The fire spits sparks as Cran throws a couple more smashed table legs into the fireplace in the Orgillion Master Bedroom and looks over to his colleagues with a frown on his dirt-streaked face. "By Kuor's grey whiskers I'm getting mightily confused with all this guff about The Spicer's Guild, dozens of bloody shady families and some place called Azydaer. Once we've discovered what's going on here, Ugnan needs to do some research in some Charôn-damned library back in Sel-kai." [see 'Loose Ends']
Sharna. "That he does – I had no idea something could be that old or confusing. It would be nice if the bad guys wore a uniform to make it easy for us. At least there's no confusion with ghouls!"
Cheryl pipes up in a rush. “I don’t think it’s that confusing, let’s draw the lines of straight up connections with what we have. Spice guild is connected to this place and the asylum which is connected to the weapons cache and these ghouls and our old contract giver at house B, who, by the way, is on the hunt for us because we were not smart about tidying up the guards who spotted us at the asylum, which I think was a mistake, while I’m not keen to go spree killing people or torturer mode in anyway, we left an obvious trail which is bad. A house will have no such misgivings about wiping us from its ledgers for us finding its secrets. And don’t think the house we are working for will care or help unless we have something they need,”
“It’s also connected to the drugs caches, which the houses are both interested in, (could this be connected to ghouls and where they come from or another plan?)"
Sharna replies without emotion, "We will have to make our selves indispensable to the current house in that case. Could the guards recognise us – I thought we wondered around invisibly for the whole time?"
Cheryl muses, "Or we use some of our new found wealth to build a better collective buffer on the street with the gangs? We left the guards alive, they just had to describe Cran, Ugnan and yourself Sharna and our old employer and they knew. Word is already on the street we’re to be looked for. I bought us some time on the docks before we left.”
Cran takes a swig from his battered hip flask and offers it around. "Yeah, Cherry, I agree, that recent history is fairly straightforward. But how are the Azydaer, Fey, Cruciform Murders, the Cloots and the Damssen family linked? Some of those have roots stretching back thousands of years; they probably have tendrils everywhere. And what was the real purpose of The Spicer's Guild?"
Cheryl looks over with a frown on her face. "I think some of it easier than others, we’ve proof of fey involved in the asylum, maybe source of ghoul creation? Queen Mab owning bones, that sort of thing. Guilds likely want to take power from houses?"
Cran shifts his bulk from the edge of the bed and walks over to crouch by the fire. "I'm going to leave the book-lovers in one of the Sel-kai libraries for a couple of days and see what they come up with."
Cheryl stares into the flames as she continues her train of thought, before grinning at her pun. "I think The Spicers Guild itself was originally shut down because of this interaction with fey/ghouls. House B is connected as secret backers for the experiments. Maybe the house has necromancy in the skeleton closet?"
Sylke pulls out of her pre-assigned time for her meditative reverie (the Elven need for merely 2-hours of uninterrupted rest per day) and hears the past minutes of conversation. “No time like the present to do some research!” she muses as she pulls out the many reams of paper logs and journals from the Asylum that she painstakingly collected, admittedly more for the worth of its blank pages rather than the text on the reverse.
Plopping down a stack next to Ugnan that swirls detritus and dust briefly about, she continues, ”I haven’t been able to pore through these, besides the cursory glances here and there. Perhaps they’ll have info on these experiments, both necromantic and surgical found there, as well as here like your Water Elemental Sprite friend mentioned, Cherry!”
The Elven maid silently draws up her legs into an even more uncomfortable position akin to one of Sharna’s stances and begins to devour the written words on the pale, haphazardly bundled pages.
Cran arranges a couple of plump pillows on the floor, stretches his back muscles before lying down in front of the fire, boots raised towards the blaze, resting on a fire-iron and gently steaming. He takes another sip from his flask. "Don't throw those pages away or get them damp, Sylke. They look a handy alternative to kindling."
Having dozed off almost immediately, Ugnan farts loudly in his sleep, waking himself. Sitting up with a groan, he wrinkles his nose at the newly arrived stench, shoots an accusatory glare at Cran then seems to recall where he is and says in a tired croaky voice, "I think I can still smell those rancid creatures." Easing himself down again, he is snoring mere seconds later.
The slight Mage distractedly wrinkles her delicate Erlini nose at the annoyance but only looks up as Ugnan eyeballs Cran. Likewise, snuffling disgustedly at the shaggy giant of a man and his closed-shared-quarters-mixed-sexes etiquette, she shakes her head and moves away from the fire. This especially when Cran mentions firing the notes! She harrumphs down loudly, flicks her wrist, and engages the bright torch magic she uses to help navigate dark places…the bright light bouncing off the pages to weirdly distort her features into an angry, seemingly Demonic mask. That or she is just that mad at Cran for the Ghast-ly disturbance?!