The #Broken_Dagger Forum

An attractive young woman with ivory, chocolate-tipped hair sat at a simple desk, a quill pen in her hands. Its tip scratched across the surface with rapid, easy movements, scrawling out a message which she hoped would ultimately reach this 'Cinnabar' fellow:


Sir Calomel,

I hope that this missive finds you as well as can be expected. I am known as Kyra, and I was, some months back, a visitor to Myrken. Amidst the bits of news one picks up in their travels, I learned of the town's plight, and elected to return and offer my assistance to the good people of the region. I had the distinct pleasure of making the acquaintance of your well-dressed and well-spoken Surveyor, Glenn Burnie, and it is only by his graciousness that I know to whom to extend my offer.

I have only been informed in the vaguest of senses as to what, exactly, is being faced here, and what the history of this conflict is. I understand, however, that you stand ready to battle a legion of undead. I have made no secret to the good cartographer of my disgust for their kind, and would eagerly accept the opportunity to assist in their dispatch.

I suppose, however, I am a bit ahead of myself. I am, for lack of a better word, a sorceress - and if you desire more detail, I most certainly could indulge you when we meet. For now, however, I shall assure you that I am confident I can be of utility. If you have the time to spare, Sir Calomel, I would meet with you to discuss the matter in more detail, and will do my best to answer your inquiries then.

I have rented a room at your Broken Dagger Inn for the time being, and may be found there, should you so desire.

Sincerely,
Kyra

Brow furrowed above the black silken blindfold which obscured unseeing eyes - though it did not seem to impede her ability to write. The letter was completed in an elegant, flowing script, and she gently folded the parchment.

"Let us hope," she murmured beneath her breath to no one in particular, "that this goes far better than the last time I attempted to assist the mensch..." Pushing to her feet, she reached for her walking stick and, after slipping out the door to her room, carefully tap-tapped her way down the hall and to the bar. The graveyard shift's 'tender was given the missive, and tipped a small sum to transfer it to a courier... who would then deliver it to the Surveyor's home.

Plucking a bit at the lacey cuffs of her white blouse, and then adjusting soft leather leggings about her hips, she tiredly ascended the stairs once more, to retire at long last to her bed. Now, it was simply hers to wait for a reply... and to find some information on just what sorts of undead plagued the lands in this area.

It was fortunate that Glenn had stopped back in at Esraeux after his morning training session at Darkenhold. Generally, he rushed straight on to meet Rhaena Olwak for brunch and from there started his workday a bit later than one might expect.

It meant that when the mapmaker DID finally reach work that day (and to his credit, he generally worked well into the evening to make up for late starts), it was with note in hand.

For someone with the title 'Surveyor of Myrken,' Glenn Burnie had a surprising amount of access to Cinnabar Calomel. No one barred his way to the door, though there was a moment of observation to make sure no one was in with the Governor before the young man let himself in. Three steps into the room, there came a belated knock upon the door.

"Cinnabar." An amiable nod to go along with his intrusion. "When you have a moment, I think you ought to see this." The piece of parchment was handed over. "A letter of introduction from a Sorceress new to Myrken. She seems to have a particular specialty dealing with the undead, and magic wielding undead at that. AND I saw a bit of what she could do and it's safe to say, she's no charlatan."

Normally, he would not be nearly so quick to give such a thing to the Governor directly. There would be a good deal more research, checking and double checking that this would be neither a danger nor a waste of Calomel's time. Given the situation, however, someone who came to Myrken to assist against the very thing that plagued them, well, it was either a trap or good fortune indeed. Either way, it beared looking into. "I can't vouch for her intentions, save for that she's polite enough and I do think she has some strong, personal dislike towards necromancers." And Cinnabar HAD been pressing him for results, no? Here, hopefully, was the start of one, a result that would perhaps allow them to rely a little less on Elspeth Von Drakken as well.

A nod of greeting to the Surveyor, then, and once the Governor has finished putting his signature to some order or other his pen is set back in its stand and he looks up. The letter is accepted and perused while Glenn explains matters, grey eyes flicking back and forth across the page. Hm.

"A legion? Did she get that information from you, Glenn? I hope you're not sowing fear and anxiety in the streets just yet." Brows raised quizzically as he glances up to the mapmaker, but his attention returns to the letter in the next moment, looking at the back of it briefly, then scanning through the message itself again. Sorceress, he says. And no charlatan, either. Something he ought to see. A letter meant for Cinnabar, and yet marked by the courier for Glenn's hand at Esreaux. That might make sense, given Glenn's position and access to the Governor's ear, but surely he would have simply advised the sorceress to write to Cinnabar's office directly? Unless the mapmaker was keen on this message crossing the Governor's desk with all haste, for some reason. It's an interesting thought. But also perhaps slightly... off.

"Well, if her, uh, credentials are valid then it's certainly an option that's worth exploring further. What sort of demonstration did she give?" Mild approval, though an air of caution about him for the moment. His gaze lifts to the young man once more, this time with a slightly sceptical quirk of his lips, pale eyes keen and watchful.

"You do seem rather enthused by this offer of help, I have to say." Rather too enthused, perhaps. "No cautious counsel? No portentious warnings about the manifold dangers of magic and magicians?" He sets the letter down carefully, fingers lacing together on his desk as a brow raises curiously, some wry smily at the corners of his mouth. Amused, perhaps.

"Do you have motives in bringing this to my attention, Glenn? Ulterior ones?"

"Well, I was talking about the worst possible case." Glenn allowed himself a bit of a chastised shrug, but only a slight one, one nullified by the grin on his face. Yes, he had a tendency to be just a TAD too patronizing to females newly arrived to Myrken, but really, it's only because he hates seeing them get eaten by Zaykenspawns or ... whatever, which is a strong possibility without proper warning! Anyway, for all they knew his words weren't far off, especially given the news that Teron had been culling people from the countryside. However, if Cinnabar wanted to make light, that was fine. Glenn wouldn't push.

Hmm. Just what WAS going through Calomel's mind here? Yes, Glenn was not fond of magic. Yes, he spent so much time with Ariane that he became even less fond of it on a daily basis. "She... it's a little bit hard to explain. I think the word for it is a golem. She brought the dirt on the ground together with wind and created one. It certainly looked impressive enough."

Oh, he was STILL making light, what with the Ashfiend rampaging through the land and... damn it, he couldn't help but grin back no matter how hard he tried to be holier-than-thou and keep a straight face. "Oh, come on. You're the one who tells me to go off and get results! I had a sorceress, who seems to SPECIALIZE in dealing with undead wizards (she had a word for them too... Yazar or something. That doesn't sound exactly right), and you think I'm not going to come right to you with it?" It could be just the break they need, especially considering that they could use any break they could get right now. "Yes, it's dangerous. Yes, she could be a threat, or someone trying to trick us, or what not, but I'm figuring you'll get to the truth of her and her very timely arrival after a few minutes of talking. That's what you do."

And then he'd extend his hands out in front of him. Glenn's dislike of magery may have been developing into something else entirely, but for now it was still quite reasonable. It was based off of his past and about the dangers of becoming RELIANT upon the magic to the point where they are no longer self-sufficient. "People are dying, Cinnabar. The Fiend is raising another army." It was a challenge but he did manage to keep a straight face now, at least for.. aw hell. "I was at Snowstill and.." Now he was shaking his head and losing his composure. "AND it couldn't hurt to have someone to counterbalance our reliance on Elspeth. At least we'd have another educated opinion, right? You jackass." He slumped down in the seat across from Cinnabar, still feinting an obviously fabricated grumble towards his friend.

Calomel, on the other hand, maintains his composure throughout this progressively more honest elaboration; perhaps unsettlingly so, what with the attention focussed squarely upon the young mapmaker, the steady, barely-blinking gaze, the fixed expression of polite curiosity, and the extended, relentless, encouraging quiet that just beckons one to fill it with words and explanations because that's preferable to the silence.

And then Glenn slumps into the chair, and the Governor's features move again, the grin broadens and he settles back into his own seat.

"Aha." Is that satisfaction in Calomel's voice? Perhaps. "Now we get to the heart of it. Why didn't you say that at the start, hm?" Perhaps pleased at having rumbled Glenn's schemes, uncovered his hidden motives; perhaps pleased that Glenn's admitted to his reasons for bringing this to Cinnabar's office.

"I understand your concerns. I agree with them, insofar as it is unwise to rely on a single individual. I see why you think it prudent to broaden our options, to investigate other courses of action. That's fine. But." His grin fades somewhat, not so much angry as concerned; not quite disappointed, though that can't be far off. "Be open with me about it. I'm not unreasonable, I think, and hopefully you'll agree that I do pay attention to what you say. Because I vastly prefer hearing honest advice, to know what you really think about something, and being able to consider that on its own merits and weigh it up against other opinions. It's much more straightforward and pleasant than wondering if what you're saying or doing or suggesting is aimed at manipulating me into doing what you and you alone think is best. Because sometimes - occasionally, not always - you do things that are really dumb." The grin returns at that and then he's looking back to that letter.

"Well-dressed and well-spoken? It seems that flattery works on you. For shame, sir. For shame." Making light of it indeed, at least for the moment. His manner sombres a moment later as he considers what Glenn says. "I'll talk to her, because it's good to have a variety of options open, and people are dying, as you say. Something must be done. Something will be done. But for that I need cooperation, not subterfuge." His gaze is steady upon the Surveyor now, tired, as if trying to drive home his point with that look.

"I was under the impression that you'd repaired whatever disagreement it was that you had with Elspeth a little while ago. But even if that's not the case, even if you don't like what she does or how she does it, I really don't need the people I go to for counsel plotting and scheming against one another. It makes things very complicated, very difficult, and very unpleasant, and I have more than enough complications, difficulties and unpleasantnesses to last me a very long time without the people I trust getting in on the act. Understood?"

"I didn't say it at the start because this wasn't exactly a vile plot of mine, Cinnabar." Glenn was leaning forward in the chair now, an elbow resting on a knee, allowing him to lean his chin on his hand. He was looking at the man with a cool enough gaze, his smile, if it still existed, was hidden behind that hand. "Yes, I thought it would be good for us not to be reliant on one person," especially if that person was Elspeth, who seemed to be lacking a certain sense of responsibility, even if Cinnabar was working on that, who... ah, but there's no proof of that and he tried not to hold it against her, he really did. "But it was just a secondary concern. Mainly, I was honest about my intentions. We're caught against a rock here, and if Miss Kyra can help us, we can't afford to hesitate. If we do, more people could die."

And then his head rolled to the side while resting on that hand, so that he was looking at the Governor askew. "Oh, come on, Calomel. I know I can come to you. Absolutely. I came to you about the wall. Ariane convinced me of that, actually, to just come to you with my concerns. I barely knew you then. How was I to know that you..." And here he sat up more firmly, looked up at his employer, his friend, a man whose secrets he holds. "Look, I tell you my concerns," unless there was an extraordinarily good reason for him not to. "And I don't think what you said is particularly fair. I wasn't trying to manipulate you. I've TOLD you this specific concern. We've spoken on it. All I did with this letter was push forward another option for us to use on top of her, one that I think may be viable, may be very useful when it comes to Teron. That's what you asked me to do just two or three nights ago, quite intensely, after reading the names of the dead to me. Do you remember?"

Glenn kept a cool expression with a steady voice, not afraid at all to make eye contact with the man. For the most part, he believed this. On the other hand, what had Mister Duquesne hinted at the other day? That sometimes it is best for him to act in ways that... ah, but he had his contract, and for good reason. Sometimes, he was very dumb indeed. "I did my job here, Cinnabar. Even without my feelings about relying solely on Elspeth, I would have done the exact same thing. My word. I will argue with you. I will disagree with you. I'll even take a swing at you, if it comes to that (Ariane's been teaching me), but I will not betray your trust and I will not forsake you." Those last words were a bit too strange, for the situation, not to have some other meaning, some other significance. He would not reward a good heart with cruelty.

A small smile throughout this, the Governor nodding and accepting Glenn's points as they are made. A brow raises as he comes to the point of taking a swing at Cinnabar, but it's that last bit that has his smile broadening, genuinely pleased.

"Very well, then. I'm sorry if I was unfair, but it seemed, uh, unusual. Normally you're very rigorous about checking these things out, especially where magic is involved, and that's a tendency for which I am most grateful. As I say, the unqualified enthusiasm was a little odd. Still." He shrugs, elbows on his chair's armrests, fingers folded together over his stomach, relaxed and at ease. "I appreciate your concerns, and will talk to this sorceress and see what she has to offer. You did your job, so thank you for that." Oh, yes, there is that issue.

"As for that plan. Well, there's Miss Kyra's serendipitous offer, which will still need checking before we can agree to anything. And I'll admit that you were right, in that Ariane refused to use the urn as a lure. Here." He leans over to open a desk drawer, retrieving a broad, round tin from which he pries the lid before shaking it at Glenn. "You win. Have a biscuit." Well, he's sort of graceful in defeat, or at least knows to admit when he's wrong; in any case, though his grin is more amused than anything, the gesture is sincere enough. A recognition that Glenn's understanding of the swordswoman's view was more correct than his own. Unsurprising, given how the mapmaker trains with her each morning.

"Aside from those ideas, have you been able to come up with anything at all?"

Glenn's last words had been quite enthusiastic, but now that the time has passed, they may have led one to feel a little sheepish. Damn it if he couldn't try not to seem so earnest all the time, even in front of a man who he COULD act young around, a friend, like Cinnabar. No, not even in front of Cinnabar, who was the Governor, to whom Glenn was useless unless he was taken seriously.

"Ah, a biscuit." Cinnabar had decided NOT to cross a line, not to force Teron into a trap at the cost of Ariane's self-worth, her friendship, maybe her life. Well, that was more pleasant news than what Governor had told the mapmaker the LAST time biscuits had been tossed around. "I won by not having either of you stab the other." Ariane and Cinnabar being at odds was just below Ariane trying to stab Rhaena on the list of Glenn's biggest worries.

And back to Teron, back to a question they have too few answers for. "I suppose you won't allow me to ride off into Northeast Myrken and talk to Teron, get some answers, no? (Hell, I'd go and tell him that Burel is about to send three hundred channelers to destroy the urn, if you think Teron would buy it)" Very unlikely. Hm. What else? Serious, now. "The gypsy. Quiller. She has some knowledge about what Teron is up to now. I'd stake this biscuit on it. Apparently they were seen together at length recently. Can't you just drag her in for some questioning?"

Heh. Stabbings. "It was discussed as a potential course of action, I'll admit. I was of the opinion that I'd probably win, but we came to the conclusion that either way it wouldn't actually achieve very much, and thus wasn't worth pursuing as a plan." A light shrug at that, as he takes a biscuit for himself and crunches on it for a moment or two. That suggestion has him raising a brow and pressing his lips together disapprovingly, though it is considered for a time.

"I'm not sure he's still on speaking terms with anyone. To be totally honest, I'm not sure what he's planning at all at the moment. Fine, gathering undead soldiers, but to what end? It's... bah. Now that Vraal's... removed from things, for a time, what does he have in mind?" The mention of the gypsy Quiller has him grimacing with distaste, though.

"Your biscuit's probably safe enough, but it depends on whether she'd be at all willing to share that information, hm? I'd drag her in if I could find her, but that's like trying to catch fog in a bucket." And even if successful it'd be about as productive, given the limited number of uses for a bucketful of fog.

"If you see her, feel free to ask her about things, of course. But be prepared for an earful of condescending nonsense and self-righteous rambling about how I'm a such stubborn and ignorant and naive fool and have no idea what I'm doing and am thus getting everything wrong and it's all my fault somehow that these people are dead because I just don't understand the Ashfiend like she does and I'll soon see that I'm so terribly stupid and she's so much more knowledgeable and clever and wise than me and..." He rolls his eyes and flaps fingers and thumb together. "You know the script by now, I'm sure. She's a bloody nuisance, and I really can't understand why the ghoul hasn't hacked her into tiny pieces yet." A disgruntled shrug, in the wake of that small rant. Clearly his opinion of Khalika Quiller is... not exactly glowing.

"Still, if you think you can sift anything useful out of all that chaff, be my guest. Though I'll note that for all her rapport and understanding of the Ashfiend, she's not managed to get him to stop killing. That makes her either monumentally useless, or an active collaborator with the ghoul's schemes. So, be wary, and take what she says with more than a pinch of salt." Well volunteered, Glenn.

"I was hoping we could just send Sarayn after her or something." THOSE two were downright made for eachother. Two insane females who thought they were smarter than they were, by far. "Maybe one would even kill the other." Or both. They could both kill eachother and Myrken would be none the poorer for it. Ah, no point in pushing for that.

Glenn rose to his feet and looked to the door. "Well, I'll keep it a middling priority at best, send out feelers, that sort of thing. Unless she's gone completely mad, I can't imagine that hodgepodge killings all around the countryside is what she wanted through her association with Teron." Of course he has no reason NOT to think she's completely mad, but still... "If I manage to catch any fog, I'll be sure to let you know. Good luck speaking with Miss Kyra. We could really use some." And at that, Glenn gave the man a last nod before heading towards the door.