The seeker

[Vincent Von Dirrell]

The seeker walks quickly through the east gate of Trollsbane, looking left and right sharply, searching for her. His failure to find her yesterday left him boiling in rage. He mutters under his breath "She shouldn't be this hard to find!" He takes a deep breath, it wouldn't do to lose his temper again today as he did with the goblin yesterday. No sense in getting arrested over something so trivial, as if any jail could hold him.

He walks up to a post and nails a piece of parchment there

Reward of 200 silver to whomever knows and tells of the whereabouts of Fayne Bridgewater. Send a dove.

Vincent Von Dirrell

The seeker grins viciously, and whistles to his black crow, who comes to land on his arm. One long finger rubs down the crow's back as he cackles madly, "Soon! Soon she will be mine!"

He walks back out of town the way he came, long brown hair framing his dark empty eyes, and shelters in the forests, waiting...seeking...

[Vincent Von Dirrell]

Still sheltered in the woods, he turns his empty eyes towards the sky as a dove circles closer. The dove lands and he takes the parchment opens it and reads

If you're still seeking Fayne, she can be found on the workshop right now. She's also seeking an Erlorn to give him bags. Maybe you can use that to your advantage.

L.


An evil gleam of satisfaction in his eyes, he crushes the parchment in his hand, "Ah...the workshop. My busy little wench..."

He calls to his crow, and sets him towards Trollsbane with the lift of his arm. He rakes his dirty brown hair back from his face and sets off briskly towards town, depending on his crow to warn him of her whereabouts and the whereabouts of her friends. "Her friends..." he growls, "Wouldn't stand a chance...but perhaps a bit more secrecy is in order this time"

He reaches the town gate at dusk and sneaks past the guards with snakelike grace, practically invisible.

He scans the town whispering "Where are you my little wench...??", seeking still.

[rakust dorenstkzul]

Oliver strides out of the tavern,smelling slightly of alcohol, with his hair ruffled quite considerably, still with a mug of beer in hand, and completely hatless, he lazily scans the town before himself, as if looking for more beer, when he spots a silhouette skulking around, not thinking much more of it, he lights his pipe and goes back inside

"Damned children, it's far too late to be out playing thief, Borgate! Another pint!"

[Vincent Von Dirrell]

He halts as he sees the drunken man weave out of the tavern, slinking back into the shelter of the shadows. Eyes narrowing, he realizes he has seen that man before...he is one of the ones he spoke with, regarding the wench. His hollow eyes narrowing even more, he recalls that day, when the drunken man was calling to everyone not to give any information on her whereabouts...

"He is another lover, I'm sure..." he spats out in a harsh whisper. After a soft whistle, his crow lands on his forearm. He strokes it gently, whispering, "Go, go little one...bring me his eyes...". He lifts his arm and the crow takes flight, heading straight for the open door of the tavern.

The man glides even farther into the shadows, waiting.

[Valric]

Valric enters the tavern in his heavy plate armor, a large assortment of weapons can be seen on his belt and perhaps under his blue coat as well, with a shield strapped to his back. At a height of roughly five feet, he is sturdy, and if appearance is anything, he looks to be built for war.

He runs a hand through his dark, well kept beard, before approaching Borgate and ordering a beer. Valric waves to Oliver as he enters the bar from the other door , "Damned children, it's far too late to be out playing thief, Borgate! Another pint!"

Valric looks at him curiously, "Problems Oliver?"
He thinks about sitting down but decides not to, feeling very in tune with nature today, something seems to nag at him.. Normally he would ignore this feeling, but his very skin also felt as if it were made of iron. He thinks to himself, "Perhaps the gods have blessed me this evening, I would do well to honor their gift with an open mind, and a sharp axe.."

[Vincent Von Dirrell]

A falcon flies low, delivering another parchment to the man skulking in the shadows. He opens it, quickly scanning the words as a vicious grin splits his craggy face. He draws a quill and ink well from his pouch and hastily pens his reply:

Sir or Madam,

I am in town as of now, in view of the tavern. Wear a black ribbon around your arm and I will approach you. Stealth will be your greatest ally.

Gratefully yours,
Vincent Von Dirrell



He rolls up the parchment and hands it to the waiting falcon. As it flies off to deliver the parchment to its master, he rubs his long thins hands together in glee. Soon...

[rakust dorenstkzul]

Oliver catches Valric in his glance, "Yup..This town smells like pee, and Julius Rothman has a silly name.. Nothing new thou-" Oliver doesn't get to finish as a crow comes flying towards him like a feathery missile, narrowly missing him as he spoke "What in the name of Adron was that?!"

[Valric]

Valric grabs the bar stool next to him, getting ready to hurl it at the crow if it comes 'round for another pass at Oliver or himself.

It's a bird! He shouts.

After all, he might miss the damn thing if he threw a weapon or used his sling..

[rakust dorenstkzul]

"It's a bird!" His bearded companion called, quickly glancing over it, he could see that it wasn't Logrin's, and further examination revealed that it wasn't O'Reilly, "Oh really?", when the exchange ended, the bird began again, flapping and pecking at the man with fury and vigour.