Lady's Grace, cutters!

 

"Only the sane can prepare for their madness."

Factol Lhar, in preparation for the Grim Retreat

 

 

 

First Guild Day of Retributus, 126 HR

When they woke up the next morning, Naghûl felt relatively well-rested and relaxed. They had spent the night in Lereia's new house and had been able to wash and have breakfast there. The kitchen was already stocked with Bytopian shepherd's bread, honey and hard cheese, as well as coffee and various teas. So they had sat on the cushions around the low table in the lounge for breakfast and discussed how they wanted to proceed. They had agreed with Jana that she would follow Eliath to his home or quarters when he left the Black Sails . They therefore considered going to the Athar’s house and asking her about the latest situation. Since the Gatehouse was on the way there, they also wanted to pay a visit to the Bleakers. After all, they had made an agreement with the minotaur Blackhoof to inform him of any news regarding the murders, in return for which a certain Derioch would give them information about Eliath. Before they left, Lereia went to the Foundry to see old Nadilin, who was a kind of steward and concierge of the faction. She asked him for the copies that Ambar had made of Toranna's documents during the night. There was also a short note from the factol:

"Dear Lereia,

as we discussed at our meeting yesterday, I have sent an inquiry to the Hall of Information regarding the unknown mark on one of Toranna's documents. As I had indicated that the matter was officially urgent, the information was indeed made available to me early this morning. The red sun is a seal that is in use in Sigil. It belongs to a woman called Derioch Ysarl. She is a factotum of the Bleakers. I hope this information helps you in some way. I will contact you should I receive any further evidence regarding your current mission. Take care of yourself and your companions and do not take any unnecessary risks.

May the Lady's shadow never fall on you.

Ambar Vergrove"

Of course, this surprising information encouraged the group to go to the Gatehouse and ask for Derioch. Kiyoshi, however, did not miss the opportunity to make his daily status report at the Barracks and wanted to meet up with the others again at Jana's house. When Naghûl, Lereia and Sgillin reached the Bleakers' headquarters, it was bustling with activity as midday soup was being handed out to the poor and the orphans. They stepped up to one of the long wooden tables set up in front of the Gatehouse, bending under the weight of the many tin bowls and large, steaming iron pots. An older hobgoblin, whom they asked about Derioch, pointed wordlessly to the end of the next table, to a human woman with chin-length black hair, dressed in a simple brown linen robe. They walked over.

"Lady's Grace," Naghûl greeted her politely. "We have come because Blackhoof told us that you might be able to tell us something about Eliath's whereabouts."

The woman lowered the soup ladle she had been using to distribute a stew-like dish into the tin bowls. At least she didn't seem surprised by the request, so she probably knew what it was about. "About his whereabouts?" She lifted her shoulders. "No, not really. It's been a good while since I last saw him." She didn't appear openly unfriendly, but rather reserved.

"But he was here often?", Naghûl asked.

Now Derioch put the ladle aside and looked at him piercingly. "He was here," she replied curtly.

"Would you mind telling us why he was here?"

"Well." She tapped her forehead. "Just a madman."

"About what kind of madness are we talking?" the tiefling probed further.

His questioning obviously didn't raise the Bleaker's spirits, because she now crossed her arms with a sigh. "I think he was a mage or some kind of scholar. He had something to do with formulas ... scribbled all over the walls of his cell. Why do you care about that?"

Naghûl decided it was time to come up with a little bluff. "We're looking for him and fear he might be in danger because of the murders in the Hive. He and I sometimes worked together on cryptography, you know?"

"Yeah?" Derioch replied suspiciously. "When? When you visited him in the Gatehouse?"

"Precisely not," the tiefling replied immediately. "Otherwise I wouldn't be asking about his whereabouts here. Would it be possible for us to take a look at his scribblings?"

Derioch reached for the ladle again and shook her head. "I'm sorry, but the area where he was staying is off-limits to non-faction members."

It was clear that she didn't want to talk about the subject any further. However, Naghûl could not quite figure out whether this had anything to do with the murders or whether it had other reasons. So he did not let up. "Oh, that's a pity," he said. "Can you tell me if he used goblin language?"

"No idea." The Bleaker lifted her shoulders. "I didn't know most of the signs he scrawled there. Doubt goblins use them, though."

"Hm." Naghûl nodded thoughtfully. "Could we ask someone to transcribe or copy out his scribblings for me?"

"If you can find someone who wants to take that lot of trouble," Derioch replied sarcastically.

Of course, what was free in Sigil? Naghûl could even understand that. "I would, of course, reciprocate," he offered.

Derioch reached for a bowl to fill it with stew. "Personally, I'm not particularly interested in the whole thing," she explained.

“I see," the tiefling said with a sigh. "How long has he been in the Gatehouse?"

"Hm, a while." She shrugged her shoulders. "A few years, I think."

Lereia stepped to Naghûl's side, while Sgillin still stayed in the background. "Did Eliath talk about other people?" she asked. "Or was he paranoid? We just want to rule out the possibility that he could become one of the murder victims or is being pursued."

Now Derioch energetically put down the filled bowl, together with the ladle. "Well, for my taste, you've asked a lot of questions and said very little yourself. Wasn't the agreement that you would find out something about the murders in return and pass it on to us?"

Naghûl nodded. She was right, and he didn't want to upset her any more so as not to close this door for them. "Yes, of course, that's true," he conceded. "You already know, how the people have died?"

"They say, they were strangled. Is that true?"

"Yes," the tiefling confirmed. "The marks are clear. We can also assume that it was a large perpetrator. We believe they were strangled with one hand." He had decided that while he didn't want to drive Derioch away, he didn't trust her enough to simply share all the information they possessed. So it wouldn't hurt to set her on the wrong track.

She eyed him skeptically. "One-handed? Sounds rather impractical, but if you say so ... And who could it be? Do you have any suspicions?"

"We're trying to canvass the ogres of the goon squads," Naghûl explained. "Those are our first suspects. Do you perhaps know someone named Olgrimm?"

He simply chose the first ogre name that came to mind, and the Bleaker shook her head. "Never heard of him."

"Or perhaps Unkharr?"

"No, neither," she replied stoically.

"Elsnoop?"

Derioch put her hands on her sides in annoyance. "Now it’s you asking the questions again ."

"It concerns our investigation," Naghûl explained.

"Just tell me what you know so far," the Bleaker replied, annoyed. "Or don't you know anything?"

"I could tell you more if I could decipher Eliath's scrawlings," the tiefling said promptly. "It all plays together."

Derioch narrowed her eyes. "Why does it all play together?"

"Because I'm sure that Olgrimm is just an encryption," the Sensate continued to develop his story further. "Which in turn points to something else. Why won't you help us?"

She wrinkled her nose. "You're trying to tell me that the scribbles Eliath scrawled on the walls of his cell years ago have something to do with the current series of murders? Is that what it's all about?"

"That could well be the case," Naghûl claimed. "But I won't be able to say for sure until I've studied it."

Gradually, Derioch seemed to have had enough of his story. She glared at him irritably. "What kind of people are you? Who do you work for?"

The Sensate raised his brows meaningfully. "Do we really want to ask this kind of questions now?"

"Yes, we do," Derioch replied dryly.

Naghûl crossed his arms and decided to venture one step further. "Perhaps for Toranna?" He eyed the Bleaker attentively, but could notice no reaction to the name. If she was hiding something, she was very good at it.

"Toranna? Should I know that name?"

"At least she has taken notice of you," Naghûl replied. "And she's connected to the murders. Don't worry, we're not working for her. But you may be in danger."

Now, for the first time since the conversation began, he noticed a certain unease in Derioch's expression. But it was not the nervousness of those who hide something, but rather a hint of concern.

"Why is that?" the Bleaker asked cautiously. "I thought it only affected bubbers and addle-coves. Or is that not true at all?"

Naghûl swayed his head. "I don't want to count on it. And I also don't want to say that Eliath was really mad. We really need to see his drawings. Right now, I can only guess."

At that moment, they heard the loud pattering of hooves, and the tiefling had an idea who was approaching. Indeed, shortly after, a minotaur they knew appeared at the soup counter. They nodded to him in greeting, and he snorted loudly, which was possibly also a greeting of sorts.

"Ah, Blackhoof." Derioch immediately waved him closer. "You dragged those cutters in, didn't you?"

"I didn't," the minotaur grumbled. "They came on their own."

The Bleaker smoothed the apron of her brown linen dress. "Whatever. That's your business now. They've stolen enough of my time. You take care of your friends."

"Friends?" Blackhoof snorted again, protesting as it might seem to Naghûl. "But ..."

"Just a moment," the tiefling stopped Derioch, who had already turned to leave, then looked at Lereia. "Can you give me the note with the red sun?"

He kept an eye on the Bleaker and saw how she listened attentively to these words. Lereia took the small piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to Naghûl. He nodded his thanks to her and then held it out to Derioch. "A red sun looks familiar to you, yes?"

She raised her brows in astonishment. "That is my signet. I use one for faction matters, as does almost every factotum."

"We found this on a suspect," Naghûl explained with a brief nod to the piece of paper in his hand.

Now she looked at the paper more closely and then widened her eyes. "This is my seal ..." She nodded. "But I didn't write this."

Blackhoof stepped closer and peered over Derioch's shoulder. She gave him a reproving look, but said nothing else.

"Does your seal come from a stamp or can it be reproduced?" Lereia inquired.

“It's a stamp," Derioch replied. "I have it as a signet for embossing in wax and as a stamp for ink."

"Was it custom-made for you?" Lereia asked further. "I assume it's still in your possession?”

"Sure, I used it just now. I had it made when I became a factotum." She looked annoyed now, and it didn't seem feigned to Naghûl. "What's going on here? Who, by the Lady, is forging my seal? And who is this Shadowknave supposed to be?"

"That’s a helf," Blackhoof replied promptly.

Irritated, Derioch looked at the minotaur. "What?"

Sgillin, who had kept to the background until now, stepped forward. "How do you know that?" he asked.

"A half-elf," Blackhoof explained. "Is in the Blood Pit sometimes. My brother Bloodhorn fights there. He told me he's a bone crusher who’s been hanging around there lately."

Now it was Sgillin's turn to look irritated. "Bone crusher?"

"A dangerous fellow," Naghûl explained the Cant. "One who has influence or leads a group of thugs."

"Do you know what he looks like?" Lereia inquired.

The minotaur raised his mighty shoulders. "Black hair, I think. But humanoids always look so much alike, hard to tell." He snorted a little before adding proudly: "Great fighter!"

"The half-elf?", Sgillin said. "Do you know his name?"

"Shadowknave?", Lereia guessed.

"MY BROTHER!" Blackhoof rumbled indignantly.

"No, I meant Shadowknave as the half-elf's name," Lereia replied hastily and raised her hands placatingly. "I would never doubt that your brother is a great fighter!"

"Uhm ... nor I ..." Sgillin muttered, backing away slightly at the minotaur's outburst.

Blackhoof scratched between his horns. "The half-elf, I see. Well, Shadowknave is his name."

Derioch sighed audibly and made another effort to leave the scene.

"Please," Lereia held her back calmly but insistently. "If you know anything else about Eliath, tell us. We only want to help."

"And I really need to see the scribblings," Naghûl tried again.

"I can't decide that on my own," Derioch replied, hesitating briefly. "I'm just a factotum. The cell ... His cell was in the wing for criminals and the incurably insane. At least one factor must decide that, preferably Sruce herself."

Lereia raised her brows. "He was a criminal?"

"I didn't say that," the Bleaker replied gravely.

The young woman nodded, almost guiltily. "You're right, I'm sorry."

"A transcript would be enough for me," Naghûl intervened again. "Could you make one?"

"I'll have to ask first," Derioch explained tensely.

Blackhoof pricked up his ears. "But, if this is in connection with ..." Then he interrupted himself abruptly, put his hand over his snout and faked a cough. "Uhahahahach."

Once again, Derioch frowned in astonishment. "What?”

"Nothing, nothing ..." the minotaur replied quickly.

"With Olgrimm?" Naghûl turned to him, actually only intending to unsettle Derioch.

"Olgrimm? Huh?" The minotaur snorted, then growled. "Yes, that's right! Or ... Nope, not at all. Oh, I don't know, it doesn't matter ..."

His behavior was more than strange and Sgillin furrowed his brows skeptically. "Is something wrong?"

"Everything's fine!" Blackhoof snorted energetically.

Derioch now put both hands at her sides and eyed him angrily. "What's wrong with you lately?"

"Everything is right!" the minotaur replied indignantly.

This unexpected strange and slightly nervous behavior puzzled Naghûl. What was going on all of a sudden? The tiefling measured his impressive counterpart with an inquiring look. "You are certainly a true fighter and an excellent member of your faction," he declared. "But pretense and cover-up tactics do not suit your people."

Lereia nodded in agreement to his words. "Why are you so nervous?" she wanted to know.

"I'm not covering anything up!" Blackhoof replied loudly. "And I'm not nervous!"

"But you seem worried," Lereia objected. "I don’t want to say that you are covering something up, but perhaps something is scaring you."

Naghûl held his breath. That had certainly been a poor choice of words ... And indeed, Blackhoof now let out an even louder snort, more like a deep rumble.

"I am a minotaur!" he shouted indignantly. "I'm not scared!"

His ears began to tremble with anger and Lereia instinctively took a step back. "Forgive me, that was clumsily put."

Blackhoof frampled, stirring up the dusty ground. His nostrils quivered slightly. For Naghûl, this was the sign to end the conversation. It was better to avoid an angry minotaur. So he quickly stepped next to Lereia and pulled her along by the sleeve.

"Don't get mad," he said apologetically. "She's just a stupid young calf." Then he turned to Derioch once more. "Perhaps you can make it possible to get a transcript. We'll be in touch again in the next few days."

Lereia had given him a meaningful look at the word calf, but said nothing back. At least the minotaur seemed to calm down a little. As Naghûl was about to leave, his gaze fell on a small, green-skinned figure standing behind the corner of the Gatehouse. It was a thin goblin woman with bright pink hair. Blackhoof had obviously seen her too, and actually it appeared to Naghûl that he had seen her for some time. Now he waved vigorously in her direction. The goblin woman wore goggles and some tools dangled from her belt. She looked briefly at the group, hesitated for a moment and then shushed Blackhoof. She waved frantically at him.

"Boah ..." the minotaur grumbled in annoyance.

He was clearly trying to ignore her, but she didn't let up and kept going "psst, psst", beckoning him over. The intentionally inconspicuous and unintentionally conspicuous appearance made Naghûl smile.

Blackhoof rolled his eyes. "Gotta go ..." he muttered and then walked over to the goblin woman.

Derioch looked after him, shaking her head.

"Who is that?", Lereia inquired.

The Bleaker raised her shoulders. "I think she's a Xaositect. I don't know, she's been hanging around here a lot the last few days and wants something from Blackhoof."

Meanwhile, the goblin woman was talking energetically and frantically to the minotaur, who was clearly listening with annoyance. Then she grabbed him by the fur on his leg, obviously wanting him to come with her. With a strained snort, he followed her and they disappeared behind the corner of the Gatehouse.

Derioch just sighed. "Well, if that's all ..."

Lereia nodded. "We'll stay in touch. Take care of yourself."

"You too," the Bleaker replied, her kindest words by far since the conversation began, but she seemed to mean it.

"Yes," Naghûl assured her. "We'll be back and will also investigate the forged seal. Best not tell anyone about it for now, except maybe Sruce or something."

"I'll talk to Sruce about the scribblings," Derioch explained, nodding goodbye and then heading into the Gatehouse.

When she was out of earshot, Lereia beckoned Sgillin and Naghûl closer. "There is something," she explained quietly. "Both the goblin woman and Blackhoof have no soul signature."

Naghûl frowned. "We should do a signatureless count sometime. There seem to be a lot of them."

Lereia pointed to the left, down the road. "The monodrone and the blade-devil over there have one. I can't see a pattern yet. But I'll keep you current if there's anything special." Then she paused suddenly and closed her eyes briefly. "Hay ... the hay!" She looked excited. "The madman!"

She looked around and Sgillin eyed her with irritation. "What?”

"The one who called the names of demon lords," Lereia explained in a hushed voice. "We found him lifeless!"

Naghûl rubbed the back of his neck. The dead man from the alley? Did his young friend really think he was still alive? She looked around, obviously trying to spot him. Then her gaze lingered on a human man. He walked slowly past them, looking relaxed and almost cheerful ... and when Naghûl saw him, he was absolutely sure he recognized that auburn hair and the clear-cut face with the long scar across the left cheek ... it was the madman they had found dead. "Well, I'll be a cornugon's uncle," the tiefling exclaimed.

Sgillin's eyes widened too. "No way!"

The man wore light plate armor and whistled softly to himself. He had almost passed them when Naghûl stopped him with a loud shout. "Hey!"

He looked around, and now the tiefling noticed that his armor had the symbol of the Harmonium on it.

"Lady's Grace, dear sir," Sgillin greeted him.

"Lady's Grace," he returned the greeting kindly.

Lereia examined the armor. "Greetings, dear sir. Is there a special reason for the Harmonium to be patrolling here?"

"Oh." He laughed. "I'm not really on duty. Well, I'm still a recruit. I was told we don't patrol the Hive. But because of these murders, I thought I'd have a look around."

"And have you discovered anything?" Sgillin wanted to know. "The murders are making everyone here very nervous."

"No, nothing so far. Well, I'll go back then." The man looked around. "I've already noticed that people don't like to see me here. Don't want any trouble."

"I find it pleasant to see the Harmonium here," Lereia replied with a smile. "You haven't been a recruit that long?"

"No, only recently," the man confirmed her assumption. "It was ... an epiphany. A second chance."

"That sounds exciting," Lereia said immediately, encouraging him to tell more.

He nodded. "Yes, I ... I lived in the Hive. Well, not always. I came to Sigil from Oerth ten years ago, then lived in the Market Ward for five years. But one day, I stumbled through a wrong portal ... into the Abyss. Miraculously, I made it back, but ..." He became a little quieter. "I was physically and, above all, mentally scarred."

"The Abyss ..." Naghûl nodded gravely. "That is bad. I can only try to imagine. My sincere sympathy."

"I had fallen prey to madness," the man replied with a sigh. "I don't remember much from those years. Then I died, a few days ago. A dark angel stood over me and laid his hand on my eyes. But when I woke up again, I found myself in a radiant place full of light! A glorious figure appeared before me." Now he looked joyfully excited. "It was Cuthbert. Himself. He whom I had forgotten in my madness!"

Lereia frowned. "Forgive my ignorance. Cuthbert?"

"Well, the god!" the recruit exclaimed, obviously a little horrified at her ignorance. "The god of justice and valor who has his realm on Arcadia!"

"A god appeared to you?" Lereia said in amazement. "Were you a follower of Cuthbert?"

"Yes!" The man nodded eagerly. "I worshiped him back then on Oerth. I will never forget his words. He said to me: ' My son, you have lost your way and I cannot accept you into my realm like this. But I will give you a second chance. I am sending you back to join the Harmonium. He said: Serve the Harmonium and you serve me! "

"Is Cuthbert especially revered in the Harmonium?" asked Sgillin.

"Yes, certainly," the man replied with undiminished enthusiasm. "A great many in the Harmonium are followers of Cuthbert. Yes, I tell you, he appeared to me! I was beyond the Eternal Boundary! And I returned."

At this phrase, Naghûl raised his brows and exchanged a meaningful glance with Lereia. Those were exactly the words that had been in the letter to Toranna.

"Eternal Boundary?" Sgillin asked.

The man nodded gravely. "The one we all will cross one day."

"May I ask how you died?" Sgillin inquired cautiously.

The new Harmonium recruit thought for a moment, but did not seem to take offense at the question. "I don't remember exactly ... I think I was strangled. But I'm not sure."

"That's terrible," Lereia said sympathetically. "Did you look for the murderer?"

"Oh yes, but without success." Then he grabbed his forehead as if he had forgotten something. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. My name is Tylaric Stormwing."

Sgillin promptly choked and had to cough. Naghûl's eyes widened as he remembered the name. Tylaric, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice their reactions at all.

"You'll have to excuse me now," he said instead. "My duty begins soon."

Lereia had recovered somewhat from her surprise and nodded. "Oh, of course! Thank you so much for this incredible story, you are truly blessed."

Tylaric nodded radiantly, bowed slightly and then went his way again. Lereia looked at Naghûl and Sgillin with wide eyes.

"I can't believe it," the half-elf muttered, shaking his head.

"He's on the list!" Lereia whispered excitedly. "And what did the letter say? Plan Eternal Boundary ?"

"Damn it!" Naghûl gasped. "We must try to reach everyone on the list somehow - especially the ones who are worth it." He cleared his throat a little at Lereia's reproving look.

"Let's go meet the others first and tell them about it," Sgillin suggested.

The tiefling nodded, and so they hurriedly made their way to Jana's house, where they hoped to meet the sorceress and Kiyoshi as well.

 

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(played April 12, 2012)