In an expensive hotel in Martira Bay

[VAN]

Dadarg unsheathes his sword too, passing the dagger at his left hand and attacks while an arrow hits the ground only a few inches away of him. The assassin slashes once with his rapier and dagger managing to wound severely the man at the chest. The bandit slashes too, but Dadrag’s armor protected him. The assassin’s second attack with the rapier gets the bandit again at the chest. The man fells heavily to the ground. Dadrag doesn't know if he is unconsious or dead.

“Joe!” cries the man at the tree and shoots with his bow again. This time though, manages to scratch his arm. Dadrag smiles and starts running towards the tree. Another arrow hits the ground behind him. As the assassin arrives to the tree, doesn’t stop, he continues climbs on the tree’s bole as if walking on the street. The bandit terrified shoots one more time, mishitting and jumps down. The assassin jumps too landing on his feet, he stares the bandit and with cold steady voice says:

“You are alone. Throw your weapons and surrender or I will kill you.”

Instead of an answer the bandit grins and unsheathing his sword attacks, but the assassin dodges jumping back. Dadrag attacks by his turn making two wounds at the man’s belly and right arm. The bandit attacks again, but with his dagger the mercenary deflects the attack. Then, the assassin very quickly moves his body to the left leaving the bandit believe that he is going to attack from that side. The bandit moves to the right in order to avoid the attack, but suddenly Dadrag changes his move and pierces with his rapier directly the bandit’s heart. For being sure that the bandit is dead, the mercenary decapitates easily the body.

Dadrag shrugs and turns back to the path looking for Draxton.

[alhoon]

Draxton drops the invisibility and appears. "How you reversed your move so quickly? I didn't thought that was possible. And you took of his head? Are you using magic too Dadrag?" The noble smiles. He liked suprises.

[VAN]

Dadrag gasps as he listen a voice at his back, two daggers appear at his hands and barely holds himself to not throw them to Draxton's direction. His voice is cold and serious, but not threatening, Dadrag wants only to warn the wizard.

“Draxton, I talk to you as a friend. Never appear at my back and surprise me. I use to throw daggers for less serious reasons.”

Then, Dadrag puts his daggers back to his belt and trying to smile a bit says:

“As about my moves, there is no magic trick, only very good physical condition and practice. Very much practice in many and different targets. As about you, it’s interesting that you can get invisible.”

[alhoon]

"I can make you invisible too Dadrag. What I mean is that I believe your weapon is magical. You cleaved off the head easily" Draxton doesn't seem even a bit disturbed talking about decapited bodies almost beneath his boots.

[VAN]

Dadrag looks one more time the decapitated body. Yes, his last attack was very precise and seems that manages to impress Draxton. Dadtag liked that.

“I get that sword from a noble. I think it’s magic too, it’s a very good sword. But I repeat, it needs very much practice to use it like that. For this reason you hired me Draxton, because I can use my sword and abilities to watch your back, another mercenary maybe would not have noticed anything and you would have gotten in the ambush. Come now, the village is not far away.”


OOC> Dadrag's rapier is only +1, but I figured he did only a good critical hit.

[alhoon]

That same night, Draxton sneaked out of the inn. They had seperate rooms for this reason.
A few minutes later, cloacked in black clothes and with a few protective spells active, Draxton reached the bodies of the thugs they had killed earlier. It was time for a test.

Rubbing his hands with anticipation he called to his mind the final movements and words that would activate one of the spells he has found since that dreadful attack in the Manor.
As he chanted the obscure words, the bodies of the fallen twitched and then... they rose. The unrestful dead were his to command! He had done it!
Laughing loudly Draxton commanded the body of the decapited highway man to pick up his own head. Excitement and joy filled him. He felt 20 years younger at this time. His peers were wrong. The fathers of the Fraternity were wrong. Van Rijn in his haste and blind ambition has done them a great service. Once the traitor was dust and the dust settled, the fraternity would be better than before.
And Draxton would be better than before.

[alhoon]

The next morning, Draxton took more time to wake up and get ready than usual. He said to Dadrag that he had a bad time sleeping at night, so he was tired and slept for a couple of hours more. Then they continued their way.

In a few uneventful days they were at Nevuchar Springs.

[alhoon]

January 12th:

Draxton read the letter Getrude Kingsley had let for him with the innkeeper. That delay complicated things a bit but not dramatically. What was the professor up to? Could she (knowingly or in her naivity) betray his position to his enemies (within the fraternity and out of it)?

He sat again by Dadrag's table. "Dadrag, the professor we were to meet here has left about 10 days ago. She probably had urgent business. Anyway I don't know who she may tell of the meeting we were to have here. So perhaps there are assassins hired by enemy lords or may come here soon. We will rest for a day and the morning after tomorrow, we leave again. In the mean time, I would like to ask the clerics of Ezra a couple of things."

[VAN]

Without being particularly worried with Draxton news, Dadrag says:

“Do you want me to care about that? I have many friends in Darkon, especially in Martira Bay. They can tell me if anyone has asked for you.”

[alhoon]

Draxton Smiled.
"You are full of surprises, aren't you? Well, let's see what you can learn."

Not very surprising, Draxton thought. Dadrag was no fool, he kept contacts. These contacts could be very useful. Martira Bay was an extremely profitable area and every influence Draxton could find would be for the better. How much more influence over... assassins! Who killed who? How much costs to kill who (showing personal power) and ... elimination of rivals.
If Dadrag went as well to this as Draxton hoped he would, he would start arranging him to become a noble in Richemulot. In five years, with the fraternity's help, he would probably have placed Dardrag in the Aristocracy.

[VAN]

Dadrag manages to mask his smile. He likes surprising Draxton. The merchant is rich and powerful and the ex-assassin knows that he can benefit from that.

“I’ll do my best. But since we don’t have much time, I suppose you want these information as soon as possible, I’ll need to move faster than I used to do, meet people, asking favors and of course persuade my friends working faster that they normally do.”

[alhoon]

Draxton just smiled. "Of course."
After a minute of silence he added "We are leaving afternoon, OK?"

[Rotipher of the FoS]

DS: Appt 1/12/60 w GK aborted by K, DS not angry. Fears of hit (“enemy lords”?), leak by GK. Paranoid and/or many enemies; badly misjudges GK’s discretion. Another to see CoE-NS.

BG1: “Dadrag” to DS. Darkon (MB) contacts for info. Professional, cool. (Problem?)

DS: Acts as if unfamiliar w BG1 assets. (New hire? Test?) Smug, condescending.

BG1: Hints extortion of contacts, legwork. (Org. crime?) Seems sharper than DS, but hides it; dangerous.

The hand that scratched these notes, two tables to the left of Serd and his bodyguard, bore calluses more indicative of musicianship than the actuarial work it feigned. There wasn’t much else of Crow’s present appearance, however, to betray his ruse. His telltale black curls had been dyed chestnut-brown and oiled into lankness, and the cosmetic guise he’d crafted for his return to the elven port appeared weather-worn and gaunt, a far cry from the unblemished youthfulness he’d affected for the October gathering. Together with the bicorn hat which rested beside the ledgers and paperwork he’d spread across his table, the knee-high stockings and ruffled shirt-cuffs gone dingily off-white from wear, and the oilcloth mackintosh draped over one of his table’s vacant chairs, the charade of a nautical tradesman from Armeikos or one of the lesser maritime settlements had readily sufficed to deceive the hotel’s staff.

The bard wasn’t proud that his work required such deception of innocent bystanders. The Riverview Rest was a pleasant little hotel, despite the standoffish demeanor of the town surrounding it; by contrast with Sithican innkeepers – infamous for claiming not to know what a “bed” was, the better to snub those requiring sleep instead of trance – the elves here were positively convivial! But for reasons of tradecraft, he’d had to make his prior departure for Liffe seem the beginning of a long-term sojourn: there was no telling if the Lady Scalpel might set investigators on his trail. So swift a return in his “Brother Crow” guise would have roused too much attention from the locals; better if potential pursuers chased rumors of his route all over the Nocturnal Sea, than to his doorstep. His run-in with Buchvold might have paid off in the end, but having two doors unexpectedly kicked in on him, in as many months’ time, would have been extremely embarrassing.

Ah, well, at least my ankle’s back to almost-normal, after the rest afforded by the voyage to Claveria and back. No insult intended to Ceatsã, but it was far better than riding to the border for the month’s turning! Have to make a note to cadge some more volumes of the Madrigorian from the Society, for next time I pass through that neck of the woods: it beats me how a doggerel-spewing hack like Evensong can tear his way through books so fast, but it’s getting bloody hard to find anything else to sell to his major-domo, that the Baron’s not already read cover-to-cover…

He’d known about the letter Kingsley’d left for the merchant, of course. The concierge at the Riverview might have been the epitome of discretion, but his niece was of an age to quiver at any handsome male’s clandestine wink, and certain bigoted and salacious rumors she’s heard about human courtship-habits had sparked more curiosity than they quashed. The bard wasn’t the sort to take advantage of his charisma in quite the manner she’d expected – or, perhaps, hoped – but he’d soon learnt everything he'd needed to know of the professor’s parting instructions.

Unfortunately, out of all the Fraternity members he’d encountered at the Manoir, Draxton Serd just happened to be the one whom the VRS spy knew the least about. He’d never spoken to the man directly – wouldn’t even have recognized his voice now, had Serd not called for him to pass the saltcellar during the interrupted St. Ronges banquet – nor had his preparatory research on likely attendees’ backgrounds encompassed the aging clothing-importer. Serd’s name had come up once or twice in the course of past investigations, Crow recalled, but only as yet another sordid participant in the endless quagmire of scandal and double-dealing that passed for “High Society” in bourgeois Richemulot.

(To his regret, the bard had a bit of a “blind spot” when it came to the nouveau riche. His missions normally involved such persons only peripherally: secret societies and vile cults were principally vices of the jaded elite or the downtrodden, vindictive masses, not of the workaday classes in between. Crow’d more often encountered common-born traders as the victims of occult conspiracies than as their instigators; their own plots were usually as mundane in character as themselves, so seldom merited his Society’s intervention.)

This time, it seemed, the bard’s blind spot had betrayed him, for Draxton Serd now had the potential to pose more of a direct threat than Buchvold had managed to, albeit not for the Borcan noble's lack of trying. Serd was an unknown quantity, was in apparent communication with Kingsley, and had run loose in the Manoir – going invisibly who-knew-where, an unseen witness to who-knew-what – without Crow’s then-knowledge. True, the trader from Richemulot hadn’t yet acted upon anything he may, or may not, have observed there – at least, so far as the bard was aware – but given that Serd was Richemuloise, his reticence to date proved nothing. The VRS spy wasn’t above a bit of extortion in service to his missions, but he far preferred to be the one who inflicted blackmail rather than succumbed to it.

Crow sorely hoped he wouldn’t have to do anything drastic, to avert such complications. Something about Draxton Serd made his skin crawl, and he knew that if he had to take steps to remove the man from the game-board, he’d never be sure if personal distaste had unfairly clouded his judgment.

Of course, the logistics of such a removal would present their own challenge, should such a recourse be necessary. The merchant hadn’t come alone, and this bodyguard – “Dadrag”, Serd named him, although the bard wouldn’t accept that without confirmation – seemed a good deal more alert than his employer … or any other adversary Crow’d crossed wits with, of late! As conversation at the other table died down, the spy skimmed his shorthand notes so far, and his suspicion that the “hired help” might outclass the employer grew stronger. Best to get another look at the man now, before actual confrontation brought him to their full attention.

Not turning toward Serd’s table – something he’d not done even once, since taking a seat nearby; he didn’t need to see to eavesdrop – the bard lifted the cheese-slicer from the cold snack-platter he’d ordered, to excuse his lingering in the dining hall while he “updated these shipping manifests”. As he moved to cut another sliver of cheddar for his bread, Crow unobtrusively tilted the slicer’s polished surface to reflect the merchant’s table…

… and swore inwardly, to see “Dadrag” glaring right back at him from the reflection, a gleam of knowing contempt in the rugged hireling’s eyes.

“Amateur hour” was over.

[VAN]

Dadrag doesn't answer, something else has gotten his attention. He has seen the man who is sitting two tables away looking at them once but since he didn't seem paying attention on them the mercenary thinks it's a coincidence. But when Dadrag sees him using the knife to watch them directly changes his mind.

With his gray-blue eyes the ex-assassin stares the man. Determination and threat are clear at his frozen glance. Then appears an ironic smile at his face, it seems that the bodyguard is chalenging him.

With the same tone of voice he was speaking till now, Dadrag says:

"Draxton, please order one more beer, a friend will join us now. "

[alhoon]

Draxton smiled. Talking casually he said "You certainly earn your day's labor again. Keep him occupied there for me to fix his drink. Don't let him see me OK?"
As Dadrag stands Draxton took a glimpse of the man the assassin was going to "greet" as he called for the barmaid to fetch two more beers.
Let's see if this new threat is worth his salt. Would he drink the offered beer, or would see through the trick? Draxton had no patience for fools meddling in his affairs. He would know now if this man was a cutpurse, a spy or a more serious threat... to be subverted or eliminated as need dictates.

OOC> Draxton doesn't know who the man is. To his knowledge he may be just a fool wanting to steal from them. The poison is just "mind numbing" (as if drinking too much alcohol) and Draxton has some in his pocket.
He has deadly poison in his ring as every noble worth his salt has