A Meeting of the Minds (Brush with Death Edition)

[Lent]

It had been a quiet winter for Kurt Lentham, Detective Constable and transient tavern-goer. One incident in the Dagger with some undead creature, hardly surprising. A bit of poking into this and that. He's got the good sense to leave things alone when they ought to be left alone. Mild snooping over what Karolinger was up to, but even that didn't seem as important as it once did.

It had been years now since Haberdasher's Row, since the last threads connecting him to who he was were cut. Somedays he felt like he had been reborn, had been given a second chance. Somedays he just felt like he had just reopened his eyes, having conveniently forgotten to die.

At least the weather was getting nicer. It meant that there was some actual pleasure to be found in meandering about the marketplace. He'd be setting up a spring routine soon, tavern to tavern, bar to bar, keeping an eye out between one and the next for anything that might warrant attention.

For now, though, his pace was slow, his steps languid. Save for a few months in the woods, this was how he lived his life these last few years, moving forward in no particular direction, just one step at a time.

[Minty]

Lentham. There was someone he recognized, though he did not know the man. Ignas spied him, oh yes, recognizing the man from afar, though it was nothing more than a curiousity. He was busy, see.

The separation of Ignas and his funds had done him some good, or so he'd insist. It had made his children wealthier, and it had given him an excuse to do more than languish. He did not look as healthy as he did before his mysterious brush with death, seeming a bit paler, hair definitely so, splotches of red and bleached areas showing. Still, the man seemed happy, and here is where Ignas spent most of his time when he was not out of town.

The marketplace. Which might seem a bit unusual for the man, given how he is, how he affects people. But what some may not know is that Ignas has quite a few contacts when it comes to black and grey markets, as well as more legitimate goods. After all, it isn't just -anywhere- that you find forbidden or ancient texts, exotic reagents, and the like. And it isn't just anybody that buys these kinds of things. Ignas had a healthy relationship with traders. Trading was what he was doing now.

"That's an outrageous price for vitriol, especially so little.", he was scowling at a dark-skinned man. He knew this one well, and was a frequent patron. However, this man was a cheat. "I'm not paying that. You're lowering your prices, or I'm going elsewhere.", See how calm Ignas was these days? He hadn't even once threatened to rip the man's head off! Ignas, as upset as he was, wasn't buying from him today. No, the man would lower his prices tomorrow, he was sure.

Ignas turned away from the trader, who often brought in alchemical ingredients that his son Adrian could use. No use being here today, it seemed. He went to leave, approaching Lentham as he did, though the man was not his goal or destination. Still, he would catch the man's eyes, and offer a nod of greeting as he moved to pass.

[Lent]

Demonsbane. Strange man with a strange look and strange habits. Strange story. Myrken for you. Lentham's been through some troubles himself, but at least he didn't have hair like that. And just what did he seem to be doing today? Ah, that's what. Black Market, Grey Market, whatever else. Sort of thing to turn a blind eye on so long as they're not doing anything vile. Helps Myrken run. People need things. At least it's organized. Better than chaos. Myrken's had enough of that.

Ah. Eye contact then? Lentham reached for his flask. Half empty? Enough to last him a conversation if necessary. Why not, then? "Biggest problem with dying and then not having it stick? People get used to thinking of you as dead. Come to grips. Can't ever look at you the same way after that." For good or ill, those the Constable cared about the most weren't around to look at him any which way. Even worse, he didn't truly remember them.

[Minty]

And so a conversation had been initiated. Hm. So other people knew about his brush with death? Ignas hadn't thought that this news would have gotten that far. God knows that he doesn't know anything about this man here.

"I told people to destroy me if I were to come back from the dead.", a calm statement. He spoke of his own death, of friends, or perhaps...acquaintances was better, killing him after he'd just returned to consciousness. "I'm here, so I assume I never died. I was just unconscious.", Ignas, unlike many here, was a deeply religious man. Coming back from the dead was either a blessing from God, or a twisted perversion of the natural order. As far as he was concerned, the way people here treated death and life, and the subsequent upside-downness of it all here was disgusting.

"If they stare, it doesn't bother me much. I'm used to stares.", he deserved them, as far as he was concerned. Surely, Lentham knew that much about constable-for-two-weeks Demonsbane. Ignas had such a terrible reputation, after all! He will now close the distance between the man and he, offering a hand. "I don't believe that I remember your name."

[Lent]

The Constables, or at least the Detective Constables, had been well briefed on the entire demon situation. Whether they wanted to be or not. Cinnabar Calomel ran a tight ship. Never any question about that. There'd be a glance at that hand, a glance and a pause, and then a nod. He'd take it and shake it though not quite heartily. Didn't do much heartily, did he?

"Kurt Lentham, Detective Constable." Did the name ring a bell? Likely not. Ignas ran in different circles, or at the very least, the two men walked in different circular paths around Myrken. "And me too. The unconscious part, though they swear i was dead for a minute or two there. Heart didn't want to stop, even after the rest of me did." A pause. His hands itched for that flask, but he'd hold off for now. "Two years back now. Haberdasher's Row, though the rest of me might have given up before that."

A new lease on a life no longer worth living. He took it for what it was worth, exactly what it was worth. "Used to the stares? Then you haven't looked at them closely. They're different now, no matter who or what you used to be. How that second chance working out for you?"

[Minty]

The man had a weak handshake. A note of that was made. Perhaps this man here was easily bullied? That's what a weak handshake usually signified. Ignas was kind enough though, to not use his unnatural strength in this handshake. This man didn't seem enough a threat to him to bother. That, and he was a lot nicer recently.

Kurt Lentham...the name was filed away, though he knew he'd forget it, probably. He forgot people too easily, sometimes. Not all people, but some. "I know what stares people give me. They haven't changed.", he didn't like that man's insistence. "And it isn't a second chance. There is no slate that has been wiped clean, people's opinions haven't changed.", he was still here, the same sinner that he ever was, only this time, he was without his money. That was one thing Lentham was correct about, at least. The law had determined that he'd been out long enough that his will had been executed. Lands and funds had been divided amongst his four children. Good for them. It was better this way, anyhow.

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid I may not remember what you speak of, sir, at Haberdasher's Row. I am often away, and I do not have a memory for events that I have not participated in.", perhaps it is something interesting to hear, anyways. "I'm afraid I've been away too long in my unconsciousness as well, and then on business more recently.....how goes the town as of late?"

[Lent]

Bullied? Maybe. Maybe he just had a high tolerance. It took a lot. Not much was worth it in life. Those things that were though...?

Anyway, this wasn't. A slight shrug, a slight not, half a grunt. "Hn. How you see it. How you NEED to see it. Had more of one than you, I suppose. Family's long gone. Flux. Baie." That sort of thing. Myrken. "What almost killed me took my memories. Headwound. Unpleasant." That was his life summed up in a few quick words. He didn't offer that to many but there wasn't really any harm in it here. Never was one for sympathy. Didn't think he would get it here. There was a glance at Demonsbane, not a stare though. "Probably don't need it, not if you have faith to see you through. Goes a long way."

"Don't know Haberdasher's Row? Riot that put Bromn back into office. Feels like forever ago, doesn't it?" Another shrug, thinking about that. Time sort of drew together after a while. Three months in the woods. That stood out. "Town is town. And it isn't. Only one monster in the last few months. Not right, not for here. Storm's coming, maybe?" Another pause, another shrug. "Or maybe we're all just doing our jobs well."

[Minty]

It really wasn't such a back-from-the-dead experience then, was it? Just a severe injury. Perhaps the man would even get his memories back eventually. Who knows?

"It's best not to think on the matter that deeply. Perhaps you have seen the last of beasts....they may have picked up and left.", though he doubted it. Not with this area's foolish concepts such as religious and racial tolerance! It's what made this area such a safe place for monsters! "Or perhaps...there are subtler agents still, making your jobs easier...for now.", that was also likely.

Rather than talk about what seemed to be a boring political struggle, Ignas shifted the conversation to something he was more interested in. "What kind of monster was it?"

[Lent]

The monsters gone. "Hn." Maybe. Lentham didn't know. Was the rest of the world like this? Maybe, maybe not. Didn't know that either. Only knew Myrken. Myrken had monsters. There was something here that attracted them, something in the blood of the people. Something in the soil. Just something.

"Not Calomel's style. Spies. Duplicity. Lying to the people. Not like him." Though there would be a pause, a shrug. "Not impossible. Most monsters don't care if you lie or cheat. Doesn't help. That includes drow and.. ah." But Ignas asked a question. "Vampire. In the Dagger. Had to get my hands dirty." And then... "Teahouse girl and barmaid did it in. Ten constables couldn't. That's Myrken."

[Minty]

"You're joking...right?", ten trained professionals couldn't do the job? He inhaled, let his head clear, and shook his head. "I'm afraid I have to call into question the quality of the Constabulary's training, then.", that was pathetic.

"You don't have to -lie-. Or at least...lie much. But sneaking about does help you avoid detection by those who would most want to detect you.", Ignas could be bully or assassin. One came naturally, the other had been drilled into him. He was blessed, then, no? Or cursed, as it might be, as he might call it. Not many could do both to the extent that he could.

"The previous owners of the Broken Dagger...whoever they might have been... They employed a savage foreign woman of questionable intelligence.", he nodded. "I...think I remember her mentioning that there was a stone somewhere...that attracted monsters. I was supposed to go and journey with some others to destroy it. I don't remember why I didn't. It was years ago.", he nodded vaguely. "But monsters come and go. For all either of us know...the drow that infest this place took care of them because it makes it easier for them, too.", after all, if Calomel was unwilling to make the place peaceful, the drow might, too. To lure those here into a sense of complacency.

And now, he will descend into what some might consider a somewhat insane rant. "But you know...all this mess always seems to hit the Dagger. And I've witnessed on many occasions, with the old and new staff, employees denying the presence of these monsters...even when they resided in the establishment itself.", arms crossed in front of his chest. He had a stern look upon his face. "And I remember that there was something living in the soil underneath there..that was able to absorb blood spilled in the area. It could take the form of those whose blood it had taken, and could even mix and match qualities....and some sort of blasphemous warlock that controlled it...and another, stranger burrowing creature that attacked, that shared some similar qualities....", something in the soil, indeed! "Have you heard of the monster called Zayken that terrorised the area years ago?" Oh, yes. He was onto something -huge-.

[Lent]

"Can't say we have many live vampires to train on." It was said rather listlessly, almost with an undertone of humor. They did well enough. The thing had been hurt. It just escaped. Good chance they would have gone in and finished the job if it came to that. He had been there only because no one else was quick to step forward. Wasn't his idea of a pleasant evening. That was for sure.

"Calomel's not much a sneaker." Another pause. "Except for when he is. Better him than me, I suppose."

"You see darkness and shadows everywhere. Better you than me, on that. Not that much a plan to life, if you ask me." And he didn't. "Things happen. We deal with them. We survive or we don't. The ones who deserve to live through it rarely do." A slow glance for the strange man. "Faith helps."

But now, Ignas had started to rant, started to make connections, with an odd string fo sanity pulling it all together. "Heard of Zayken, yeah. Not the blood soil thing, though." Still thought it was just Myrken, but he was willing to hear Ignas out.

[Minty]

"Not everywhere.", that was a bit unfair. Ignas saw darkness and shadows where they existed. And in Myrken, they obviously existed.

"Look. All I'm saying is that there was an attack by some sort of monster that could spread its taint to other things. I've seen it. Others have seen it.", his head shook. "All the monsters share similar qualities. The ability to somehow take on the qualities of creatures they've come into sanguinary contact with..Aerin's manipulation of chains...to infect other creatures. Do you understand?"

He exhaled. "I don't know enough to make a call. But I don't think that it's a coincidence. Monsters are enough of a coincidence...monsters that are all the same reek of foulness."

It wasn't a definite link...but it was definitely worth considering...wasn't it? "Zayken was a problem here before I arrived. Surely, there must be someone else who could shed some light."

[Lent]

Why was Kurt Lentham a Detective Constable? He rarely arrested anyone. He was persistant to the point of madness, yes, but he wasn't efficient by any means. He was generally hard to find, harder to control, and wasn't always all there in the head.

On the other hand, he had one invaluable skill that not everyone in Myrken had by a long shot. He could read and write. "We've files. Not great ones if you go back a few years, but good ones for when he last declared war. I could see about getting you a copy." A wry grin. "Won't help much, I'm afraid. Most of them say one thing and one thing only: See Quincy Randall. Can't say I've made her acquaintance but she seems to be the expert. Don't know why someone would want to be an expert about that sort of thing, mind."

He was thinking things over a bit now. "Not too sure about the it all either. Coincidence, sure. Some mild connection, maybe. It's not all monsters. We get wizards, necromancers, ghoulies, whatever. Some of them are smart. Seem smart at least. Dark Magic. Figure they would put it all together by now if it was something big but don't seem like they have."

[Minty]

"Files. Yes.", he would nod enthusiastically, because it's about time someone started keeping written records. Shameful that so few people could read and write!

"I know Quincy. But I haven't spoken to her in a long time, nor would I know where to find her.", hm. Perhaps he could seek her out and find out more. Because it was important. "I remember another girl...who was actually infected by that taint, too. Don't know where I'd find her, either.", that was kind of worrisome, actually.

"In this kind of place, though...you're going to get all sorts of witches and abominations. You expect that in places that have such....tolerance for witchcraft. I'm only considering monsters here.", perhaps it was sloppy thinking. Perhaps he was grasping for straws. But sometimes you got something important when doing that. "I don't know.", he ended up muttering. So little he could piece together with his limited knowledge.

"I suppose it doesn't matter, though. Not if you can keep casualties low and the town stays secure. Perhaps it's wiser to focus on defense."

[Lent]

There has been talk about some sort of academy in Myrken for the last year or two. Lentham, for rather obvious reasons, was not a part of those talks. Reading and writing were useful, but they often caused quite of bit of trouble in themselves. Of course, too many clerks running about with too much unchecked power led to problems of their own. Thankfully, it wasn't Lentham's job to worry about any of that.

"Calomel's got a staff for working this stuff out." Not that they've worked out much of anything of the sort lately. "Figure they'd know where Randall might be, at least."

But then, he had said something interesting. "There that much a difference between witches and monsters? Seems to me that the witches make the monsters, work with them." He started to read things off from some of the files he did read. "The witch and the Baie, the Fiend and the cult demon, Drows and Spires and what not." And then there was a measured look. "Don't see a lot of tolerance either. See a lot of men who died trying to fight them, good men, too. But then, we only try to hurt people who are trying to hurt us. Doesn't seem like tolerance to me. Seems like humanity, like common sense."