No one could accuse the Redscales of being strangers to the many and varied variety of debaucheries that could be found in the Running Cleaver, but Sol’s squad in particular seem to make an art form of the practice. Three chairs, two tables, a fireplace poker and a dozen minor injuries later and they awake to find themselves extremely hungover and sharing their beds with a selection of satisied opposite genders in their company. With further elaboration on the events of that night best left to the imagination, they instead assemble in the mess hall.
Post awaits them; news from their respective homelands from such reletives and acquaintances as they keep contact with. Of particular note is Nathanew’s letter; a missive from his somewhat estranged brother, who lives far to the north. As it transpires, their shared mother has grown ill and is in need of medicine; medicine that luck would have it is in plentiful supply thanks to their illicit looting of the Merchant’s Guild stall. Together Menath and Nathanew begin to formulate plans for the delivery of such, the dragon being acquainted with Nathanew’s family through… mysterious means.
Soleas (Who had unsprurisingly skipped the reverlry and thus was in posession of an insufferably pain-free head) interrupts further introspection by announcing that in their absence a fresh contract has arrived, requiring them to report to the research quater of Chiconis within two weeks, offering an ungodly sum in gold… and annotated with an ungodly number of warnings from apparently everyone who has handled it. It comes as little surprise to learn that Ludwig Gristgear is behind the summons, and much to their dismay has chosen to single out their party for more of his nefarious works.
After short discussion punctuated with many four-letter words, the Squad jointly agrees that Gristgear can wait, and that they would rather prolong their leave of absence. Mel and Nath make preperations to head to the Fiend city of Kirasanct, finding that they are to be accompanied by Alva and Hathril, who are drawn by a mix of curiosity and having nothing better to do. In short order they outfit themselves with cold weather gear, stepping through the nearby portal to the frigid northern realm.
Kirasanct, ever the forbidding place, is not one that offers a warm welcome to outsiders. The same remains true now, with the native Fiends giving them little more than a cursetory glance as they emerge from the unknown skeins of the Portal network. immediately beset by the cold, the first thing the party does is seek out a nearby tavern in which to escape the unforgiving weather, whilst Nathanew disappears into the city on errands of his own. annoyed at being cut out of the loop, Hathril Alva and Melanth warm themselves by a fire and speak of their possible reasons for being here.
Abruptly, Nathanew returns with a female Fiend in tow; a timid and somewhat awkward looking creature clad in thick glasses and utterly unremarkable attire- which in itself was remarkable for a Fiend. Introducing her as Nivarien Vantacci, it appears that the two are extremely close friends and have been so for a great deal of time. Despite her natural reserve the young girl quickly warms to the motley group, as Nathanew takes Alva to a Fiendish outfitters to obtain some more fitting cold weather gear for the wiley hybrid. Though Nathanew’s purpose in bringing the girl along remains unclear, they decide to make a trak to Boris’ village in the morning.