Mists of Winter, Chapter Two

[ewancummins]

DORGIO'S HOUSE

The priest awakens at the sound of wood rattling under heavy blows, someplace near but not too close, not right next to him. Sunlight seeps into the small bedchamber through cracks in the window shutters. His woman groans. Dorgio feels more than sees the blankets pull away as she rolls away, dragging the bedclothes with her. Exposure to the cold air raises gooseflesh on him in an instant. His bedmate mutters, ‘Who is that?"

He hears a dull, faint clatter followed by muffled voices in conversation. The sounds come from the front of his small house. A moment later the door of his bedroom swings open and a dim bulk heaves into the gap. Light flickers in the figure's hands and the sweet smell of tobacco wafts in on a cold draught.
As Dorgio’s eyes adjust to the light, he recognizes the man as one of the guardsmen outside the Portmaster’s headquarters. The thick-set man wears a sword at his hip and a flat, hard look on his stubbly, creased face. A glowing cigar sticks out of his mouth. Smoke rises in wispy circles above his head like a gray halo.


Another figure resolves out of the shadows behind the Portmaster’s man; Vlad. The Barovian stands at ease, but he spares a long look right into Dorgio’s eyes. Keeping his gaze locked like that, the hunter steps a little to the left so that Dorgio can see his right hand, positioned very close to his dagger’s hilt. The Barovian closes his right hand and extends his fingers one by one till all five stick out. He turns his head with exaggerated slowness, looking left and towards the front door of the house, down the short hall hidden from Dorgio by the bedroom wall.
‘’It is fine, Dorgio. These men, I am thinking they are in such a hurry they forgot good manners. They want to show us something—something from the river.’’

[Brock Marsh Runoff]

DORGIO'S

Dorgio's eyes shoot open when he hears the noise. He turns onto his side and puts a hand on the swell in his wife's stomach. "Probably Benn," he mutters, though he'd never known his Lamordian friend to make so much noise upon entrance.

The fog boils from his mind when he sees the Portmaster's man barge into his room. Vlad's signal isn't lost on him, and the priest stands, still draped in his sleeping-shirt.

"It can't be good news this early in the morning," he says matter-of-factly to the guard. "Another victim?" Let me make my preparations, and I'll gladly come with you."

[Adam]

Bennedict limps through the front door of the office, there before dawn as was his custom. Cold mornings like these had a way of setting his knee to aching in a way that made his walking stick much less decorative than it used to be, another souvenir of their time at Gauntcliffe. He is unsurprised to find that, as usual, Hornsby had arrived first.

"What news?" he says, forgoing greetings as he handed him his coat and hat. He stepped to his desk, picking up the warm mug of tea waiting for him and scanning the desk for correspondence. "Has anything come in for me over night? Any reports of more drownings at the docks?" He looks around for any papers that looked particularly grimy. "Our...hairy friend was also supposed to bring me some news."

[kintire]

Kat crawls out of bed, muttering. She dresses herself in her serving outfit and sets out into the cold morning, wending her way towards the Cunning Man's office. These pots cannot sit around her house forever, and it iss high time they were turned into money!

Knowing what she does of the sage's lifestyle, she suspects catching him early might be wise...

[VAN]

Sara wakes up late that morning since she hasn't anything urge to do till afternoon. Kat has already contacted an aquintance of hers about the vases and was waiting him to get back to her. So the only thing she has to do this day is waiting till noon to go see the bard.

After getting dressed and having breakfast decides to take a walk and pass from Raen's house and Kat's work place to discuss what they have found out so far before going to Lorelai's.

[ewancummins]

DORGIO'S

Dorgio's eyes shoot open when he hears the noise. He turns onto his side and puts a hand on the swell in his wife's stomach. "Probably Benn," he mutters, though he'd never known his Lamordian friend to make so much noise upon entrance.

The fog boils from his mind when he sees the Portmaster's man barge into his room. Vlad's signal isn't lost on him, and the priest stands, still draped in his sleeping-shirt.

"It can't be good news this early in the morning," he says matter-of-factly to the guard. "Another victim?" Let me make my preparations, and I'll gladly come with you."

The Portmaster's five minions don't answer any questions. They wait in the front room, looking about at Dorgio's humble belongings.

Vlad hangs nearby, watching the guardsmen.

When Dorgio has dressed and gathered his gear, the party leaves—Vlad and all the men along with Dorgio. A few ragged clouds tumble through the pink sky. Cold wind tears along the street, rattling an empty barrel over the cobbles in a downhill roll.

Dorgio catches a glimpse of his wife's pale face, strands of her long dark hair fallen across her eyes, watching him through the window.
The shutters close.

…

THE EAST BANK DOCKS

The Portmaster’s sergeant, still chewing the fuming remnant of his cigar, flips the tarp away and beckons Dorgio closer to the still figure laid out on the pier. “Fisherman pulled him out of the water earlier this morning.”
The dead man faces up, mouth twisted open, with his arms tangled in a ripped oilskin coat. His eyes show solid black, as if dipped in ink. Bruises and scrapes mark his gray-bearded face. His right wrist crooks inward at an unnatural angle.
The smoking man says, “He’s been identified as Talbot, a rag and bone man. Locals say he drank too much wine.”
The man prods the corpse with his boot.
"Queer about the eyes...that's why the Master sent for you."


Vlad approaches and leans over the body for a close look.
He straightens up, turns towards Dorgio, makes eye contact and nods.

[ewancummins]

BENN'S OFFICE

Bennedict limps through the front door of the office, there before dawn as was his custom. Cold mornings like these had a way of setting his knee to aching in a way that made his walking stick much less decorative than it used to be, another souvenir of their time at Gauntcliffe. He is unsurprised to find that, as usual, Hornsby had arrived first.

"What news?" he says, forgoing greetings as he handed him his coat and hat. He stepped to his desk, picking up the warm mug of tea waiting for him and scanning the desk for correspondence. "Has anything come in for me over night? Any reports of more drownings at the docks?" He looks around for any papers that looked particularly grimy. "Our...hairy friend was also supposed to bring me some news."

Hornsby sniffs.
"I haven't heard of any drowning cases today sir-- but of course the day has hardly begun. The men you had paid to keep watch over the Marble Faun after the burglary there have offered to continue their watch at the same price. They don't report seeing or hearing anything unusual. As for your hairy friend, sir---do you mean the Falkovnian or his dog?"
Hornsby allows himself the faintest of smiles, and then goes on, "Mister Franz mentioned something about needing your help with a bad back--not his own I think-- last night. Did he not? It was very late when you two returned and I confess I have a little trouble understanding his speech at times."

[ewancummins]

KAT, ON THE STREET

Kat crawls out of bed, muttering. She dresses herself in her serving outfit and sets out into the cold morning, wending her way towards the Cunning Man's office. These pots cannot sit around her house forever, and it is high time they were turned into money!

Knowing what she does of the sage's lifestyle, she suspects catching him early might be wise...

Kat trudges along the slushy lane, chilly wind biting at her cheeks and fingertips.
Houses rise in a solid row to her left-- the east side-- their tiled rooftops glowing red-gold in the light of sun hidden behind the buildings.

She walks alone, her footfalls echoing along the empty street.

Passing the neighborhood café on the left, she smells baking bread.

[Adam]

BENN'S OFFICE

Bennedict limps through the front door of the office, there before dawn as was his custom. Cold mornings like these had a way of setting his knee to aching in a way that made his walking stick much less decorative than it used to be, another souvenir of their time at Gauntcliffe. He is unsurprised to find that, as usual, Hornsby had arrived first.

"What news?" he says, forgoing greetings as he handed him his coat and hat. He stepped to his desk, picking up the warm mug of tea waiting for him and scanning the desk for correspondence. "Has anything come in for me over night? Any reports of more drownings at the docks?" He looks around for any papers that looked particularly grimy. "Our...hairy friend was also supposed to bring me some news."

Hornsby sniffs.
"I haven't heard of any drowning cases today sir-- but of course the day has hardly begun. The men you had paid to keep watch over the Marble Faun after the burglary there have offered to continue their watch at the same price. They don't report seeing or hearing anything unusual. As for your hairy friend, sir---do you mean the Falkovnian or his dog?"
Hornsby allows himself the faintest of smiles, and then goes on, "Mister Franz mentioned something about needing your help with a bad back--not his own I think-- last night. Did he not? It was very late when you two returned and I confess I have a little trouble understanding his speech at times."

Benn smiles as he takes a sip of his tee. "Ah, not that hairy friend," he says, "Our acquaintance, Ignatz. Nevermind, if you had seen him, I'm sure you'd have mentioned it."

He shuffles the correspondence, not seeing anything of note. "I was expecting to speak with the young woman who came in yesterday. Franz's father's back isn't going anywhere. Inform the mercenaries that their efforts are appreciated. I don't know that I really expect any more trouble, but I'll keep them employed for sake of Matteo's peace of mind."

[alhoon]

Having the day for himself, Raen did a bit of research in the morning making sure the windows were shut and the door closed, prepared his daily spells and mid-morning he headed out in case Kat has any more news to share.

[steveflam]

Franz rouses his usually early time. Careful not to wake Munchen, he begins his morning ritual of exercises. This lasts about an hour before he takes a hot bath.

After his bath he checks his equipment, making sure everything is in good order before completely dressing. Now he is ready for the day. He gently wakes Munchen and heads down for breakfast.
He will order a full meal and ask for the woman who took care of Mathilde yesterday if he doesn't see her.

[kintire]

KAT, ON THE STREET

She pauses for just a moment, desire to quickly get news warring with hunger, then shrugs and heads into the cafe to grab a little breakfast on the hoof!

[Brock Marsh Runoff]

EAST DOCKS

Dorgio kneels down to examine the dead man. And just as Vlad had said, the eyes had gone black as ink. "Would anyone have noted you passing, friend," he muses at the corpse, "if not for that?"

He turns his head to one of the guards. "A ragpicker, eh? So he was not a man known to own a boat?" He turns back to the corpse, looking for any signs of what could have killed the man. He suspects drowning, but with the corpse looking how it does, he isn't sure of anything just yet.

[ewancummins]

Galandel, Elven Sanctuary outside Pont

Galandel wakes an hour before first light. Laying in bed, he allows time for his eyes to adjust to what little pre-morning light makes past the closed shutters, and thick furs that cover the single window in the bedroom. He rises from bed without waking his wife, judging by her silhouette she wasn't disturbed by his movements. There is moment of shock and silent shudder as his naked body is exposed to frigid air. Quietly he moves across the room to the wardrobe, opening it he pulls out his clothing and gets dressed in the near darkness. Grabbing his Kit and his Bow, he leaves the room proceeding down the hall and into the hearth room.

In hearth room, Galandel spots his wolf stretched out in front of the hearth. The beast raises its head and turns to look at his friend and master. What little light that enters this room hits the wolf's yellow eyes just right making them glow. Walking past the wolf, Galandel sets his bow down and retrieves his studded leather armor from his kit. He takes the time to don it correctly, testing straps and over all condition of his armor. Galandel says a prayer, calling on the power of nature to protect from the elements. After completing his prayer he gathers his kit and bow, and makes for the door...

[ewancummins]

EAST DOCKS

EAST DOCKS

Dorgio kneels down to examine the dead man. And just as Vlad had said, the eyes had gone black as ink. "Would anyone have noted you passing, friend," he muses at the corpse, "if not for that?"

He turns his head to one of the guards. "A ragpicker, eh? So he was not a man known to own a boat?" He turns back to the corpse, looking for any signs of what could have killed the man. He suspects drowning, but with the corpse looking how it does, he isn't sure of anything just yet.

Upon closer examination, Dorgio finds that the dead man's hair and clothes hold a good amount of water. He finds a fistful of torn river-weeds locked in the corpse's right hand (the hand with a broken wrist). The body feels heavy, stiff-limbed. When Vlad kneels down and tilts the rag-picker's body on its side, striking the back hard with his free hand, a thin stream of water trickles out between the bluish lips.

Dorgio finds no obvious wounds that could have killed a man, but he does find fingermark bruises on the man's right forearm, under his sodden tunic just above the wrist. The spacing and size of the purplish indentations suggests a man with small hands, or a woman.