Rowan keeps one ear cocked for any hint of returning footsteps while eyeing Teryn’s newly acquired chest. “Let’s crack it quick, folks,” he murmurs under his breath, already heading for the door at the far end of the room. “I’ll make sure the corridor’s still empty—no sense us fiddlin’ with locks just to get caught red-handed.” He slides over to peek through the narrow gap, keeping his breathing steady as he glances down the passage. “We’ve stirred enough crows for one day—so let’s do this quick and clear out before that flock gets any bigger.”
He listened carefully as the smugglers talked. Someone was there before them. Someone that was not with the smugglers. Maybe someone Veyla? His mind turned back to the man that scaped by the warehouse. Could have been someone more directly tied to the buyer of the Celestial Concordance. Either way, their hiding work and the arson trick apparently had the side effect of persuading the smuggling crew to leave. A surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one.
“We can check for traps out of here.” Time and experience had long taught him to never open a lock without checking it for wiring. “It would be great if you checked it with your sense for magic then.” He said to Teryn grabbed the chest again. “Let’s go.”
Käinen doubted unlocking the chest would take time enough for them to get caught but minding his own words he decided it best to not tempt fate. Besides he was more worried about getting into the Guilded Iris. Maybe we should go back to the professor, he pondered thinking on the map. There was a non-zero chance Marsh would be able to identify the location depicted on it. The City Guard rewarded good information with either coin or gratitude. The later could take the form work or favors.
"Ah, good idea. Once we get somewhere more private I can cast detect magic and give it a more thorough inspection." The high elf gives a small smile, doing his best to mask his excitement. His expertise isn't typically in thievery--of items, anyway--but he can't resist secrets and mysteries.
Byldeth hums, following the group as he looks around, careful for any kind of other thrats that may appear. If possible, he would still be searching around with his Tremorsense for any possible hidden enemies that they might encounter.
The storeroom remains quiet, save for the distant crackling of the fire spreading through the tunnel behind you. Faint, acrid smoke curls up from beneath the hatch, curling into the corners of the room. Eyes fall to the small chest tucked near the wall. Its iron latch is worn, and the box itself bears no lock—at least none you can see. Before anyone can move to open it, Teryn raises a hand and quietly begins the motions of a Detect Magic spell. As the familiar shimmer washes over the space, he inspects the chest with focused arcane sight.
There is a faint glow of Illusion magic that pulses from the box, nearly mundane, as far as your spell can tell.
Still, Käinen isn’t one to take chances. He crouches beside the chest and runs a hand along its seams, inspecting every edge and joint for signs of tampering, false latches, or pressure triggers. After a careful once-over, he stands with a nod. No traps. It’s safe.
Ellanise glances toward the exit, urging a quick departure. The risk of being caught down here still lingering heavily in the air. You all make the decision together: This isn’t the time. The chest will be opened later.
With the way ahead clear, you slip through the exit and into the open air of the harbor district proper once more. It's dark out, now. The dull roar of city night life surrounds you, the dim lantern light, soft murmur of distant voices, and the sound of boats swaying gently in the tide not that far away. It would appear the danger of the tunnels has faded behind you.
Teryn exhales as the group emerges into the open night, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the underground air. The harbor’s breeze brushes across his face, welcome and cool after the stifling tension below. “Stars above, I’d forgotten how sweet fresh air could taste after an evening spent crawling through smoke and shadow,” he murmurs with a faint smile.
He glances down at the chest still in their possession, its faint magical aura lingering in the back of his mind. “Whatever illusion’s tied to this box, it’s weak—likely more for concealment than protection. But I’ll feel better opening it somewhere...safe. Quiet. Preferably with a door that locks from the inside.”
Rowan takes in a slow breath of the harbor air, then casts a sidelong look at the others—particularly at the chest in Teryn’s hands. “Reckon we’ve done enough skulkin’ for one night,” he murmurs. “Might be high time we circle back to the academy. The professor or Vasha might know a thing or two about that Veyla character—or the Gilded Iris, for that matter.” He brushes his hand over the carved halfling figurine tucked in his coat, letting its smooth wood rest against his palm for a moment. “We can take stock of all this when we ain’t got half the underworld crowdin’ our heels. Then we’ll figure if crackin’ that box open is really worth whatever we might find inside.”
As you all step out into the late-night air of the harbor district, a brief hush settles over the group. For the first time in hours, the sound of rushing footsteps, shouted threats, and crumbling tunnels fades into memory. The streets are still, peaceful, bathed in a cool, silvery moonlight that spills between the rooftops. The cobbled path beneath your feet is slick with the misty residue of a recent tide, and aside from the distant creak of a moored ship rocking against the dock, Luminaar sleeps. There are no shady figures watching from the alleyways. No urgent footsteps behind you. Just the quiet thud of your boots against stone as you begin the familiar trek back to the academy grounds.
As you approach the main courtyard of the university, the sounds of the sea fade, replaced by the comforting familiarity of rustling leaves and the distant hum of magical lanterns flickering along the ivy-covered paths. The stately silhouette of the academy buildings loom ahead, its upper towers dark—but not the lower floors. Just as before, you pass under the carved archway and down the gently curving hallway toward Professor Marsh’s office. The faint glow of candlelight seeps from beneath his heavy oak door, accompanied by the familiar scent of aged parchment and tea leaves.
A loud thud rattles the doorframe, followed by a cascade of smaller crashes. A voice follows.
"I told you not to stack them so high. Remember what happened last time?” Vasha’s unmistakable exasperation cuts through the muffled chaos inside. Professor Marsh’s reply comes a moment later, muffled by wood but still audible.
“They were alphabetized by binding density, Vasha! It’s a perfectly logical—oh no, not the scrolls!”
The moment you knock, the door creaks open before you even finish the gesture. Vasha stands there, arms crossed, her long tail flicking with restrained annoyance. One of her horns has a smudge of dust near the base. Behind her, Marsh is halfway buried in a pile of parchment, his hair slightly more unkempt than usual. He peers up at you over his glasses, blinking in the sudden light of the hallway.
“Ah! You’re back. Please, tell me you’ve found the Concordance.” There’s a hopeful spark behind his exhaustion. His ink-stained fingers twitch as though already reaching for a book that might not even be there yet.
Vasha eyes you all warily, then steps aside to let you in.
“We found the way to it.” He answered Marsh while turning to Vasha and rising the right index finger beside his head, a gesture for her to known there was something on the base of her horn. “The book was already sold by a group of smugglers working at the docks. Their base is a place called McHanley’s Exports and it’s connected to a system of underground tunnels. You may wish to warn the guard that they are preparing for more transactions soon.”And if you do, they will look to you for more information in the future, and you will look for us. He thought optimistic about the chances of more work. “Anyhow, we found there that a woman called Veyla arranged the Concord’s sale and that she is a big name underground. People fear speaking about her and she operates in a place called the Guilded Iris. A place will need help getting into.”
His eyes moved from professor to assistant, letting the silence say the obvious – the two of them needed to arrange the way in.
“We also found a map or building blueprint.” Käinen didn’t rightly know what would be thye technically precise term and simply turned to Teryn. “And this key. We hope you can recognize them.”
Teryn steps forward with a weary sort of grace, drawing from his robe the sealed envelope and building floorplan. “Evidence,” he says simply, placing them both on the professor’s cluttered desk, along with the small mystery chest under his arm with a soft thunk. “The letter was delivered to the smugglers just before we arrived. It carries faint abjuration magic—likely meant to preserve its contents. The box…well, illusion magic clings to it. Nothing dangerous as far as I can tell, but best handled somewhere safer than a smoky warehouse full of twitchy crossbowmen.”
He carefully breaks the envelope’s seal fully and unfolds the paper inside, his silver eyes narrowing slightly as they scan the contents. “Let’s see what Veyla’s friends thought important enough to enchant.”
Rowan stands off to the side, watching Käinen and Teryn relay the night’s findings to Marsh and Vasha, all the while drumming a quiet rhythm on his belt. His gaze drifts, imagining what tomorrow’s headlines might say about a mysterious warehouse blaze down by the docks. 'Hope that fire doesn’t land us in hotter water,' he muses, glancing back just in time to catch Teryn opening the enchanted letter.
His thoughts wander back to the strange tankard he slipped from the smuggler’s stash. He’s itching to figure out what magic it might hold—some small distraction from the cosmic weight pressing on them. With a subdued sigh, he forces himself to stay quiet for now. Might as well see what Marsh and Vasha can make of the contraband first, then hope for a swift escape to their lodging where he can tinker with “his” new find in peace.
Ellanise stands back and lets the others take the lead. She's glad to be away from the docks. What a night this has been! First, what might have been an ambush. Does she really believe Mariel would do that to her? After the years they worked together? And then the chase. And then the flight from the warehouse and almost getting caught. And the fire!
The elf pulls on the sleeve of her shirt, unconsciously hiding her connection to the Duckrats as she again replays what the guard said about them. The professor should hear. But will he suspect she was involved?
She turns her eyes on the professor. What does he know about her? How is it that she was one of these few that he sought to invite and employ?
"What is your connection to the Duskrats?" he asks bluntly, her voice full of suspicion, breaking her silence.
Professor Marsh blinks as Käinen launches into his matter-of-fact debrief. The professor leans heavily on the back of his desk chair, absorbing the flurry of information with furrowed brows. His expression twists with each new revelation: a smuggling ring, hidden tunnels, a mysterious buyer named Veyla. Behind him, Vasha slowly wipes the base of her horn with a handkerchief she produces from a sleeve, one eye still locked on Käinen with mounting curiosity.
“The Duskrats?” Marsh repeats, his voice lifting slightly in confusion at Ellanise’s pointed question. “I’m… afraid I haven’t the faintest idea who or what that is. Are they a cult? A thieves’ guild? Were they the ones who took the Concordance?” He adjusts his glasses, clearly alarmed now. Vasha, for once, doesn’t offer a witty interjection, her sharp eyes simply dart from Ellanise to the others, silent, calculating.
As Teryn places the envelope and floorplan down, Marsh reaches out, hesitating briefly before touching the paper as though it might burn him. “Faint abjuration... Illusion magic...” he murmurs, voice trailing off as Teryn breaks the seal and unfolds the parchment.
What tumbles out first isn’t paper... but a finger.
A severed, weathered human finger thuds onto the desktop, wearing a Ring of the Ram. The room goes still. The faint smell of iron clings to it, and worse, there’s no sign of rot. Preserved, magically. On the page, now unfurled and written in dried, dark crimson, a scrawled message reads:
“Ryn Faelith always collects her debts.”
The words seem to pulse faintly before the abjuration magic fades, leaving the bloodstained parchment limp and still.
Vasha is the first to break the silence. “...Subtle,” she mutters.
Marsh, clearly disturbed, pushes the letter back as though the distance might help settle his stomach. “I…I’m going to pretend I didn’t see a severed digit on university property,” he mumbles, then looks up, more focused. “You said this Veyla runs a place called the Gilded Iris? I’m afraid I don’t know it. Neither of us travel in those sorts of circles.” He glances apologetically to Vasha, who shrugs with a smirk. “Not unless there's a library with wine.” she quips.
Professor Marsh leans forward now, pressing his hands on the desk. “But if this Veyla has the book, and you say these… Duskrats have some way in, I suggest you focus your efforts there. That tome cannot be in such hands for long.”
He hesitates before continuing, eyes darting toward Ellanise, and then to each of you in turn. “I chose you all because your backgrounds give you skills, access, that the Watch or the Academy simply cannot offer. I knew some of you had… complicated pasts. I didn’t ask questions then, and I’m not asking now. But I am trusting you. This work matters. I’ll try to learn what I can about this… Iris. But if the Duskrats are the best chance you have, I’d begin there.”
The room is quiet for a moment. The severed finger sits like a period at the end of an unfinished sentence. Outside the office window, the moon continues its climb, and somewhere in the distance, bells chime the arrival of another sleepless hour.
Ellanise continues to stare at the professor. Then, her eyes focus on Vasha. Is she the one who put together this motley crew? Does she have ties to the Duskrats?
"I attempted to learn anything I could from the Rats already tonight," she says finally. As the others look at her, she once again pulls at the sleeve of her shirt unconsciously. She looks at the floor and then back up. Her eyes first lock onto Käinen's. "My friend came. We started to talk, but then another Rats member showed up and chased me. It was mostly a waste of time." Her eyes move to Teryn's. "Even though I've done nothing against them, they see me as a traitor."
Rowan’s face tightens when the finger tumbles out—he swallows hard, like a field hand spotting blight for the first time. “So... if this Ryn Faelith is harvestin’ old debts, we’d best mind the row we’re plowin’. Sounds like she isn’t picky whose fields she tramples,” he mutters under his breath, letting the chilling note sink in.
He shifts his weight, turning an uneasy gaze toward Ellanise as she explains her brush with the Duskrats. “That’s a bad crop,” he murmurs, scratching the back of his neck. “If the Rats think of you as a turncoat, they won’t go throwin’ open the barn doors to help us. Maybe we’d be better off trackin’ down that Gilded Iris in secret—see who comes and goes, pick our contact and the best moment without waltzin’ in blind. It’s trickier work, sure, but I’d rather meet ‘em on our terms than walk into a trap with them holdin’ the scythe.”
Vasha watches in silence as Ellanise speaks, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then, as Rowan chimes in, she exhales softly and pushes herself off the edge of the desk where she had been leaning.
"If you want my two coppers? People like Ryn Faelith don’t chase folks down unless they care. That’s leverage. If she’s got a personal grudge against you, Ellanise... that means she won’t be able to resist calling you in herself. If you can bait her properly.”
Teryn stares at the finger for a moment longer than he probably should—brows slightly raised, lips pressed into a thin line. “A fine ring,” he murmurs absently, almost academically, though a chill runs beneath the words. “Whoever lost the finger…must’ve done more than miss a payment.”
He finally tears his gaze away and glances toward Ellanise, the flicker of a question in his silver eyes, but it never makes it to his lips. Instead, he nods, folding his hands together with quiet composure. “If this Ryn Faelith has a grudge and an ego, baiting her is our best chance to draw her out on our terms. I won’t pretend I’m not curious, Ellanise, but I hold no judgment. We all carry pasts we’d rather not unpack in polite company.” A faint, almost wistful smile crosses his face. “And besides, dangerous people rarely go after nobodies. I’m inclined to think your story makes you even more valuable to our cause.”
Rowan keeps one ear cocked for any hint of returning footsteps while eyeing Teryn’s newly acquired chest. “Let’s crack it quick, folks,” he murmurs under his breath, already heading for the door at the far end of the room. “I’ll make sure the corridor’s still empty—no sense us fiddlin’ with locks just to get caught red-handed.” He slides over to peek through the narrow gap, keeping his breathing steady as he glances down the passage. “We’ve stirred enough crows for one day—so let’s do this quick and clear out before that flock gets any bigger.”
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
Ellanise steps back into view, her sleeve held up over her nose. "Leave now. Unlock chest later." She moves to the door and peers out beside Rowan.
Teryn gives a pout, but decides to comply with Ellanise's blunt suggestion. He grabs the chest again and moves to follow her and Rowan.
He listened carefully as the smugglers talked. Someone was there before them. Someone that was not with the smugglers. Maybe someone Veyla? His mind turned back to the man that scaped by the warehouse. Could have been someone more directly tied to the buyer of the Celestial Concordance. Either way, their hiding work and the arson trick apparently had the side effect of persuading the smuggling crew to leave. A surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one.
“We can check for traps out of here.” Time and experience had long taught him to never open a lock without checking it for wiring. “It would be great if you checked it with your sense for magic then.” He said to Teryn grabbed the chest again. “Let’s go.”
Käinen doubted unlocking the chest would take time enough for them to get caught but minding his own words he decided it best to not tempt fate. Besides he was more worried about getting into the Guilded Iris. Maybe we should go back to the professor, he pondered thinking on the map. There was a non-zero chance Marsh would be able to identify the location depicted on it. The City Guard rewarded good information with either coin or gratitude. The later could take the form work or favors.
"Ah, good idea. Once we get somewhere more private I can cast detect magic and give it a more thorough inspection." The high elf gives a small smile, doing his best to mask his excitement. His expertise isn't typically in thievery--of items, anyway--but he can't resist secrets and mysteries.
Byldeth hums, following the group as he looks around, careful for any kind of other thrats that may appear. If possible, he would still be searching around with his Tremorsense for any possible hidden enemies that they might encounter.
The storeroom remains quiet, save for the distant crackling of the fire spreading through the tunnel behind you. Faint, acrid smoke curls up from beneath the hatch, curling into the corners of the room. Eyes fall to the small chest tucked near the wall. Its iron latch is worn, and the box itself bears no lock—at least none you can see. Before anyone can move to open it, Teryn raises a hand and quietly begins the motions of a Detect Magic spell. As the familiar shimmer washes over the space, he inspects the chest with focused arcane sight.
There is a faint glow of Illusion magic that pulses from the box, nearly mundane, as far as your spell can tell.
Still, Käinen isn’t one to take chances. He crouches beside the chest and runs a hand along its seams, inspecting every edge and joint for signs of tampering, false latches, or pressure triggers. After a careful once-over, he stands with a nod. No traps. It’s safe.
Ellanise glances toward the exit, urging a quick departure. The risk of being caught down here still lingering heavily in the air. You all make the decision together: This isn’t the time. The chest will be opened later.
With the way ahead clear, you slip through the exit and into the open air of the harbor district proper once more. It's dark out, now. The dull roar of city night life surrounds you, the dim lantern light, soft murmur of distant voices, and the sound of boats swaying gently in the tide not that far away. It would appear the danger of the tunnels has faded behind you.
DM : The Shade Over Runewarren | Vaelen Gravesong : Shadow of Eternal Night
"Fear is the weight we carry, love is the treasure we bury."
Teryn exhales as the group emerges into the open night, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the underground air. The harbor’s breeze brushes across his face, welcome and cool after the stifling tension below. “Stars above, I’d forgotten how sweet fresh air could taste after an evening spent crawling through smoke and shadow,” he murmurs with a faint smile.
He glances down at the chest still in their possession, its faint magical aura lingering in the back of his mind. “Whatever illusion’s tied to this box, it’s weak—likely more for concealment than protection. But I’ll feel better opening it somewhere...safe. Quiet. Preferably with a door that locks from the inside.”
Rowan takes in a slow breath of the harbor air, then casts a sidelong look at the others—particularly at the chest in Teryn’s hands. “Reckon we’ve done enough skulkin’ for one night,” he murmurs. “Might be high time we circle back to the academy. The professor or Vasha might know a thing or two about that Veyla character—or the Gilded Iris, for that matter.” He brushes his hand over the carved halfling figurine tucked in his coat, letting its smooth wood rest against his palm for a moment. “We can take stock of all this when we ain’t got half the underworld crowdin’ our heels. Then we’ll figure if crackin’ that box open is really worth whatever we might find inside.”
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
"I agree," Ellanise says, turning her face up to the sky. She could be talking to Teryn or Rowan. She looks at the others. "Back to the academy?"
As you all step out into the late-night air of the harbor district, a brief hush settles over the group. For the first time in hours, the sound of rushing footsteps, shouted threats, and crumbling tunnels fades into memory. The streets are still, peaceful, bathed in a cool, silvery moonlight that spills between the rooftops. The cobbled path beneath your feet is slick with the misty residue of a recent tide, and aside from the distant creak of a moored ship rocking against the dock, Luminaar sleeps. There are no shady figures watching from the alleyways. No urgent footsteps behind you. Just the quiet thud of your boots against stone as you begin the familiar trek back to the academy grounds.
As you approach the main courtyard of the university, the sounds of the sea fade, replaced by the comforting familiarity of rustling leaves and the distant hum of magical lanterns flickering along the ivy-covered paths. The stately silhouette of the academy buildings loom ahead, its upper towers dark—but not the lower floors. Just as before, you pass under the carved archway and down the gently curving hallway toward Professor Marsh’s office. The faint glow of candlelight seeps from beneath his heavy oak door, accompanied by the familiar scent of aged parchment and tea leaves.
A loud thud rattles the doorframe, followed by a cascade of smaller crashes. A voice follows.
"I told you not to stack them so high. Remember what happened last time?” Vasha’s unmistakable exasperation cuts through the muffled chaos inside. Professor Marsh’s reply comes a moment later, muffled by wood but still audible.
“They were alphabetized by binding density, Vasha! It’s a perfectly logical—oh no, not the scrolls!”
The moment you knock, the door creaks open before you even finish the gesture. Vasha stands there, arms crossed, her long tail flicking with restrained annoyance. One of her horns has a smudge of dust near the base. Behind her, Marsh is halfway buried in a pile of parchment, his hair slightly more unkempt than usual. He peers up at you over his glasses, blinking in the sudden light of the hallway.
“Ah! You’re back. Please, tell me you’ve found the Concordance.” There’s a hopeful spark behind his exhaustion. His ink-stained fingers twitch as though already reaching for a book that might not even be there yet.
Vasha eyes you all warily, then steps aside to let you in.
DM : The Shade Over Runewarren | Vaelen Gravesong : Shadow of Eternal Night
"Fear is the weight we carry, love is the treasure we bury."
“We found the way to it.” He answered Marsh while turning to Vasha and rising the right index finger beside his head, a gesture for her to known there was something on the base of her horn. “The book was already sold by a group of smugglers working at the docks. Their base is a place called McHanley’s Exports and it’s connected to a system of underground tunnels. You may wish to warn the guard that they are preparing for more transactions soon.” And if you do, they will look to you for more information in the future, and you will look for us. He thought optimistic about the chances of more work. “Anyhow, we found there that a woman called Veyla arranged the Concord’s sale and that she is a big name underground. People fear speaking about her and she operates in a place called the Guilded Iris. A place will need help getting into.”
His eyes moved from professor to assistant, letting the silence say the obvious – the two of them needed to arrange the way in.
“We also found a map or building blueprint.” Käinen didn’t rightly know what would be thye technically precise term and simply turned to Teryn. “And this key. We hope you can recognize them.”
Teryn steps forward with a weary sort of grace, drawing from his robe the sealed envelope and building floorplan. “Evidence,” he says simply, placing them both on the professor’s cluttered desk, along with the small mystery chest under his arm with a soft thunk. “The letter was delivered to the smugglers just before we arrived. It carries faint abjuration magic—likely meant to preserve its contents. The box…well, illusion magic clings to it. Nothing dangerous as far as I can tell, but best handled somewhere safer than a smoky warehouse full of twitchy crossbowmen.”
He carefully breaks the envelope’s seal fully and unfolds the paper inside, his silver eyes narrowing slightly as they scan the contents. “Let’s see what Veyla’s friends thought important enough to enchant.”
Rowan stands off to the side, watching Käinen and Teryn relay the night’s findings to Marsh and Vasha, all the while drumming a quiet rhythm on his belt. His gaze drifts, imagining what tomorrow’s headlines might say about a mysterious warehouse blaze down by the docks. 'Hope that fire doesn’t land us in hotter water,' he muses, glancing back just in time to catch Teryn opening the enchanted letter.
His thoughts wander back to the strange tankard he slipped from the smuggler’s stash. He’s itching to figure out what magic it might hold—some small distraction from the cosmic weight pressing on them. With a subdued sigh, he forces himself to stay quiet for now. Might as well see what Marsh and Vasha can make of the contraband first, then hope for a swift escape to their lodging where he can tinker with “his” new find in peace.
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
Ellanise stands back and lets the others take the lead. She's glad to be away from the docks. What a night this has been! First, what might have been an ambush. Does she really believe Mariel would do that to her? After the years they worked together? And then the chase. And then the flight from the warehouse and almost getting caught. And the fire!
The elf pulls on the sleeve of her shirt, unconsciously hiding her connection to the Duckrats as she again replays what the guard said about them. The professor should hear. But will he suspect she was involved?
She turns her eyes on the professor. What does he know about her? How is it that she was one of these few that he sought to invite and employ?
"What is your connection to the Duskrats?" he asks bluntly, her voice full of suspicion, breaking her silence.
Professor Marsh blinks as Käinen launches into his matter-of-fact debrief. The professor leans heavily on the back of his desk chair, absorbing the flurry of information with furrowed brows. His expression twists with each new revelation: a smuggling ring, hidden tunnels, a mysterious buyer named Veyla. Behind him, Vasha slowly wipes the base of her horn with a handkerchief she produces from a sleeve, one eye still locked on Käinen with mounting curiosity.
“The Duskrats?” Marsh repeats, his voice lifting slightly in confusion at Ellanise’s pointed question. “I’m… afraid I haven’t the faintest idea who or what that is. Are they a cult? A thieves’ guild? Were they the ones who took the Concordance?” He adjusts his glasses, clearly alarmed now. Vasha, for once, doesn’t offer a witty interjection, her sharp eyes simply dart from Ellanise to the others, silent, calculating.
As Teryn places the envelope and floorplan down, Marsh reaches out, hesitating briefly before touching the paper as though it might burn him. “Faint abjuration... Illusion magic...” he murmurs, voice trailing off as Teryn breaks the seal and unfolds the parchment.
What tumbles out first isn’t paper... but a finger.
A severed, weathered human finger thuds onto the desktop, wearing a Ring of the Ram. The room goes still. The faint smell of iron clings to it, and worse, there’s no sign of rot. Preserved, magically. On the page, now unfurled and written in dried, dark crimson, a scrawled message reads:
“Ryn Faelith always collects her debts.”
The words seem to pulse faintly before the abjuration magic fades, leaving the bloodstained parchment limp and still.
Vasha is the first to break the silence. “...Subtle,” she mutters.
Marsh, clearly disturbed, pushes the letter back as though the distance might help settle his stomach. “I…I’m going to pretend I didn’t see a severed digit on university property,” he mumbles, then looks up, more focused. “You said this Veyla runs a place called the Gilded Iris? I’m afraid I don’t know it. Neither of us travel in those sorts of circles.” He glances apologetically to Vasha, who shrugs with a smirk. “Not unless there's a library with wine.” she quips.
Professor Marsh leans forward now, pressing his hands on the desk. “But if this Veyla has the book, and you say these… Duskrats have some way in, I suggest you focus your efforts there. That tome cannot be in such hands for long.”
He hesitates before continuing, eyes darting toward Ellanise, and then to each of you in turn. “I chose you all because your backgrounds give you skills, access, that the Watch or the Academy simply cannot offer. I knew some of you had… complicated pasts. I didn’t ask questions then, and I’m not asking now. But I am trusting you. This work matters. I’ll try to learn what I can about this… Iris. But if the Duskrats are the best chance you have, I’d begin there.”
The room is quiet for a moment. The severed finger sits like a period at the end of an unfinished sentence. Outside the office window, the moon continues its climb, and somewhere in the distance, bells chime the arrival of another sleepless hour.
DM : The Shade Over Runewarren | Vaelen Gravesong : Shadow of Eternal Night
"Fear is the weight we carry, love is the treasure we bury."
Ellanise continues to stare at the professor. Then, her eyes focus on Vasha. Is she the one who put together this motley crew? Does she have ties to the Duskrats?
"I attempted to learn anything I could from the Rats already tonight," she says finally. As the others look at her, she once again pulls at the sleeve of her shirt unconsciously. She looks at the floor and then back up. Her eyes first lock onto Käinen's. "My friend came. We started to talk, but then another Rats member showed up and chased me. It was mostly a waste of time." Her eyes move to Teryn's. "Even though I've done nothing against them, they see me as a traitor."
Rowan’s face tightens when the finger tumbles out—he swallows hard, like a field hand spotting blight for the first time. “So... if this Ryn Faelith is harvestin’ old debts, we’d best mind the row we’re plowin’. Sounds like she isn’t picky whose fields she tramples,” he mutters under his breath, letting the chilling note sink in.
He shifts his weight, turning an uneasy gaze toward Ellanise as she explains her brush with the Duskrats. “That’s a bad crop,” he murmurs, scratching the back of his neck. “If the Rats think of you as a turncoat, they won’t go throwin’ open the barn doors to help us. Maybe we’d be better off trackin’ down that Gilded Iris in secret—see who comes and goes, pick our contact and the best moment without waltzin’ in blind. It’s trickier work, sure, but I’d rather meet ‘em on our terms than walk into a trap with them holdin’ the scythe.”
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
Vasha watches in silence as Ellanise speaks, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then, as Rowan chimes in, she exhales softly and pushes herself off the edge of the desk where she had been leaning.
"If you want my two coppers? People like Ryn Faelith don’t chase folks down unless they care. That’s leverage. If she’s got a personal grudge against you, Ellanise... that means she won’t be able to resist calling you in herself. If you can bait her properly.”
DM : The Shade Over Runewarren | Vaelen Gravesong : Shadow of Eternal Night
"Fear is the weight we carry, love is the treasure we bury."
Teryn stares at the finger for a moment longer than he probably should—brows slightly raised, lips pressed into a thin line. “A fine ring,” he murmurs absently, almost academically, though a chill runs beneath the words. “Whoever lost the finger…must’ve done more than miss a payment.”
He finally tears his gaze away and glances toward Ellanise, the flicker of a question in his silver eyes, but it never makes it to his lips. Instead, he nods, folding his hands together with quiet composure. “If this Ryn Faelith has a grudge and an ego, baiting her is our best chance to draw her out on our terms. I won’t pretend I’m not curious, Ellanise, but I hold no judgment. We all carry pasts we’d rather not unpack in polite company.” A faint, almost wistful smile crosses his face. “And besides, dangerous people rarely go after nobodies. I’m inclined to think your story makes you even more valuable to our cause.”