in both hands eyeing Shemill carefully as he made his way around the pile of skins.
A knife hurled thru the air sticking the left hunter in his shoulder. Bendig drew his short swords and closed with the wounded man. The hunter on the right gathered his courage and charged the bard with a swift thrust of his weapon which the bard easily dodged, the spear however then came around in a half circle low trying to catch the half-elf's legs. The bard tried to leap over the spear but was caught in his calf and fell with a roll to his left. The Hunter wasted no time and was gathering for a quick killing blow when he suddenly shouted in surprise and pain dropping his spear and groping desperately at his back. A foot from behind kicked out his legs from under him. Using the momentum of the falling hunter Namma ripped her serrated blade free from deep within the man's back. The leader gave a deep throaty growl screaming; "Malar will feast on your soul!" as he swung his huge mace down toward the large warrior. Shemill parried with his sword but the force of the blow was such that it flung his sword arm back in a wide arc. The Malarite overextended past the warrior and Shemill smashed his buckler in the side of his face shattering part of the wolf skull. The Malarite stumbled then steadied himself but before he could recover fully Shemill's blade came back around in a tight controlled swing shearing off the top of the wolf and man's skull alike. The huge mace clattered to the ground followed by the loud THUMP of the dead hunter.
"True intentions indeed." Bendig said, wiping off his blades with a rabbit skin." Shemill looked to the Halfling who was sitting next to the second hunter whose head was partially severed.
"I can't move my left side!" Nettor yelled. "It's numb and spreading!"
"Nettor where did that spear hit you?"
"In my left calf, quick I can't move now and my face is getting numb!" Nettor was now laying on his back and his head slowly lowered to the ground and his mouth flexed twice and stopped, his eyes staring at the ceiling.
Bendig quickly checked the hunter's weapon, wiping the blade and examining the dark resin left behind.
"It looks nightshade based. The hunters use it for larger prey. If they wound the beast and it runs they can track the paralyzed prey later. This compound will kill a man however. He has about an hour."
"Namma run to the compound for a neutralize poison. Potion or person whatever comes first, GO!" The rogue sprinted from the room. Bendig run to the temple of Oghma just in case Namma cannot find anything HURRY!"
"I am sorry Shemill but that hunter fell on my leg. It is not broke but I'll not be running for a few days."
"Stay here and search this hole then for any type of antidote. I'll be back as soon as I can!" Shemill ran out the entrance.
The Halfling watched the flap close behind the warrior before turning to the bard. "Hello Nettor. I know you can hear me, unfortunate side effect of the poison. Now where do you hide your mark I wonder? My sources tell me you are never seen in public without those bracers, let's take a quick peek shall we?" The Halfling sliced the straps of both bracers and flipped the palms up so both wrists were exposed.
"Now there's a surprise. Not the Zhentarim mark that's the one I was looking for, but it appears you have a mark of Talona as well. Fitting isn't it? That a follower of Talona should be undone by poison? Now for your sentencing; Nettor, you have been found guilty of the murder of a known associate of the Shadow Thieves. You met him secretly in the guise of Zhentarim business and then poisoned him. Later, under cover of darkness you drug his body back to the Harper base. Since you were, you don't mind if I use 'were' do you, a double agent you created the story that you found him spying outside of the base when you fought and killed him, stuffing him in a trunk as you were too lazy to dig a hole! Your sentence for this crime is death. Do you have anything to say in your defence? I thought not. The Halfling plunged a dagger into the bard's throat and drew the symbol of the Shadow Thieves on his forehead before quickly making his way out of the room.
"It's good to have you back Milord." The servants head was shaved and he wore a black silk tunic, he held a candle to illuminate his master as he removed his armour.
"Is my position on the Shadow Council still secure?" The Halfling was unstrapping his armour as he spoke.
"It is Milord, your position is as secure as the day you left. There were some murmurs of dissent but I was able to silence these without delay."
"That is good Grev. These are for you." The Halfling tossed a coin purse to the servant who caught it with ease. "You will find it larger than normal, a little extra for your good work. If, however, I find the council is not as pliable as you say I will fill it with your fingers instead."
"Of course Milord, thank you Milord." Grev said bowing.
"One last thing Grev;" The Halfling said. "That thief, Namma, the one who refuses to join us?"
"I know the one. Shall we make another attempt on her life?"
"No. She is my project now and anyone who lays a finger on her will answer to me. Is that clear?"
"Yes Milord, is there anything else?"
"No Grev, that will be all."
"Good night Milord." The servant retreated to his quarters.
The Halfling entered his chambers. He removed his swords and hung them at the head of his bed. He checked under his pillow to make sure the dagger was still there. It was. He went to his desk, sat down and poured two glasses of strong spirits. He looked at the small shrine to his right. A small bag of coins sat on a shelf and a black foot print shown prominently in the centre just above the bag of money. 'What a great adventure.' The Halfling thought sadly.
A small hooded figure seemed to emerge from the shadows before speaking. "Ye done well lad."
"Thank you Montaron. I did my best."
"Do not get idle boy. There is much yet to do. Good blades need to be fed." The hooded figure said.
"Aye Da, I know. First come and share a drink with your son."
"That I'll do boy that I'll surely do….." The hooded figure disappeared.
The Halfling looked at the two drinks in front of him and slowly drank each one in turn. The little thief then placed his head in his hands and wept quietly into the night.