Satisfied they had gotten all they could from Lomilith, Aerikoth and Njord departed to make their wizardly and priestly preparations for the upcoming midnight meeting. Darrow, Dermot and Rosten lingered a bit to speak with Thessar, but then instead of heading for a tavern as originally planned, they decided to check out the Shore cave where Lilly had been attacked. Inside they found a blood trail and eventually tracked it deeper into the sewers, where they were set upon by three vampire spawn. After defeating these foes, who apparently were associates of Xavier, and separately a small pack of ghouls, they decided to head back up to the surface and ended up at the Rotten Root in Mulsantir’s Gate. After a few rounds they headed out into the Westgate night to explore more of the tavern scene.
Middark rolled around, the time for an appointment in the Market that Aerikoth, Dermot and Darrow had promised to keep with a representative of the Lord of the Crypt. Rosten, his face and skin shining with alcohol-sweats, looked somewhat dubious at the prospect as he spit onto the ground and squinted into the night, standing on a discreet street corner with Darrow and Dermot. The halfling and his two companions recognized Aerikoth as he approached them out of the gloom, glowing staff in hand. The wizard then complemented the tavern crawlers on remembering the place and time of their planned meeting.
Dermot declared himself ready as he tucked a football-sized bundle in a sack under his arm, the ranger’s sentiment echoed by his dwarven companion. Rosten, visibly nervous, asked who would be doing the talking with the...creature? Simultaneously, Dermot answered that they all usually chipped in, while Darrow said he would try to keep his mouth shut. Rosten, not having much of a choice, said to lead on, as Aerikoth cautioned that they did not know exactly who they would be meeting with.
After reaching the middle of the Market district, Dermot looked around at the quiet stalls. Rosten remained uncomfortable, this time complaining about the number of “lubbers” about while muttering darkly to himself and tapping the hilt of his weapon. As they continued warily looking about, a cloaked figure passed by them, walking unsteadily along and humming a drinking tune. He weaved back and forth and greeted them, stumbling and dropping something at Dermot’s feet. The ranger saw the item and nodded, after which the cloaked figure hurriedly picked it back up and whispered several phrases before continuing to stumble along, away from the group.
Once the person (?) was out of sight, Dermot declared that they were done there and should go get a drink, asking them to follow him. Rosten fingered one of the charms hanging from his belt and grunted in response, the nervous-looking hin falling in behind his companions. In a low voice as they moved west through the streets to the Mulsantir’s Gate district, Dermot explained that they needed to head to the Purple Lady, which the ranger thought might be an inn, although was unsure. (Evidently the ranger is not well acquainted with the choice entertainment establishments available in Westgate. --R) Darrow in response began sniffing the night air, attempting to use his dwarven tavern sense, but only smelled perfumes nearby. However, this was in fact was a harbinger of their destination, as Rosten grunted and nodded towards the sign of the Purple Lady.
Middark rolled around, the time for an appointment in the Market that Aerikoth, Dermot and Darrow had promised to keep with a representative of the Lord of the Crypt. Rosten, his face and skin shining with alcohol-sweats, looked somewhat dubious at the prospect as he spit onto the ground and squinted into the night, standing on a discreet street corner with Darrow and Dermot. The halfling and his two companions recognized Aerikoth as he approached them out of the gloom, glowing staff in hand. The wizard then complemented the tavern crawlers on remembering the place and time of their planned meeting.
Dermot declared himself ready as he tucked a football-sized bundle in a sack under his arm, the ranger’s sentiment echoed by his dwarven companion. Rosten, visibly nervous, asked who would be doing the talking with the...creature? Simultaneously, Dermot answered that they all usually chipped in, while Darrow said he would try to keep his mouth shut. Rosten, not having much of a choice, said to lead on, as Aerikoth cautioned that they did not know exactly who they would be meeting with.
After reaching the middle of the Market district, Dermot looked around at the quiet stalls. Rosten remained uncomfortable, this time complaining about the number of “lubbers” about while muttering darkly to himself and tapping the hilt of his weapon. As they continued warily looking about, a cloaked figure passed by them, walking unsteadily along and humming a drinking tune. He weaved back and forth and greeted them, stumbling and dropping something at Dermot’s feet. The ranger saw the item and nodded, after which the cloaked figure hurriedly picked it back up and whispered several phrases before continuing to stumble along, away from the group.
Once the person (?) was out of sight, Dermot declared that they were done there and should go get a drink, asking them to follow him. Rosten fingered one of the charms hanging from his belt and grunted in response, the nervous-looking hin falling in behind his companions. In a low voice as they moved west through the streets to the Mulsantir’s Gate district, Dermot explained that they needed to head to the Purple Lady, which the ranger thought might be an inn, although was unsure. (Evidently the ranger is not well acquainted with the choice entertainment establishments available in Westgate. --R) Darrow in response began sniffing the night air, attempting to use his dwarven tavern sense, but only smelled perfumes nearby. However, this was in fact was a harbinger of their destination, as Rosten grunted and nodded towards the sign of the Purple Lady.