Lost But Not Forgotten [Stormphrax] {Training}

[Nascent]

"Ah, he knows a thing or two about distrust. Good to hear. That's actually why I'm here right now, spending the precious time I have until the guards in the basement find out I'm not in my cell anymore talking to the guy who put a nasty hole in my leg."

The thief's sly look became less coy and more serious. "Take this however you want -- truth, lie, doesn't matter, just listen." He looked away, a strange look that was somehow both distant and annoyed on his features. "My... client... is trouble. Nothing is ever simple with this guy. The lantern today was a test and... well, maybe you'll find out what else it was." He shook his head.

"But that's besides the point. Your beloved captain has all sorts of magical goodies locked up under your feet, sure, but he's confiscated a few other... remarkable items that interest him personally. One in particular is the target of my client, and apparently it's urgent. Nothing's ever THIS urgent with him. It's like his insides are gonna catch on fire if he doesn't get this stupid old lantern Halverk has secreted away. Probably not, not really -- that'd be much too generous of the old guy -- but you get my gist. Anything that urgent with this guy absolutely cannot mean anything good."

He paused for a moment, ears twitching slightly, then smiled. "You want answers? I want insurance. Find me two days from now at midnight in the Sole Regret tavern just east of the market district." He held up one finger, expression strict. "And don't bring your captain or any Market Guard buddies, or I won't show up. You, me, and the client. That's the offer, take it or leave it."

There was a sound of heavy, rapid footsteps, someone running towards Brin's guestroom. Kassom grinned. "And that's my cue. Exit, stage left. Remember: midnight, the Sole Regret."

With that, Kassom leaned back -- into the stone wall. With a faint sound not unlike a distant mudslide the stone seemed to shrink back and slide around him, embracing and encompassing him, swallowing the Feral thief whole until no trace of him remained in the room. Mere moments after he'd disappeared one of the household guards was knocking furiously on Brin's door, shouting 'Sir Attlee, Sir Attlee! The thief has escaped!'

[Stormphrax]

As Kassom melted back into the wall, he was vaguely disappointed (in a very Connlaothian way) that the thief's incredible skill was only magic. On the other hand, having never seen magic before, he could not stop himself from running up to the stones once Kassom had vanished and pressing his fingers to them like a child. Solid. He felt his pulse quickening, and very nearly jumped at the hammering on the door.

He opened it breathless, mildly disheveled.

"He was here! He can melt through stone!" He was met by a stunned silence from the guard and pushed past him impatiently. "Come on, he'll have gone back for the lantern. Where's Halverk?"

Even as he spoke, marching down the corridor with the junior guard bobbing in his wake, he knew that they would be too late. What hope did they have imprisoning someone like that? He found a flight of stairs and thundered down it, guessing that it was the right direction, glancing over his shoulder impatiently in search of prompting.

All further thoughts about Kassom he had carefully stowed in a corner of his mind. For now, his duty as a guest of Halverk's was to catch the miscreant. And if they couldn't catch him? Well, then he would mull over what the Feral had said. And he could see no harm in making the rendezvous. He was confident that he could have everything under control. After all, he had already caught him once.

[Nascent]

By the time Brin arrived in the lowest levels of the manor it was abuzz with activity, none of which seemed particularly organized. There were servants giving each other disbelieving looks and household guards arguing or searching around without any apparent aim. At least, until the captain arrived -- at which point everyone was suddenly at attention. His gaze swept the vast, almost cavernous basement area, quickly finding Brin and motioning him over.

"It's impossible!" Halverk seemed furious, almost enraged. Even with his voice low the frustration, like a rumbling earthquake, could be felt just below the surface. He looked rapidly from Brin to the rest of the room, back, and then to his servants. "All of you, out! Now!"

And once more the room became a flurry of activity, quickly emptying up the stairwells at the captain's command. Halverk gestured for Brin to follow him as he led the way deeper into the undercroft. "This situation... it's just... unprecedented. Inconceivable. I don't know any other way to describe it." He led Brin through a heavy oak door that had to first be unlocked with two separate keys. On the other side was what could only be described as a prison in miniature -- cold dark bars of wrought iron were driven into raw natural stone, creating a half dozen holding pens, sealed with "doors" of criss-crossing bars that were made to be lifted and lowered on a heavy chain pulley system. None of it seemed gentle in the least; the cells didn't even have anything for a bed or a bucket, and by the torchlight that was cast over the room it was clear some even had shallow pools of water in them, dripping through the surrounding stone. Captain Halverk grabbed a torch and showed Brin to one dark cage in particular where the water was faintly stained red.

"I didn't want my children to get involved in this; they're not even supposed to know this room exists." He suddenly seemed more exhausted than angry. He held the torch close to the bars, casting as much light as he could inside. Aside from the dismal conditions nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "When I got word I went immediately to the vault. My men on duty were both knocked unconscious and the door was wide open. Somehow the lock was mangled from the inside, reduced to worthless scrap... and yet here the cretin was caged, and not a sign of how he got out."

The captain pounded his fist against the rock wall so hard he bloodied his knuckles. "I swear, that Feral will pay for this disgrace!"

[Stormphrax]

Brin looked about him, feeling somewhat out of his depth. Knights didn't have much to do with prisons, but this place did look unusually unpleasant. Unnecessarily unpleasant, maybe? A drop of water from the ceiling struck the nape of his neck and rolled clammily down between his shoulder blades. He felt another drop strike him and moved a few paces closer to the wall to peer into Kassom's cell.

Was that blood there in the water? He noticed too Halverk's grazed knuckled, but politely refrained from mentioning them.

"The lock is a puzzle. I don't know why he'd have needed to break it at all," he said pensively. "Captain - he can walk through stone. I saw him - he came to my room. That must have been how his was able to escape, and how he was able to steal the lantern in the first place."

In Connlaoth, where most citizens had never seen magic before, this was almost unbelievable. Brin wasn't sure if he'd credit it if he hadn't seen it himself.

"But sir, why did you keep him down here? Why wasn't his wound seen to?"

[Nascent]

"He can what...?!"

Halverk suddenly looked white as a ghost, staring at Brin in utter disbelief. It took him a few very long moments to recover, but his composure was still somewhat shaken and off balance. "Y-yes, of course. Perhaps the bleeding was a bit worse than the physician thought. But that's of secondary importance." He stepped towards the younger man. "You saw this? You saw him?! But... no, he couldn't! Both my vault guards and myself are Mordecai; no magic can possibly be cast here so long as I or they are in the manor." Face twisted with concern and consternation, Halverk turned and began pacing back and forth, clenching and relaxing his fists as he did so. "The creature must have some other power... something unholy and twisted. He must have been playing with us this whole time; if he could pass through stone like that then he could've escaped at any point he pleased. But then why... why wait? Why let himself get captured at all..."

"... Unless..." And the lightbulb went on.

The captain pounded fist into palm, smearing blood across the base of his fingers. "The lantern! He used it somehow! We'd stored it in the vault for the night, but that must be what he wanted, the scoundrel! Somehow he used it to force the lock from the inside..."

"We have to catch that rat; he's made a mockery of us all! Perhaps what he took from the vault will suggest his next move." The captain made for the prison door. "I have to rally the Market Guard, organize a search. Can I count on you to help me, Sir Attlee?""

[Stormphrax]

"You can count on me, sir," said Brin, already moving. No question of double standards ever crossed his mind. Yes he was still planning to meet Kassom at the Sold Regret, but that was in two days time. Now he was helping Captain Halverk. Sometimes Brin was too clever for his own good, and adept and the kind of mental juggling that could keep these two contradictory intentions separate.

They broke into a jog heading towards the vaults, each man picking up on the subconscious urgency of the other. Brin wished again that he had his armour, which was tucked safely upstairs somewhere, but there really wasn't time to get it now. Besides, he was doubtful that they would meet the thief at all. He found it extremely unlikely that Kassom would have taken such a risk as a personal visit unless he had finished his work inside the fortress. He certainly wouldn't have done.

"So what else do you keep in the vaults?," he grunted as they ran.

[Nascent]

(OOC: Thanks for being so patient through all of this. I know we've kinda spiraled away from the training elements, but the story's taken on quite a bit more personality than I was expecting. Anyways, I'll try to move things forward here at a brisker pace so we can get to the training parts I have planned. Don't worry, I promise you it'll be a good ride! ;D )



Captain Halverk went on to explain to Brin that, while magical contraband was by far the majority of the vault's contents, it was also used to store other sensitive items -- evidence in ongoing investigations, records on merchant activities deemed particularly vulnerable or especially valuable to Connlaoth, and on very rare occasion items that authoritative Mordecai, government officials, and even on even rarer occasion the Knights of the White Lily needed kept secure temporarily for one reason or another. He made no secret that he couldn't divulge the vault's contents, not even to Brin; as the captain and his highest subordinates surveyed the vaults' "secured" goods Halverk would occasionally confer in whispered tones with Lieutenant Daelus Harrowstone, his second in command. Whatever had been taken, apparently, was of paramount importance -- in a single night the Market Guard Captain's home had been violated, his impenetrable vault penetrated, and his honor and reputation tarnished gravely, but the matter of what had been stolen clearly outweighed it all.

And over the next two days, as the Market guard fruitlessly combed Reajh for any signs of Kassom's whereabouts, Halverk grew steadily more impatient and agitated.

And then, there was the matter of Brin's "appointment" with the thief...

---------------------------------------------------------

[S C E N E    M U S I C]
[WITH SOUND EFFECTS]

The Sole Regret was, by appearances anyways, simply a normal tavern in Reajh. The mead, ale, and cider flowed; the main room was thick with customers eating, drinking, and either celebrating their fortunes or drowning their woes in frothy amber waves from their tankards. The air bore the scent of dry alcohol and fresh sweat -- not overpoweringly so, but enough to offend those with finer sensibilities. Occasionally a waft of fresh baking or roasting could be caught emanating from a kitchen in the back. There were all sorts to be found here; one needed only glance around the room to take in the good, the bad, and the ugly of Connlaoth on full display. Even at midnight it was a lively place, for as soon as patrons stumbled drunkenly outside or up the stairs to their rooms fresh faces walked in the door. The constant foot traffic created churning a sea of humanity that crested, shallowed, and roiled no different from any tide.

With so many present it would be hard to pick out anyone in particular, especially if they were trying to remain unseen. It was little surprise, then, that this would be where Kassom preferred to meet.

Still, one person did stand out. With every other table filled, anyone seated alone would naturally stick out like a sore thumb -- doubly so if the table was within sight of the front door. The man was old and gray, wearing an equally gray traveling robe. Piercing green eyes watched the door and looked around with barely concealed anxiety. There was no question that the man was waiting for someone... though when Brin entered the older man paid him no heed.

Still, this was the place and the time. Kassom would be here, or so he'd said.

[Stormphrax]

[[Ooc: I don't doubt it! :D It's been great fun so far.]]

Brin knew the Sole Regret. It wasn't the sort of place he had imagined for a secret rendezvous - Brin had the kind of Romantic imagination that pictured meetings on empty bridges in the fog, or maybe in the rain, that sort of thing. He himself had been a patron of the Regret from time to time - in fact he thought he might have been thrown out of there once (a memory that still caused him some shame) - which was an image hard to square with the elusive, dangerous Kassom.

Yes, the elusive Kassom. As he had combed the city with Halverk's men the scale and importance of the search had become apparent to him. All Reajh, it seemed, was crawling with the Market Guard, and Brin was consumed with curiosity about the nature of the artifact and its significance to Kassom's client. Frustratingly however he had almost no time to think ahead to his meeting with the Feral thief. His unfortunate relatives, righteously abandoned for official business during the days, had demanded his full attendance for evening activities and given him precious few free moments to construct any sort of plan. The half hour's walk to the Sole Regret had been his first time alone with his thoughts.

Half an hour was much too short a time. Brin stepped through the door of  the tavern without even a nebulous plan in mind.

The familiar fug hit him like a wall of heat and noise. In one corner a small band, a few fiddlers and a flute, were packing away their instruments, set finished for the night. The barman glanced in his direction and gave him a cursory nod, enough to set his ears burning and a heat rising up the back of his neck. Though the tavern-keeper clearly no longer recognized Brin it was the same man who had previously forcibly ejected a band of the young knights, Brin among them. Not wanting to face Kassom with a blush, Brin allowed himself to be swept up in a swell of people and blended in.

[Nascent]

(OOC: Gotta say, I love the touch of personal history and flavor your post added to the tavern. I'm starting to take a shine to the ol' Sole Regret thanks to your post, and we've only just arrived. Nice work!)


It was only a minute or so into the crowd, trying to remain inconspicuous, that Brin would feel a leather-gloved hand slap his shoulder jovially. In a room full of drunken frivolity that shouldn't have come as a total surprise... but turning in that direction to see no one paying him any attention would doubtless be a touch unexpected.

As would be a figure clad head to toe in dark gray traveling robes stepping suddenly in front of him, holding up a gold coin. The youth had dirty dark red hair and a boyish face, though it was clear from the way he carried himself he was no child. Pale blue eyes smiled warmly at Brin as the young man said "I think you dropped this, sir knight."

The coin was held up plain to see... and on its surface one word, written clear and plain.

'Hello'

"Oh, you're here to meet him, aren't you?" It wasn't a question; the young man's eyes glimmered with hints of knowledge and cunning suddenly, flipping Brin the coin to catch. "He's right this way, up the stairs. Follow me."

Without even waiting for Brin to agree or say much of anything the red-haired youth turned and began making his way through the crowd, leading to what was almost certainly the meeting with Kassom Brin had been told to expect. At the back of the tavern rose a large staircase with hefty wooden steps that looked to each be hewn logs or small tree trunks; Brin's "guide" mounted them with a graceful ease, weaving past others who were descending or ascending the steps. At the top there was a long hallway of doors, each with a cast iron lock built into them to make sure patrons couldn't just wander upstairs in a drunken tizzy and flop down on a bed for the night -- they actually had to pay for the use of a room, after all. Brin was led to one that was standing open... and inside was the odd old man from earlier, the loner sitting by himself near the door. He looked up with a quirked eyebrow as Brin and the youth approached.

"Ah, so this is the one we've been waiting on, hm?" There were two candles sitting on a dresser against the far side of the room, casting flickering light across the older man's aging features as he sat on the edge of the bed, stroking his wiry beard thoughtfully. "I'm still not sure I see the necessity of it -- time is short, after all. But.. if we must, we must." He eyed Brin with a gaze that was somewhere between watchful, curious, and uncertain. "Will he be able to keep pace, I wonder? Will he even be willing? I hope so, yes. Time, after all, is short."

"Please step inside, sir knight." The red-haired young man gestured to the room with a sly grin. "Your... thief... will be with you shortly."

[Stormphrax]

So this must be the client, thought Brin. He could feel his pulse quickening at the mystery and the intrigue, filling him with adrenaline for which he had no useful outlet. In many ways this was still a game to him, the cloak-and-dagger business with the coin reinforcing the impression that this wasn't really real.

"Keep pace with what?" he asked, voice cracking a little as he struggled to keep his excitement in check. He'd have to keep a level head if he wanted any answers, these men were professionals. He cast a quick, impatient glance around the room - empty. The bells of Reajh had been ringing as he'd entered the Sole Regret. It was past midnight.