To Delve in Dark Places

[Vanidor]

"You should perhaps be elsewhere, Madam Jaris. Upstairs, at the very least." This from a man who kept himself shrouded from head to boot-tops in a thick grey cloak. There was a distinct lack of accent to his words, but Kathryn Jaris knew who he was, though perhaps not why he was there. She would nod her head slightly, before starting for the stairs that lead to the second floor of her linen shop. At the bottom of them, she'd turn some and glance back. "Just... try not to break the latch on your way out this time." Then up the stairs the matronly woman went, Jonathen Feul watching her depart.

Not a patriot, that one. Well, not to his current homeland. Coin, though. That she was loyal toward, that and the bizarre prestige she thought she gained from operating within the Thesil spy network. Feul wouldn't damage the shop. It was hard to find people willing to break certain edicts. A lot of coin though. That could do a lot of persuading. In any case, the man would expel a breath and adjust his cloak, pressing his back into the wall behind him. Arms would fold, and into waiting mode he would go.

He hoped that Solena and this Tennant fellow would be along soon enough, there was only so much time that their other contact would wait.

[Elfling]

Tennant had been reassured that it would all be fine. Contrary to Elliot's belief, Solena had no intention of facing Audmathus. There was no desire to burn his body, no matter how dead or alive said body might be. In fact, she hadn't intended on telling him where she was going at all. Her student had gotten good at wheedling information out of her, though. Elliot's reaction had not been her real concern, however. Oh no. Her real concern had been something far more complicated and, in some respects, far worse.

There were not many people that Solena would listen to. One of those people, she had run off after a confrontation over the death of the Marshal. Yet, even more influential to Milia Romanova was Solena's mate. Arkista was the more quiet of the pair of elves, tending to be reserved in her responses. Unless she was dealing with Solena. The rows that they had over the years could easily be considered legendary. The row that they had over the mission that Solena had accepted had been legendary. Solena was an elf descending into the Underdark, after all, and in spite of Tennant being a very nice young man, Solena had no real idea of his skills. Not enough to reassure her partner.

There had been some back and forth, and finally, a begrudging acceptance that the mission had already been accepted, so it was best to get it over with. That didn't mean that Arkista liked it, or that there wouldn't be hell to pay when Solena returned.

It had been helpful, getting her partner's assistance in what she should take and what she shouldn't. Not that Solena was bogged down by anything other than the usual bags that she carried. The elf that stepped into the shop looked as unprepared as she always did. Her hair was back into the slender braids that kept it out of her face, and the hundreds of braids had been pulled back and tied with leather at the base of her skull. Her violet-hued tunic covered her from neck to wrist to hip, and gloves hid her hands. Multiple belts held pouches, potions, knives, and in a spot of preparation, a curled up, woven rope. Black leggings, grey boots. She looked basically as she always did, not as if she was going on an adventure that could very well take weeks.

"The rumors of your headlessness are exaggerated," the elf remarked as she stepped in from the cold, brushing remnants of snowfall off of her shoulders. Eyes slid momentarily to the stairs as if she knew the woman was up there. Solena rarely trusted anyone completely. "It pleases me to know it."

The elf had decided it would be best to let Tennant slip away on his own. She wasn't entirely sure how he would manage with Glenn's ... servitude. But it would definitely be less suspicious if he wasn't seen in her company leaving at the same time. "Tennant should arrive shortly," she told her companion. At least, she rather hoped that he would arrive shortly. The faster they were done, the faster she could get the inevitable tongue-lashing over with.

[Tolleson]

Who was to care if Tennant left? He had no one like Arkista, not really. Gloria would protest, and surely have him in irons before he made it to the door. Her sense of right too firm to find the good in what he might do. And Genny, well she wasn’t so different, if she had the mind to hear him out at all. So it was just Glenn, and not out of concern for his well-being or any love.

But he had behaved quite well, hadn’t he? Always there when Glenn needed. And so like every morning during the last year and with the freedom he had been permitted Tennant checked in with the constable and left for his duties at the Dagger. He would merely indicate in some passing comment that he might return late, an extra task had come up he’d been asked to help with. But not to fret, for he would return.

Eventually. Probably. Though he never did make it to work that morning. Sometime well before dawn had left a note for Dulcie explaining in a few, more simple words, that he had simply taken some time off and planned to return. It was short and with a vague mention of ‘soon,’ signed Tennant. A few coins were left for her trouble, the kitchen and dishes cleaned from top to bottom for good measure.

Beyond that, it may very well have seemed that he simply disappeared. His sparse room had been made and left, his coat and apron hung on the kitchen rack, and the snow covered ground wouldn’t hold his track.

Contrary to his last appearance, bundled up in the thick, patched attire of a proper pauper, his clothes are dark, suited for their purpose, or what had been his purpose and trade previously. Very fine if one considered them for utility, and though they seem to hug him, elongating his already soaring frame, his movements are unhindered. To match he also dons a pair of silent and sturdy boots, while not an elf, with these he is surely as silent. Like Solena, he has a similar set of belts. Though mis-matched, one carries an array of slim knives and small vials; likely potions not too dissimilar to those that his companion carries. And on his back a small and well-made pack, wherein are some compact rations, water, rope and supplies better suited for the fact that he is human.

A whisper of the winter cold rushed in behind the elf as Tennant caught the door before it could close behind Solena. Arriving just after and amid their conversation, he merely smiled. It is good-humored but perhaps entirely inappropriate expression. Letting the freshly fallen and captured snow melt upon his shoulders as he slid the hood of a stolen cloak back, red hair revealed. Had the garment been his, it surely would have been tailored to his height rather than where it fell just below his knees.

[Vanidor]

"Glad you approve. I know I do, rather like having my head right where it is, and not prancing around like a tart on a Tuesday." The man made a cursory examination of Solena here, and then performed another such check upon Tennant once the man stepped into the darkened confines of the shop. "Ah. This must be our other companion?" He'd glance at the elfling for conformation, hoping to see such. He'd almost hate to have to kill someone at the beginning of this endeavor. Almost.

As it was, beneath his all consuming cloak a hand WAS moving for the flanged mace that rested at his hip. It was never bad to be ready, just in case, as Feul didn't know Tennant, by face at the least. With any confirmation from Solena, the man would adjust his stance and then motion to the side door. "Through there. We need to make for the shop owned by the elven councilor, Goldenhair. The portal there will take us to just outside the Enclave. Which is a much shorter walk to the edge of the province than going from here. Damn Burel and his bloody promises."

Feul tried to mutter that last under his breath, but as quiet as it was in the building, it wasn't likely that it'd be silent enough. In any case, he'd be talking again shortly afterwards. "Ppf. Maybe an hour, if we're quick and the snow drifts aren't thick. Then. Up to you. The channeler at the border is ready to send us directly to the region of the Underdark we need to search. But I was told that I should offer a chance of rest for the night first. Not everyone has my stamina." Full of himself, was Jonathen Feul. But he had a right to it. Almost indefatigable the man was, or at least had seemed, when his presence was more up visible, in the Janerio days.

[Elfling]

It was subtle, the gentle touch of a gloved hand against the hidden arm of Jons Feul, as well as brief. Just a light squeeze of fingers to indicate that it was alright as Solena finished her walk to join his side so that their voices could be kept lower. As her hand fell away, her body turned to face the far taller redheaded male, that amused smile that he knew so well never leaving her face. "Tennant," she greeted and confirmed all at once. "I expected it to take a little longer for you to slip away."

Of course, the moment the elven councilor was mentioned, the warmth faded. Her head turned to face Jons with an almost accusatory glower, and arms folded across her chest in an immediate pose of defensiveness. "Burel said nothing about dealing with Goldenhair." To say that Solena didn't get along well with her 'own kind' was something of an understatement. Not that Vanidor had done anything specifically to the shadowdancer. There was simply an immediate dislike of her 'brethren' and their foppy-soppy ways. Solena had avoided the elven male at all costs. As for Burel and his promises, well.. that earned Jons a little smirk. He should know better than to think Solena couldn't hear anything.

"I've rested plenty," Solena murmured as she glanced towards Tennant. "..and the sooner we get this done, the better. Do you have any objections, Tennant?"

[Tolleson]

To the question asked by the third party member, and apparently their host, Tennant would nod and near his friend. Even though the question hadn't been asked of him he smiled, placing a hand on Solena's shoulder for assurance and so he might listen better and speak softer. Perhaps it was his his insatiable need to butt into other people's conversations, but more likely it was the sight of this man's slight movement for his weapon.

"Good to know that not everyone in Myrken recognizes me," maybe it was that ridiculous hat in the Wanted Poster's etching, that threw everyone off. "I am indeed, and your name, friend?"

Tennant's expression shifted from quite content to an exaggerated feign of being wounded Solena's words. As if she had under-estimated him and to do so was some grave, personal offense. "Then I am glad I continue to exceed your expectations," a snarky smile returned, as if to ease a worry that was surely non-existant. But in earnest, he'd hardly slipped anywhere; there was no cunning deception. There were no lies told, he would be late and he would be back soon, or planned to be. A matter or days or weeks, come Spring; it was all relative. If he lived.

For the gloating mention of 'stamina' there is simply a pull at the corner of Tennant's mouth, a misshapen grin that neither confirmed, denied, or challenged the boast. They would see soon enough. As for muttered words, they meant little, but were heard none-the-less.

"Agreed. Too long and the Governor will have my head," that is, if he wouldn't have it already, for just a few misplaced days. Such a morbid thought and still a wide and charming smile.

[Vanidor]

"We aren't dealing with the elf, not directly. As long as anyone holds to their promises to not harm the 'Wood, just about anyone is allowed to utilise their magic to get to the Enclave. Unless you're an orc or troll, I wager. The man is off his rocker if you ask me, dining with Drow and Dwarf and all manner of odd sort." Feul would rock his shoulders ever so slightly, then motion toward the door. He will pause at it for a moment, tilting his head to the side a notch to peer at Tennant.

"Call me Jons." A wry smile there, such a brief twitch of the lips, then his hand would press at the door and let it swing outward. It lead into a small, but enclosed, yard. A ladder was already set up and leaning against the side of the building. "Now then. The shop is two streets over, nigh to the middle of the lane. Can't miss the place, only bloody shop with all it's greenery still flourishing in the midst of winter." He'd eye Solena here. Elves. They were all off their rocker, as it were.

"Anyway. Fancy a run across the 'Highway'?" There is another smile here, with a motion towards the ladder with his hooded eyes. An actual motion with his hand was made, just in case. "It's been a while for me, I confess, so Solena if you wouldn't mind?"

[Elfling]

"Do not look at me like that. I'm not one of them," Solena scowled at Feul as if offended that even a look could suggest that she was off her rocker. Not that she wasn't off of her rocker. She was. It just had nothing to do with a shop with flourishing greenery. At her house, she'd had to bring all of her potted plants inside for winter, and trying to keep poisons away from a toddling baby was a challenge.

Still, her eyes moved from Jons to the ladder, and then her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "Alright. I know it's been a while since you've gotten a good look at my ass, Jons." Smirking, an impish look was tossed at them both before gloved hands gripped the rungs of the ladder. It wasn't often that the elfling actually got a chance to scale a building via a ladder, and its ease had her pulling herself up rung after rung as if she was a monkey. It was only a couple of seconds till she was at its top and moving out of the way for the others.

"I've been letting Elliot run up here. There's a few new spots to potentially put your foot through, so do be careful. Both of you." It would've been a nice warning if Solena hadn't seem so smug about it as she stood there waiting.

[Tolleson]

Jons, the name is accepted with a nod and a smile, amicable as ever as things got under way. Lips would pull tighter and pressed together in an attempt not to laugh at the jab. Off her rocker or not, there was no way he was going to make a comment to Solena. One way or another it would bite him in the ass.

Tennant would follow with ease, his long limbs quite able to skip a rung at each upward grasp. Though he was still careful, mindful of ice, the elements, not moving too quickly up only to find his face on the elf's posterior.

"I'm surprised he hasn't broken a leg," to this there is almost disbelief in his voice, a biting reply for Elliot's so-smug teacher. At least in Tennant's experience, Elliot was a clumsy and showy acrobat, who was far too often unaware of his surroundings. Or cared too little, too late.

But they weren't here to discuss where her pupil could use improvement. Tennant would make room for the pair in his company, spying the shop across the street with its lush foliage. Though it was the integrity of the roof and potential trouble spots on the way there, that his eyes searched out more carefully.

[Vanidor]

"There are worse places to be than behind you, I wager." Here at the bottom of the stairs, Jons would remove the heavy cloak that covered him. Folded once, twice, then a third time before being stuffed into a slender pouch at his waist. Magic. The elfling may not like it much, but Jons would never turn away something useful. Besides. That pouch meant that he didn't have to carry a pack like the others.

Feul was a stocky individual, certainly not lithe like Solena, nor slender of limb like Tennant. If anything, he was vaguely similar to an oak that decided to wander about on two legs. He was quiet however, as his ascent of the ladder proved. Not a creak, despite his obviously solid weight. There at the top, he'd glance about once more, then bend to lift the ladder up and draw it after them. This, too, he would fold a couple of times along its joints and stuff into his pouch. Never knew when one may need a ladder, especially down there.

A moment later, he was bending down to adjust something on his boots before straightening up to gauge location. "Ah." Then, a turn and a motion of his hand in the direction of the Councilors shop. "You let the whelp run up and down the rooftops, eh? He must be better than he looks then. I hated roaming up here in the past, you missed so much going on down below. Though, I guess that's the point." The mace is checked once more, making sure the straps would hold the thing securely to one leather-wrapped leg.

"Well. Let's get that lovely ass going, hm?" A wry grin attached to that last bit, before his face is wrapped in a dark coloured scarf.

[Elfling]

Not that Solena had a pack either. The largest part of the elfling's disapproval of magic was when it was used on her. And there was no helping Solena's ruffled feathers. She was protective of her protege, and Elliot's honor had to be defended to her friends. "He is growing," Solena muttered, lips pursed as if that explained everything. "He is at that point of wanting independence, but he isn't sure how to obtain it."

Her slight irritation didn't last long, though. The elfling sighed and just flashed them both a smirk. "Then your teacher failed in a vital task, Jons." Solena was nothing if not cheeky, and that had just proved the point. "A high vantage point is the perfect opportunity to see things you might otherwise miss if you were on the ground."

But, he offered her the lead. That was either a good thing or troubling. Solena chose to accept it as a good thing, and started off at a quick pace that wasn't quite a jog. There were weak spots to be avoided, but she trusted that both of the men behind her could move when she did, very purposely avoiding the places that she knew to be unstable. She also made sure to keep them close enough to see her shape in the dark. Professional courtesy, given that she wasn't sure if either of them had the ability to see in the dark.

That would make the Underdark perfect. Two blind males led by a Shadowdancer.

[Tolleson]

By the sight of these two, Tennant had begun to wonder if he’d prepared properly for this endeavor. Upon seeing the magic sack, however, it was comforting to know that he was justified with his considerably less magical, small pack, strapped tight to his back.

Adjusting and bickering made him grin and gave him a moment smooth out his hair and throw the hood back over his head. Tails of the short-cloak were gathered, compressed tight and tucked under a belt.

“And be unseen, so long as we’re not heard,” the grin remained but the tone was like that of a chiding parent, hushing babes. The lead is offered and he will follow the pair.

Despite the long limbs that sped him along, he was fluid. Though he matched every move, if ever there was a slight creak, he adjusted; nimble and quick, light steps perfectly placed to counter. Perhaps the building settled or a breeze had passed, nothing more.

It was kind of Solena to be so considerate, surely his natural vision was no match. But he followed without difficulty and was hardly unprepared for darkness. And when true darkness came, he would not be blind.

[Vanidor]

They are dancing across the rooftops of Myrken. It was amusing to know how little things changed over the years, for he can remember doing this exact same thing six - seven years in the past. Back then, though, he'd been hunting thieves and cut purses across the very same territory. Oh, some the buildings were newer, but that was neither here nor there. The rooftops were the same.

"Never had a teacher." Said as they move over one street to the next. The hop is easy, really. Less than a foot the way some of the eaves were built so close to one another. "Besides. It was the bird droppings I hated the most up here. How can something so small make such a bloody mess?" Unconcerned with the noise of his voice, it seemed, but then there seemed to be good enough reason to be.

Who else would be up and around this late in the evening... and then who would care enough to grab a constable to report them?

[Elfling]

If they hadn't called a constable during the morning that Solena had taught Elliot a very important lesson about his surroundings, they wouldn't now that most of the town was asleep. Even so, Tennant's caution was taken into consideration, and the elf was silent save for those moments when they were hopping from one place to another. "That is true," she mumbled to Jons' observation about the birds. "That was not a problem in the desert."

It was only once they were atop the indicated shop that the elf finally stopped, lowering to a crouch as the other two caught up to her. Even in the dark, her expression was grim. "You are certain that the elf isn't going to have a problem with this?" 'The elf', as if she wasn't one. There was a difference, of course. Any memories of elven life had been lost decades before. All she had was human cities. Port towns. Desert towns. She'd even learned to sleep. But the last thing she wanted to face was the judgmental eyes of one of her own race. Not that it was so easy to define elven races by one word, of course.

Regardless, it was Solena that was suddenly up and moving to the edge of the shop's roof and peering down, as if expecting some kind of trap. Then again, Solena always expected some kind of trap.

[Tolleson]

It was true, that Myrken wasn’t exactly renowned for it citizen’s overwhelming concern for matters that didn’t directly relate to them. With demons and blights ravaging farms and families, not everyone was as diligent in their law-abiding duty as say, Gloria. Thank the Gods. Still, if a constable was told or had happened to hear them, the endeavor would be over before it began.

He wouldn’t hush them again. For his part however, he danced quietly from ledge to ledge, over small gaps and clothes lines, drunkards in the gutter and lone windows with dying flames and dreaming residents. With skill he would dart, high above the lovers and quarrels, the poverty, the sickness and sadness, the law and the scum; real freedom in the air that rushed by and the open sky. Ending far too soon, his momentum ceased and he joined near Solena in the careful perch.

It didn’t need to be asked that she looked for a trap, and her words were enough before to indicate some mistrust, dislike, or foul taste this Goldenhair, left in her. Checking for traps was wise.

“Does your friend know we come?” the whispered inquiry directed towards Jons once they were all together again. Friends or even just allies, could quickly become enemies if taken by a sudden surprise.