Seravin's Tales of the Night Below (Two Updates this Week - 07/24/07)

[Seravin]

Kestral in Corlean Part 2

There are many elves within the Empire of Shtara, but not all those elves are of the Shtaran Empire. The average citizen of Shtara would classify the elven peoples into four distinct groups.

First there are those elves who are members of the Empire. Their homes, families, and loyalties are tied to the fortunes and fate of the Empire itself. Those elves who have decided to live within the cities (for whatever reason) generally keep to their own neighborhoods (when you live for centuries you can afford to take the long view and buy up property when it becomes available), but are otherwise well integrated with the other Imperial citizenry.

The next most prominent group of elves known to most Shtaran folk are those of the Imperial Shaylars, a sea-going empire comprised entirely of elves. Acknowledged by all as the most knowledgeable sailors who currently sail the oceans. Arrogant, but rightly proud, the elves of the Shaylars have their own empire and go where they will, keeping a strangely easy peace with the Shtaran Empire.

Next to be listed are the elves of the Deep Forests, such as those who live within the Silver Forest. Their lands are the small forested tracts that dot the Empire; within the Empire but not a part of it. By ancient agreements no Imperial hands touch these woods, for they are far deeper then their borders suggest and filled with thousands of sleeping defenders.

Finally, there are the all the other elves; comprising those elves who live on the outskirts of the Empire, but not a part of the Deep Forests themselves. These elves are content to live by themselves within their homelands and fiercely guard both their independence and their privacy. Some of these communities though have been known to trade with the Shtaran Empire, such as the villages of the Galasuthalion clan who live within the forest just east of the north end of the High Pass. The Galasuthalion’s have benefited from the presence of Imperial soldiers who protect many nearby Imperial settlements. To repay their perceived (but unasked for) debt, the Galasuthalion elves provide superior bows and forestry items to the Empire.

Kestral found her quarry in a small park to the north and west of the Square, closer to the shadow of the Duke’s Palace then the Square itself, making it a relatively affluent neighborhood. Kestral had met elves in passing before, so she did not find this one strange. He was older then her, or rather he looked older than her, a sure sign of his age. He was about her height, perhaps only an inch or two taller, and his lined face was framed with a close crop of dark black hair. His eyes were violet in color.

The elf was sitting at a small, sheltered table at the outskirts of the park, sipping something from a wooden goblet while perusing a small stack of papers. Almost supernaturally he looked up while Kestral was looking him over, seemingly aware of her scrutiny.

Spotted, Kestral smiled at the elf, squared her shoulders and walked up to him. Her uncle’s language and culture lessons at the forefront of her mind, Kestral stopped some four paces from the elderly elf and bowed very low. “A fair day to you elder.” She greeted in what she hoped was her best elvish. She had practiced that statement all the way here.

“A fair day to you, young one.” Greeted the elf in a friendly enough manner, though her accent sounded like she had been taught by a Shaylaran sailor. “Please sit down and join me and tell me why you have come to my place of business.” The elf continued on in elven, curious if the human woman only knew the single phrase.

Kestral bowed again and sat down in the proffered chair. “Thank you elder. I appreciate your willingness to speak with me.” Mindful of her manners, the young woman introduced herself. “My name is Kestral Thendry, born in Relk, but now mostly of the Road. I am seeking to purchase items from the Galasuthalion clan.”

The elf bowed his head slightly, acknowledging her introduction. “You may call me Paritholian, and I am one of the Outforest of the Galasuthalion.” He looked her over appraisingly. “You are slight enough that I do not think you are here to buy one of my clan’s bows.” He smiled as he spoke, for while he didn’t intend it, the comment would have been an insult amongst his people.

Kestral smiled and shook her head; the whisper-bows were legendary both in their quality and the strength of arm it would take to draw one. Kellron could do it, but she never would. “You are correct Paritholian, I wish to purchase a forest-cloak and a pair of forest-boots that your clan makes.”

Paritholian had almost been ready to take a drink from his goblet when Kestral spoke. He froze though and set his goblet down, the drink untaken. “Then I am afraid you have come here in vain, young Kestral. We do not sell those items to just anyone. We only sell them to your Empire for we cannot abide the debt we have incurred; and even then we only sell to those worthy enough to wear them.”

Kestral pursed her lips and prepared her verbal assault. Logic was on her side. “Elder Paritholian, I believe I am on a worthy cause and the Galasuthalion’s fabled cloak and boots could be the difference between success and failure…”

Paritholian raised his hand to forestall her. “Young Kestral, I cannot help you, by tradition and decree, we only sell to those Imperial Scouts that are vouchsafed by the Empire and who we deem worthy.”

Kestral sat back. “I see. Thank you elder Paritholian. Is it possible that you might deem me worthy at least?”

“It is possible young Kestral. You had the courtesy to approach me politely and in my native tongue, though your accent is not mine. My heart tells me that you are trustworthy and there is an air about you that reminds me of my daughter when she was less headstrong. But as I said before, that alone is not enough.”

Kestral nodded and smiled at the elf and stood. “Then I thank you for your time elder Paritholian. I hope that we will be able to speak again.”

Paritholian inclined his head. “I would not shy away from the opportunity young Kestral. May the winds favor your aim.”

“And yours.” Kestral bowed again and walked away. Now she just had to figure out how to become an Imperial Scout. How hard could it be?

 

[Seravin]

Kestral in Corlean Part 3

The Imperial Heralds originally started out as the Emperor’s messengers, carrying his voice and his will to the people of the Empire. Over time, as their collective worthiness was proved, their role and duties expanded with the growing needs of the Empire. In the thirty-second year of the reign of the Emperor Jaz’aldrin, the Imperial Heralds are now responsible for overseeing six major tasks.

First and foremost they are still the Voice of the Emperor, responsible for making sure that the ruler’s edicts are brought to every corner of the Empire; a staggering number of scribes, couriers, and orators are engaged in just this task alone.

Just as importantly, the Imperial Heralds now carry the Will of the Emperor to those of foreign nations. An Imperial Herald bearing the crest of the Emperor not only speaks with the voice of the Emperor, but may make binding decisions in the name of the Emperor. Unsurprisingly the Emperor’s crest is given to only a few Heralds, trusted or not.

The Imperial Heralds are also the Memory of the Empire. All Heralds, regardless of their eventual tasks, will serve a term as pages, runners, and announcers at all noble-attended events, and at many merchant-house events also (amongst the merchant-houses it is a mark of prestige and favor to have a Herald attend). The Herald attends as the Empire’s representative and is frequently called upon by the host to answer basic questions concerning their guests (I believe she is the daughter of the Countess Dyvers, milord. I do not believe she is wedded, though current rumors suggest she has a beau.”). Some of these Imperial Heralds have found themselves becoming impromptu bodyguards at such events and to date have performed excellently.

In an effort to make sure that every citizen was literate, could perform basic sums, and the like, a few Imperial Heralds were assigned to be teachers in the more remote communities until more appropriate teachers could be found. Now those Heralds who have the desire to teach can apply to be stationed at any one of the several villages which voluntarily pay more taxes to support an Imperial trained instructor. These Heralds also frequently find themselves advising the local mayor on matters of law. It’s no surprise that these villages tend to do better despite the increased taxes.

With the first four duties it is unremarkable that many Imperial Heralds often come across information that would be useful to the Empire of Shtara. Those Heralds that show an aptitude for such find that they are assigned tasks that allow them to be the Emperor’s Eyes more often then they are his Voice. These Heralds ferret out rumors of treason, plots of assassination, and even conspiracies to fix prices; all in an effort to keep the Empire stable.

Most recently assigned are those Heralds who have found that they no longer wish or are able to travel and have no desire or inclination to teach; but their desire to serve is still just as strong as before. Their minds sharp and their knowledge broad, more and more Imperial Heralds now settle in the cities, assigned as adjuncts to the City Watch. While the Watch proper is tasked with preventing crimes and catching those perpetrators they can, the Watch-Heralds busy themselves with the unsolved crimes. Sadly, mortality in these positions is high, as there are many people who do not take kindly to Imperial meddling.


Watch-Herald Ladea stopped shuffling the papers in front of her, leaned back in her creaking wooden chair, closed her bright black eyes, and allowed herself a long sigh. She didn’t hate the paperwork, but it could be tedious. When she had first arrived two years ago, she had taken it upon herself to review the daily reports of the watch shifts. Most often nothing would come of it; but occasionally, like last month, a gem of knowledge would show itself and Watch-Herald Ladea would find herself on the streets with a squad in tow.

A knock on the door caused the dark-haired Watch-Herald to crack open an eye and glare at the door balefully. With a quirk of the lips she straightened herself up in her chair and called out. “Enter.” Unconsciously her hands straightened the dark blue cuffs of her uniform while she waited for the door to open.

It was Watchman Rovan, assigned who was assigned as her aide and adjunct. The brown haired and brown eyed young man stuck his head through the opening, as if using the door as a shield for the rest of his body. “There’s a young woman to see you, Watch-Herald.”

“Who is it?”

“She called herself Kestral Thendry. I think she’s been here before.”

Ladea’s mouth quirked with amusement again. “She has Rovan; about two month ago. She’s the one who brought us information on the bandits in the Thornwood south of here. I was wondering if we would see her again.” Rovan nodded and Ladea continued on. “Try and remember her next time. I expect we’ll be seeing her again. Show her in.”*

Ladea saw Rovan take the gentle order to heart and she set about turning her papers facedown so as to be unreadable to her approaching guest. Less than a minute later Kestral Thendry was shown into her office. Pleasantries were exchanged and Kestral was invited to sit.

“So, what brings you back to my office, Kerress Thendry?”

Kestral smiled as she met the Watch-Herald’s eyes, she had already saw that the papers were overturned when she walked into the office and thus not worth looking at. “I wanted to update you on what we discovered since I was last here.”

“I am all ears.”

Kestral reported the events of the last two months as briefly and succinctly as possible, from the fight with the orcs in the caves below, the overland journey to Khundrukar with the orphaned orc women and children, to a (very) brief description of the meeting with the svirfneblin and the words Carmararen imparted.

“And that’s what we know so far. After we’ve rested up and Jallarzi’s re-armed herself at the Library we plan on going back and exploring the tunnels to see if we can find this City of the Glass Pool.”

Ladea had absorbed it all. The Heralds taught themselves the tricks of retaining and recalling information. Later she would write down Kestral’s story, but for now she could devote her attention to the young woman. “Do you trust this Carmararen?”

Kestral nodded vigorously. “I do. Whatever these diregund are, she and her entire clan hate with a passion. Just the name makes them hiss like cats. She’s cautious though and doesn’t really trust us, so she’s made these tests to see how we perform. So far so good.”

Ladea sat back in her chair. “Well, I thank you for the update. This certainly explains some of the information that funneled in from Blasingdale last month with the orcs and all. The Herald there provided a very detailed report on the current strength of the orcs thanks to the efforts of some mercenaries as he described them. I believe that must have been you and your friends?”

“Probably. We told the Herald there everything we knew at the time before we went in with the women and after we came out.”

“I doubt the baron will thank you over the new additions to the orcs, but I suspect it was the right thing to do. I can’t imagine the problems there would be in trying to take them through Corlean and over the High Pass. Thank you for saving me the problem.”

Ladea paused in thought for a moment, trying to find the best phrase for what she wanted to ask. “So what now?”

Kestral looked down for a moment. “Well…I did have a favor to ask.” She started.

Ladea snorted but didn’t say anything else.

Kestral smiled at Ladea’s amusement; it seemed as if she had found a kindred spirit. “I was hoping I could get a recommendation from you to get me membership into the Imperial Scouts.”

The room became very silent. Kestral found that she could hear the sound of footsteps coming closer from down the hall. The steps were almost up to the door before Ladea finally found her voice.

“The Imperial Scouts?

“Yes ma’am.”

“The Imperial Scouts that are the first into any skirmish? The Scouts that live for days at a time in the wild and can shoot a gnat off of an orc’s hide? Those Imperial Scouts?”

Kestral nodded brightly. “Yes ma’am. It would help me quite a bit.”

“Kestral, it may surprise you that Colonel Megara spoke very highly of you the last time your name came up. Her assessment that you are a bright young woman with not much to do pretty much matched my own opinion. That said, could you please explain why being an Imperial Scout would be helpful? Beyond the obvious of course.”

Slowly, Kestral found herself explaining in detail her desire for a set of elven-made forest-cloak and boots, and the subsequent discovery that the Galasuthalion clan would only sell them to ‘worthy’ Imperial Scouts.

Somewhere during the story Watch-Herald Ladea had picked up her pen and was idling tapping it against the desk. Amusement warred with fascination across her face. Kestral’s honest admittance to manipulating the rules given to her like a game would have been galling in anyone less likeable. In Kestral’s case it was a trait to be admired. Ladea almost found herself frightened, except she liked Kestral too.

“I…see. I suppose it’s better then you finding a way to lighten someone’s purse.’

Kestral froze and her faced flushed a nearly perfect shade of crimson. “I…”

Ladea raised her hand to forestall the younger woman. “A prank. I understand, and believe it or not, Colonel Megara understands. Call it a sign that I understand you or call it a warning; or both if you prefer.” She pondered a moment and then reached for a blank sheet of paper (turning it over just to be sure). “I’m going to write you that recommendation on the condition that you promise to make regular reports to me. I want you to visit me by the first morning following your arrival in Corlean.

Kestral nodded; it was a surprisingly simple task and something she intended to do in the first place.

Ladea started writing. “I’m doing this because you started reporting to me of your own will without being asked, and I appreciate that. Further, I trust you and people I trust seem to trust you. I am well aware that you’re capable of abusing that trust, so do me a favor and don’t. This is going to say that you’ve been brevetted by me as a probationary Herald-in-Training in order to continue investigation into various crimes against the Empire. I’m asking an acquaintance of mine in the Scouts to admit you, and reassign you to duty back to me. Do I remember aright that you know Kupier in Milbourne? Good. Will he vouch for you?”

“I think so.”

I think I can get my friend to admit you based on my request and Kupier’s recommendation. “We’ll be bending the rules quite a bit, but this should be enough to get you a temporary rank. Make no mistake though, if you go through with this, you will be taking an oath to the service of the Emperor. If you can’t do this in good conscious then don’t do it at all. If Kupier won't recommend you as competent or fit for duty, Stannin won't have any problems in booting you out and returning your cloak and boots to the elves.”

Kestral met Watch-Herald Ladea’s eyes again, amusement gone. “I understand.” She said with all seriousness. “Thank you.”

By the end of her first full day in Corlean, Kestral swore her oath to the Emperor and was admitted to the ranks of the Imperial Scouts. She was immediately re-assigned to assisting Watch-Herald Ladea of Corlean, but instructed to report everything she learned of the creatures and terrain below Milbourne to her commander, Scout-Captain Stannin.

The next morning, Kestral made arrangements to purchase and pick up her desired Galasuthalion-made cloak and boots.

The next six days would prove just as busy.

---
* This wasn’t mentioned in the account of their previous trip to Corlean. It was minor and didn’t make it to my notes at the time; but Kestral’s player wanted to keep somebody in the government informed of the bandits and took the time to file a report as it were.

 

[Seravin]

Three updates in three days. Not bad. The next one isn't completely finished, but the update after that is. Hopefully I'll post them both later this weekend.

The extended focus on Kestral is for several reasons. First, because this was the first chance to show her strengths in the game (with an 8 strength, she wasn't in melee very often). Second, because the character actually went out and did this stuff during the break, and third it allows me to showcase some of the people and groups - some of who become important later on.

 

[rangerjohn]

The only thing is as a diplomat, she seems more of a bard than a rogue. But I guess thats a minor nit pick.

 

[Seravin]

The only thing is as a diplomat, she seems more of a bard than a rogue. But I guess thats a minor nit pick.

To be fair, the character concept started out as that of a skill monger - 13 skill points per level is a lot of skill points! This was also under 3.0 rules at the time so she had twice (nearly three times) as many skill points as the group's bard at the time.

The player then picked up a goal of learning all the languages (with 13 points, who cares if it was cross class?). Diplomacy, bluff, gather-info, and sense motive became important because no one else was really doing it, and with an 8 strength combat was never going to be her strength.

In reality, Kestral was played more as an Super-Expert then a Bard; she doesn't have the knowledge skills to 'know' things instead she has to 'check around and find out'.

It wasn't in too many levels that Kestral was pretty given much the same respect for her skills as the other players got for their specialties. In a city adventure, Kestral is dangerous - and she doesn't have to sing a single song for her supper.

 

[rangerjohn]

Well I guess I'm more libral with how I define 'bard'. I guess I follow the 3.5 philisophy on this point. One of the few where I do! With Oratory, speeches can be your 'performance.' Now admittedly, the magic would normally get in the way, but she is dealing with elemental nobility, so it wouldn't much of a stretch.

I guess its just one of the cases where a concept can be played a number of ways. That is something the D&D 3.0+ got right at any rate. As I said before it was a 'minor' nit pick.

 

[Seravin]

Fair enough; I guess the titles don't matter - only what the charcter does. And Kestral would most likely be the first to claim that she's not a thief.

Events will soon cause her to start diversifying her skills a bit more though.
She can already track, her sneak attack bonus is now just starting to justify her getting into melee, and she just purchased a set of 3.0 Elven Cloak and Boots.

 

[Seravin]

New Faces in Corlean

Beth is a little girl, perhaps seven or eight years old. She has straight, long blonde hair and bright, sapphire blue eyes that miss little. When seen, this little girl is normally dressed in a faded brown shirt and trousers; both of which are a little large for her but she somehow makes do. Smudges of dirt can usually be found on her face and hands.

Beth alternates between quiet and attentive to animated and precocious. When quiet Beth can be nearly invisible, blending into the background while quietly listening to what is going on around her. As a quiet child, Beth has found that she is safely ignored – unnoticed even.

Beth will tell anyone who asks that Corlean is her home, but she is evasive about her family and where she lives. Given her manner of dress and the odd places that she turns up, the people who talk to Beth assume that she is some sort of orphan. Most give the girl a concerned look as she walks away but the girl’s manner is such that they do not even think of anything bad happening to her.

---

At first glance there is nothing remarkable about Semina. She is a twenty-five year old woman with brown hair and eyes; she is of average height and perhaps a little over average weight indicating that she at least eats well. At second glance the only memorable attribute of Semina is that she tends to talk with her hands and she has a nervous habit of looking around at everything and everyone; almost like she’s continuously on watch.

Newly arrived to Corlean from places south, Semina is looking for work. She’s been known to fill in at taverns as serving girl, but that’s not the kind of job she’s looking for. Indeed, the tavern jobs are only a stepping stone, and allows Semina to find the people who are looking for a person with certain skills; skills with locks and such like.

Despite her nervous gestures and continuous glancing around the room, Semina does have a manner that suggests her fingers are used to small tools and that she knows how and when to be quiet. It’s only a matter of time before Semina finds a job worthy of her skills.

---

Aeva is an older woman, perhaps in her fourth decade or so. Few people would ask her to confirm her age though, for the wiry woman looks tough despite her ready laughter. Still, her hair is as equally black as it is gray and the weathered lines in her thin face speak of years of experience with both life and the weather.

No one knew where the black-eyed Aeva comes from, just that she is new in Corlean from somewhere up north and looking to earn a bit of coin. A few folk whisper that she must be an ex-soldier given the way she walks (nearly swaggers) with a hand that is always close to her belt dagger. Few people think about it though for ex-soldiers are a silver-a-dozen in Corlean.

Ex-soldiers who are looking for a bit of easy work, who can keep quiet, and don’t necessarily care about all the Imperial laws are less easy to find; it just so happens that Aeva easily fits that description. Aeva wasn’t looking for long before she was approached by certain people looking for her to do a certain job. Surprisingly, Aeva passed on it.

---

Beth, Semina, and Aeva all have many things in common; from their ability to blend into the background to their capacity for being able to listen to those around them. Not surprising really, for Beth, Semina, and Aeva are all guises of Kestral Thendry.

After six days of traveling the streets, finding temporary work at a likely-looking tavern, and spending hard-won gold to buy drinks and information, Kestral found what she was looking for. She brought the information to Kellron when next she spoke to him.

“It was a ‘thieves guild’ that attacked your inn; a collection of people in the ‘business’ hired the bandits to make the raid. The current story is that we have a lot of money and they figured it was hidden at the inn.” Kestral paused a moment letting it sink in. “They were looking for another group of thugs to attack the inn. I told them that the current rumor was that you had hidden the gold elsewhere.”

Kellron nodded, tight-lipped. He wasn’t sure what could be done right now, if anything; but he knew his friends would help.

 

[Seravin]

Stalking Corlean

Panther met up with his friends in Thurmaster, though neither chance or luck had anything to do with the meeting. News traveled fast throughout the county of Haranshire following the bandit attack on Kellron’s Inn. Upon hearing of it, Panther had quickly dropped what he was doing and hurried to Thurmaster to lend what aid he could.

From there the half-elf joined up with his friends when they arrived and the five went onto Corlean together, confident that Tauster would protect the inn for Kellron. Ironically the five broke into their separate ways immediately upon arriving in the City of Silver. All agreed to stay in contact but Ashimar, Jallarzi, Kellron, and Kestral felt the need for some time away from the others. Panther only smiled, shrugged his shoulders philosophically, and set about the city on his own.

It would be a conceit to say Panther stalked the streets of Corlean; albeit a conceit that Panther would ascribe to with a laugh and a knowing wink. It would be more truthful to say that the half-elven bard played with a travern or two during the first seven-day within Corlean and wandered the streets in his free time. Not that Panther allowed himself much free time. The muse was upon him and during that brief period he gave some of his most memorable performances.*

Those performances stopped when Panther found himself compared to the ‘late’ Imych Thassel.

It was late on the sixth day at the tavern called the Black Mug. Panther rather favored the boisterous crowd that gathered within the main room. The men and women who frequented the tavern were generally plain-speaking laborers who loaded and unloaded the wagons going through the High Pass. These people saw much but spoke little to outsiders, but Panther had quickly become a regular. Even if he hadn’t though his keen hearing allowed him to pick up far more conversations than the local’s suspected.

“Play it again!” Called out Burok, who wasn’t shy about what he liked. The elderly laborer was Panther’s measure of the room’s mood; if he could please Burok then he knew the room would pick up on the man’s cheer. Panther nodded at Burok and picked up the tune again.

Some minutes later Panther raised his hands at the rooms thunderous applause and left the little makeshift stage to find a drink and a bit of rest before he started all over again. Seeing that Burok had an empty space next to him, Panther went to sit by his favorite audience member.

“You play pretty.” Noted the elderly human. “I couldn’t carry a tune if I had a cart and a team to pull it with.” He snorted. “It must be that fey blood in you.”

Panther had heard the comment before. Maybe it was true, maybe not; either way the bard didn’t care. “Could be.” He admitted to Burok.

The laborer nodded and took a swig. “I think you play better then that fancy Thassel fellow did.”

That perked Panther’s ears up. “Really? Did he play here?”

“Naw. Not here. I was down at The Gaming House and saw him there about a week afore he died.” The graying man signaled a passing waitress for another drink and so he didn’t see the look on Panther’s face.

“Imych Thassel? Imych Thassel is dead?” The shock in Panther’s voice was self-evident.

“Oh. Didn’t you know?”

Panther shook his head mutely; for the moment he had no words. Imych Thassel was the most recent winner of the Kerian Bardic contest. He had won the prized harp and the bards had carried his name throughout all the lands. And now the bard was dead.

“He died about ten days ago, maybe fifteen.” Burok’s wrinkled face twisted a bit in though then he shrugged. “Anyway, he’s dead. They found him in the middle of the street not far from here, not a mark on him.” Burok paused then chuckled.

“What?” Asked Panther.

“Oh. That bard fellow played The House like he played his harp.”

“How so?”

“The night I saw him play? Well I overheard him talking with the manager. Not that everyone nearby couldn’t hear. That Imych fellow owed The Gaming House a lot of money and apparently a few other places. Now none of them can collect. That can’t even sell that fancy harp of his ‘cause no one can find it.” Burok chuckled again. “He left the world happy and in debt. Can’t say I’d trade places with him, but I know of worse ways to go.”

Panther didn’t play again that night; instead he took his leave with an apology and spent the rest of the evening trying to find out what he could about the mysterious death of Imych Thassel and his missing harp.

---
*I had him roll daily perform checks – it was something like 19, 20, 16, 20, etc…

 

[Seravin]

Games of Chance

Gerrold Holtson lived some one hundred fifty years ago, serving briefly as a soldier in the Shtaran army, while at the same time teaching his fellow soliders that a game of cards is more about skill than luck. Gerrold’s last tour of duty was in Corlean and when that tour ended Gerrold continued his teachings in an establishment that he opened up and named quite simply ‘The Gaming House’. Since that time Gerrold’s descedents have managed the family business, growing it a little each year.

Now days, The Gaming House is the best known gambling establishement in Corlean. The tables are scrupulously fair and the owner knows that his customers are the soliders and guardsmen of the city and caters to their needs while at the same time making sure that the officers look kindly upon his establishment.

The current owner of The Gaming House is Quereth Holtson. A middle-aged man in his early forties, Ker Holtson is an affable if hard man. He has gained a reputation for hard but fair dealings. Quereth owns many other establishments other than The Gaming House, including three warehouses and some specialty shops that cater to the needs of soldiers.

Grandal Deverex aids Quereth as the manager of The Gaming House and as sort of an aide de camp for the other businesses. Grandal and Quereth grew up together, though while Quereth grew up in relative luxury, Grandal was a street-orphan, abandoned by his elven father when his mother died in childbirth. Somehow the two men met while in their teens and they became fast friends. The word on the street in Corlean is that Grandal’s loyalty is absolute and has withstood several tests over the years.

Naturally, with a setup like that, a cynical person would assume that the owner was hiding something.

---

It took only one day for Kestral and Panther working together to discover that The Gaming House might have ties to those who work the shadows. The discovery wasn’t surprising to either for both understood human nature. Neither was inclined to pass judgement though, instead they decided to buy Imych’s missing harp. While they had no evidence, their suspicions immediately fell upon the manager who had lost both money and some small amount of reputation due to Imych’s actions prior to his death.

Kestral and Panther were dressed in their best, which was surprisingly good. Neither looked much like they normally did however; Kestal having gained some four inches, twenty pounds, and changed her blonde hair to a curly brown, while Panther dressed down, pulling his wild maine into a neat pony tail and wore loose fitting, non-descript clothes. Kestral played the lady and Panther her bodyguard. Together they stalked The Gaming House. It didn’t take them long to find their quarry. Kestral walked smoothly over to him.

“Ker Deverex?”

Grandal looked over the well-dressed woman and tried to determine what she wanted. At forty-two he knew he looked to be in his mid-twenties. His exotic features were faintly elven though his black hair and eyes came from his mother. Those who knew of him knew that Grandal was a powerful and wealthy man. Despite all this Grandal quietly decided that the woman wasn’t here because she was attracted to him. He decided to play her game and smiled in greeting. “Why yes, Kerress…?”

She smiled and curtsied. “Pyra Rains, Ker Deverex.”

“Grandal. Please.” Grandal eyed the man standing a few feet away though obviously with the woman. He looked like a bodyguard of some sort, and surprisingly, was a half-elf like himself. Grandal wondered if that was on purpose. He dismissed the guard for the moment, though he kept an eye on him. He turned his full attention back to the woman. “Please, sit with me and let me get you a drink.”

Grandal indicated a nearby table that was unoccupied for the moment. He signaled a waitress who nodded and hurried towards the bar. Within moments Grandal and his guest were drinking a surprisingly sweet wine.

Grandal let the woman taste the wine and appreciate it, then being a busy man, went immediately to business. “So Kerress Rains, why did you come seeking me?”

Kestral forged ahead. “I assume you heard that the bard Imych Thassel passed away recently?”

Grandal didn’t miss a beat. “Yes I did. It was unfortunate; he was quite talented you know.” He looked away in embarrassment. “And of course you probably heard that he passed away owing The Gaming House a bit of money.” He shook his head. “Sad, really.”

“Hmmm. Perhaps you also heard that his harp went missing too?”

Grandal was looking her in the eyes when he answered. “Why no. I can’t say that I did hear that.”

“It’s true. The same people who told me that also told me that you might know someone who could sell that harp.”

“Really? I can’t imagine who that would be.”

Kestral shrugged. “I hear things and I thought if it was true you might be interested in selling it and recouping some of the losses."

Grandal smiled. “That’s quite a good idea actually. Alas, I don’t have the harp. I’m afraid you were misinformed.”

“I see. Well, if you find out about the harp the people I represent would be quite happy to purchase it and pay any reasonable finder’s fee.”

“I’ll be sure to think of you. How would I get a hold of you?”

“I’ll be around. I’m afraid I don’t have permanent quarters as of yet, however you could leave a message for me at the little bookshop just up the street.” Kestral stood up

Grandal quickly stood also. “I’ll do that.” Suddenly he looked around as if something disturbed him. Seeing nothing he bid the woman farewell and watched her and her bodyguard walk away with suspicion.

---
“So, what did you do to him?” Asked Kestral.

“I tried to suggest to him that there was nothing suspicious about us and to not check up on you.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

Panther grinned. “I’ve learned a new trick. There are sounds you can’t hear but you can feel. I learned how to do that a few months ago.”

Kestral gave a low whistle. “Think it worked?”

“No. I don’t think so. He looked around too much when you stood up.” Panther changed tact. “So do you think he’s telling the truth?”

“Not really, but I can't prove it. We need to come up with something else Maybe Ashimar can help.”