Session Three, Part Two: The Offer
Freeport Neighborhoods: The Kesir
The Kesir
(a brutal shortening of the elven name, kesir bene' sarash'aul beneral
- roughly translated 'the small elven city within the city') is a neighborhood on the edges of the Old City near the Merchant's District gate that is home to much of Freeport's elven population. The Kesir
is not recognized as a formal area of the city - at least by the government - but nonetheless any Watchman could tell you its borders.
The streets of the Kesir
are unusually safe, even for the Old City, due in large part to the watchful eye of Tensin Naïlo and his enforcers.
"Jemis! Don't slouch when you're fighting!"
"...sorry, Dru."
"OK, team, that's about enough for today," Di'Fier called out before turning to his partner. "I think we should go visit our beggar friends - find out if they've seen Echo. And they're in the warehouse district - someone might have seen what happened the other night."
Dru nodded. "I'll stop by the bakery and pick up some food for them."
Rain dribbled in through holes in the unrepaired roof, splashing into mud on the floor - and into the large barrel crudely labeled 'Beggar's Well'. The struggling fire hung a haze of smoke in the wet air of the warehouse, and barely provided enough light for Dru to see, let alone her human partner.
As they entered the building, she could see shapes moving back into the darkness, and the glint of eyes watching her. As before, only the old man remained, pushing himself up on his single leg and fitting the crutch under his arm. He looked the pair over and murmured, "Congratulations on your promotions."
Dru set the sack carefully down on a dry patch of flooring. "Thank you. We were wondering if you'd seen Echo lately?"
The lines of the old man's face deepened as he narrowed his eyes. "No. What is going on?"
"We found her yesteday, in an alley. Fed her and cleaned her up, and then she disappeared again."
The beggar studied the embers of the fire. "So you don't know any more about it than we do. She has been disappearing at night, and nobody knows where she goes."
"This is new?"
"Yes, she's been here for years - the disappearances only started happening a few months ago."
Dru considered that for a moment. "Is anyone else here missing?"
"No...just Echo."
There was a pause, and Di'Fier broke the silence this time. "Do any of you know about what happened at Torsten Roth's warehouse the night before last?"
"The explosion?" The old man nodded. "The news is all over the city."
"We thought that maybe one of your people had seen something."
Again, the nod. Then, turning to the shadows, he called out: "Martin. Come here. You must tell these people what you saw."
A young boy shuffled forward. The scars of old burns puckered the side of his face, pulling the eyelid open over an empty socket. The remaining eye was clear and blue, and ran over the Watchmen with suspicion.
The old man slowly lowered himself onto the crate that served as his chair. "The men at the warehouse, Martin. Tell them what you saw."
The boy's lips parted, and he began to speak in a soft voice. "There were five of them. One big, bigger than you, the rest normal size. They was wearing cloaks. They came up to the door, and one of the shorter ones blew it up and they went inside. And then there was fire all over. And they left."
"Where did they come from?" Di'Fier asked. "And which way did they go?"
"The...the docks. Both ways." The boy licked his lips. "And there was someone following them. A woman, dressed all bright in red and gold."
The attention of both Watchmen was riveted on the boy. "What did she look like?" Di'Fier asked.
The boy's halting descriptions and the Watchmen's questions gradually built up a picture of the woman, and Di'Fier leaned back. They both recognized the description, of course. They had seen the woman before, at Swagfest.
But when they last saw her, she had been spread-eagled in an alley, her ribs bent back and her heart torn out.
"...bigger than Di'Fier," Dru mused as they wandered out of the warehouse district. "Maybe an orc. Or an ogre. But why would they be casting spells?"
"Right now, I'm more wondering about that person following them. They seem to be taking the shape of the person they killed last. What if..." He paused a moment, and Dru knew it was going to be time for one of his theories. "What if Echo is doing this? She does have some kind of magical ability."
Dru nodded slowly. She didn't want to think of the poor girl as a murderess. "It could be someone's controlling her mind. Or she's demon possessed." Then her natural cynicism came to the fore. "Or she's just plain evil."
The Watch-mage rubbed his chin. "...and whoever it is, they've targeted three magic-users already."
"Maybe they don't like magic-users." Dru considered this for a moment, then grinned. "Maybe they'll try to kill you - and then we can get them!"
Di'Fier groped for the words to express his opinion delicately. "I... think I'd prefer that not to happen." Just then, his attention was caught by a rapidly approaching pair of badges. "Davos, Kliege - what's happening?"
Davos grunted, breathing heavily. The pair were sweating under their cloaks. His partner inhaled deeply, then said, "There's been a murder in th'Old City, on Quarlani Street. It's real bad. Old woman clawed all t'pieces. Cap'n said t'come find you guys."
Quarlani Street? That's right in the middle of the Kesir
... "Go back to headquarters and send out runners to get the rest of the SCU," Dru told them. "We'll head over there now."
And hopefully avoid a confrontation with Papa's men.
Dru closed her eyes and looked away.
The poor woman... Dru had only met her once before - when investigating the death of her daughter, and the insane alchemist who caused it.
She did not deserve this.
The scene was every bit as bad as Kliege had implied. Sprays of blood flecked the walls with red, and the stench of it filled the air. The old seamstress' body had been shredded - torn apart as if by a gigantic beast.
Di'Fier murmured softly, "No tracks...it's not something that walked in and walked out."
Dimly, Dru heard the voice of the watchmen at the door begin to protest: "Hey. Hey! You can't go in-" and then cut off abruptly. She turned to look at the doorway...
...and met the eyes of her father.
With barely a glance at the Watchmen, Tensin Naïlo crossed the blood-streaked floor and knelt by the pitiful shell. One hand reached out to gently touch the old elf's face, and in High Elven, he murmured to her. "
Grandmother," he said - a term of respect, not of relation - "
...there will be an accounting for this."
Soundlessly, he stood, and without turning to face his daughter, he began to speak. "
Drusilia. There is a war in Freeport." His eyes remained fixed on the seamstress' body. "
It is not a war that you and yours can fight, let alone win." Now he turned, his eyes locking on hers. "
I would have you by my side in this war, daughter. But you must come back to the fold. I cannot afford divided loyalties."
Right now, all of the clues seem to be proceeding away from each other in the fastest possible manner, causing Dru and Di'Fier all manner of headaches.
