Quenched Flame and Hidden Key
Twentieth Day of the First Month 294 AC
The Bazaar of Beggars, Plane of Molten Skies
Bronn wiped his blade off with the brigand's soot-black leather overcoat. He had thought about taking it for his own until Sarell had told him it was tanned fire giant hide and would probably get him into three fights to the death by the time he went a hundred yards from the shop door. Supposedly it had been a mark of pride for the bastard's skill at sneaking about. Bronn just called it a waste of good tailoring.
"That's the last of 'em!" he called towards Sarell with a nod. Somehow it just felt too damn quiet to just think the words to her when she was flying up in the flaming heavens, who until a few moments ago raining arrows down upon the narrow 'streets' of the Bazaar.
"Trust me, Master Bronn, your thoughts are always 'loud' enough, even when you are so far that I have to read them on your face," the words were sharp, but not cold, more like the sting of the wind on your cheeks after a fast ride than the breath of a blizzard. She must have had some fun with it too.
"Any idea why the fuck they were so keen to go after the bug brats?" Bronn very deliberately sent up, knowing that it would needle her a little to call any sort of 'proper warrior' that, but she would never lower herself to defending the honor of hirelings.
"I suspect to avenge their tribe from what was a ruinous battle on both sides, now I suggest we get our charges out of the market before anymore of the enemy arrive."
Bronn briefly wondered what the people of Sorcerer's Deep would make of half a hundred lads and lasses who were half scorpion. It would keep the guides for gawkers in good silver at least.
Gained Clan Steelclaw (50
Flame-born Young Scorpionfolk (12 HD, CR 7) Armed and Armored with +1 Lances and Suits of Plate)
Lost 105,000 IM
***
Maelor hated waiting on a dead drop. He had an itch between his shoulder blades as he walked back and forth across the alleyway, glad for the galmour that made pretending to be a harmless drunken azer with a beard sputtering with too much drink easier. There was no sun before the gates of the City of Brass, but there were shadows, twisted flickering things that swarmed like crows of ill omen seeming to meld into one another and then tear apart in patterns that even his eyes could not follow long without feeling ill. But there were patterns and you could mark time by them, if you had a strong stomach.
Now.
He turned the corner with perhaps more eagerness than his persona would have allowed, his eyes quickly drawn to the note wedged in a crack between two uneven fire-hardened bricks.
Greetings Seeker of Wisdom rich in Brass and poor in fears that afflict so many. Your first offering of coin has been fair enough to garner my attention and a small gift as a gesture of goodwill...
Wrapped in the note was a Living Brass dagger of the sort that would get anyone but an efreeti killed to bear openly in the city or even out here. Its hilt was forged as a stylized key.
Of all the arts hidden from the eyes of petty mages, what would you know of the Shapers of Brass?
Maelor breathed a sigh of relief. That note in the parchments of the Shaper they had defeated below the city had been more than hot air, there was someone in the Brass Shaper's Guild willing to trade guild secrets for more brass. He would not have liked to be the one who had to justify spending seven thousand marks worth of Brass Seals on a dud lead to the Lady of Clerks.
Lost 7,000 IM (contact for hidden lore)
Whoever 'the Keybearer' is he was known in the underbelly of the city. Maelor suspected he wasn't very high in the circles of the guild, a master hungry for power and advancement and willing to trade against guild and Sultan to get it. Best not ask for too much.
What does Maelor reply?
[] Soul Binding lore
[] Forging Lore
[] Golemcraft
OOC: Any lore you guys would actually be interested in would be a secret of one of the three mage organizations, but given the defeat of a Shaper two months ago Maelor got a major bonus to rolls to finding a traitor in their ranks.
