13 Nighthal
The wolf obeyed, not that she had any other choice, following the aasimir through the Kingscourt. Eyes on the two oddities did not phase Brom; he seemed to reveled in the attention, giving every staring face a cheerful wave and continuing like he belonged here. That worked for him, no one questioning the human appearing male with his pet wolf. Almraiven, a city of magic users, was expected to have the occasional weirdness, as many of the wizard towers displayed . Brom disguised his clothing to take on the appearance of a very wealthy mage of the city, helping keep up the illusion. It was more believable once they had actually gotten into the city walls. A guard passed by giving the male and canine, giving them a good look up and down, then continued on their route. The aasimir and wolf stopped at the sabban center next to the majestic fountain. He wasn't sure which estate, having lost scrying contact before finding out where exactly they needed to go.
Brom sighed, not hiding his annoyance, "Find the trail," he commanded in elvish to the canine, "Ariali," using her name with the force of a spell behind his words. If a wolf could sigh, the whine she let out sounded like one. She'd been following the group for a time, since leaving Skullport, so she was eventually able to pick out the right scent. Letting out a yip to alert him, she led the pair up the right byway and to the estate the companions had arrived at. Guards stopped the approaching aasimir with swords demanding their business.
"Let your Lady Boss know, she will find some interest," showing a peculiar sketch to the female guard.
The first guard took the parchment of paper eyeing the two suspiciously, while the other guard went completely still. Brom recognized the guard was communing with someone in the estate. A few words in a language Brom thought was elvish sounding, translated for the disguised male, and within a minute, the guards were allowing the two to pass through. Brom gave an exaggerated bow with a smug smile and a wink to the female guard as he passed. She did not hide her contempt at the male allowed in. The wolf followed on his heels, tail tucked in.
Lyra stood at the door, leaning against the wall, examining her fingernails, a picture of unconcerned nonchalance with two heavily armed and fully covered warriors beside her.
"I know what you represent, so let us cut through the pretty words and get to the point," the szarkai moving to allow the aasimir to pass inside the double doors.
"Very well Lady. All flirting aside," as he took her offer and passed through the doors into the large chamber.
Then, as the wolf passed by her, Lyra unexpectedly knelt to the wolf's eye level and stared deep into the golden eyes of Ariali, reading the truth of her.
"No ordinary wolf," Lyra stood up to normal posture and invited them to sit.
The wolf cocked her head ears forward then glanced at Brom for his reaction. Brom acknowledged the szarkai's claim with a nod. "My favorite acquisition."
Lyra getting to the point, "you come to me seeking the same information a group has already looking for. So what do you offer me better than them? make it worth my while."
"Obviously coinage gets much done," Brom pulling a bulging pouch, it jingling with the weight of the coins, set the pouch onto the table.
Lyra seamed to think about it, "that gets me to listen to you further," the coin pouch gone, "but you can see I need not your money. I prefer to deal in favors, what can your 'Coming Chaos' do for us." Purposely using the organization's self-described title. Brom realized the female elven mage knew much more than he anticipated. Which meant the rival group knew more than his boss expected they did. A small setback, he thought.
"Then ask Lady," he answered allowing his annoyance to show through gritted teeth. He was walking a fine line dealing with this one he knew. Scanning the room he thought he could pick out a few shadows of no doubt armed warriors. He wasn't sure if he imagined the sound of cocked crossbows or not.
A half smile on her ivory face, she glanced at the wolf sitting in the floor in front of Brom.
The smile left the aasimir's face, eyes hardened, and got a bit protective, "not my favorite pet. She is worth more than your information." It was a bit of bluff, as he knew Helmyn would clearly disagree. There were some things he would not give to the tortle.
"I see." Lyra's countenance remained while a shadowy illusion of a mask flittered in the room to rest on the szarkai's face then vanish. She appeared to radiate with divine magic for a second, before the shadowy mask concentrated into an elven shape behind the white drowess. Ariali let out soft whine, as she too felt the unmistakable presence. Brom swallowed but held fast. The elf and aasimir stared, measuring each other. A heavy weight fell over the aasimir as something attempted to slide into his mind reading his thoughts and desires.
Brom spoke first, "ask your favor," attempting to hide the uncomfortable intrusion.
"Not many stand up to a god's consort," the grin growing slightly, "but we admire your stance. An interesting goal," a pause as she thought about it, "very well. I need a competition weakened and a ledger of our returned."
"You cant use your wiggle fingers and poof it back?"
"And soil my hands?" a chuckle, "I prefer it not appear outwardly us behind it yet."
"I see," mocking the elf, "so if it goes bad, yall stay clean." He sighed, hating doing errands but knowing he needed this elven woman's help, for now. "Who am I, we, dealing with," looking down to his reluctant assassin.
"One of my merchants has gone missing, along with a…" she seam to think how to say it, "Guild Ledger." Lyra took a sip of her wine that had been poured for her during the conversation, "It is thought that he has been trying to sell it to our rival. Whatever has befallen…"
"You got a mole," the aasimir laughing at appearing a weakness in her organization.
It didn't seam to phase Lyra nor did she react, "you get it out of your system?" she asked after he calmed his laughing. She didn't mention that the ledger had been an intentional fake.
He just left a cheesy grin motioning for her to continue. Then took a glass that had been poured for him. Rather than drink it he swirled the burgundy-colored liquor in the glass after having the wolf smell it first.
"The Black Fingers are a secret society of assassins devoted to Beshaba. So, I suggest you take it a bit more seriously."
"How secret can it be?" trying to draw out more information than she might be willing to give. And if making her look weaker was a plus for him. His own boss would appreciate it.
"Find the ledger, find Jacq. bring him back, dead or alive, I care not. He has a scar down his left cheek and an ugly mustache," fingers drawing the shape in the air. "Kill any with knowledge of the ledger."
"Assassinate an assassins guild?" he chuckled derisively, "do I have to search for their lair or does the mighty, 'Lyra', know where?"
"Gypsy Roseway. Look for a non-discrete polytheistic temple. And I suggest not being about the area at night."
"Concerned for me Lady?" insincere gratitude, "I'm touched."
"I am concerned your lovely pet," taking another sip of her wine.
Gypsy Roseway area was a known place as a haven for members of the remaining thief guilds and other dirty scum; many of these people spent the dark hours hanging out in the alleys that connected one street with another. Brom and Ariali waited for early morning, just before the first light then heading out twords the poorer district. Brom took the time to don a disguise and change bits of his appearance to resemble more of a street thug and less of an upper-class member. A little magic fell on the wolf and Ariali was no longer visible to the average person. She tested the magic and found her slaver could still see her.
"It was a nice try my pet," then pointed to his neck remaindering her of the collar and the geas. "Come," he commanded and she was forced to follow. As they walked the streets, Ariali felt the familiar sensation of being scryed. Knowing it wasn't Brom, she chose not to inform him of being watched. The two stopped in the dark silhouette of a high tower surrounded by jagged rocks and dead trees. As Brom was searching the area,
A boy ran up to him, tugging the aasimir's shirt tail in urgency, "please. I need your help," attempting to grab the arm of Brom and pull him twords an alley. "My father. He is injured. I need…" the boy's eyes paused where the invisible wolf stood before he returned attention back to the adult.
A snarl on Brom's face caused the boy to loosen the shirt and backpeddle a few steps, fear on the boy's face. Ariali started to move to follow, wanting to help the desperate kid, but a mental command sent a jolt through her stopping her in her tracks. The boy took off after a booted foot shoved the boy down with the demand he get lost, quick. A distance away, Ariali heard a high pitch whistle in a code. She knew she should warn Brom, but after his treatment of the boy, she refused. She couldnt directly hurt or disobey, but nothing about allowing others to hurt her slaver. In her naivete Ariali missed the true purpose of the whistle and truth of the boy. Turning onto another street was a group of six well-armed rogues fanning out to surround the two, the boy, actually a halfling, standing crossed armed and smugly behind them.
"we don't take kindly to foreigners, much less treating members of the Hastelet guild so poorly," the leader tapping a dagger on her palm.
The aasimir looked more annoyed then concerned. He turned the look on Ariali before calling upon the divine energy of his race. The aasimir's eyes turned into pools of darkness while two skeletal, ghostly, flightless wings sprouted from his back. A wave of his hand and he unleased necrotic energy twords the leader. At the last second the woman rolled to the side, barely avoiding the full blast. Her clothing smoldered as she got to her feet, severe burns on her left side. That was enough of a signal to attack, but three of the six were already fleeing. She growled a curse under her breath, releasing the dagger from her hand, quickly followed by two more for the aasimir's throat. His magical shield came up at the last moment to drive the enemy's blade aside, a dagger drawing a deep red line along his arm. The warlock answered with an eldritch blast from his hands hitting the leader and the one to her right. The rogue stumbled to a knee while the other fell to his side, barely alive. The rogue leader was made of tougher stuff and a sword came in a straightforward lunge at Brom. A mental command and a spin out of range, the rogue found fangs deep in her arm, attached to a black furred wolf. Her eyes widened in surprise as Ariali's weight behind the spring knocked the leader down; she attempted to roll away from the wolf, who held on tighter.
"Go for the throat," another command from the warlock as he blocked a third rogue's attack with his rapier. A step back, the male rogue slashed wildly with his shortsword, attempting a block with his offhand. Brom pushed the sword wide and to the right, just in the path of the second rogue who was chopping down. Battleaxe skidded off the sword, but not before leaving a gash in his companion's hand. Weapon clanked to the floor as the nerves refused to cooperate. The man stepped back grasping his injured hand to stop the flow of blood. He looked to his boss in combat with the canine and his companion locked in fight with the aasimir, deciding this duo was not worth the fight and slipped out to join the three who fled earlier.
Ariali loosened her grip and the leader attempted to scamper away; the full force of the command hit the wolf and she sprung again. The rogue attempted to cry out but teeth clamped on her throat silenced her.
"Last one standing? Want to try your luck," the warlock offered in a glee of victory.
The wolf released the no longer struggling leader and turned on the last remaining street thug with a growl issuing forth. The rogue looked around to his dead boss and followed his fleeing friends.
"Down girl," Brom commanded, stopping the bloodlust of the wolf. She fell to the street on all fours, a whine of shame as her paws tried to wipe the blood from her maw.
"You act like you hate it. But we know the truth," a little mocking laugh as he returned to his usual human looking form, "let us continue," a knowing glance at the wolf then.
The two arrived at a one-story round building with large stained-glass windows and clay roof tiles on a domed top. The wooden doors were engraved with geometric non-descript designs. A small garden with several shrines surrounded the temple for nature worshippers. Drawing closer they spotted a poorly graphitized symbol that resembled antlers.
The door opened to a smoky room and a group of worshippers circling something on the floor. Several statues encircled the room of the various representation of the most commonly worshipped gods of Almraiven; Azuth, Ilmater, Shar and Sharess most prominent. Up front on the dais, a smiling minstrel was dressed in deep red fabric, playing a disharmonious tune. Ariali fell with a cry of pain, trying to cover her ears from the sound. Even Brom was nearly knocked to his knees at the sound. The bard said nothing, just grinned and kept playing. The atmosphere was a smothering sense of misfortune weighing heavily on their chest. Barely able to continue twords the front, Brom released a bolt of energy at the bard. The minstrel vanished, along with the body of worshippers slowly fading with a lingering laugh, as a streak of lightning shot out from several holes near the ceiling, hitting both of them. The damage was minimal but still stung and left them feeling weaker. Brom pushed through it, one heavy step at a time twords the from. A stone altar of Ilmater was covered with gory goo, upon which sat a stone engraved with a symbol of bad luck. Lying on the floor before the altar, face down, pale bodies of three people in filthy black robes, arranged in a triangular formation. A lit black candle lay between them. Nothing about this made sense to Brom, even as well versed as he was in religious studies. A kick nudged a body checking for signs of reaction. Kneeling and flipping bodies over revealed faceless people. A ghastly whisper filled the room, "a case of misfortune, I suppose. Now the curse falls on you."
Behind a large red curtain was a false wall and secret door that was trapped and locked. The only keyhole was a round indention the width of a finger and just as deep. None of his tools worked and several zaps of electricity convinced him that they would need a key to get in. Their best option would be waiting for someone to show up and jump them for the key and possibly the password. If they show up, the wolf thought to herself.
Glancing around searching for a place to hide, he motioned for Ariali to hide in a dark corner behind a statue and altar, pretend to be a dog who sought shelter; Brom climbed up on a ledge that gave him a good view of the entire chapel floor to wait. He decided they would wait till full light then attempt another method; he knew that this was a foolish plan but had little other ideas for getting through the door.
The wait grated on their patience and Brom was about to call it off when they heard the unmistakable grinding of a stone door. Out stepped a red robed young man with an antler head piece. Brom deduced the male was a novice, his antlers having only a few points, compared to what he knew was common among the clergy. The young man was cautious, keeping his body covering the keyhole as he secured the lock behind him. Turning to face the alter, the novice froze in place, aware of the changes in the night decoys. Slowly he drew a small mace off his belt and stepped quietly forward. Soggy boots gave off a soft squish as he stepped. The illusionary trap was also gone and scorched lines marked the floor. Quickly, the man began chanting a detection spell but was stopped when streaks of magical energy flew into his chest. The acolyte stumbled back but managed to remain standing; he was in the midst of another spell, able to finish it before a crossbow bolt thudded into his front shoulder joint. Brom took the hit of the radiant energy bolts remaining on the his perch above.
"Show yourself cursed cowards!" the young man cried out as he scanned the room for the intruders.
The next crossbow bolt missed, skidding off the man's pauldron. His next spell aimed the direction the arrow shot from, the aasimir tumbling out of range and nearly falling to the floor. Two sharp whistles signaled for his secret weapon; a hundred pounds of black fur launched itself into an unsuspecting cleric. The pounce knocked the skinny acolyte to the floor, ears flattened and teeth bared. His mace rolled from his grip just out of reach. The sound of a soft thud, Brom landed to the stone floor and sauntered twords the squirming pinned male.
"Give me the key and my pet doesn't tear your face off, little man," Brom mockingly spoke, "you know you have already failed and I doubt Lady Doom would be too forgiving. I hear she is rather spiteful."
For a split second, the novice's eyes showed surprise then quickly narrowed into defiance. If he could have spit in the warlock's face he would have.
"tsk tsk. but not unexpected," then directing a command to Ariali, "he asked for it."
Ariali was on her haunches licking the blood away as if it would remove the guilt that constantly threatened to swallow her. The sadness in her golden eyes had no effect on her master. He'd just tell her every time, 'learn to enjoy it'. After adorning the robes to disguise himself, Brom found an unusual object, a blackened finger bone wrapped in a small piece of parchment. Written in a rare Iokharic script was the word 'unlucky'. The bone fit exactly into the door hole and the warlock was rewarded with a click. A whirling sound then followed before the word unlucky was spoken and disabled the trap. A small metal ring then appeared, allowing the door to be pulled open from the temple side. A rough-hewn narrow staircase headed down into catacombs. The smell of rotting corpse and sewage slammed into the aasimir first, Brom nearly gagging. Ariali's keen sense of smell picked up traces of living bodies that mingled with the stench; taking the lead down the stairs, the round chamber at the bottom of the staircase was empty, unlit, and flooded with two inches of foul-smelling water. The water was seeping in from nearby sewers through cracks in the stone. As they traversed the corridor, on one wall was written in red, "curse upon you."
Brom complained about trudging through the sewage and how bad Ariali would smell from this. Eventually the floor cleared of sewage water as it sloped slightly upwards. The scent led to a left turn in the corridor where there was a body dressed much like one would expect of a wealthy guild merchant of Calisham. The body was full of knife wounds in the back and a partially burned arm. A booted foot rolled the merchant over to reveal who they assumed was Jacq, the scar and mustache as described. Around his neck was a mask symbol pendent necklace with his sword having been kicked a foot away. In his pocket was a coded message, Brom unable to translate it. The corridor ended in another set of stairs leading up to a two heavily secured doors opposite each other.
"left or right?"
Ariali's nose led to the left door. It too had a small hole for a finger bone key and was disarmed with the same keyword. This hall was unworked and Brom had to duck to avoid hitting the top. Rubble littered the floor except for a small worn path. Several rooms branched off the hall leading to rooms for storing mummified bodies. Brom noted that these catacombs were long ago looted and desecrated leaving little to find. One burial chamber room was partially collapsed around the stone sarcophagi. Another room contained a stone altar with very old humanoid skulls and bones piled around it. Tables and chairs encircled the altar. The top of the altar was covered with dozens of half-melted candles made of black wax. A side chamber was a makeshift kitchen, a counter full of dirty dishes. One room contained several cots and small lockboxes. The last chamber was locked. There was hushed speech that could be heard on the other side, four distinct voices and the roar of a fire. Both could only hope that those on the other side expected it was the novice returning and not be preparing an ambush.
Brom and Ariali were lucky; the clerics were in preparation for a ceremony of rank ascension. Expecting the acolyte, they gave little notice when the door opened and a robed figure entered. The natural cavern's dark walls were smoothed and carved with shallow alcoves, every ten feet, each flanked by sharp buttresses. Each alcove had a lit brazier in the middle. A large antler rack was secured on the wall, with a red and white tapestry behind it. In the center of the room was a firepit in front of an obsidian altar. Two clerics were preparing an iron pole for branding. A small table beside the altar held several bottle of spirits for the upcoming offering. A drummer began playing when his partner paused, a face of confusion; the boy was suddenly taller, thicker and followed by a canine shadow.
A crossbow bolt took the drummer's throat before he could warn of the danger. The high clerics turned, a branding iron in hand, to an intruder. The surprise attack was only a moment, but enough to catch the clerics off guard. Another quarrel was loaded into the crossbow while Ariali was attacking the nearest priest who was about to call forth reinforcements. The clerics, weapons in hand, closed in on Brom from both sides. The target of the crossbow shot maintained his footing, pulling the missile while his right arm was hanging useless. Brom was hit with several magical spells at once, the waves of pain rolling through him. The warlock was able to finish a powerful spell, summoning a fiend to join in the battle. Three joining Black Finger assassins were halted in their attacks as the red smoke had coalesced into a tall humanoid form. A devil wrapped tightly in chains like a shroud stepped out with a screeching roar. Between the chains was a grinning mouth and a glimpse of a single, glinting eye. The chains animated and swung around at a nearby high priest wrapping and restraining the male human. The other high cleric was chanting a spell, A beam of brilliant light flashed out in a line temporarily blinding the warlock. He was ready for the attack that followed and spun to the right and just avoided the swing of the flail of another cleric.
The summoned devil made quick work of the priest he'd entangled and was moving onto the next victim as Ariali finished with her own target. The unengaged cleric was backing up as the battle was falling to the intruders, eyes frequently glancing between the altar and the enemy. Spinning on his heels and dashing for the back, he slowed just enough to scoop up a black dragon hide bound tome before taking off through a secret door.
"Don't just stand there, follow," Brom cried as his sight was starting to return, just in time to parry a swing aimed for his head; Ariali sped down the hall through the door the cleric had just taken.
The high cleric engaged with Brom began circling the warlock as if sizing up the man, his weapon before him, "that white witch sent you? I can do you a better offer, rafayam," using an higher status title to help persuade the warlock.
It fell short on Brom who wasn't from Calisham and unaware of the naming designations, "white witch?" Brom asked in honest confusion.
"You don't know what you are working for do you?" a smirk spreading on his face, "so few do."
"And I just take you at your word? What could you offer that is worth it for me turning on such a powerful, what did you call her, witch?"
"Information? Riches? Power?" continuing to circle.
"Tempt me."
"That elf I assume you work for sent you after something of hers?" holding up a thick leather book with a symbol of a mask on it, "I did half the job for you already with her merchant laying dead."
"Not very tempting"
"That elf is not as she appears. In fact, she is not just an elf…"
The next half of the sentence was strangled in the cleric's throat as an invisible dagger drew a deep red liquid pouring line.
"Oh, come on!" the warlock yelled into the air, "you have horrible timing!"
The dagger went into the now visible and tightly cloaked woman's belt sheath. Hands threw back her hood, showing a dusky skinned elf with silvery hair. "You let your enemy monologue, he keeps you distracted and gets the upper hand," kneeling down to pick up the ledger, flipping through it quickly to search for something. She discreetly tore a page from the ledger and pocketed the page.
He was taken aback for a second at the half drow but recovered quickly, "you also keep me from learning what he had to offer." The warlock started feeling the pain in his side, clutching a wound seeping blood from under his tunic.
The elf just shrugged as an answer, tossing the ledger to Brom.
"so, you just follow, let us do the dirty work?" as he caught the ledger to likewise leaf through the pages, hoping to see the surrounding pages of the one she took. The words were either encrypted or in a language he didn't recognize.
Another shrug and no answers, "your doggie taking her time with that last cleric?"
The devil returned to its summoner, licking gore off his claws as it waited for next instructions. Three more priest had been felled and joined his brothers in death. Brom motioned in a spell and the devil melted away in the same red smoke as before. After the devil was gone, he issued a sharp whistle calling back the wolf. When Ariali didn't respond, the warlock silently grumbled, turning to head down the hall after his pet. A severely injured assassin, bloody with deep claw gashes, and the black wolf were at a standstill. Ariali limped, teeth bared and growling. She ducked another spear jab as a stab of pain shot through her injured leg. The crossbow released a quarrel that struck the assassin in the back. It distracted him enough that turning to see the attack from behind gave Ariali an opening to spring.
With the last of the assassins down, as far as Brom knew, he noted the dragon hide tome in the human's arms. This, however, radiated with powerful magic and was magically locked. He quickly shoved it into an extra dimensional pocket before the half drow joined the two. Ariali fell off the dead body, out of breath and let out a cry of pain. The spear had torn a deep gash across her hip and a piercing hole in her shoulder. Brom knelt down, a red liquid potion poured down the wolf's throat. The magic was painful but began stitching back the wounds and staunching the bleeding.
"Got proof of Jacq's demise. I suggest we hurry back before reinforcements show up. No doubt a message got out to more assassins," the elf pulling her hood back on and was gone from sight.
An annoyed sigh, "a portal any chance?" he called, now to the silent air.