Most tables held but one or two people talking in hushed tones, shifty eyes glancing around at the other patrons. A few held more, one of which there was a large man, and by the looks of him, he had a little giant's blood in him. He was much bigger then the cloaked figure, even when sitting. He was probably over nine feet tall, and his heavily muscled body must have weighed over three hundred pounds. He had sandy blond hair and clouded blue eyes. When he spoke, his speech was slurred and a little slow. Most people decided to avoid him – either because of his size or the massive battle-axe resting against the table.
As the hidden man passed the giant's table, he muttered, "Oaf..." The Giant looked at the figure passing and snarled almost like an animal, and gripped his axe. However, a waitress came along just at that moment, setting down fresh drinks. Instantly, the giant forgot about the offending man and began to drink. Grin concealed in his hood, the figure walked up to the bar and rented a room upstairs. Most people were smart enough to do business behind closed doors... or so he thought.
Upon entry into the room, the man did a quick search for any traps or anything out of place. When he found none, he began to look for spy holes. Finally, after a good searching, he found one not so carefully hidden near the scrap of a table that was supposed to be part of the furniture of this room. He quickly stuffed some cloth in the hole and taped it as well. Once sure that he could not be seen or heard, he removed his robes.
Setting the now folded cloth on the cot – that in better times might have been an actual bed – Learith stretched out. It was a nearly impossible task to get his tail to stay still like he had for so long, but he was used to it. Most of the time he would conduct matters at home, but still he was never absolutely certain which guards he could trust. So he would sneak out, something which baffled the guards, whom could never seem to catch him, and do things in private. Learith hated failure, and always felt if it were to be done right, he had to do it himself. Of course, there was the pleasure of the kill... yes there was always that.
He waited for a few minutes before a heavy-handed knock announced the arrival of the person he was to meet. Just to be sure, he waited and the knock sounded again, slightly different. It was, of course, a coded knock, and while such things were easy enough to figure out, it did add a small measure of safety and secrecy.
The fox opened the door and took a step back, looking at his guest. Bigger than the frame of the door, the man from downstairs stood looking back at him. His dull eyes looked around as he ducked, inviting himself in voice slurring a little as he spoke, "Barkeep said this was your room."
Learith nodded as the giant closed the door behind him. As soon as the door was closed, his entire posture seemed to change. He stood up straight and that vacant look left his face. Taking a knee he bowed to the fox, "Sir."
"Welcome Captain, I trust you're well?" the fox said as his servant rose again and took one of the two chairs provided. It creaked, struggling to hold his weight, but held. The Captain was one of the few people Learith knew he could trust; well, as far as he ever trusted anyone but himself. The man was huge, strong and fearless, but none of these qualities were why he had enlisted the man. It was that he could be as deceptive as the fox when he truly wanted to. A glance at him would tell you he was a stupid country hick who may have joined the guard or something along those lines. But his vacant expression and bad speak were all an act. People looked at him and saw a brute at best; few ever guessed at the raw intelligence the man possessed... most of who had found out that fact found out too late, much to their anguish.
He wasted no time, secure in the knowledge that the room would have been secured before his arrival. "Sir, I gathered information on various people, and with a bit of ale, I managed to loosen some tongues." The Fox nodded as his Captain continued. "I sprayed someone downstairs with the Powdered Lillian you gave me so that we can find them later. The man in question knows more than he will tell me; perhaps you might want to have a word with him."
Again the fox nodded. Lillian, one of the types of mushrooms that grew near his home, was tasteless and near odorless. It had no poisonous elements, in spite of being in that befouled land, and could even be eaten. But it had one characteristic. It gave off a small buzzing glow that could only be seen with mage sight. It also lingered on everything that it touched and in the air for hours before losing its potency, meaning anyone that touched its powder could be tracked... easily. Without a word, Learith drew on his cloak and began to say farewell to the Captain.
However the man spoke first. "We will meet here in a few minutes to discuss the rest; I need a drink." Although disrespectful sounding, his lips moved completely different from the words he spoke. Learith read his lips, not his words. He really said, "Someone is on the roof; he may have over heard us."
Drawing the cloak hood over his muzzle, Learith nodded and blew out the candle that lit the room. Stepping backwards, he blended with the shadows. The Captain stared at where his Master had stood just moments ago. Even battle hardened and having seen it many times before, it always sent chills up his spine to see the dark fox vanish like that.
Mission complete, the Captain returned downstairs pulling out a small pouch of coins. He held them up for his 'friends' to see, boasting to them. "The coward ran off when 'e saw me coming!" The crowd cheered for him, then once more as he bought a round of drinks. To them, he was one of the guys, a brute... nothing more. Idiots, he thought.
Meanwhile, a figure crept along the roof. She needed to tell Mister Farrim what she had heard. A cheer erupted from the bar beneath her, and suddenly someone grabbed her from behind. A paw clamped over her mouth, and her captor slammed a blade into her side. Again, a cheer erupted from the bar, muffling her scream. As a blade was pulled across her neck she realized all too late that she had been overheard. That the men in the room below would kill her friend and might find the altar... that the darkness was spreading much faster than she though possible.
Unable to speak, and hardly able to move, she collapsed as she was released to bleed out on the roof... At least it was over; she was growing cold... growing numb. However, the cloaked man she could now barely see in her dimming vision was not going to leave anything to chance. He brought down a glistening blade into her breast with ruthless efficiency. Throat slit, she was unable to scream as he ensured no one would ever learn what she had.
As Learith cleaned and sheathed his blade, he faded back into the shadows to be ready when his mark left the tavern. The girl had learned too much and paid the ultimate price, but still she had served a purpose. Before she had died, she managed to gurgle a name... Mister Farrim. He now knew the name of his mark, and every little bit of knowledge was more power. He knew the first one was here. The first... something... that had the potential to stop the darkness. He knew that this Farrim could tell him exactly where it was and what it did. And tomorrow, he knew he would have it in his possession. The fox decided to leave the body there; it would serve as a warning to all such spies...
Yay for evil! (Does the evil dance.)