Drakar walks along with Katrina in companionable silence until the two are well out of the city. As Narush lopes off into the forest to hunt and stalk prey, Darkar picks herbs and plants from the forest floor, stuffing them into pouches on his belt as he talks to Katrina. "I'm glad you came out here with me. What do you think about what you've heard so far? Do you really trust Segev?" A wolf's howl penetrates the air around them, followed closely by Narush's own call. The first wolf howls again; Drakar can almost swear it sounds like a dire wolf in heat. Katrina shakes her head, slowly. "Not in the least. Necromancers have no respect for life, or the lack of it." Kyran speaks up from behind the other two, having remained very well hidden and completly silent earlier. "If I may, I trust him about as far as I could throw him, that I do. As me right now, that is. I... I would not think him being very upstanding, and he is very... unsettling. But I do feel he will try to remain true to his word, I feel." Drakar scratches his chin, "Aye, I think the necromancer's honorable in his own way. I just wouldn't trust him if our interests were ever opposed. I guess we can trust him to act in his own self interest, and I cannot deny he's been useful so far. I think we'd better go back to the temple sometime in secret and investigate this 'basement' the spirits were referring to. It might give us a clue as to the 'key' we need to gain access. Katrina, do you have any kind of invisibility spell like the one Segev used on Kyran at the slaver ship?" Kyran blinks. "If I may, would it not be wrong to violate the sanctity of the house? We need to be secretive, this is true, but if a creature such as an illithid, or perhaps even more powerful, is in control, an incident would arouse him to our intentions more than anything. An invisibility spell would be useful, as my father would say, but people see with more than their eyes. What about the other senses?" Narush comes wandering back, slightly limping, but clearly proud of himself for something. The howling of the female dire wolf has stopped. Drakar heals the self-satisfied dire wolf as he shakes his head. "I'm glad you're having fun. We still need to see if we can bag us a kill Narush." Darkar picks up the brace of rabbits he's managed to hit with the handful of hunting arrows he carries and slings them over his shoulder. Each has a single hole through its center of mass where the mighty bow sent the shaft right through the rabbit's body. After a few more hours, as the last rays of the sun dip below the horizon, Drakar and Narush, with a fair bit of help from Kyran and Katrina head back into town with a pair of dear slung over Drakar's shoulder. He doesn't seem to mind the weight at all, only handing over the brace of coneys to Kyran when the young ranger asks to help. The group returns to the inn, where Drakar begins haggling for the pair of deer he carries with the innkeeper, enough to feed every patron of the inn for the next two days. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alfred, having not become part of the little tiff, heads off on another errand entirely. He can inquire at the gaol about Kork tomorrow morning, after all. It's not likely he's going anywhere. Once the bar fight has calmed down, he heads off to the Wizard's Guild to inquire about the cost of some defensive magic. Korg goes along with the guard without much protest, having gotten into more than a few brawls that ended up with having to spend the night 'cooling off' behind bars. He casually hoists Ruathor over one shoulder to carry him, at least until the Elf comes around. He does inquire if there's arrangements to pay a fine in exchange for quicker release to one of the guards, but in a casual way to suggest he's not talking about bribes. "You've been in this situation before, I see," the guard replies. "Well, normally not, but I believe something can be arranged. Talk with the warden when we get to the gaol." Time passes, and Korg and Ruathor find themselves sharing a cell with the hobgoblins; their armor, weapons, and gear have been taken from them and placed in storage. A few minutes after the lock is closed, a burly woman approaches the cell. "Korg Magnusson? Come with me. The warden will see you now." Korg is let out of the cell and led to what passes for the front office. "Sit," he is told by the woman, who disappears through a door. She reappears a minute later wearing a different uniform and hat. "I understand you're looking to pay a fine as your sentence instead of spending the night in the cell? It is unusual, as most brawlers can't afford the fine." Korg shrugs. "If the fine is reasonable. The Elf and I are here on business, but we got sidetracked somewhat and... well, wrong place for him, eh?" He chuckles coarsely at that. "Not having to kill a night would be handy, is all." "Well, the typical fine for public brawling is ten gold pieces per person," the warden explains. "Naturally, most people who brawl only make at most one gold piece a week. If you can afford the ten gold -- and by the looks of things you can -- it'd be twenty gold for both of you." Korg grunts. "Reasonable... the elf and I out, then, and thank you." Korg pays the fine, and both he and Ruathor are released from the gaol. Korg maks sure the elf is still in one piece after being put in the same cell as the hobgoblins. He then collects his equipment and works on putting it all back on. "Remind me not to take you to that kind of bar," he comments to Ruathor as they walk out of the gaol. "Do you remember where we're supposed to meet the others?" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- His armored minion gleaming in the midday light, Segev turns his implaccable eyes on the guard, studying him as one would a particularly interesting door knocker. "I have business with the master of this estate. I desire his spellcasting expertise." The guard points to the minion. "It stays here." Segev half-smiles. "Of course. If I were to need him inside, I am sure he could be no help, anyway." "In that case, the Master will see you. Enter, and walk only on the left side." Executing a half-bow in which he half-closes his eyes, the black-robed mage glides in, staying confidently to the left as he proceeds at his typical purposeful pace. At a gesture from him, his minion remains at the entrance with the guard. Inside the walls, the orchard becomes apparent. The pathway starts on a bridge over an inner moat, and winds through the orchard into a stone house. Walking purposefully forward, Segev barely seems to take in the scenic surroundings, though a faint glint of pleasure hides in his otherwise stern countenance. Still, he heeds the warning to stay on the left as he traverses the path until he stops at the door, where he knocks politely. The door swings open, and Segev is met by a stunningly beautiful elven woman in a simple green dress who fixes his gaze with her own. "Come on in, Mister Stormlord," she states, looking him over. "My brother has been expecting you." She leads him to the study, where an older elf sits in one of the plush chairs. He motions for Segev to sit in the other one. "As I have been informed by the Guild, you wish to have a mind blank spell cast on you. Mind you, that is a rather costly spell. As I am sure you have been told, the price isn't just in gold. I have plenty of that, as you can tell. I require a service from you, after you explain what you need this spell cast on you for." With a small smile that barely reaches his ice-blue eyes and a polite bow to his hostess, Segev takes the proffered seat, and carefully arranges the heavy book hanging from his belt-chain on his lap. Turning his typical emotionlessly cold gaze upon the elderly elf, he allows the calculation in his appraisal as well as the silent approval to briefly manifest themselves in his expression before they are extinguished by the winter-calm tones of his voice. "I am seeking a quarry with whom I wish to have frank conversation regarding mutual and conflicting interests. I would avoid the unnecessary bloodshed and anarchy that forcing conflict where none is needed would engender. Because of the nature of my quarry, which I am sure you can ascertain with your own doubtless impressive deductive abilities, I require a means of ensuring my thoughts remain my own to ensure dealing with him on a level basis." Leaning back in the chair, the black-robed mage rests one elbow on an armrest and laying his long, slender thumb and first two fingers against the side of his face in a musing gesture, he resembles nothing so much as a humanoid, skeletal spider as he narrows his eyes and smiles with dark amusement. Changing tracks, he continues, "While I have the gold requisite standardly for such spells as I desire, you do indeed have less need for that than most. What manner of service do you desire or require from one such as myself?" "There is a young dragon that has moved into the uppermost level of the old city, preying on the locals at night. I require its heart as payment." Segev's posture changes to one of alert negotiation, sitting upright in the chair with arms resting almost imperiously on the armrests. "Intriguing. I have three questions," he replies, and begins counting the questions off on his fingers. "What color is the dragon? When do you wish payment? And why do you need it?" The level, unemotional way he asks these makes determining whether they are mere curiosity or prerequisites for his accepting the deal nigh impossible to determine. Though the almost lightning-like dance to his storm-grey eyes would seem to indicate that he is, at least, amused. The elf replies in the same unemotional tone of voice, although there is a hint of amusement in his eyes as well. "The dragon is either a black or a deep, by all accounts. Payment is at your leisure, but the spell will not be cast until paid for. As for the reason, you of all people should realize not to ask such a question of a fellow mage. The heart could be a spell component, or it could simply be proof of the deed--it is easier, after all, to carry a heart than a head, and just as easy to identify as such." "Of course. Just call it 'professional curiosity', and pay the last quesiton no mind. Payment in advance is acceptible, though a nuisence. I had hoped to do this today, but this particular payment will require that I acquire assistance. As I do hate contracts that are valued on the letter, rather than the spirit, is it the dragon's death you desire, or would a solution giving you its heart without causing such be...accpetible? With creatures such as these, many strange things are possible, after all." "The dragon's death would be prefered." The younger mage nods, once. "Very well. Such dragons breathe acid, do they not? My companions would be more easilly convinced to aid in this venture if they had some protection therefrom. Have you any potions or ointments or other similar, relatively inexpensive items you could donate to the cause of acquireing your heart? As much as I desire your services, it will benefit neither of us to have my attempt to meet your price fail, when simple precautions could make success that much easier." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Once at the guild, Alfred spots the same receptionist who aided Segev. "What can I get you, sir?" she asks. Alfred looks up at the receptionist and says simply, "I'm looking for a mage skilled in mental defense magic." "Popular request today." She disappears into the back, then returns with a sheet of parchment. "Go here. And be aware his price will be more than just gold." Alfred sweeps his mantle aside with his right hand and slips the parchment from the secretary's hand. "I thank you, Miss, and wish you a good day." That said, he flourishes his cape as he turns to his left and strides from the building as strongly as possible for someone so short. Once outside, Alfred realizes that the place he needs to get to is in a section of the city that, if he walks, will take him three hours to reach. Fortunately, there are several carriages for rent that are drawn by either horses or by gnomish muscle-powered contraptions called bicycles running through the city; general price is one copper for a half-hour ride. Alfred raises his bare hand fron beneath his cloak and signals to one free carraige. Once he gets the rider/driver's attention, he flips the man a silver piece and reads off the description of where he is to go as he climbs gracefully up into the carriage itself. The trip through the city is rather swift. As Alfred's carriage pulls up to the address, he takes in the ten foot tall walls, one of which has a fox sitting on them, and the hint of an orchard peeking over it. A guard and someone wearing Redwater Crusader plate armor standing motionless near the gate. The carriage driver offers to stick around, if Alf wants a ride after he's done. Alfred looks the driver over and nods once, and flips the driver another silver as he says, "I may require your services for the rest of the day, as a matter of fact." That said, he swings around swiftly, cloak billowing out from his shoulders, and addresses the guard. "I am Alfred Edrick D'Pollo, here to see your master about a spell. " "I know," the guard states. "We were told of your impending arrival not less than fifteen minutes ago. Go on in, the Master of the house is expecting you. Be sure to walk on the left side." Alfred sweeps grandly through the entrance, striding quickly down the left side of the passage, cape swept back over his shoulders and bright yellow and blue clothes practically lighting his way. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Segev asks his question just as Alfred flourishes through the door. "Yes, yes," the elf replies, "they do indeed breathe acid -- or as one dark-skinned companion of mine from ages ago put it, they sneeze acid. Now, I can't give you much in the way of help except a few oils of acid resistance. Oh, and possibly the help of this fine young chap who just entered, if he so desires. My message about him was quite similar to the one I received about you, except he didn't actually specify which spell he was looking into. "It would be beneficial to both of you to work together, as the price of my services would be the same for him as well as for you." The elf mage fixes Alfred with a piercing gaze. "So what do you say? Are you willing to help retrieve a dragon's heart as payment for my services?" Alfred doesn't hesitate at all as he enters into a conversation already in progress. "If it's dragons, then certainly, good sir. Not much of a challenge, but it spares my purse the burden of carrying all that gold here to you." He sweeps his cloak aside and offers his ungloved hand to Segev, letting his collar focus his words up for proper audibility. "Alfred Edrick D'Pollo, Scholar Errant. Pleased to make your acquaintance." The scrawny human nods to the elven mage. "Such oils would be most helpful." He pulls himself to his feet, the heavy book in his lap sliding down until it once more dangles from the chain fastened to his belt, before taking Alfred's offered hand in his own slender-fingered one, gripping with surprising strength for one so apparently frail. He introduces himself in coldly unemotional and quiet tones, merely squeezing the gnome's hand once before letting go as he does so. "I am Segev Stormlord. If we are to work together for our esteemed - and, come to think of it, as-yet unnamed - host, you should perhaps conclude your own bargain and its terms before we set out." With that, he moves over to wait by the door to the room, robes swishing as he walks. Alfred nods slightly to Segev as he retreats, then turns to fully face the elf in question and states quite directly, "I expect to be confronting a creature known chiefly for its extraodinary mental prowess, and require a means to defend myself from such. Not being a wizard, I immediately sought such, and was directed to you. If that is the purpose to which you earlier alluded, you have only to say the word and I shall adjourn with the Stormlord to discuss this matter, perhaps over a proper meal." "Then you both seek the same quarry," the elf states, grinning knowingly. "And I am sure that your strengths will complement each other in your hunt." Alfred smiles broadly behind the raised collar and salutes briefly in a particularly non-military fashion, then turns, letting his cape flourish dramatically behind him as he strides from the room. "If you'll follow me, Segev Stormlord, I know a wonderful little place to have dinner. Or, if you've a preference, by all means, your opinion would be most valued." He waves his gloved hand, beckoning for Segev to follow over his shoulder. Segev smirks quietly as he follows the smaller man. "I am sure your choice of eating establishment will be...satisfactory," he says in his carrying near-whisper. Following the gnome out of the elf's abode, the Crusader-armored individual falls into step behind him as the human and the gnome once more head into the city proper. After they are seated in a private booth at the upscale Whitesmith's Crown, Segev glances through the carved plaques that list the food and wines. As he does so, he begins in the near-whisper Alfred probably can guess is habitual to him, "What motivates you on this quest we now find ourselves sharing, my dear scholar?" Alfred unbuttons his collar as he sits down, the two sides gently pulling apart while still leaving the cloak clasped at his throat. He makes a sign to the waiter for two bottles of wine as he answers Segev's query, "Knowledge, of course. I seek out monsters, particularly the more mysterious and dangerous varities, in search of things previously unknown, and then I publish my findings. Other adventurers often find them quite beneficial. In this case, my current intent is to publish an article on how a 'mind flayer' takes over a city, with a companion article on how to properly... deal with one that has managed such a feat." He breaks off as the waiter arrives with glasses and a bottle of fine wine, and waits for the man to pour, having already sampled this eatery's selection. The necromancer samples his wine - a blush wine, labled White Zinfindel - and swallows experimentally. "You're quite right, Alfred; this wine is excellent." He points to a poultry dish in a sauce made from a poorer cousin to the same wine when the waiter asks what they will have. Alfred catches the waiter's eye for a moment and signals for a beef dish with a slightly spicy sauce of some sort, then sips his wine and watches the Stormlord across the table. After the waiter walks off with their orders, Segev rests his elbows on the table, loosely lacing his fingers, as he stares over his hands at his shorter companion. "Interesting. Do you then have some knowledge of the dragon we're to hunt, as well? It's habits, typical lairs, psychological makeup? While these," he gestures to the bag at the feet of the armored indivudual sitting next to him that contains the oils of acid resistance the elf mage gave them, "will make things a bit safer, going in prepared is always better than not." Alfred takes a moment to think before he opens his mouth, but only a moment, then he replies, "Dragons are an odd bunch, really. Immensely large engines of destruction, and that's before they grow old. Blacks are among the least dangerous of the dragon types, as far as sheer power goes, but they are still quite enough to dissolve most adventurers into a bubbling puddle." He pauses to take a sip of his wine, then continues, "It IS strange that one would be living in a cave, as they tend to prefer swamps. Such terrain gives them a definite advantage, as most adventurers have a decidedly difficult time fighting outside their natural habitat, that is to say, dungeons. Most of their recorded abilities are geared towards survival in their natural habitat, but the general scarcity of dragons and their... reluctance to be observed make most information on them sketchy at best." Considering that a moment, Segev replies, "The elf said it was either black or Deep. The name would seem to indicate a Deep Dragon would prefer undergound, such as sewers. While we should perhaps not discount the possibility of a black dragon, if we must gear preparations towards one or the other, Deep would perhaps be a better bet. Do you know much of them?" Alfred frowns a bit as he searches his memory, as if what he's remembering doesn't please him, when he finally speaks again, it sounds as though he's hoping it's "only" a black dragon. "If it's sewers we're after, then a Black dragon is still a possibility. As for Deep Dragons... the little information we know about them is sketchy, because the few adventurers who have survived to tell about them have been... traumatized to the point of retirement, to put it simply." After a quick sip of wine, he continues in a lower voice, "What we do know is that they prefer to live deep underground, but they're not afraid of the sun at all. All the survivors have made reference to being hunted the entire way back to their refuges, no matter how small the tunnels. From this and other accounts, we gather that these creatures have the ability to shift form into a large snake of some sort. Their exact abilities are still unknown, though we are certain that they possess a breath weapon similar in nature to the Black's acid blasts. In any case, if we discover that this beast is, in fact, a Deep dragon, we are best advised to flee at top speed and hope the beast isn't feeling peckish." He breaks off as the waiter approaches once more with their entrees, and once the serving has finished, he digs in as though the talk of dragons has made him believe his is his last meal. In contrast, the human takes almost delicate bites, eating like a bird using deceptively small bites that nevertheless devour the meal in time. "Some reconnisance seems to be in order, then. Do you believe you could distinguish the difference, based on behavior or appearance? If so, the three of us," he's obviously including his ever-silent Crusader companion in this count, "should probably do some investigation in the bowels of this city before making any other decisions." Though he made quick work of his meal, when he leans back to show he is finished, his wine glass is only half empty. Alfred, in spite of eating like a madgnome, only barely manages to put away his meal before Segev. Once he has finished, he polishes off the last of his glass of wine and pours himself another. Sipping lightly from it, he ponders Segev's suggestion for a moment before replying. "While I could certainly tell the difference from any number of different signs, the simple fact of the matter is that this dragon would likely spot us long before we spotted it, and at that point, the point would be moot. I believe we require some able-bodied warriors to supplement your most puissant skills and my body of knowledge and other talents." Alfred stops for a moment, taking a large mouthful of the wine and enjoying the flavor before continuing, "AS it would happen, I encountered a human and his elven companion earlier today, in a drinking establishment. He was interested in a little hunting expedition, though I never specified what precisely we would be hunting. I believe I last saw the pair being hauled off to the gaol." He stops and savors another drink, finally giving Segev time to comment. "If the human is who I think it is, he'll relish just this kind of fight. The elf may wet himself at the thought, though, so we may want to wait until he can be used as a decoy to cover our retreat before informing him of this game's nature." Silk-covered ice coats his voice as he speaks, smiling with a wicked mirth. "Others of my companions may be willing to join this hunt. Two I'm certain of; they're of the appropriate bent to take down such a terrible monster plaguing an innocent city." Rising, Segev leaves a coinpurse on the table; it is marked with a bone wrapped in lightning. "I will pay for this meal. Your suggestion of dining establishment was excellent. If you will go to the gaol to retrieve the two you met and bring them to this inn," he hands Alfred a small parchment with a crude map to the inn where the party is to meet, "I will collect my other companions. If the two you met were Korg and Ruathor, they will recognize my name." He turns to walk off, then pauses, turning back briefly with a dark smirk. "If they ask for proof you know me, tell the elf that I hope a night in a gaol has improved both his manners and his smell. It could hardly have made either any worse." "I bid you farewell, Alfred, and will see you at the location on that parchment," he concludes, gesturing to the silent Crusader that has followed him everywhere. The armored bodyguard rises and follows the scrawny mage out of the restaurant. Alfred smiles brightly and buttons up his collar as he departs from the table. "It sounds like you've got a well trained bunch of lackeys, Stormlord. I shall be along shortly." He leaves the eatery and proceeds quickly to the gaol, there to avail himself of suitably brawny companions. Little does he know they have already departed. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kyran looks around anxiously, clearly unnerved by the crowdedness of the inn. (This was the case at the last establishment, as well) "Perhaps I should find the others and let them know where we are staying?" he says, as a pretty blatant excuse to leave the inn for just a while. Alfred reaches the gaol not long after Korg and Ruathor are released. He is able to keep them in sight as they return to the inn, but is not able to catch up to them until they enter. Segev also arrives back at the inn at this time. Korg and Ruathor get back to the inn about the time Kyran is getting up to leave, Ruathor having fortunately remembered where they were staying. He nods slightly to Kyran as he walks past and heads to the bar to get a pint of weakish ale, not yet commenting to the others about any success (or lack thereof) in finding information. Alfred follows Korg and Ruathor directly into the inn, so focused in his attention that he doesn't ever notice the people speaking to them, or the relatively close meeting of Kyran and Segev. Once the two have a seat, he approaches them, eyes just barely over the height of the table, which is quite unusual for a gnome. He raises his voice just a tad and says to Korg, "I hadn't anticipated you paying your own bail, sir. If I'd been a moment later, I'd have missed you, and you'd have missed out on a wonderful little hunt." Korg chuckles slightly. "Sorry about how we parted company... and I didn't relish the idea of staying up all night to keep the hobs from... well, you know them and elves." He takes a sip from his mug and considers. "A second hunt, you say... don't know, I can't speak for my companions." Kyran leaves, giving Korg and Ruathor a brief and bright smile as he quickly makes his way out of the inn. Looking around cautiously after he leaves, he quickly starts moving in the general direction of the necromancer. Considering Segev is actually on his way to their location, it isn't long (and perhaps a bit short, to Kyran's dismay), before Kyran encounters Segev. Kyran looks around, still a bit uneasy. "The others. They are waiting for you, that they are... Um..." He is still pretty unnerved by Seg's knight companion person. Taking a deep breath, he tries to at least calm his agitation. Segev nods to the boy's statement. "I see," he says coolly. "Come, let us not keep them waiting. I have news to share, and someone who can assist us with an immediate threat to this city's well-being will be joining us there, as well." He doesn't even break stride, so neither does his silent minion, as they pass Kyran. Without turning back to face him, Segev says, "You needn't be so nervous; my bodyguard will not harm you so long as you do not attempt to harm me. Remember, the wise only ever need fight when the unwise force it. Neither of us are so unwise, are we, my young friend?" Eying the companion, Kyran starts walking back. "It's not him... I mean it is, but it isn-, an-... it's just all the people. It makes me uncomfortable, that it does." "Why?" Is that...almost kindness in the curiosity of the question? Glancing back at Segev as he continues walking, the werewolf sighs. "Perhaps... Call it something I learned from my parents." "I see. Parents are great sources of wisdom, but their wisdom must sometimes be tested by their children. Being ill-at-ease is never a good thing; I have found that calm calculation is always more beneficial, and can ensure that all are treated fairly. Too, it minimizes danger." Segev's bodyguard holds open the door for the young man and the boy as they step into the inn. "What is it that your parents taught you that makes you so shy, Kyran? It may be good advice, but you may be heeding it incorrectly," he says once inside, his voice for once only pitched to carry as far as one so quiet would be expected to. Kyran gulps and walks in, continuing in a much softer tone now. "I am doubtful there is a way you would understand completly." He glances over Segev carefully. "And if you did, I would fear for your safety more than my own, that I would. The only way I could feel at ease is without so many people..." He walks torwards the table where the others are seated. Segev eyes the boy curiously, but says nothing further of it as he takes a seat at the table. His minion follows, assuming a guard-stance behind its master's back. "Ah, I see you found your way here, Alfred. Allow me to introduce the others. This is Drakar, Katrina, Kyran, and I believe you've already met Korg and Ruathor." He indicates each of the party members with a gesture of his left hand as he names them. Turning his attention back to the table at large, he performs a similar gesture with his right hand at Alfred. "This is Alfred Edrick D'Pollo, Scholar Errant. He is one who might help us stop a most imminent threat to this city." As ever, the necromancer's voice is quiet and unemotional. His face, likewise, is as still as if he were naming the list of reagents in an alchemical formula, rather than introducing friends to friends. Kyran manages to calm himself enough after Segev's introductions. Purposefully ignoring the other people gathered around the group, Kyran smiles warmly at the gnome. "Indeed. Perhaps you can expand on the quary you mentioned, that you could. If it isn't the same as that we came here seeking, it would be a good idea to inform us of a new development." Alfred takes up right where Segev leaves off, with barely a pause to signify the change in speakers, his tone a little more exciting than Segev's dreadfully boring lecture-hall tone, and still more than loud enough to be easily heard by those present as he continues, "Thank you for that dreadful introduction, Stormlord. But back to the task at hand. This city is in trouble. It is beset by not one, but TWO separate calamaties, and yet, only a few extremely well informed people seem to know about either!" He throws his ungloved hand up in the air in exasperation, grasping at nothing as if he'd like to wring the town's collective neck. He slams his hand down a moment later on the table and continues, "I came to this city hunting a foul creature known as a Mind Flayer. I arrived only to discover that the creature is thoroughly entrenched, and destroying it wil be extraordinarily difficult. It has control of the vast majority of the town's high ranking members, and in any debate on a public issue, it generally has control of both sides and merely puppets them against each other for its own amusement. I sought companions to deal with this creature, as well as protective magics, but in the process, still another threat has been brought to the fore." Alfred pauses for effect, then continues dramatically, "There is a dragon here. Not in this room, though I've no doubt its foul senses can easily extend, and it will already know we are coming for it. Nontheless, it must be slain. It has already consumed dozens of young maidens, along with the occasional drunken fool, doubtless a bloody wine to go with its main course. The mind flayer undoubtedly is in league with it, keeping the townsfolk from noticing the disappearances in their midst, and thus we must destroy this creature, before this unholy alliance of mind flayer and dragon can destroy this city entirely." He punctuates this last sentence with wild gesticulations of his right hand, pointing at each person in turn, flashing his bright yellow and blue outfit beneath the cloak like a multicolored strobe light as he practically shouts, "Will YOU help me destroy these creatures?" Segev sits back in his chair, listening to the tirade impassively. His only comment is, "Perhaps we should focus on one threat at a time. With all the murders it has committed, the dragon should perhaps be our first priority." Korg nods slightly as it becomes clear that Alfred and Segev have met, and listens quietly through the gnome's speech. Most of it rolls right over him, being as how he's already committed to slaying the thing even if he's not not *especially* bent on saving innocents and the like... but he does filter out the fact that Alfred clearly knows about the situation and has similar goals. He does grunt slightly as Alfred moves to discussing the dragon. His posture shifts to a more attentive position and his expression changes to one as close to contemplation as his brutish, battle-worn features can manage. Maidens and being in league with the Flayer are secondary in his mind to the fact that it's a dragon. Indeed, much of Alfred's speech brings to mind the generals and barons hiring the various mercenary bands he'd associated with over the years, but that doesn't make it any less persuasive... or rather, Korg needs very little persuasion. He turns to Segev and simply asks, "Can we do this thing?" "I believe so, Korg. If nothing else, we are skilled enough as a group to perform the reconaissance necessary." Being interrupted, Kyran stops his talking until Alfred is done. He does look somewhat puzzled, though. "It seems... very odd that a flayer would work with one so dangerous as a dragon, that it is." He clears his throat and looks around, hoping Alfred didn't attract much attention. "I may go so far as doubtful, from what I know of the creatures. They prefer to subdue their cohorts, as you mentioned. A dragon is very hard to contest and subdue in such a fashion... Still, what of them? Do you, perhaps, have any more useful information on our quary?" Alfred looks taken aback for just a moment, astonished that someone would contest his knowledge, then he gathers himself and counters, "Actually, while mind flayers are not known for partnerships, they have been known to maintain mutually beneficial agreements until such time as they believe they will triumph in a fight. Dragons, not being possessed of the remarkable mental abilities of such creatures, are of course known for working on such a basis frequently, often on precisely the same conditions as the flayers." He breaks off just long enough to reach out with his gloved hand and snag a chair from a nearby table and take a seat before continuing on to the next question, "As for our specific quarry, I have little information. None, really, save that we are looking at the possibility of either a black dragon, or a deep dragon. Were there more, I would gladly tell all." Kyran nods and has a seat. "I... I'm not terribly familiar with dragons. I've heard of black ones from stories from my father, but this is the first I've heard of a 'Deep' dragon. If you will, could you expand on what possibilities and challenges either one could hinder us with?" Alfred leans back a little in his chair and unbuttons his collar before he answers. When he finally does answer, it's with the air of someone who has been through this, or something much like it, before. "Black dragons are one of the most common types, and of course, entire books have been penned about them. They are one of the basest of dragonkind, with only the relatively small and unintelligent white dragons ranking lower. The most immediate concerns when facing one are, of course, its breath, a gout of potent acid, and its spells, which are quite potent at all but the youngest of ages. All in all, if what I know of this group is true, a black dragon of... modest age should not be too difficult a task." Alfred takes a moment to compose himself, but a certain amount of grimness still shows through his features as he continues, "It is also not suprising that you've heard naught about the so-called "deep" dragon. It is so named because, more than any other type of dragon, it choose to remain almost entirely below-ground. Very little is known about it, as those few who have survived facing it have been understandably reluctant to recall the experience. What is apparent from the accounts is that these dragons are avid hunters of any prey they happen to find, and they are not barred from even the smallest of passages. They appear to have the ability to change form into a sort of legless serpent, allowing them to progress where no other dragon could go. Their breath weapon appears by all accounts to be some sort of acid, more powerful even than the acid spouted by black dragons. In many ways, they seem similar to a larger, more intelligent, and much more powerful version of black dragons." Alfred cheers up a little, now, and half-smiles as he says, "On the up side, if this IS a deep dragon, and we manage to kill it or escape with our lives and information, we shall become at least marginally famous among monster hunters." Kyran smiles slightly, producing a half-hearted 'ehn' sound at the last remark. Glancing over at the necromancer, then back at Alfred, he speaks up again. "If we are, indeed, to face a creature of such power, we must learn what it is first, of this you apparently know." He thinks. "I do not suppose we have access to any form of divination, perhaps? If we manage to just come across the dragon's name, it would certainly be safer to look through a spell than at the actual creature." Alfred smiles indulgently at Kyran's suggestion and says, "Divinations of sufficient power are extraordinarily difficult. I have no such capability myself, but perhaps the Stormlord can enlighten us further. I believe in any case, we would need much more knowledge of the beast we are seeking before attempting such a thing." He rests his hands calmly on the tabletop and turns his regard to Segev, waiting for the wizard's expertise. Considering what has been said in silence for a moment, the wizard quietly says, "Such divinations are even more difficult than you have suggested, Alfred. Scrying on dragons, from what I have seen, is nigh impossible. Regardless, I have no appropriate spells. While I can assist us in going undetected during a reconiassance mission - which I suggest we classify our first foray as - I do not think a dragon's highly refined senses would be fooled. Therefore, we should prepare ourselves for an exploratory jaunt, with an equal mind towards stealth and swift retreat. If we determine that the dragon is too strong, we should study it as much as possible before retreating and preparing ourselves for a true assault. If, on the other hand, we find it vulnerable, we may decide then and there to take it out. It takes some fluidity of plan to pull such unknown missions off, in my experience." Segev gestures to his armored bodyguard, who takes a backpack off its back and removes a satchel from it. The armored hand lays the satchel on the table before its master with a muffled glass-like "clink". "We were able to obtain some ointment that may provide some protection from the dragon's expected breath weapon. That is all the aid I currently have in pre-planning. My current selection of spells is geared for information gathering and stealth, and to make others more capable in combat as a last resort." Kyran blinks. "Oh. If that is the case, then a quickly modifiable plan is necessary... If the dragon is as powerful as you claim, though, do you have any other precautions against it? As you are both knowledgable and seem to enjoy planning, it is unlikely that you have not thought of ways around the creature's abilities, that it is." Drakar returns to the table with several bowls and a pot of rabbit stew, filling bowls for Korg, Ruathor, Katrina and Kyran as he listens to the conversation. After Segev and the gnome refuse proferred bowls, Drakar fills his own and sits down at the table. "Hold on now, dragon slaying is all well and good, but something here is amiss. Where did you come by this information about a dragon? I don't believe that you of all people, necromancer," The half-orc waves a spoon in Segev's direction, "would be so eager to go after such a dangerous creature without there being something in it for yourself. Besides, what happened to the nasty business we're involved in now?" Using his spoon to stir the soup, Kyran looks over at Drakar after regarding the meal. "Supposedly, the dragon is in legue with our initial quary. I... highly doubt that, I do. Still, if what they say is true, we'd be doing a service to the community by, at least, confronting him or her." Kyran curiously steers clear of using the word 'it' to regard to the dragon. Either out of respect, fear, or something else... "This is assuming the dragon isn't too powerful, of course." The half-orc snorts in derision. "A black dragon working with an illithid? Not bloody likely. They're treacherous and spiteful creatures that don't tolerate any living creatures entering their territory. And a deep is supposed to be even worse I've heard. Going after one of those is going to take alot more planning than just some salve, and real teamwork on our parts. Even the slightest mistake, going off half-cocked or hot-headed, could get someone killed. I don't like it. Something gives necromancer, spill it. What's the real deal with this dragon? Why are both you and this gnome interested in killing it?" Segev's lips curl into a chill smile at Drakar's accusatory tone. He leans neither forward nor back as he replies matter-of-factly, "I need the dragon's heart for a defensive spell. I require that before I will continue my investigations into the matters I mentioned this morning." "Good. Now that I believe. Not that I wouldn't be willing to do what I could to end the menace of a black dragon anyway, but it's best to know the real motivations behind any endeavour. I suppose this means we should try NOT to damage the dragon's heart when we kill it? In any case, we'll need a few things before we get going." Drakar puts down the spoon and begins to tick items off with his fingers, "One. any maps that are available of the underground catacombs. Two. The location of an entrance into the catacombs. Three. Any more information we can find out on this dragon, its age, species, etc.. Four. More acid-proofing for our weapons and armors. Five. A plan for both the scouting and the eventual attack." Drakar surveys the group. "We're fairly combat heavy here as we were expecting trouble. We'll need to see which among us are the stealthiest." After a few minutes of consideration the half-orc continues. "I propose a hunt, in the dark of the woods tonight. An old custom from my tribe among the youths was to give each individual a knife and we would run off into the woods to stalk each other. We would attempt to sneak up on one another and cut off a lock of hair to prove our courage and skill in hunting. Its the only real way to test ones skill in stealth, whether by mundane or magical means." Alfred pipes up just as soon as Drakar has finished his suggestion, "I can personally provide item two, an entrance into the catacombs. Maps of the catacombs, however, are beyond our reach. Information must wait for whatever scouting report we can muster, but my own expertise will be invaluable in interpreting whatever signs we find. As for your little... challenge, I accept, and shall relieve you of your hair tonight." He smiles smugly as he finishes his little boast. "Stealth was never my strong suit, and I will need a night's rest to replenish any spells I would expend in this night's game," breathes the necromancer, arms folded and right index finger contemplatively resting aside his mouth. "Thus, participating in it is not the wisest course I could follow. My stealth potential is not quite maximized at the moment, either. I need to prepare several Fly spells, and I'll be draining that invisibility wand rather rapidly, if I am to do that. So I shall bow out of this reconaissance mission." Drakar nods. "Actually I'm not too worried about you Segev. You're smart enough to be discrete when you have to be, and as you say, fly and invisibility will pretty much take care of stealth for yourself. I don't expect you to cast them on everyone in the party though, so the rest of us will have to get by without." Segev responds with a single, slow nod. "Of course. My spells do have limited duration, so I shall need most for my own use. I am sure you others have your own means, for which you will find this night game a useful exercise. If you wish to give me some funds, I shall look into acquiring some further oils of acid protection while you prepare for the hunt." Korg grunts, not being especially surprised at Segev's motives, not especially caring. He does take the fact that the spell-slinger said that they could do this thing into consideration though. He pauses a moment as he considers Drakar's proposal. "I have two comments on your plan to test the stealth of our group. First off, it makes sense to perform the test no less equipped than you would venture into the catacombs... I for one know that I would not willingly face a dragon without my plate." He takes a sip of his mug of weak ale (because what self-respecting warrior would order water at an inn?) and continues. "Secondly, I lay no claim to stealth with or without my armor... and as I have already recently had a haircut, I see little reason to have another to prove what you all already know; that I am about as subtle as a battering ram." Alfred grimaces and takes a swig of his ale before replying, "I'm certainly not going far on these legs of mine. If the two of you choose to outrun me, you can certainly leave me in the dust." Kyran smiles at Drakar's mention of a hunt. "You probably know by now I love a good hunt. I will gladly take the challenge, that I do. Mm, perhaps you should place some ground rules down first, though? I would hate to step outside of my bounds while... playing." Alfred stands abruptly and heads to the bar to grab a drink, returning on the heels of Kyran's statement with a dwarf-sized mug of probably warm ale. He takes his seat once more, takes a drink, and grimaces. He holds his hand over the mug for a moment, casting what is obviously a cantrip to anybody with any amount of skill in the matter. A moment later, fog is wafting off the mug, so cold has it become, then looks across the table at Kyran and says, "For one, violence is out as a matter of course. This is a test of stealth, not of assassin tricks." Drakar nods to Alfred. "True. The whole point is to take the lock of hair without the target even noticing if possible. At the very least, surprising someone by touching the hair on the back of their head works just as well." Drakar turns back to Korg. "Does this mean that you're counting yourself out of the reconnaissance then?" Korg shrugs, his armor making the gesture audible, if just. "I have no talent at moving without attracting notice, armored or no. It's not something I'm suited for, and there's a reason skirmishers who are, like Tanda, exist." He takes another sip of his ale, considering his next words. "I am not stealthy. Period. If you think my value as a warrior in case something goes wrong outweighs that I'm coming; if not, I have no business being in a scouting party." Alfred practically falls over himself in his haste as he says, "No, no, that's not at all what he means, I'm certain. We stand a fair chance of running into a dragon while scouting, we certainly don't want to leave all the strong and stealthless people back here. You simply won't be forward with the scouts. Yes, that would make sense." He takes a hurried drink of his ale and tries to calm himself. Drakar grins wryly at the flustered gnome. "The point is that if you're sneaking around you want to be sure that the people with you aren't going to give your position away before you're ready to fight. It's no fun being the stalkee rather than the stalker." The half-orc then turns to the burly human fighter, "On the other hand, an experienced fighter such as yourself must surely see the necessity for stealth of an entire fighting unit at times. There are ways to silence even full-plate armors. In any case I understand your feelings on the matter. In any case, the necromancer's 'servant'" Drakar grimaces with distaste, "won't be any quieter than yourself. I think that it and you, Korg, will be most useful watching our backs while we scout ahead and around. If any trouble befalls us we'll be sure to fall back to you." Drakar turns then to Katrina and Ruathor. "And what do the two of you have to say? Do you care to test the much vaunted elven stealth, Ruathor? And Katrina, do you suppose you will work best with the scouts or back with the heavy fighters?" Katrina ponders for a moment. "The fighters, I believe. I am not one for stealth." "I accept your challenge, and we shall see if one of orc blood can hope to rival my kind." Ruathor has a small cocky grin on his face as he says this. Katrina looks hard at the Necromancer. "I believe there is a motive you are not revealing, and I do not trust it." Turning an uncaring gaze upon the female mage, Segev replies evenly, "I have told you my motive for hunting this dragon. What is there to trust or distrust about it?" Katrina's reply is short and succinct. "Everything." The necromancer sighs in restrained exasperation. "What, then, do you believe my 'real' motivations are? If you do not trust me, I cannot trust you. And that is bad if we are to work together. Get it out now, child. Honesty will serve us better than obfuscation." Katrina points to the silent skeleton. "That is a big part of it. For all we may know, you'll make a deal with the dragon, instead." Segev shakes his head, left then right, once. "Though I had considered it, there is no condition I could create that would spare the dragon, nor offer it benefit that could convince it to surrender its heart. And its heart is what I need. We must slay it." "And for all we know you will too, or draw it to us with your whining. Unsavory personal habits or not, I've known and trust Segev more than you," Korg almost growls in irritation. He quaffs a fair remainder of his weak ale. "You're perfectly welcome to back out if you're scared, woman." Segev looks at Korg, open surprise written on his face. "Thank you, Korg. Your trust means much to me." Drakar smacks his hand down on the table, effectively cutting off the conversation. "That's enough! We have enough problems without going at each others throats. Katrina, as long as Segev does not endanger anyone else in the group, he bears trusting. What he does on his own cognizance is his own business for now. Korg, you'll keep a civil tongue in your head and not call anyone's character into question. While you and Segev may go a long way back, this is no longer a task that only the two of you can handle. For better or worse, we are all united in this quest to avert a great evil. You can no more dismiss the rest of us than we can dismiss you and still expect success." In a more placating tone, Drakar goes on. "These questions on one another have a valid place, as we get to know and work with one another. But I urge you to let one's actions speak louder than one's words or appearance and not to judge another without giving them a chance to prove themselves." Kyran, who had silently been munching his stew, starts up at Drakar's hand-smack on the table. He puts down his spoon and looks around. "Although he may be a bit forward on it, Drakar is right. It is not the time to fight amongst ourselves, this is true." Glancing at Segev, then at Katrina, he he continues. "The differences we all have can be bridged by understanding, not insults or accusations. I still feel a certain amount of distrust from the ... nature of Segev's companion, but we can worry about that when we are not under pressure. There is a dangerous task at hand, and by dividing ourselves on moral grounds we simply make ourselves easier pray for our opponent, of this I am certain." Kyran clears his throat, and rather than following his comment up with another, he finishes off the last portion of his meal and stands up. He smiles to the rest of the group. "I shall wait for you in the woods." With that, he makes his way hastily to the door. With a small smile of approval at the retreating boy's statement, Segev, too, rises. "He is correct. Regardless of whether we like each other, we have a common goal. Let us not be blinded by foolish squabbles when we have more important things to accomplish. Unless there is anything further, I bid you all a good night. I must get some sleep." With that, he turns and glides off to his room, his silent companion - and apparent bone of contention - following wordlessly and loyally along behind. Alfred stands once more as a platter is filled with fresh drinks at the bar. A few quick gestures later and the platter rises off the counter and follows him around the table as he chills and sets down a drink for everybody. "Peace is usually the best course, yes, so why don't you all have a drink. They're on me. Figuratively speaking. We're not hunting horrible beasts of the night tonight, so think while we can." That said, he sits down at his own place again and takes a nice long drink of his own ale. Katrina snorts derisively, but calms, ignoring Korg. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- During the night, Drakar, Kyran, Alfred, and Ruathor hit the forest, intent on hunting down and swiping a lock of hair from each other. In the trees, Drakar contacts the forest spirits, who lead him to grab hair from both Kyran and Ruathor. Oddly enough, they are unable to help him locate the gnome. Kyran, shifting to wolf form, easily smells the trails of Drakar and Ruathor, and while unable to get downwind of Drakar for long, manages to grab a lock of the half-orc's hair at the same time Drakar grabs his. Getting a lock from the elf is also fairly easy. To his dismay, he cannot see, hear, or smell the gnome. Ruathor ends up grabbing a lock from Kyran. He is able to track Drakar easily enough, but by morning still has not gotten close to the half-orc to grab a lock without the other sensing him. Nor has he spotted the gnome. At sunrise, on the edge of the forest, Alfred meets them, with three distinctly different locks of hair in his hand. "I believe you lost something, gentlemen. Feeling a bit drafty, are we?" At the same time, Ananzi (Katrina's fox familiar) comes trotting forward, with four locks of hair dangling from his mouth and looking pretty damn pleased with himself. (In the meantime, Katrina has weird dreams of hunting three party members and grabbing their hair, then sneaking into the gnome's room and grabbing a lock ofhis hair while he sleeps... but he was on the hunt that night, wasn't he?) OOC: I'm gonna assume that Katrina, Segev, and Drakar prepare their spells off-camera; just get me spell lists for the day if they're different from the previous lists.