Following an informative chat with Colbur at the Tipsy Stone, we operated on some of that information by heading to the southern regions of the city to find some street with the name of a flower…dandelion? dogbane? daphne? I don’t recall, one of those “D” blossoms.
Unfortunately, there were a few guards between us and our destination in the form of one of those pesky checkpoints. We chose one to our liking—meaning with as few guards as possible—and proceeded to try. Our estimable burglar had the papers we’d procured earlier and was willing to give it a try first. He did tolerable good, managed to convince them he was an “apothecary” and even learned the name on the papers: The Gay Sriracha Ma unless my ears deceived me—it was a fair way back. We should remember that for later. Eventually Madam Stabby was able to get the rest of us through with an uncharacteristic amount of blood left inside the obstacles of our passage. Turns out she can spin a fair tale if the need arises.
So we came to The Complete Blacksmith with no further to do and found a chained orc and his little “master”. It didn’t take long to be assured we could have a crowbar ready for a clandestine meeting later in the eve.
Now, as we had a few hours to frivol away, we decided to peruse the local fauna for a spell, and we weren’t disappointed. Before long we got to see a bloody little brawl in the streets and even joined in a bit. The resistance certainly seemed to be alive and kicking in the city.
Back with our orcish host, we were treated to a stroll into the side of a stone wall and a regular treasure of gifts: papers and weapons befitting a spy or some such.
We had one more visit to make that night and it was to an old friend. This time Wally was in and almost took our heads off in more ways than one. He’d learned a few things it seemed since last we met. The first thing we noticed was his impressive ability to quaff the ol’ broth as “they” say. Secondly we realized he was a bit more handy with his, well, hands, but in a beat ‘em up sort of way if you follow me—there are but a few that can manhandle Kaia like that is what I’m saying. Well I think Wally might have begun to tell us something about it, but suddenly my not-so-faithful steed was occupied with personal grooming and a nighttime stroll. He took us for a quick frolic over the city walls where we spent the night.
The next morning we flounced up to Cliff Gate (supposedly the most lax in security) like a fattened calf parading to the butcher on feast day. A master at speaking meaninglessnesses, Draz did quite well trading air-headed statements with the guard, but when that creepy fellow “inspected” him for magicability I could actually feel the kid’s muscles tighten like harp strings—and for someone of his build that’s downright disturbing.
But we made it alright and got a brand new set of papers: Rat Will Envy To Leer was born!
I wonder what the other’s were doing…eh, can’t of been anything too important. At least I know them wouldn’t have brought up that whole bother about Mysttelah; that would be even more terrible than thinking her dead.