Morale is low. Nigel Brians, our trusty housecarl, is dead. The funeral was a humble affair for such a hero; with more time, Nigel could have climbed the ranks within the Prince’s guard, and would have been heralded a great man. It’s a loss to have such a kind soul taken from Dragolin, but that’s what happens when you put other people first.
We stand there, awaiting news of our new housecarl – Merora is keen to get someone onboard before Nigel’s body is even settled in the ground. We get allocated the bookworm Merora ran into when we visited the Mage’s tower.
He informs us that there are a couple of people interested in our services.
Of the two options, we choose to see Silverhand. Lord of Little KItswald and treasurer to the Earl. He doesn’t actually have a silver hand, unfortunately. That could have made the whole debacle more interesting.
The building is grand, to say the least. Naturally this upsets Merora, because anything that size and value that doesn’t positively affect her fellow hobos, is a waste. She couldn’t just appreciate the fine architecture and history of the place. Oh well – a quick elbow to the ribs successfully keeps her quiet.
The butler recognises us immediately – The Enchanted Shield has quickly made quite the name for itself.
The visit is purely business. Siverhand asks us to get rid of the Black Iron Gang; ‘bad eggs’, as Andrin so eloquently states. They’re the reason drug-addiction is growing rapidly like a malignant tumour across Tint.
Rindle and that marble-like orb; his naïve sense of morality has recently become irritating as it holds us back from effectively accomplishing simple tasks. Though he now wishes to return the marble to its original owners, he allowed the jackel to eat it. Now we wait for the beast to excrete it – such a valuable item, desired by many… including the Eye.
Originally the Druid showed such promise, but these days he just perpetuates disappointment. Though I’ll admit he livens up the ‘meeting’ by bringing Wiggly out to play on the map Silverhand has on display. He seems to be imagining Wiggly taking over the city.
It’s ridiculous, I know, but I get the creeps when Wiggly is out… a strange sense of some kind of evil. Almost like if he was bigger, he would stop a nothing to destroy us all. It must just be my bard’s imagination.
…I might have to write a song about it, to try and get it out of my system.
The talking continues for some time. Politics this, justice that. These people have no idea how to embellish a story and make it interesting.
We finally leave and get to take action.
Nobody really knows where to go to start looking for them. I suggest a particularly pitiable cesspit I’ve had the misfortune of drinking in the past. Let’s hope I don’t lose too much of the group’s respect for knowing about this dump.
We decide to split up; Korath goes in alone, acting every bit the ignorant rich man who has the money to pay for an array of drugs, while Merora and Rindle go in together, to make subtle inquiries and see what information they can gather. Andrin andI go in together – two desperate half-elves desperate for their next hit. That’s what I make us look like.
I find a shifty looking man in the corner and twitchily approach him to ask for the product. He says he can provide.
That’s when Korath comes over, too, offering to put money towards the purchase of the product. Unfortunately this put the shifty man on the backfoot and he runs off. He might have been trying to help, but this slows things down. I think I can still make this work though, regardless.
I run after the man, who has gone outside. For some reason the mongoose fighting has ended abruptly, and I hear people scrabbling about to find where the mongoose has gone. Can’t help but wonder if our friendly neighbourhood Druid has something to do with it.
After desperately agreeing to pay double, the dealer leaves me to pickup the product I requested. He takes quite some time to bring it back to me. I can hear some trouble going on – it wouldn’t surprise me if that grubby Halfling has something to do with it.
He does eventually bring the product back to me. I try it. It’s legitimate.
Can’t wait to regale this tale to my fellow bards; they’ll undoubtedly applaud my convincing performance and give me the recognition I deserve for it.
Until then, though, I’m getting high… perks of the job and all.