[sblock=Mei-Ying]The man considers Mei-Yuing then displays a coy smile towards the sorceress.
"Truly then, you exceed my expectations. A woman with wit and not just a knack for setting things on fire with her magic. Splendid!"
He clears his throat and looks about, before he starts rummaging in a hidden pocked somewhere in the sleeves of his robe.
"The organization is, as you can imagine, secretive in nature. Members only know of their immediate superior and those immediately below them in the hierarchy. I am called Alfred by most of my contacts and allies, and you may use this name to address me.
I have my suspicions of who are the actual rulers of our organization, but in general our agenda is being hailed as that of the side which ended a great conflict and armed clash that had sprung some time ago between rivalling merchant clans. You see, it's all about the Meteoric metal and who gets to trade and use it."
He pauses, considers the foreign woman and decides to continue.
"These artefacts, they are most, if not all, made out of it. Several times already, in the past decades, we've had rocks falling from the sky, which bring this precious resource to us. It takes in enchantment like a babe takes it's mother's milk and can produce results the likes of which you have never seen in a magic item. Normal items can be made of it, but most all are artefacts. Some items made from this material actually
turn out to be artefacts even if the creator was far from one who had the power and knowledge necessary to forge one.
You can then, deduce, that this metal is a commodity which far surpasses any other in importance and value. Apart from souls perhaps. What is even stranger, it cannot be replicated or fabricated using any means available to us. The deities are silent about it or give confusing answers. And it cannot be discerned whence exactly it comes from. We suspect Wildspace, but I at least, have no deeper information.
There is almost nothing a determined group of powerful mages and clerics cannot achieve. Finding out where this metal comes from, and piercing the veil of the Valley are the only stumbling blocks before us. I myself, and I suspect others as well, have been tasked to the gathering of all known items and artefacts created from this material. Some are relatively new, some are old. These rocks have fallen in the past, millennia ago even. Back, when the Valley of the Dead had been the necropolis of a vast capital city, the civilization who lived here had access to this metal and created items from it as well."
He pauses and hands the woman a small, black booklet. Then he resumes his explanation with a calm voice.
"I shall skip the history lessons, for time is not something to be wasted and I doubt you would trust me to take you to a private demiplane where we can talk more at length. Suffice to say the Valley stands sealed by a powerful Mythal now, Epic magic which we cannot breach despite our best efforts. Some items have been... deposited there. Presumably to stay out of our reach. Others we suspect are to be found among the ruins and crypts of long dead emperors and other nobility.
The guardians of this place, now they have given us supreme trouble. So much in fact, that we have been banned from attempting direct actions as agents. Hence me finding you in this most convenient manner.If you would agree to the Geas, you may read the booklet. There you will see all the information we have gathered currently.
As for your price - scrolls can be provided readily. All I need from you is to name the spells in question. The items for spellcasting, now this is something interesting. Would pearls of Power suffice, or had you something more... exotic in mind?
And finally, for protection, I shall find something to shield you from negative energy, though your highest concern must be not the mundane corpses and sprits that walk there, but the Liches and the revived blademasters that have defeated even our field agents."
He pauses and waits for the almond-eyed woman to answer.[/sblock]
Thok turns back, and goes towards the camp, attempting to locate Ferviel's tent. Zinerath casually walks past him, and heads towards the shimmering spirit in the misty glen. The woman turns back to face the demonic child, regards him, and slowly removes her veil. Just as the boy enters his usual battle frenzy and leaps at her to drive his weapon trough her visage, he witnesses the horror below her mask.
[sblock=Zinnerath]The boy finds himself in the lichs' tower. Only this time, he is alone. He hears rumbling outside, shouts and screams, and loud banging on the door.
"He is inside! Get 'em! Kill him! Kill the demon!" Shouting. Anger. A mob, with torches, staves and pitchforks. Zinnerath doesn't understand. He had done nothing wrong. Had he?
He looks down, towards his hands. They are bathed in crimson blood, with entrails still wrapped around his claws. On the floor, he sees the bodies of four children - three girls and a boy, of age between five and eight. Something had disemboweled them and ripped off their limbs.
In a corner, Geryk sits with a massive wound piercing his gut. He spits blood out and waves at Zinnerath. The boy approaches, attempting to help his friend. He smears blood and entrails across Geryk az he attempts to embrace him clumsily.
"Accursed demon! - Geryk wheezes out. - I wish I had never met you. You are nothing but evil! I spit on you! Monster! MONSTER! MONSTER!"
Geryk starts shouting, and men outside begin knocking the door down. Zinnerath gets up, with fear and confusion gripping his heart. He attempts to flee, to reinforce the door. Geryk grips his foot with his mailed fist and grins viciously trough bloodied teeth.
The door flies open, and men come in, armed and ready. A net is trhown over the child, and he is stabbed by spears and hit with staves. Somehow someone manages to gouge out his eye. The pain throbs with searing intensity, and the life starts slowly leaving the boy's battered body...[/sblock]
Zinnerath covers his face, screams and maks his best attempt to run away. Conveniently, this means he runs back towards the camp and cowers, huddled near the ditch within the light of a torch and much to the amusement of the guards. Geryk can see that his condition is beyond normal fear and that he is not perceiving reality at the moment.
Thok makes haste towards Ferviel's tent, but does not find the Cleric. Rufus drags his feet behind the Half-Orc reluctantly, and they pass by Lórquelië's tent. Mey-Ying's lodgings are further down the road.
Ferviel's tent seems to be empty. The camp has been stirred by the shouting and rustling, but it's so dark that only shadows move about. Upon inquiry, it turns out the priest is still in a meeting with Lazarus. The group heads out for the leader's lodgings, and find two paladins standing vigil outside. One man, black haired and black eyed, and pale as snow, hears them out, enters and then returns, bidding them enter.
Ferviel and Lazarus are inside, looking at a map and quietly conversing. The priest has a mug of ale besides him. The paladin a glass of water. Ferviel looks at Thok and his allies and scratches the stubble on his chin.
"What?" he says with his usual gruff voice.
[sblock]Zinnerath is
Panicked for 3 rounds. He ends up retreating as far as he can - to the edge of the camp.[/sblock]
