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The thin man stands up tall at Weel's question. "Then you have business with me. Gral Geir Granthus, formerly of Ilya, assistant manager at this outpost of the Great Merchant's Emporium." He smiles patronizingly at the recruits. "So--a requisitioning. I am legally required to give you at...

Unfortunately, the door is bolted. From the other side. It's going to take a lot of effort to get the door open. And the zombies are starting to get up.

Opening the door, the recruits find themselves in a room full of shelves. A thin, fussy man is directing a chubby little Nibelungen (a Thari, actually) in cleaning the room, while another man is snoring at his desk, a bottle of wine in front of him. "--And make sure shelf 7 gets cleaned Gelf!"...

As the group leaves, the ogres and Nibelungen reach the stand and begin ordering spider legs. The Wood Goblin grins and handles their business with a casual flair. Going south, the recruits pass by numerous businesses. And every damn one of them looks like the cashbox might have four or five...

Unfortunately, getting themselves to a spot where they could stand without having a huge jar making things awkward brought the party to the opposite end of the room from their entrance. Hemaor is by the DOOR that leads INTO the Blackfang, not the hole in the wall that leads out. In fact, about...

The corpse hits the ground with a bang as Norani fires his bow, missing as the undead's position shifts. Marcus and Heamor ready their weapons, as there is no way to attack the thing without stepping into the slippery grease that Liev has summoned. However, the prone corpse is the least of...

The Goblin snickers. "Oh, don't worry--the cooking burns the poison right out, leaving nothing but pure flavor." He immediatley takes the leg he has been waving around, and with one quick gesture, shoves it up Alan's mouth. "See?" Alan The leg is surprisingly good. Sort of like a bannana...

Bump!

The Wood Goblin smiles. "Well, I might be persuaded to give you the location of the Emporium, and a few tips about it, if you were to sample some of my wares." He waves the 'treat' in Weel's face. "One copper a leg. You'll be gettin' some of the best info you can get in this crazy...

OOC: Correct--the outer camp is the quasi-town that's built up around the soldiers, collecting all the hanger-ons, camp followers, and the like the Army of the True Emperor has attracted. As the re-enter the bustle of the camp, a little Wood Goblin approaches them, holding a large cart of...

An older solider stops chewing the bit of bitterweed in his mouth, and spits it out. "Go see Granthus at the Emporium in the outer camp for a tent. Then come here, and set it up." He glares at the recruits. "And don't do it in a spot any of the rest of us have taken--got it?" With that he...

The jar immediately shatters, releasing the shambling corpse of a man. It moans dully, and lunges at the group.

Anguis writes a message to Bishop Scrope. To Ganelon Scrope, Bishop and Provost-Marshal of Gardur, Herald of Orr, and Guardian of the Faith, I write to you in a white heat, my lord. The hand of Kalur is at work in Tarsur, and we move against it. I must ask you to use your formidable skills...

Anguis Fevre follows her back, watching her pensively. While he is outwardly pleasant, his thoughts trace more devious routes. You frighten me, Alessa--you offer everything and give nothing, to no cause. I'd admire the caution and skill with which you do it--but I cannot support a windvane...

The noise appears to be coming from inside the jars.

Faulker looks at Graevel agonized. This is a man whose soul is in torment. "I do not deny this--bloodletting was--excessive. But I suspect Guy knows this as well, in his heart. And try and see it from his eyes. A woman--an outsider--tries to cheer the men's spirits with a song about a...

The jars radiate a slight aura of necromancy.

Fevre nods. "As well you should." He shakes his head. "Once our nation stood like a sculpture, all the parts in balance. Each House had its place in the design, and each fulfilled its role in that place. And then the revolution came, and knocked all askew. Now we totter precariously...

Faulker watches, with a note of approval, as Graevel tends the Ulheru's body. "He is an Emperor, Nibelung. He is something more than a man."

On further examination, the jars have no lids. They are solid clay. If Marcus wishes to open them, he will have to break them.