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Cloak and Dagger: A Spy Game

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The guard opened the door for Gund to go in. In the room was Analyn and Vincent who was currently looking though the window with a spyglass.

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Vincent heard the door creaked, and calmly glanced over his shoulder.

 

"Greetings, Master Gund." Vincent said with a smile, then placed his spyglass down, and turned around to face the dwarf.

 

"Is there anything you require?" he asked.

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After finishing her second glass and having chatted some more a caught up of their recent pasts Shannon stands up. "Well I am off to bed, you are more than welcome to use the guest room, its up the stairs, second on the right. Or natascha will see you out. I do hope the rest of the job is as pleasant as tonight has been." With that Shannon heads up to bed.

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Kyra finishes eating as she and Shannon reminisce. Thinking that it is much too late to walk back to the Fauka Mellonea and quite honestly, Shannon's place would be a nice change.

"That is very kind of you Shannon," she replies at her offer to stay. "I believe I'll take you up on the offer." Kyra gathers her weapons and climbs the stairs to the guest room. She closes and locks the door out of habit. She removes the many belts, pouches and boots and lays them neatly on the floor. Her mind is flooded with past memories. How was she able to forget them so easily? "The past is just that, Kyra. Rest now," she says to herself sighing. She sits in the center of the bed with her legs crossed and her hands in her lap. She grips her dagger with her right hand. She takes a deep breath and begins her meditation.

****

She raises four hours later to the early morning darkness. She goes to the washing area that is attached to the room and cleans up. Once dressed, she writes a note thanking Shannon for the room and letting her know she will return mid afternoon so they can accompany each other to the mansion.

She leaves the note folded at the top of the stairs and leaves as quietly as she can, locking the door as she exits. She begins to head to the Fauka Mellonea to make sure everything is in order...

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Vincent heard the door creaked, and calmly glanced over his shoulder.

 

"Greetings, Master Gund." Vincent said with a smile, then placed his spyglass down, and turned around to face the dwarf.

 

"Is there anything you require?" he asked.

"Yeah, I was wondering if you guys could look after some of my gear while I'm cooking for that slime across the street," Gund rasps. "I'm sure I'd be tossed out on my arse if I showed up armed to the teeth." With that, he removes his bandolier and armor and trows them on the bed. After a moment's hesitation, he adds the hand crossbow and case of bolts. "Be careful of them bolts, the blue-tipped ones are poison."

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"Don't worry, we'll look after your stuff."

 

Vincent stood by the bed and picked up one of the blue poisoned crossbow bolt. He looked at it, then carefully rubbed the poisoned tip.

 

"What kind of poison is this?" he asked as he placed the bolt back into its case.

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"Blue whinnis. Puts most folks to sleep like that," the dwarf replies, snapping his fingers. "Now, those daggers are well balanced for throwing, and the crossbow's special made to fire in any position. Good weapons. Use them if you have to, but I want 'em back. Now, I'm off to sleep in the Moldy Hole or whaever the name of that rat's nest is I'll be sleeping in tonight. Good luck. If you need me, you know how to find me."

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"You can always use the other room we got to sleep, I'm sure it'd be more comfortable... and convenient." Analyn said

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Shannon awakens in the morning and gets up, sticking her head in the guest room door she sees as she had expected thay Kyra has left. Finding the note she sees she has a few hours before she needs to get her game face on. Even so she spends a while pulling out the most suitable clothes and making other preparations.

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"No thanks, lady. It wouldn't do for anybody to see me walking out of this swank place and then walking over to beg for a job. Might make 'em suspicious."

 

He turns and leaves. He makes his way back to the Slum and his room at the broken down inn. Termon better be worth all this trouble, he thinks as he beats the fleas out of the flimsy mattress. Then again, Jorel's never steered me wrong. Don't know about that Analyn b!tch, though. She's got beady eyes like a goblin. She'll need close watching, or my mother was a panther. Checking his weapons to make sure they're within easy reach, he drifts off to a not-so-peaceful sleep.

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"It's getting late, Miss Analyn. You should get some sleep before tommorow. We have a lot to do and we need all the rest we can get. I'll stay up for a while and keep a watch over the mansion should anything come up." Vincent said, then picked up his spyglass and spied on the mansion again.

 

This time, he tried to spot more specific things like guard placements, patrol routes, or any potential visitors. Also, he tried to time the shift as it was changed every now and then.

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"I have other business to attend, Mr. Vincent." The woman said and left.

 

A while later, Vincent thought he saw a shadowy form moving about the vicinity of the estate.

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Hmmmm...

 

Vincent focused his spyglass around the mansion, seeing if he could catch the shadowy form again. Upon seeing it again, the form waved at him. Vincent tried to focus closer to the shape, but it disappeared into the shadow.

 

Other business, eh?...

 

Vincent re-focused his spyglass and observed the inside of the mansion compound, watching the guards' movement step by step.

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After closing down the alchemy/potion shop for the evening, Thorin Durston straightens out the shelves. It was a busy day, he thinks. I’ll have to restock some of those healing potions and my entire stock of arthritis elixir is gone.

 

He makes a note on the parchment on the counter of all of the potions that need restocking, sweeps up the foyer and heads upstairs to his humble apartment for the night, his knees creaking a bit on the stairs. This life sure isn’t what he had pictured ending up at in the heyday of his youth, but it ain’t too bad neither. Once Thorin makes it up the stairs, he fixes a cold dinner of left over pheasant and a nice hardroll from the deli next door and sits down in his favorite chair with a mug of ale to relax before turning in for the evening.

 

A noise from down stairs startles Thorin awake from his slumber, the remains of the half eaten meal and the 2/3rds full mug of ale clatter to the floor. There must be a burglar somewhere in the store. D@mn vagrant kids, always breaking in to steal the love potions and the “special” herbs. I’ll teach those ruffians a lesson that they won’t forget this time!!!

 

As he creeps down the stairs into the store, he uses a disguise-self spell to make himself look like a cross between an ogre and a baboon braces himself then casts a light spell in the middle of the room. The room is suddenly awash in brilliance and instead of the anticipated hooligans, he sees a vaguely familiar man sitting on his counter.

 

Quickly removing the disguise spell, he deftly catches the object that the man tosses at him without a second thought. Looking into the palm of his hand he sees a small emerald pinkie ring. “What are you doing in my store, sir? I’m closed for the evening; you’ll have to come back tomor…Wait a minute, this ring. You’re Jorel aren’t you? I’m afraid that even if you come back tomorrow, I won’t have what you need in stock. I’m an alchemist, not a spy.”

 

Jorel smiles at Thorin with a quirky sideways grin, “Drop the charade, Tanner Durden, I know who you are and you know who I am and what I do. It’s taken me years to find the famed Thief Catcher from the northland, but I know that it’s you. It was a stroke of luck that I found you, we purchase items here all of the time, but my normal runner was down with an illness of some sort so I had to send another boy, a boy that was there on that fateful day so many years ago. He witnessed the power that you wielded first hand and anyway, who could forget the great Tanner Durden, hero of an entire city.”

 

“Be that as it may,” Thorin/Tanner responds hesitantly, “I’m not that man anymore. Tanner Durden has been dead and buried these last fifteen years. What possible use can you have for a forty year old relic, even if I was interested?”

 

“Leave that to me,” Jorel replies. “I need your help, and there are few who possess your particular skills and experience. I need to know right now, will you join us. I assure you that you will be more than appropriately compensated.”

 

On the verge of saying no to the man, Thorin/Tanner thinks back to his earlier feelings that he could have done so much more with his life. He was such a good officer of the law at one time, before the incident, that he could have made a difference. Still, he had a good life now, a quiet life. “No, Jorel, I can’t do it…oh, what the heck, count me in. What do you have in mind?”

 

Laughing aloud Jorel claps Tanner on the back. The two of them proceed up stairs where they sit, after Tanner straightens up the mess from earlier, and drink a mug of ale while Jorel explains the specifics of the assignment to him and what he is needed to do. Eventually in the wee hours of the morning, Jorel leaves. Tanner lies on his bed and falls instantly into a deep slumber, dreaming of the days of his youth and the villain know as “The Butcher” who changed the tide of his life.

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In a city as big and dangerous as Siltar, a typical night is everything but uneventful as some of our brave adventurers are about to find out....

 

 

OOC: PM's sent to some, awaiting conclusion

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