The #Broken_Dagger Forum

It was an interesting thing, when the local tailor and ne'er-do-well managed to siddle his way onto the council in such an odd position, Councillor of Agriculture of odd things.

And what was even more... amusing, as he sifted through the scattered papers of Treadwell's office, curled rather comfortable indian style amidst the destruction wrought during the earlier theft.... was the fact he was in charge now. His fingers were calmly slipping through and organizing the shuffled records of funds the old blubberball had managed to collect...

In charge of it all even. Where was Kilborn? Gone to find that lout Treadwell in the West, Giscard? Well, with Thomas going on that fool's errand that had sent him on, Giscard's words were only being heard by one ear. And Kerrak... Altias, well neither had been seen in quite some time. It was just him.

Ah yes, Thomas... he found a blank piece of paper and saw to drawing up a change in the budget, scalping generous portions here and there for himself as he went, to see that finances for the wall were cut significantly over the next weeks, enough of which being diverted to Thomas's stone hunt to get him out of town.

A second work would begin construction as he went, a letter to the woman identified as Whipporwill to politely request that her undead not journey near the town any longer. As sole -active- Councillor it was his duty to inform her that, while no laws specifically declined the right to practice such dark arts, her magics creations hold no love in a tongue regularly assaulted by them, and forcing them to do odd jobs about town only makes folks discomforted. This becomes a particular issue when it's known they never passed the so-called wall... and thus must be made from Myrken corpses, we don't like our graves being desicrated and it would be against her best interest if any of her followers were to be identified by living family.

Lastly, though this was written nowhere, he needed to find that troll that attacked the wall once, and have ot go about putting a few breezeways in.

Eirz'ewy'un'oo'a? The guardsman inquired from the doorway into Treadwell's office. There was a brief pause as Sgt. Otis stepped back to lift his gaze upwards. Attention roamed over the name that had been etched above the door for a few seconds, before his focus drew back down and settled on the Councillor of Agriculture. Otis frowned and dropped a hand onto the hilt of his blade. A stream of foul-odoured liquid flew from the darkly stained lips and struck the ground with an unpleasant thwump.

Ouz'o`inny'o'e'Ed'ell. Ut'ar'oo'o`n? Oot`n? The Sergeant's brow furrowed further. "Id'Ed'ell'uv'oo`er`ishun`a`e`ear? Eby`ood`utor'um'et'e'oo-a-aruks`ill`e`urt`isoot."

The Sergeant of course, had a decided recollection of this particular scoundrel from past experiences with the man, the drow and their association with a number of gypsies in the region. Of course, who better to keep an eye on Kilborn's least favourite, most distrusted Councillor but Suede's favourite member of the Order of Straka? Otis sent another stream of brown juice on a pursuit path to the first one. Already, the scent of the tobacco juice was welling up in the office space.

It probably wouldn't serve the Councillor of Agriculture very well if there had indeed been a theft in Treadwell's office recently. Particularly with Suede still in the office. Afterall, it was reputed that the Order did tend to arrest those who protested their innocence most profoundly.

Dimly, perhaps, the sparkle of mischief danced within Otis's eyes. Who said the Order of Straka didn't have a sense of humour?

He casually pocketed the memos he'd drafted up within the folds of his current vest before straightening the pile of papers before him and moving onto the next one. One hand went up to the pointless spectacles he wore and adjusted them as he held a page of paper far from his face, a little adjustment before he sighed and drew them down to peer at Otis over the rims.

"Now honestly, if you're just now realizing this place was broken into, when it happened nearly a week ago... then I'm wondering why exactly we still have the Order." The paper was set down several sheets down on his current stack and the next drawn up to eye level, he was no longer watching Otis as he spoke. "And stop spitting that mouth fungus of yours on the floor please, you might damage some of Councilman Treadwell's records, which could cause an issue with accounting for how much has actually been taken. For I do like to keep track of the money we have even if you choose to stare at me rather than find the cause."