Brundel nodded at the new-comers and figured aiding the guard might do them some good. Too many times had he seen young men and women of all races come through the dregs, growing only to revile any lawmen or those associated with them. As with any organized law enforcement, there was a strong mix of corruption, ineptitude and good faith in this city, and as the years passed, it became more difficult to point to where one problem ended and the next began. Having seen the abuse of the poor by lawmen first hand, Brundel could not entirely blame the downtrodden for hating the organizations, but then again, any man had choices. These new-comers had made theirs, and while it aligned with his physical direction, he was curious to see if they would align with his moral direction, as well.
"Welcome," Brundel said with a bit of flourish, "more 'ands make a merry kitchen. Ready an' willin', is yeh? Let's get a move on, then. No sense in keepin' the King waitin'!" He let out a chortle, and made move toward the source of the commotion.
Sivanna nods quietly, still holding in her right hand an unfolded letter from the Guard explaining how they've hired her to assist the party as an "under-urban exploration specialist". She had unfurled it earlier to show the party, and then raising an eyebrow, leaned over slightly to lower it to Brundel's height and practically pushed it into his face before realizing that was too close, and backing it off a bit. She's fairly tall for a woman, if lanky, and almost as tall as an average human man. In a perhaps not so strange coincidence, she had been at the sewer camp the previous day, roasting what looked like a skinned rat on a stick in the fire. Afterwards, she spent much of the rest of the night taking out and polishing knife... after knife.. after knife... for what seemed like even up to an hour.
"I was looking for you down there for a while." she explained, in a just barely comprehensible mumble. While Sivanna's not overly difficult to hear or understand, she doesn't make it easy to talk to her. She rarely makes eye contact, even when speaking to someone, and the way she talks is more like mumbling and loud whispering rather than normal conversation. She's also dressed strangely too, in what looks like a dirty, ragged scullery maid's uniform that looks a little bit too big for her, and which has a dull gray apron and headdress rather than the crisp white ones that are more common. The hemline of dress stops just below her knees, which shows that she's wearing fairly solid-looking traveling boots rather than the kind of footwear a servant would normally wear. Furthermore she's not very clean at all. Her hair is matted, and sticks close to her face. Her skin has more than just a thin layer of dirt on it, and frankly, she smells. It's not an intolerable stench, but it would be entirely reasonable to think that she knows her way around the sewers the way the letter of introduction she proffered had stated. All this makes it perhaps quite strange that her thin, delicate features mark her as probably being an elf. If she is, she's perhaps the dirtiest and smelliest elf many people might have ever seen.
"I couldn't find you, so I stayed at the camp." was the rest of her terse explanation as to why she came up to the group in the morning after she was sure they were the ones investigating the murders. The letter in her hand described her as a possible asset to the guard, and implied that she was the cheapest one they could find.
"May I come with y'all?" says a middle aged man, wearing some greenish robes full of vines, vines that seem like they grow from his hair, going down to almost his hips, forming what seems like a belt. In this belt there is a twisted wand, almost like a twig, with leaves coming out of it. There is also a stone sword, curved like bamboo trees in the wind. His green eyes show a little bit of red, as if he hasn't sleeped in a long time or he had some boose. His hair is blonde like a sunflower. "I can do magichy stuff" he says with a low voice as if he has a painful headache. With a swift movement of his hands, a torch snuffs out and then re-lights.
Sivanna spins to face the newcomer, still holding the unfurled letter in her right hand. Her eyes narrow suspiciously as he begins talking, and in a quick flicker of motion a knife suddenly appears in her left hand by her side. It's a subtle movement, and someone not watching closely might not notice that anything had appeared in her hand at all. At a casual glance, it appears to just be a wood-handled table knife, like the kind normal people would use for eating, but a closer inspection would reveal that the size and shape of the blade and the dimensions of its handle are just a little bit off.
Sivanna idly flicks the knife from side to side between the forefinger and thumb of her left hand as she stares at the drunk-looking man, and also seems to have somehow drawn out two copper coins, which she holds between the last 3 fingers of her hand. She hasn't said anything yet, but it looks like she's still deciding if this new person is a threat to be attacked, or a beggar to be pacified with a cheap bribe.
STILL holding out the letter in front of her, the girl slowly cranes her neck down and towards Brundel as if to look to him for guidance, while keeping her eyes focused on the vagrant.
Realizing he was on his own, as Tamerin was occupied with moving forward, Brundel slowly took the letter from Silvanna. She seemed a little skittish, if anything, and while he could understand a certain level of caution in a dangerous place, he also had one eye on her hands. She was quick, that was certain, and a welcome talent here in the damp and dark. He took a moment to read the note.
"Aye, I'm short, not blind, lass," he said with a chuckle, trying to ease the tension with humor, "An' this note makes clear yer employment with the Guard. No 'arm, no foul, then. Judgin' by the looks of yeh, it's safe to be sayin' yer prepared for teh task at 'and. Welcome to the party, Silvanna!" Brundel added that last little line in his own awkward way of trying to be friendly to new people.
With that, he turned slightly to the middle aged Druid...or what he assumed to be a druid. The booze, or perhaps the hangover that it had caused, was evident. Brundel liked the drink, himself, but had seen many consumed by it. Though, it was also obvious this man had a green thumb, of sorts. Either that, or he had fell into a sleeping stupor down in the sewers a bit too long. Brundel noted the light magic, and became curious what else this man could do.
"Well met!" he offered the man heartily, "seekin' adventure, are yeh? What might we be callin' yeh?"
The party ventures down into the abyss that is the sewers, periodically they hear a tortured scream and follow its trembling sound. You venture into a larger room and find a cloaked figure in black in the corner, her face hidden, crying hysterically.
Sivanna wordless raises a hand as a signal to the party, then attempts to slink away far enough from them to hide in whatever low light, shadows, or cover there might be in the sewers. Once there, she draws a throwing knife in her left hand, and one of her sword-knives in her right, then waits for the rest of the party to react to the cloaked figure. Other people might feel the desire to act initially with sympathy, but her experiences in life have taught Sivanna to always act first with suspicion, and to be prepared for sudden outbursts of unexpected violence.
Brundel stopped short at the sight of the cloaked figure and Sivanna's gesture. Before he could take his next breath, she had all but vanished into the shadows like a whisper on the wind. He glanced at the old green thumb and Tamerin, hoping that they had seen the call for halt. He waited a beat, just long enough until he was sure Sivanna was ready to strike, blade in hand, should things turn violent.
Stepping forward slightly, he made sure his hammer was at the ready without being too obvious, carried with a slightly casual slack. This cloaked figure was distressed already, so far as he could tell, but he had also seen similar behavior in madmen during a brief tour with an abbey in his youth. In either case, further agitation is something he would rather avoid, but he also was realistic to accept that there was a risk the second he opened his mouth. Years of reaching out to the depraved and distraught had taught him that sometimes his honeyed words would be answered by venom, and most times, he had to swallow his own anger and press on.
"Say there, friend," he offered in a calm, soothing voice, "yeh seem teh be havin' a good heave, iff'n I may say so. What trouble has got yeh in such a state? I can offer aid an' an ear to listen, iff'n you'll be havin' my company..."
"Well friend, If there's adventure and nature, put me in it" Wade says, with a hand on his head because of a headache attack. He pulls one leaf of his hair, smashes it and smells it with a large amount of air, even making a loud noise. "He, better". [ooc] Response to Brundel [/ooc]