Black Hart

Gradsul by Twilight

Chapter 13 - Black Day for a Grey Toad

Adar stood there knocking for several minutes before the man came to the door. He was muttering and mumbling, mostly curses, as he opened it. He stood with his left half covered by the door, his right arm also back behind the door in the same manner as when he had been talking inside his cloak, which he still wore.
Adar could see the man's full horror now - his face was a mass of warts and sores, open and painful, and it almost hurt to look at him. Despite being almost six feet tall he stooped and crouched, his legs bent and his neck leaning over, making him look both short and poorly. Instead of lifting his head, he turned it to the left and looked up at the priest before him. A horrible smell of dampness and other disgusting odours he did not wish to identify floated to his nostrils.
"Why I'll pound yer..." he began to snarl, before catching sight of his caller. "Well, what do yer wants knockin' on ma door, almost poundin' the darned thing in?"
"I regret to disturb you, but we at the temple are celebrating the holiday of St. Hargrymm in which we venture forth into the poorer areas of the community in order to help the needy. You look ill, my friend..perhaps you could do with a healing poultice?" Adar smirked.
Yes, some aniseed and chalk dust should do wonders for this man's cholor. Though he didn't imagine it would taste good. Perhaps a little wine and some lamp oil? Wasn't that a troll's version of a well-balanced diet?
The man looked at the priest, and seemed to straighten up somewhat. He cleared his throat.
"Forgive me snappiness, sir," he replied in a much clearer, pleasant voice.
"I've had a bad day. Please, won't yer come in, ah can put the kettle on fer some Kaffey, or somethin' a little stronger if yer know what ah mean."
The man's hideous visage winked which, if it were possible, made the man even more hideous. He wandered away from the door, leaving the priest to follow, into the one-room hovel, which was dirty and smelly to the extreme.
The man searched about the drawers and bundles of clothes and other items lying on the floor. He glanced up to the priest, still standing at the door, and gestured to a single wooden chair, at least the only unbroken one, sitting in the centre of the room, facing the door.
"Sit yerself down, sir. I knows I got a kettle somewhere," he said, continuing to rummage. "Truth be told now, I'm sorta used to the way I looks - I know many of you folks don't think much of it and would like to be healin' me, but in me youth ah tried, and even the gods never wanted me ter change. If the Gods don't want ye to change, ah says to meself, then why should I?"
Adar raised an eyebrow at the man's philosophy - as he scanned the room he saw the blackened kettle under an old shirt by the barely-lit fireplace.
Adar took the man up on his offer and sat in the dilapidated chair.
"Well, I can't stay very long..Must be seeing others you know, but perhaps a drink of kaffee and a word of wisdom for the wise from your life experiences." Adar hid a grimace..drinking anything this one offered would definitely be going above and beyond the call of duty...perhaps he could collect 'hazard pay'.

As soon as they entered, Barad had motioned Eloi over.
"A man's been asking after yer friend ther, the Olf with the one eye," he declared.
Eloi glanced over at the irritated Akhan, whjo was pawing at his filthy clothes.
"Did this man say what business he had with us? And what information did you give him?" he asked the barman.
"Never said much about why - tried to act all casual, like it never mattered ter him. Still, it mattered enough ter him ter give me a Grafsmerkke fer feedin' him some duff info."
He held up a shiny platinum coin.
Eloi mulled over Barad's answer for a few minutes, then added, "And what news of Cinion? Has he returned from whatever important business he had?"
The barman shook his head, and Eloi ordered their beers before returning to the table, where his companions were deep in discussion over their findings, and the best course of action.
"Barad just told me that someone was asking after us - Akhan in particular - this afternoon."
He sat down, reaching for his ale.
"From the description, it sounds to me like the man who was following us at Halykk's warehouse," he said to Smokelight.
Akhan started to get a bit agitated, tugging on his dirty clothes...
"Look, I've got to get cleaned up...now! Give me a half hour, and you can fill me in when I come back..."
He could not bear the thought of going back out looking like an urchin, and he was more than a little concerned that someone would recognise him from the docks and associate him with the ship. They did not need that right now! Quickly he rose to his feet and sped off back to Halykk's house.

There was an unnerving silence, and Adar was about to say something when he heard a slight whistle - suddenly pain bit into his neck and as his hands went automatically to his neck they found the thin wire of a garrotte slicing into him, this madman pressing his knee into the back of the chair and pulling on it with all his might.
The man started a horrendous cackle, that to Adar sounded as though he was very much enjoying his success so far. He was thankful of years of training - he had seldom been in such a position, and mentally cursed himself for underestimating the man and sitting with his back turned to him.
As he lurched back, pushing his legs with all his might, the man's cackle silenced, and the next sound was the satisfying crunch of cartilage as the back of Adar's head smashed into the wretch's face. The garrotte dropped to the floor in front of him, and he was free to breath again, spinning and pointing Krakenshroud at him, his other hand involuntarily feeling at his throat.
Adar could feel a fine line where the wire had cut into his throat - not too deep, and nothing to worry about. The man's hands covered his blood-splattered face, and as he lowered one, reaching into his cloak for the sword, Adar was glad to see his nose was badly broken.
With startling speed, the man swung a well-aimed blow at Adar, and he almost cried out in surprise as the rusty shortsword bit deep into his upper left arm
As Adar swung Krakenshroud, he felt sure he had lined the man in a perfect hit - but again the man twisted and spun before him, and almost made it clear of his blow, Adar's last-minute adjustment catching the man barely with the flat of the blade. He could tell this man was no simple fool, and was beginning to wonder if the old woman's doubting his being this legendary 'Grey Toad' was foolishness on her behalf, not the madman's.
He sensed the man was trying to reach the door, as he had predicted, but a slight adjustment made sure that Adar was squarely in his way again. As they faced off, the man, his eyes wide open with fear or excitement - he could not tell which - reached into his cloak again and withdrew a potion bottle, pulling free the cork with his teeth.
Adar swiped hastily at the vial, but he missed by some distance. As he regained his balance he could see the man had swallowed its contents and thrown the vial aside, assuming a fighting stance. With that, Adar pulled out a dagger from his belt and assumed a more serious fighting stance. There'd be no more fooling around with this one.
Yet before he had pulled the dagger clear from his scabbard, the man had slashed at him, and it was all he could do to slip out of its deadly path. As he lunged and cut at him, the man dodged the blows annoyingly - if he had been fast before, he seemed to be getting faster. Adar's mind boggled at his speed as the man lashed out at him again - his skill was poor, but with such ferocity he almost made up for it.
Adar winced as a short jab by the man caught his left wrist before recovering quickly. The man's movements were almost in slow motion as Adder jabbed a deep wound into his unprotected knee, and he felt the shortsword strike the bone beneath, glancing off and ripping on down into the hamstring muscle.
Instinctively, the man dropped his guard and Adar landed a blow to his neck with Krakenshroud, almost decapitating him. The man dropped to his knees, his blood gushing everywhere from his fatal wounds - for a second he looked to Adar with a look of shock, surprise and fear. Then he toppled over and fell to the ground, the dirty floor becoming thick with his dark blood before his heart stopped.
Adar could feel the man's hot, sticky blood covering him from head to toe. He gazed at the man now dead on the floor.
"Well, so much for that...there'll be one less deranged lunatic for the world to worry about" he reflected."Better get outta here before somebody decides to investigate, and get these wounds checked. Our Lady of Fate only knows what I might get from that rusted shortsword."

Akhan wandered quickly through the streets back to Halykk's home, trying not to be seen. Nobody seemed to pay him much attention, apart from a couple of streetkids who laughed and pointed at his sorry state. In an effort to avoid bringing attention to himself he chose not to reply - in his state of mind he would probably just as soon run the little buggers through.
As he moped into Halykk's house, the fat merchant appeared in front of him, nodding towards his study. Akhan followed him in, cautious of Eloi's suspicions.
"Sit down, Vesic, si..." he said, then realising Akhan's sooty state. "I won't ask, dear boy, but sit down anyway."
As Akhan sat. Halykk leaned over his desk towards him with the eager look of a youngster visiting his first bordello.
"Your friend Eloi, I mean Zeb, visited me today. I told him I wouldn't get involved, as he wouldn't fill me in properly, but it seems I'm involved anyway. I just found out ten minutes after he left, but as we were talking a man was booking in two crates to my warehouse - a man by the name of Vellip O'Shad!"
Halykk grinned from one ear to the other, pausing to watch the smile creep across Akhan's face.
"Thought yer'd like it dear boy!" he said gleefully. "As yer might know, all cargo from the Docklands must, by guild agreements, be offloaded by dockers, then taken by cartmen to a guild warehouse in the Orgsworth. Then, they must be offloaded by guild warehousemen and kept ther overnight before the owner even gets a look in - give or take the few who deign to pay the appropriate fee for speedy process. We've got to get our pick of the crop, if yer know what I mean, boy.
"Anyway," he continued, "seems this Vellip chap is in a hurry, 'cos he paid the fee fer his load of lead - a pretty penny too. Someone must need ther roof lined in a hurry, I thinks. Now, he's due to have it collected jist after dark t'night. Can't let yer near it 'til then, but yer know, once its out of my sight I couldn't care less what happens to it. And if its going towards that bastard Gelders it'd make me a happy man to think it never arrived, whatever your cause."
Halykk grinned a smug, self-contented grin and sat back in his chair. Akhan started to sit back too, then looked at his soiled clothing and smiled meekly, then shrugged.
"Well, dear Halykk, it seems our 'cause' falls somewhere in the realm of your interest." 
Akhan appeared thoughtful for a moment. In all honesty, he did not want to appear too eager to comply.  They were running short of time on this and tonight's transfer seemed like their best chance.
"Now, I would assume that one wouldn't want a large show of force for either 'party' when delicate matters take place.  It would be interesting if something happened to create a little ruckus away from the transfer site.  Nothing serious, but enough to open a few portals for the opportune, or crates, as the case may be."
Halykk smiled and stood up.
"Really, Vesic - the less I know, the better," he said walking to the door. "Do what you will with the information, and if it hurts Gelders, all the better for me and mine."
Halykk walked out the room, leaving Akhan there in his sooty clothes. He stared at the doorway for a moment, then arose and had some water brought to his room.  He cleaned up and changed as quickly as he could, unable to resist taking a few extra minutes to make himself better than presentable.
As he changed Akhan ruminated over over Halykk's motivations.  What did he really want from them , as opposed to what he said? He suspected it was deeper than a little clothing war...

Eloi squeezed his head, peering down at his ale. Never since he had awakened in Niole Dra after the Battle of Galden Field had his head hurt so much. It seemed that instead of finding solutions, they were finding more and more problems.
He battered his fist on the table, although not so loudly as to draw attention.
"We have missing team members, multiplying enemies, several targets we haven't even seen yet and a load of gold sitting in a warehouse!"
He gurned his face around, as though the solution would be found somewhere in his contortions.
"Listen, I know I got a bit uppity at first, but we are a team - I am the leader, but not the be all and end all. So we know our options - what say you all? We know what action we could take, what action do you think  we should be taking?"
Kyros shoved Eloi another tankard of ale.
"It's the nature of the task," he shrugged. "No open fighting, not yet anyway, no digging into some dungeon. Just digging for information, looking for one, maybe more, people who are doing things they shouldn't be."
"Let's snatch the gold. And leave some of it in the warehouse still, and some back in the ship, most of it in a storeroom somewhere. If we can manage, scuttle the ship as well. Tomorrow we find a new inn. If that's agreed, Smokelight and I need to catch up on some rest to prepare for the night, if you know what I mean."
Privately Kyros regarded the half-orc carefully. Eloi did have the ability to move men around when necessary, and Kyros was here after all, to assist this man in whatever ways were crucial to getting the job done. Eloi reminded Kyros of someone, though Kyros couldn't quite place the memory.
"Where's the half-elf anyway? He can't be too much longer," he stated.
"Well why don't you take some rest then," Smokelight said to Kyros, "and then say a prayer for us while you're at it. When you're refreshed, and after you've done your prayers, I suggest we go to Halykk's warehouse, disguised as best as we can when we approach. The thieves are naturally best at the silent and unseen approach, while the good cleric and I are not - so perhaps we should hang back until Eloi and the others have cleared the way. If you have to make a quick escape, I think I can manage to cover you," the wizard said, cracking his fingers. "Of course, at that point, there will no longer be any need to be subtle."
Eloi nodded at their ideas.
"Fair enough - how long will you be?" he asked, glancing over at the door.
"I suppose we have to wait for Akhan anyway," he said.
Almost instantly, on cue, Akhan wandered through the door, looking much the better for a wash and a change of clothes. He strode happily over to the table, and sat down at his dinner, which had gone cold by now.
"What have you been discussing then?" he spluttered, with a mouthful of food.
As he ate, Eloi filled him in as best possible on their plans. As Eloi finished, Akhan smiled, shaking his head.
"Change of plan, I think, after I tell you what I found out," he said, with only the slightest hint of smugness. He then let out a resounding belch which sounded even more smug.
"Halykk told me about the crates," he said, stopping briefly as the serving maid took their plates away. "Thank you my dear..."
"As I was saying - I don't know if he's playing us, but he told me everything. Apparently, according to him, ten minutes after you left he discovered that as you spoke a man by the name of Vellip O'Shad was booking in two crates to that very warehouse!"
Akhan took a welcome gulp of ale.
"Apparently, and I didn't know this, all cargo from the Docklands must, by guild agreements, be offloaded by dockers, then taken by cartmen to a guild warehouse in the Orgsworth. Then, they must be offloaded by guild warehousemen and kept there overnight before the owner gets to see the damned cargo - give or take the few who deign to pay the appropriate fee for speedy process. In effect it gives the Orgsworth guild their pick of the goods to pilfer, and the merchants expect a certain level of 'disappearing stock'.
"It would appear that Vellip O'Shad is in a big hurry though, 'cos he paid the fee to get his cargo early, and not a small sum I believe. Even better, he's due to have it collected just after dark tonight. Halykk can't let us touch it until its out of his care, but in his own words, after that he couldn't care less."
He angled his head questioningly.
"Seems like a good opportunity to see where the 'gold' is going. So what do you want to do? Think we should make a heist attempt, or will we try to follow them?"
Eloi did not seem too happy - sure enough, the information was pleasing, and it might mean that Halykk had nothing to do with it. But it meant more thinking, and he had done far too much of that for one day. He shrugged his shoulders and turned his open hands upwards.
"A load of gold ain't going to tell us what's going on, is it?" he said. "But we risk losing it, and O'Shad - its our only link to them. What do you guys think?"
"We follow," said Kyros intently. "We have to give Halykk the benefit of the doubt here. I don't know if he's involved, but if he's not, he's being very helpful here - which shouldn't be surprising considering his debt to you Akhan."
"Thanks to the quaint rules of this place, Vellip's plans, whatever they are, have been delayed until tonight at least. He needs the crates delivered very urgently, and I suppose we might suspect Gelders as the final destination, but that's for us to find out tonight. We still need information - who else is involved, what is the gold for? Vellip is still a bit player only in this entire thing. I say we find out where the gold's headed. Let's stake out the warehouse and await Vellip."
"Scuttling his ship is a bonus." Kyros finished with a twinkle.
Eloi nodded, seeming more pleased that his opinion had been shared.
"A follow it is, then. We may find out more of our quarry tonight, and I should think it won't be hard to avoid losing two cartloads of 'gold'," he said.
With that, he passed two coins to Barad, and they departed the inn.

Previous Chapter

Return to Black Hart page

Return to Greyhawk Matters

Next Chapter