Lharvion 9, 998 YK
Breland
Cornerstone, Sharn
"Niv, wake up! We're going to be late!" Autumn stood over Niv's bed, shaking her gently to rouse her from her slumber. "It's already past the tenth bell, we don't have much time!"
Niv moaned something unintelligible from beneath her sheets.
"Niv, you've been talking about this job for days, I know you don't want to lose this one. We need to go now!"
"Uuuuurggh, no shouting! My head feels like brgrgkgglpphh...."
"Well, I tried to warn you not to start a drinking contest with a bunch of shifters in their own tavern. You're not used to the spirits they drink."
"wazzzeazzy... no problem. goodtimez had by all. now more sleep."
Autumn sighed heavily, his broad shoulders sagging in defeat. "Alright, I didn't want to do this... Kiva! Come here!" Kiva barked happily and jumped up on the bed, licking Niv's face. Niv leapt out of bed screaming.
"Auuugh!!! Eeew eew eew eew. Okay, okay, I'm up!" Niv stretched languorously, yawning as the taut, lithe muscles of the shifter form she was wearing began to wake up before clutching her head and grimacing in pain. "Owwww. Did you put a bunch gnomes inside my head while I was asleep? I don't remember ever being in so much pain!"
"Be glad it's still attached to your shoulders. Do you remember the dwarf you had been talking to? You told him that you thought he was a woman because his beard was so short, and then you passed out. I had to fill the tavern with fog just to get us both out of there alive after that. It took me until just a few minutes ago to get most of the dents from that hammer of his out of my legs. You made it out of there last night with two marriage proposals and only four death threats. I'd say it was quite an accomplishment. We're behind schedule, though. If you want to make it to the arena in time to catch a skycoach, you'd better hurry up and get changed! I'll give you something for your headache along the way."
***
Autumn flagged down a skycoach that sailed in just as they reached Cornerstone Arena. A low growl from Kiva insured that no one else tried to barge their way on to the coach before them. "Lareth Hall, Morgrave University, please." The skycoach driver nodded curtly to Autumn, gave Niv a look of disdain, and tried to stay as far away from Kiva as possible without falling out of the small craft.
"This is a new form for you, Niv. I don't think I've ever seen you looking quite like this before." Niv had taken on the appearance of a male changeling about 5 and a half feet tall, with an unruly shock of grayish white hair. Two large, solid white eyes dominated a smooth, nearly featureless gray face.
"Well, I figured I should let our employer know who they're dealing with, but I don't feel the need to give away all my secrets. And by the way, the name for this face is 'Mok'."
"Sorry, Mok. So how did you get this job again? Can we trust our employer?"
Mok scoffed. "Of course we can't trust them - we can't trust anyone, especially someone who would hire services through Professor Saeral."
"Who is Professor Saeral?"
"Professor Malloran Saeral is a doddering, senile old elf who teaches Comparative analysis of gender roles in Early Dhakaani artwork at Morgrave University. He's had an office buried deep inside one of the towers of Morgrave for as long as anyone can remember. Strangely enough, no one ever seems interested in signing up for such an esoteric subject. He is known amongst those who are in the know as a man with connections. He is legendary for his ability to connect interested parties with hired help suitable for a variety of delicate and discrete tasks. Crusaders and scoundrels, thieves and explorers, thugs and smugglers, the good Professor always seems to know just the right person for a job. What most people don't know is that Malloran Saeral doesn't exist. It's an open face for any and all changelings in Sharn to wear when they're looking for work. People looking to hire talent through the Professor leave a message in his office. From time to time, a changeling will wear his face, show up at his office, and if he finds a job he likes, introduce himself to the client as being referred by the Professor."
"Interesting. What happens if two changelings show up at once?"
"There are a few signals we leave for each other so that two Mallorans don't show up in the same place at the same time. It's a pretty good system; Saeral's office clerk doesn't even know about it, the clerk just collects his messages when he's out and passes them on to him whenever he shows up. There's always a job for someone. If you find something that doesn't suit your interests or talent, there's bound to be someone else who will take the job. Most of them are pretty small-time, but occasionally, you find a big one. And Autumn, my friend, we have found ourselves a big one this time!"
Mok's explanation was interrupted by the bored voice of the skycoach pilot. "Lareth Hall, Morgrave University. That'll be 15 sovereigns."
***
The inside of Professor Saeral's office looked about as old as Sharn itself. Papers and books were stacked almost to the ceiling, filling up the entire front room. Narrow paths from the door to the clerk's desk, Saeral's private office, and a small meeting room provided the only visible evidence of the floor. Niv announced their presence in a cheery voice. "Hi there! We're Mok and Autumn, here for a meeting with some of the professor's associates." The young human clerk looked up from her copy of the Korranberg Chronicle, annoyed at the disturbance.
"Yes, so you are. You're just in time. The others are already waiting for you in the meeting room."
Autumn opened the door into a small, dimly lit chamber dominated by a large, round oak table surrounded by six chairs. Across the table, a female hobgoblin clad in resplendent chainmail reclined in her chair, fixing a stern gaze on each of the three figures in turn as they entered the room. A hulking brute of a bugbear stood at attention behind her, one giant hand poised near the morningstar dangling from his belt.
"I am Meksoor Dhakaan, Ambassador of Darguul. In this place, I am the hand and voice of the Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat'kor. You are the changeling Mok and the warforged Autumn. You will sit."
Autumn and Mok each took a chair as instructed, while Kiva sat on her haunches at Autumn's side. Mok tried to break the ice. "Was it a long journey from Darguul, Ambassador?"
"The journey was uneventful, and the destination most unpleasant. This city is overrun with verminous humans, their very presence an affront to the former glory of Ja'shaarat. Every moment I spend here within their stink is an eternity, so you would do well not to waste my time with idle banter. What proof can the two of you provide me that you are worthy of the task I have for you? Time grows short."
Autumn interjected as Mok tried to hold back a slew of insults. "In addition to the gifts all changelings share, my associate is as skilled in swordplay as he is in wordplay. He also possesses a fair amount of sorcerous talent. I am a veteran combatant and tracker, and an Initiate of the Wardens of the Wood. The wolf, Kiva, is a deadly hunter. The three of us are more silent and discreet than most you could hire, save perhaps for the two goblins hiding in the shadows behind us."
Meksoor allowed her face to express a small amount of surprise. "You were able to see them? How is that so?"
"No, I did not see them, Ambassador. It was a fair guess. You are no doubt a formidable combatant yourself, given your station and the noise of the brutally spiked links of chain hanging from your waist. You are too wise to travel solely in the company of the Marguul behind you, fearsome and worthy as he certainly is. The skills of the shaarat'kesh are legendary, and it stands to reason that one such as you would be able to retain their services. The heirs of Dhakaan are too crafty to rely too heavily on standard tactics, but guessing that one lay in wait on either side of the door seemed a reasonable assumption to make."
Meksoor flashed a grin full of sharp teeth. "I will admit, warforged, I am impressed. Saeral seems to be worthy of his reputation after all." With a signal from her hand, the bugbear behind her produced a small satchel, placing it on the table. "Among the contents of this package, you will find a map to an ancient temple, a remnant of the eternal glory of the Empire of Dhakaan. Buried deep within is an item that is... precious to me. Eleven thousand years ago, our land was first defiled by the foul presence of the elves. After a brief struggle, the superiority of our mighty Empire was proven, and the elves were driven from our land in disgrace, swearing never to return. True to their nature, though, they have betrayed their words, and now seek to carve out a new home for themselves in our ancestral land." She slammed her fist against the table. "This insult shall not be allowed. Within your destination lies one of the most powerful weapons our empire ever produced. It allowed us to end the conflict with the invaders quickly and decisively. It is called Duur Kasaal, and you will retrieve it for me."
Mok tried to catch his breath, whispering as if in a dream. "Cassael's Lament".
"You have heard of it? Again, you surprise me. I have also provided you with several sets of identification and traveling papers, and a modest line of credit from an untraceable House Kundarak account. Passage has been booked and paid for on tomorrow's lightning rail bound for Thaliost. That should get you most of the way there. Succeed, and I may have more work for you in the future. If you fail, pray that you perish in your attempt to recover my weapon. Whatever death you may find there will be a blessing compared to what I will do to you, should you return empty handed."
Mok slung the satchel over his shoulder, sidling towards the door slowly. "Not to worry, Ambassador. You've picked the right people for this job."
"There is one more thing before you go. Given the danger involved in recovering Duur Kasaal, we have hired an additional swordarm to aid you. You will find him here." The bugbear handed a folded parchment to Autumn. "Now go."
***
"Autumn, can you believe this!? I knew this was going to be big, but this! This is our ticket out of here! If we pull this off, we're set!" Niv bounced around animatedly as she spoke, wearing the same face and clothes she wore to their first visit to the Bucket of Blood several months ago.
"Settle down, Niv, you're going to fall out of the skycoach!"
"I can't settle down! Don't you understand? After this, I can leave this city for good! You know how long I've been waiting for that!"
"I know, Niv, I know. That's why I think it would be best to calm down so we can plan this through and make sure we get everything right. It looks like we're almost in Clifftop. Lets find Meksoor's sellsword so we can get on with this."
***
Autumn, Niv and Kiva received a cold stare from the innkeeper of the Broken Flagon as they entered into the late morning gloom of the run down establishment. "We don't want yer kind in here, clank! What do you want, and be quick about it!"
"My apologies, sir. I need but a moment of your time." Autumn checked the name written on the parchment in a precise, firm script. "I'm looking for Sir Aldren Morathus."