Private Tales Scheming! In the Allirian Underworld

[Amalric Urahil]

The Tower folk don't care much for the Shallows. Not unless they want something that the city guards won't normally let through.

Funny thing is, the folk of the Shallows don't care much for the Tower folk either. The swampy town outside the city of Alliria sits on stilts for the most part. It's not uncommon to find bodies floating off the docks. Often Western Allirians and foreigners who asked too many of the wrong questions. There are other bodies, but those never get found. Bogs will swallow men whole without a trace, they say. But nobody makes mention of the gangs that slit their throats and push them in first.

Along the docks sit an array of inns, pubs, and the like. One of these, the Eastender, was rather unremarkably, with a dingy, poorly lit interior. Inside, men and women sat at tables, sharing drinks, meals, and playing games of dice and cards. Most were sailors. Others weren't. In the dim light, it could be hard to tell.

Threnody sat in the corner, a hood pulled low over his features, awaiting his contact to arrive. The dull murmur of the inn proved to swallow up most conversation and the acoustics were poor.

A perfect place for a meeting that "never happened."

Camille

 

[Camille]

Camille was very familiar with The Shallows. It was was smack-dab in the middle of Syndicate territory. Considering the Underlord she shared a bed with, it wasn't wise nor prudent to meet within the heart of a rival gang. And so, her contact would find a scrappy-looking urchin with missing front teeth wander into the Eastender Inn.

He had dark brown skin with bright green eyes framed by a curly mop of lighter brown hair.

Shuffling inside he'd make his way toward the corner booths, a longing glance at some of the food, though questionable at best, sitting at the tables. Finally, he stopped in front of Threnody. Digging his dirty hands into his pocket he held out a slightly crumpled piece of paper.

Still, folded in the shape of a small swan. The wear of jamming it in his pockets not too prevalent.

"I've a message for you," he whispered and inched closer. Curiosity getting the best of him as he tried to peer more into the shadow of this person's cowl.

 

[Amalric Urahil]

Yellow eyes with slitted pupils stared back from beneath the hood. White flashed in the gloom as Threnody's lips parted open.

"Speak, child."

Threnody waved a finger and suddenly the air beyond them deadened, the quiet murmuring abruptly muffled.

"None can hear you now but me."

Truth be told, he was displeased that the woman herself had not come, but perhaps he would be required to come closer to her own territory in order to have a face to face meeting. So be it.

Camille

 

[Camille]

“For you,” the boy passed the intricately folded note across the table. And then he turned and ran. That odd bit of magic clearly spooking the child out of begging for some scraps.

Once opened, the note would read: ‘My dear Mister Threnody. I apologize for my absence. Please meet me at The Painted Dragon for a drink later tonight. I’ll buy. I look forward to meeting you.
- C’

 

[Amalric Urahil]

Threnody sighed and pulled down the hem of his hood a little bit further. He had hoped to do this without having to go too far into Alliria proper. Standing, the sorcerer made his way out of the tavern and into the night air.

Some time later, he found himself pushing open the door to the Painted Dragon, a much more upscale sort of tavern, with bright lights and the crooning of a bard accompanied by instruments in the back corner. The sound of laughter, the sight of smells, and the smell of good food permeated the place.

Threnody hated it.

Rather than remain near the doorway and scan the crowd where everyone could look up and wonder who the strange hooded fellow creepily staring was, Threnody elected to glide on in and found his way to the barkeep.

"Hello," Threnody hissed, "I am looking for Camille."