(Written with Randy)
It was still odd to enter The Dour Dram through the front entrance. Not that she though Linthel would mind her using the side entrance, but she was trying to be normal. She had tucked her ears into the crown of braids she wore and pulled the navy cloak a bit tighter. While she had become old hat at being unassuming, there was still a small fear each time. Yet as she stepped into The Dour Dram, she was welcomed by the din of a busy evening, mostly those from the Underhang coming to relax after a long day of labor.
A few of the regulars recognized her right away, and Mari too easily slipped back into friendly small talk, but finally she caught the Colonel in the back, slightly away from the crowd. She wished the patrons well before making her way gracefully to the booth. Mari was surprised to see what she knew was the entire menu , even the secret items, entirely spread out across the table. Yet she met the dark eyes of Colonel Trask, who gestured to the seat across from him graciously. “I hope you’ll assist me with all this, Miss Grimm, proper Elvish cooking that's not been enchanted to endure as a months-old trail ration is hard to come by for me these days” He said with the slightest of smiles.
Mari nodded enthusiastically as she began to sit, “Linthel is incredibly talented”. She paused for a moment as she spotted two tables of supposedly average customers that were well armed, and muscular. One seemed to nod towards Trask and there was a moment Mari glanced to the door herself.
You are safe for now, sit, child.
Slightly bolstered by the assurance of her Godmother, she did. “Thank you, and thank you for meeting with me. I know I’m not one of your normal clients” she admitted
“Indeed, the Sworn Hand Company generally reserves their time and energy for paying customers, however…” He paused a moment, looking away almost sheepishly “I’ve taken a personal interest in your … case. Much of it is vexing. That said, my private investigations have led me to information that is of interest to the company”
Mari tilted her head and yet leaned forward, trying to keep herself still. From her lap, Orion snagged a bit of food, and yet Mari could do nothing but focus on the mercenary’s words.
“It seems that there have been a number of sightings of a person matching the description of the red-scarred man I mentioned to you before, here and there, across Hallea, some stretching back quite far. Rarely in good company, moreover. In fact, that's where the overlap occurs: it seems that quite recently, the man was seen meeting with Roblos Ukhit, an independent "mercantile sailor" who is absolutely an arms dealer who the Company has had unpleasant dealings with in the past. While the red-scarred man's trail is lost there, it seems that Ukhit's personal yacht recently chartered crew for a long voyage. . . to Bosaa. Which I’ve heard you might be heading in the direction of. “
Her eyes widened but Mari slowly nodded, surprised by the information and also very concerned. This red-scarred man felt like a bogeyman , and yet Mari had felt the very real effects of his presence. Was she strong enough to start chasing him down? What if her friends got hurt? Still, Trask continued “It's not much to go on, but you could possibly persuade Ukhit to share what information he knows about the red-scarred man. If you so happened to disrupt his unsavory business in the process, well, you'd certainly have the gratitude of the Company as a whole and myself personally.”
“I could see what I could discover, and an arms dealer in that area is troubling by itself” Mari noted, concerned although a fleeting thought came ”No information about the other man I was looking for?”
Trask seemed to pause, before nodding in confirmation, sincerely apologetic. “Unfortunately not at this time, I will keep an ear out though and of course reach out if I find anything”
Mari nodded, sullen for only a moment before smiling brightly. “It's okay, this information is more than enough. If the scarred-man is still looking for u-…myself, then any information is important. Thank you so much!” And she meant it, absolutely.
There was still a worry, a concern, a doubt. Mari hated it, but she had seen it from her friends, kindness was given freely so very rarely. Yet as she attempted to understand the Colonel’s intention there was a small bit of buzzing, instant and painful. Her vision then became incredibly bright, burning away in a golden flame.
Trask, younger than he is now, perhaps your own age, studying a sheaf of papers through narrowed eyes. Somehow, you know it is a dossier: a wealthy criminal kingpin. Again, Trask, now with several others, cloaked in dark robes bearing crossbows and daggers, slide down a fine stone wall on a moonless night as rough-looking armed men pace back and forth above. An ornate office, filled with a chaotic collection of fineries and wantonly strewn coins, now tossed into disarray. A hulking hobgoblin's body, slumped on the floor, a dagger in his back; the twisted face matches one from the papers before. A doorway, just ajar. Beyond, a. . . playroom? Two young hobgoblins, their eyes shining with confusion. An out-of-the-way abbey in the depths of night, the doorway lit only by a torch. Two bundles, left upon the stoop. A letter flaps in the wind, tucked between them.
The buzzing stopped, replaced by the comforting sound of a bustling tavern. Mari rubbed her eyes quickly in an attempt to hide the watering. Yet Trask seemed to be eying her with concern as he sipped from his lager. Still the gentle, and guiding voice of her Godmother lingered
Not all injustices can be righted, not all sins can be washed away, but there is yet some honor in striving.
Mari had to keep herself from nodding, but slipped her mask back into place. “I’m sorry about that, something in my eye” She offered in explanation before immediately shifting the subject, asking some clarification on Ukhit and telling Trask what she had seen while she had first been in Bosaa. Eventually it turned naturally into something almost resembling normalcy. Two people sharing a meal during a busy tavern while trying to hide a mirrored pain.