Hiraeth and Saudade

I'm back to thinking about Bentoc and it's myths of a past kingdom that may never have existed as they imaging it.

Session XIII: Infestations, Part II - Point Blank Shot - Eriamas Delvito

"Are you alright, you look terrible?" Eriamas asked as he stepped behind the makeshift barricade they had made for themselves.

The only bounty hunter in one complete living piece look startled and suspicious.

"It's all clear, here let me help you up"

He winced in pain as Eriamas helped him to his feet.

"After you..." he bowed a little to lighten the mood.

The hunter hobbled to the doorway, stopped, stared, and fell to the ground.

"Fool, didn't you know, lying to a DelVito can be fatal"

There was noise from the corridor outside. Eriamas knew that Vilsaran in particular would object to his actions. One day his innocent eyes would see that sometimes this option was the quickest and neatest. No loose ends.

Eriamas dragged the body back behind the table with the rest of his dead companions and placed the arrow back into his quiver.

"Hey! in here!" Eriamas shouted once he'd dropped the body in a natural resting place.

Out Of Session: Queen's Gambit Declined, Part I - Markus Duchèsne

Nessa of Serenella sat at the foot of the bed, her back to Markus. She ran an ivory comb through her long black locks, but after several spiritless attempts, settled on tying it back. With a leaden sigh she began to dress.

Almost two months on that miserable island and thousands of leagues away from her... Gods I missed her companionship, but where could this affair possibly lead? I'm clearly a pawn in one of her juvenile intrigues. Should I sever ties before it's too late, settle for someone less perilous...

"Will you not stay a while longer, it is still dark outside?" Markus whispered.

"Alas no. I must return home before morning bell. My Uncle has requested my presence for breakfast and he is a man you do not refuse lightly. I fear he will exploit me for one of his illicit affairs".

"Yes, I can empathise". He regretted his outburst almost immediately, they were uttered too quickly, sounded too cruel.

Nessa's head whipped around to face Markus, fury slowly replaced by awkwardness. "Yes, perhaps at first,’ She paused, ‘But my feelings..."

A moment later she was gone leaving Markus to ponder her unfinished sentence. He lay on his back staring at the ceiling, trying without success to banish all thoughts of Nessa of Serenella. A task which proved impossible.

Am I in love? Gods I hope not.

Session XI: Into the Wild, Part I : Eriamas Delvito

Eriamas lay prone in the alcove pulling his blanket over his frostbitten body. The smell of burnt hair and rotting fish hung in the air around him but he was too tired to move let alone change. Starring at the ancient stone work he wondered how he'd thought this trip was ever a good idea. He puzzled why it was that, things just went awry when he worked with Markus and his associates. Maybe he was right the last time he left, perhaps he should go it alone.
Vilsaran returned from collecting more of the freakish brown mould which had caused Eriamas to be in this state.
Eriamas shuddered....
There was nothing Eriamas could put his finger on as being wrong with Vilsaran but the mission had certainly become more complicated by his presence. He'd heard his protestations about plotting ambushes with the Island's fauna but Eriamas had brushed over it hoping his influence would be missed by Markus. Eriamas simply wanted to go home to Elenkess. They were clearly out of their enviroment and no matter what lay back in his home city it wasn't nearly as bad as camping and eating dried meat rations here.
"Is there anything I can do?" Vilsaran enquired.

Eriamas grunted.

Vilsaran lay down behind Eriamas wrapping his arms around his shoulders in the hope of keeping him warm. Eriamas shut his eyes, it was weird but he was too tired to protest. Besides Eriamas appreciated the gesture more that he'd like to admit.

Out of Session: Independent Enterprises Part II - Eriamas Delvito

Gilk loved his job.

He was well aware that he played into the half orc stereotype, for Gilk was a thoughtful character. He simply didn't care. Administering beatings to hapless shopkeepers and failed gamblers was a therapeutic outlet for his hatred of humans and the torment he'd been put through since he was spat out of his Orcish mothers womb.

He hated orcs too, for the most part, but many of them were up front in their hatred and that could be resolved with a drinking competition or fist fight. Gilk often earned his respect quickly that way. Humans were altogether more spiteful in their prejudices, whispering, exclusion from drinking establishments, work and even some areas of the market. Sneaky bastards!

Gilk often rehashed some of his childhood experiences of humans before starting his collections. The fire would fizz in his belly and the first on his list would at least receive a bloody nose, even if they paid their debt in full. That rarely happened though and Gilk would let out satisfied sighs of pleasure as he snapped bone and gouged eye sockets.

He'd stepped out of the last shop he was to visit for the day. The potter had a well know soft spot for the dice and had run up a considerable debt with the fat goblin. He'd missed two payments and now he was missing two fingers.

As Gilk turned into the alley. A cowled figure produced a stone which flashed briefly.....

Gilk shook his head. He was two roads down and empty handed. The fat goblin wont be pleased he thought.

Out Of Session: Independent Enterprises, Part I - Eriamas Delvito

And what of the other member of the black street gang? The one they thought was lost, the one who'd withdrawn himself for so long from the others. To find that out my dear friends we must search him out ourselves.

Lets pull away from the busying of the artisans putting the finishings to the new inn they jointly owned but he himself had last seen only in a blueprint when Yaef was still alive.

Floating high into the blue winter sky above Elenkess we drive South and West. Past the Riverfolk below loading their boats for the trip Eastward. Through the choking smoke rising from Bell forge and onwards towards the imposing castle at the city's heart. Then swiftly South and down toward the small houses, shops and alleys which make up the backstreets bordering Westhill with New markets.

There he is... you see him? On that roof with the small gang of youngsters...

Eriamas leant over the rooftop waiting for his mark to turn the corner.

"Is he nearly here?" One of the older kids asked. (I use this term broadly for the youngest was a little over twelve in years)

Eriamas turned nodded and put his index finger to his lips.

The neatly dress gentleman in the street below looked like he was in great haste. His bushy brows (a feature he seemed to have groomed and grown to perfection, perhaps as a result of owning very little other hair on his face or head) were furrowed with concern. Bottles of varying shapes and sizes clanked precariously in his hands and arms.

"NOW!" Eriamas jumped up closely followed by his gang of tykes...

*SPLAT*

The flame brow'ed man saw the first egg land at his feet, turning to look up was his first mistake. The next three eggs to follow hit him squarely on his face, head and chest. He now knew he was under attack but by the time he began to move toward the cover of a shop awning he was pelted with a second volley. This time he lost his balance and grip of all the bottles he had in his care.

The smash of his cargo and the yelp from the steaming, stinking heap that lay in the street was the indicator to the gang to make their get away.

"Over the roof!" Eriamas jumped followed by the rest.

Climbing over two more buildings and down a prepared rope in the alley behind Blackspring Avenue they knew they were safe. After a short burst of laugher and self congratulation the gang split.

As Eriamas walked with Meldria (they all knew that even if they felt safe now, travelling in pairs for the route back was a wisdom born from experience.)

"He looked pretty upset, Eri?"

"Aye he did, and well he should after what he did to Wilras. Bigots will always get theirs when I get wind of it."

Meldria nodded and carried on walking in silence as she wasn't entirely sure what a bigot was. She resolved to find out, as she certainly didn't want to be one for fear of getting covered in rotten egg herself.

A Day of Rememberance

Caitlin Jenleg fidgeted in the cold morning air trying to keep warm and appear lady-like at the same time. It was only early autumn but the clear sky of the last few days had made the temperature plunge. Well at least it wasn't raining. She glanced up occasionally at the statue of her ancestor. Her great-grandmother in her armour, great sword held aloft head thrown back in fear and anger the broken standard at her feet. The small crowd seemed to swell as the Grand Dutchess stood slowly and stepped forward. Caitlin had never seen so many dwarves in one place, nor so many old men and women.

"We are here to remember." The old womans voice rang out across the small square with the iron of command. "To remember those who fought to free us all from tyranny and terror. To remember those who died at the hands of The Everborn's hordes. To remember those turned against their fellows by The Black Wind. To remember the sacrifices made by so many so that the undeath would not take us all. To honour those of both the First and the Second Banners who selflessly heeded the call to arms."

"The great enemy is defeated. The..." The Grand Duchess faltered as a group of young men and women in black and orange unfurled a series of banners at the back of the crowd, "Free Bentoc", "Bentocovites are not slaves", and "Levinian Tyranny Must End". The crowd stirred and angry grumbles rippled through the crowd.

"We are here to honour those who fought to free us from darkness. Those like my mother who were lost to foul sorceries with the First Banner, those who died in the Second Banner and those who fought on to defeat the armies of Undeath." The clear, strong voice of the second Iron Duchess rang out clearly stiffling the fledgling shouts of the protesters.

"We honour them all, living and dead who gave of their strength so that we might prosper." She turned and placed a wreath of Kaelen and Vorisc at the foot of the monument and the next speaker stepped forward, Chief Kadvar Goldbeard.

"Kiadwar, Hedusci Melmoran. The spirits of the slain are honoured today along with the battle-spirit of those who live on for the greater glory of the Mother and the Father." The banners of the ignored protesters sagged. One young man tried to push forward through the crowd but was stopped by an old dwarf.

"This stone bears the mark of the clans who heeded the call to arms of the Grand Duchesses both. Those clans honour the battle-spirit of all the dead and living who fought against the Cursed-One. The poet Finlas of the Boneshapers speaks it best when he says 'Kradwen harad ma fluin peluin a Kiadwarvolik, Ai maristin pled moswellin agrui gravimdak. Bitter tears flow from our hearts as we honour our battle-brothers and sisters, To stand shoulder to shoulder against the dark is all we can perform.'" the dwarf placed the rune-marked stone in its niche on the monument.

Caitlin shivered in the cold and rubbed at her arms. She had promised to take her life more seriously now but was this dull ritual all she had to look forward to. She daydreamed as the next speaker stood. What had it been like for her Grandmother to take up the Grand Duchy at just 17 in all that war and turmoil. The tales she had heard of her prowess during the war were incredible to believe of the bent old woman sitting on the other side of her mother, but then the steel in her voice earlier made you think.

Session X: Recognitions, Part II - Markus Duchèsne

Markus stared at the hysterical creature before them.

"I win, I win, I have your heart and soul. You will stay with me forever. Oh how wonderful, wonderful, two for one, two for one". Screeched Vetis of Silk.

Vilsaran had lost the wager. He had bargained where Markus had not. For the heart and soul of Kerna, a girl they did not know and the price he now paid, was his own. Markus looked at his companion, the colour had drained from his face, but he remained composed.

The damned fool! we should have left when we had the chance. The girl was lost, but we still had a chance... I still have a chance... Gods be damned!

"Double or quits" Markus roared. "let us have this final game and be done with it"!

A knock at the door roused Markus from his slumber. He had clearly dropped off while composing a letter at his desk.

"Not now Sidric, I'll call for you in another hour or so".

"Yes Sir, I'll go finish the writing assignment you gave me".

"Double or quits" Markus whispered.

But I didn't speak. I remained silent, waited too long. I was spared my guilt by the grace of the gods. The fey woman - Lady Summer spoke in my stead. She had realised the creature was a cheat, all bets were off, the prize claimed. Double or quits, how I yearned to say those words, but I did not...

Markus dipped his pen once more into the ink pot and continued his letter.

Session IX: New Beginnings, Part I - Markus Duchèsne

Markus sat at the desk in his modest office, tucked away towards the rear of the Inn. The place would be open to the public in no more than two weeks, but was still without a name.

So what will it be. The Blind Fisher, The Viper, The Drawn Daggers, The Serpent's-

"Sir, Sir; Sidrik burst through the door into the office.

"Sid, I've told you a hundred times, knock before entering. Now what's all this fuss about?".

He's a hard worker and keen to learn, a little rough round the edges, not so dissimilar from myself. That's probably why I hired him.

"Another letter for you Sir. It's from the old Wizard that lives in that posh place in Tower Square. Didn't see him, but his butler made me wait around until he gave me this." Sidrik handed the sealed letter bearing the mark of Elvonis to Markus.

Markus broke the seal and scanned the letter. "Thank you Sid. Take a break, I'll call for you later."

So, He's sending him here. Vilsaran is it... This could be interesting.

***

The two spent most of the morning walking around the city, eating in one of the livelier establishments along the Riverway. Markus having spent much of his early childhood around Riverway found it a comforting retreat, Vilsaran on the other hand seemed to experience an altogether different sensation.

A small errand boy approached their table. "Sir are you Markus Duchèsne?"

"Yes I am, what is it?"

The boy handed Markus a note. "I have this for you Sir, tis from Advocate Tellainus."

Markus thanked the boy and tossed him a Ningy. The boy bowed once and scurried off , disappearing down one of the side streets.

"Well, it appears that I have to see the Advocate on some business, would you care to join me?"

Vilsaran nodded, "Salmarnus has not asked for my return, it would be a pleasure to accompany you. I am new to the city and it's workings and would be intrigued to learn more."

A Mother's Doubts

Farrah pulled her shawl tighter around her as the evening wind shook the trees. The light was failing earlier now and soon the forest would have its brief blaze of colour before the winter. But it wasn't the cold that made her draw her shawl a little tighter. This part of the forest always made her uncomfortable. The shadows seemed to move in strange ways and there was always a heavyness in the air as if the forest held its breath. Not just that though she feared the old woman too. Her Great Aunt Darna was a formidable woman and strange. 'Filled with secrets' was the way Farrah thought of the elders of the family. They all had a look about them that made you uncomfortable, as if they had seen things or done things that didn't quite fit with their lives as provincial farmers and merchants.

Old Marn, Darna's manservant was lighting the lamp on the decrepit porch as Farrah arrived. He was the same as ever. 'He hasn't changed since I was a child' thought Farrah as he held open the door for her, moving in his slow, graceful way. She glanced sideways at the old Elf as she passed. His face set in a faint smile, his eyes glassy as if he was in a trance only half seeing the world he was in.

Farrah sat opposite her Aunt beside the fireplace. The old woman starred thoughtfully into the fire before she spoke.
"I did not simply ask you to diner to talk about the state of the family, nor just to gossip about Laen's baby. I wanted to talk to you about Vilsaran." Farrah practically cringed at this and her hands began to play nervously with her skirt. But Darna ignored this and continued.
"He has a talent that boy, far beyond his years. Not only that though he has the look too, like in the pictures of my cousin." At this Farrah squeeked and in a low terrified voice said.
"No, please Aunt Darna. Please no don't say it. He's my baby boy."
"Farrah, you know our family has a duty beyond those the Empress has put upon us. We are older than the Empire. You only fear these thing because you do not understand them." Darna's voice had hardened and here eyes gleamed with command. "The boy must be sent away. He has a talent that he must develop. He must learn the hard lessons life has to teach the truly talented. And perhaps if the signs are right he will fulfill our families duty for another generation. The other elders and I grow old and there must be others to carry on our work and maintain the old ways. Not all sacrifices are terrible, some bring wisdom and serinity to those who dare. But he must be tested in the fire and so I will send him to the old Lich, Salmarnus. He has long been interested in our families other branch and it would be good to have one of ours near enough to discover what he knows. He will jump at the chance to use one of the blood to unlock some more of the secrets he craves." Farrah turned her tear streaked face away and said in a flat voice.
"If he must go..." but the thought trailed off.

Out Of Session: Ambush - Markus Duchèsne

The two of them made a break for it, moving directly towards the four aggressors. Glancing to his left, Markus saw Yeaf perform a move he had seen him use a few days before. Planting the end of his shortened staff firmly on the ground, he managed to vault one of the attackers off the roof. Markus' strike on the foe closest to him was less graceful, a brutal upward thrust of his shortsword tearing through the solar plexus, piercing the enemies heart. It was an unexpected attack and all more effective as a result. this uncharacteristic moment of decisiveness gave the two companions the minute window of opportunity needed to race past the two remaining assailants.

A few moments later they were upon the hooded figure, undoubtedly the author of this attack. The four men they had engaged moments ago hired thugs. the figure held the sack snatched from the two companions minutes earlier. As Markus sprinted past the figure he was able to snag the sack with the end of his sword. In one swift movement, the sack was torn away from the assailants hands and flipped effortlessly to the waiting yeaf.

An eight foot leap across to the next rooftop and the two friends would be free from their attackers. They leapt almost simultaneously, but Markus was the only one to land. He snapped his head backwards to see what had happened. Yaef was clinging to the edge of the building, but within moments he had shifted from this prone position managing to swing his leg up and heaved his tried body onto the edge of the roof.

Markus shook his head, "That was far too close for comfort. I thought you we supposed to be the better jumper".
Yeaf smiled, "evidently not, but then again, you didn't get hit by a bolt".

Markus scanned Yeaf's body and sure enough, there was a wound on his left thigh. Nothing serious, but enough to put someone off their stride.

Markus let out a tired sigh, "Let's get out of here, this job's been one disaster after another".
Yeaf started to stand, "I agree, I need a hot meal and several hours sle-".

A twang of a bow string, followed by the head of a bolt protruding out of Yeaf's chest. In almost slow motion Yeaf fell backwards off the roof.

Markus stood dumbstruck, frozen where he stood. In the distance the hooded figure recede into the darkness crossbow in hand. Slowly he made his way to the edge of the roof. There in the ally below lay the broken body of Yeaf. Tears began to flow openly down Markus' cheeks.

No hot meal for you my friend, but sleep and rest assured, you will be avenged.

Markus carried the body of his fallen comrade to the nearest temple. He left him and some coin, at foot of the steps for the cleric's to find.

They will take care of you and give you a proper burial. I will visit from time to time if the gods will it. Farewell my friend.

Session VIII: The Thought Eater, Part III - Eriamas Delvito

Click Clock...went the lock.

Eriamas winked at Yaef. Sliding the tools into a concealed side pocket in his black leather armour.

It was the confidence boost Eriamas had been looking for. He had been avoiding the gang after his fall and had only come out of hiding after hearing from Markus that they'd come by an item of great and disturbing power.

Eriamas detected a glimer of a smile behind Yaef's usually pained expression. He'd softened to Yaef recently. He believed he'd misjudged him and that he was skilled enough to more than contribute to their exploits.

They stepped into the bookshop, opened their bags and started piling books and scrolls into them.

"These books are empty" Yeaf remarked
"almost like.." He paused
"The knowledge has been taken from them"

A groan and crash came from the upstairs room.

They both stopped and looked up. Eriamas pointed to the stairs pulling one of his blades from his thigh strap...

Session VIII: The Thought Eater, Part II - Markus Duchèsne

Things are becoming dangerous, we shouldn't have taken the book. I should never have read out that name. What was I thinking... I wasn't! That's exactly why I always get into 'situations'. That name... what was that name.

Yeaf and Markus made their way by torchlight through the dark cramped tunnel which lead to the heart of the hideout. They walked in silence, both pondering the same questions. Was this place still safe? had the stranger managed to delve deep enough inside Lugus' mind to discover this location? Time would of course tell.

Eriamas sat waiting for them in the main room of the hideout. Sitting by him at the large oak table was Jeroth, eagerly eating a huge plate sausages and eggs. Markus walked to where Jeroth sat, helped himself to a sausage and took a seat.

"It's been a while Jeroth, where have you been hiding yourself my friend?" asked Markus.

Jeroth smiled, "Nowhere particularly exciting to be honest, but it was well paid and I got to see some of the countryside". It would seem like you've been busy while I've been away."

"That's one way of putting it." Markus sighed. "By the way, the handsome fellow over there's Yeaf."

From the corner of his eye, Markus noticed Yeaf's hand relax from where he believed he kept one of his daggers.

We've become steady friends over the last few months, but he's still very nervous around strangers and that could lead to trouble, or worse.

Yeaf nodded a greeting toward Jeroth, turned once more and resumed his conversation with Eriamas.

Markus helped himself to a second sausage. "I realise you've only just returned to the city, but we could always use another pair of hands".

"As Always Markus, you can count me in." Jeroth's smile broadened.

The Allies Of The Dark One

Wakuld long ago travelled out beyond the world into the void beyond the dwellings of the Star People where there is no light. In the void he revelled in his own thoughts and experimented with unknown magics. He found a way to travel into the deep places where the Others dwell and there sought allies against his family. Amongst these allies were the poisoner (Elis Morg), the destroyer (Cormesht), the curse (Ilfathis) and the eater of thoughts.

Little is known of the last being except that it revelled amongst the peoples of the world stealing thoughts and drinking dreams. Those that worshipped and gave all of themselves were allowed to drink of the stolen thoughts and dreams of others gaining much lost knowledge but at the cost of some of their very essential selves. Some say that, like Cormesht the destroyer, the thought eater died in one of the Gods' Wars. Others however suggest that he has simply eaten the very idea of himself from the minds of most men so he cannot be found as he swallows up the wisdom of the ages in places we have forgotten.

The Guild Of Courtesans

Silasarin smiled slowly as the servant poured more warm oil onto her and began to rub at the knot in her lower back.

"So tell me again who they are, Menra. These youngsters that beat you to the prize."

Menra stood uncomfortably straight in a dim corner of the opulent room trying to resist the urge to twist the end of her ponytail where it hung down over her shoulder. How many times would Silasarin get her to repeat the details of how young and inexperienced these boys were who had tricked her and her sisters out of their score. She would get even with them all one by one. First she would kill that drunken mark that had attacked her sister Lissa claiming they had something to do with the theft and then she would find a way to mess up those boys and their little club.

"Well, Mistress. They are a mixed group of ruffians and trouble makers who seem to be organising themselves. From what we've seen they're rich boys playing at being thieves..."

Silasarin interrupted her with a sigh and said,
"Yes, yes dear. Even so I think they might have some promise and if they can mix things up in the dung heap. Well then we might yet profit. I want you to forget about them for now and I will make arrangements to get someone on the inside." Silasarin smiled with satisfaction as Menra fidgeted with anger.
"I have another job for you dear. I want you to look into this new group in the Iron Hills calling themselves Her Lamp Bearers. They seem to be a group of political agitators. They want to change the social order and put the working man in charge or some such inflamatory nonsense. Take a couple of your sisters and head out there tomorrow."

"Yes Mistress. May the silver light fall upon you." Menra bent stiffly and stepped backwards out of the room. Her jaw clenched around her protests. Damn it all, an assignment outside the city was yet another sign of disfavour. Someone will pay for this.

Out Of Session: Bruised

Eriamas slipped his legging down and picked up the pot of healing ointment from the table. The fall had caused a huge bruise on his back spreading to his legs. He winced as he prepared to apply the veldarian moss....

"Eriamas, do you know where my ...."

Leaping towards the door he tripped and fell over himself. Just for a second he wondered if he was really cut out for adventure with the clumsiness he'd exhibited over the last 48 hours.

Eliandor, his younger sister and closest in age, stepped through the door dressed in a beautiful white traditional Bentocovite dining dress.

"Eri, What are you doing sprawled out on the floor?"

"Being clumsy. Now give me a hand up I need to apply this before dinner"

Eriamas knew Eli had a gift so he'd decided a long time ago not to bother concealing his activities from her. She enjoyed the tales he returned with and he was happy in the knowledge that a little truth prevented over delving into his business.

"Eri! How did you do that?"

"That's what you get when you fall from a roof top, little one."

Eliandor laughed

Eriamas winced again as he pulled his dining suit trousers on.

"You'll have to tell me all about it after dinner. I hear father is keen to impress his new friends, so you can expect him to dig up many of his old stories."

This dinner is going to be painful in more than just the usual manner he thought as he hobbled out of the bedroom.

Session VII: Meeting At The Mudcart

The Mudcart was an extraordinary place even for Mud Row. Nowhere else in Elenkess could you see the diversity that congregated there.

The three companions were immediately struck by the imposing figure of the barman. A po-faced ogre standing almost nine feet tall. Within the dark smokey interior of the inn other exotic and alien beings sat in small groups, drinking and speaking in unfamiliar tongues.

Markus spied Kaladane from the Morencade and headed in his direction. Sitting next to the human was a sight one would see perhaps once or twice in an entire lifetime. A member of the Lizardfolk. It was almost unheard of for these strange and secretive creatures to venture too far from their homelands in the south.

This is odd. what in the name of the gods is this all about. All I'm interested in is getting permission to build the Inn.

***
"So... You're happy for the build to go ahead, as long as the Shalmas have no reservations?" Lugus enquired.

"That is correct, you will need them to agree before you have the full backing of the Count". Kaladane repiled.

"Can the Shalmas be trusted?" Markus ventured.

"You can trust the Shalmas to be demanding, sly and troublesome. Take that how you wish. Kaladane finished.

Session VI: Standing On The Stones, Part II - Markus Duchèsne

The four companions sat huddled in the cramped room above the saloon of the Narwhal.

He doesn't seem like a bad sort, a little ill tempered, but I like his professionalism. He could be a good asset to the group, besides Eriamas hasn't been himself recently and that's worrying-

"I couldn't get the right-hand door open, but I heard something panting on the other side." Eriamas whispered. "the left-hand room was all but empty aside from some bloodied clothes and the stink of piss and shit".

The Bastard sword wielding drunken oaf no doubt. Regardless of whether we're discovered tonight, he'll be in no fit state to pursue. Still, there's the twitchy one and the magic user-

"I'm quite certain that there's a wolf in there" Yaef began. "Although it was difficult to see into the room from the roof across the alley. Be warned, there's someone outside on street level staking out this place. He could be a problem if we need to escape unnoticed".

"I'll go out and take care of him" Eriamas said too eagerly.

"We don't even know who he is Eriamas, let's not start killing people just yet. Besides, We have absolutely no idea who he's connected With!" Markus could barely keep his voice below a whisper.

He's not himself and that's worrying.

Session V: Markus Of The Melorus

Have these people cracked. who in the nine hells ever resolved a dispute over honor by drawing daggers. Is the notion of having honor really that important? I'm grateful I'm only half Riverfolk, half as bonkers as the rest of these -

"Who will challenge me"? Weslin of the Gresling clan scans the crowd, his gaze finally falling on Markus.

Not a chance! Suddenly the insults he made against Mother don't seem quite as offensive as they did.

"I'm your man!" Markus could hardly believe the words spewing out of his mouth. He looks down at the silvery Riverfolk blade clasped in his right hand, the dagger given to him by cousin Raul. Markus barely hears the cheers of approval from the other Meluros. He can feel his muscles twitching with nervous anticipation, but even more apparent is the eagerness to draw blood, first blood! For clan, for prestige, but above all, for retribution.

You can do this... Just don't let him take my ear, or scar my face for that matter. You can do this... Oh gods, who am I kidding...

The Meluros' roared with triumph. "you did it little brother", "You are Meluros afterall".

perhaps I am as crazed as the rest of them...

Out Of Session: The Adept

Through the foggy night, I crept
'cross roof, yard and alley I leapt

Into his bedroom I stepped
The poison blade, I drove as he slept

Out of the window I swept
My feet on the sill below I kept

Away into the night, I wept
Is this me who I now must accept?

Out Of Session: A Twist Of The Knife

I sit up in the dark, the sweat sticks the sheets to my legs. I turn and sip some water in the hope that the boys face will fade from my minds eye. It doesn't. I need rest, but for the last five days I have replayed the moment when the light of his life leaves his young body.
I tell myself that if we hadn't me and my friends may be dead now too, that it if it wasn't me it would have been someone else, someone crueler.
I lie back down, I must sleep, the ships will arrive soon and I will need to be alert and ready... perhaps I need some clerical guidance to stop this haunting.

Session III: The Killing Moon, Part I - Markus Duchèsne

Groem sat across the large mahogany table, his huge belly bulging over the top of his breeches and large damp stains under his arms. Markus noticed a particularly sadistic twinkle in the Goblins eyes today...

***
He couldn't quite believe that he had accepted the job. It was arguably a matter of appearing weak and indecisive in front of his friends, after all Groem was his contact within the Uncles. Besides neither Lugus nor Eriamas had openly objected to the job. Perhaps they were made of sterner stuff, or perhaps they were silenced by the dawning realisation of the horrors which lay ahead. He was certain of only one thing, nothing good was going to come of this.

***
It was agreed, There was to be no unnessary bloodshed. The plan was simple, smuggle them up the Serpent to the village of Merryment. From there they were on their own, homeless, but alive. With any luck it would all be over by morning and as far as the Uncles were to know, the job had been taken care of...

Session I: Stealing Beauty, Part II - Eriamas Delvito

Perched atop a building the pair loaded their bows and fired at the group of zombies below.

"So what do we do until the militia arrives?" Markus asked

Eriamas peered over the edge

Suddenly a zombie, who'd managed to climb half way up the wall lost it's grip and fell to the ground in a heap of rotten clothes and pus ridden flesh.
Eriamas and Markus looked at each other, shrugged and fired another volley into the shambling mass below."

***
"Gold Gold Gold...

Eriamas had been waiting for the others for an hour in this Dwarven local before they'd arrived. Between the singing dwarves and the drunken gnome next to him at the bar he'd grown quite weary. He rubbed his temples.
***
Lugus stood up

"I shall speak to her! "

Picking up his glass of Gnomic liquor he downed the last of it.....

Lugus sat down again....

"Gurgle"

Eriamas turned to Markus.

"Perhaps you should go."

Session I: Stealing Beauty, Part I - Markus Duchèsne

As the three companions sat having breakfast at the Cinnamon loaf, a half crazed artisan approached them, he appeared to be old acquaintance of Lugus' - Lucien 'The Gold' and begged them for assitance. Nothing dangerous he insisted, in fact it seemed so innocuous, they would have been utter fools to decline. Not to mention, there were fifty Lunts in it for the three of them. Fifty Lunts to find a redheaded Beauty and convince her to model for the artist. Easy money, or so it seemed...
***
The redhead was named Zorewyn and apparently she worked in a little alchamists boutique in Bell Forge. It had only taken a Ningy and a little pursuasion to get the information from the patrons of the Rum Dog.

The City of Elenkess and Its Districts