Tibur Vutha

Happenings 3rd Session

The party returned to Graywall after receiving a letter and a request from The Arcane Order asking Markl to return and find out what has happened to Derek. He received a small box from the Order as well.

Upon reaching Graywall they meet Sauriv again. He tells them if they need information to find a man named Des. When asking for directions to Des’s favorite haunt, The Blood Club, they run into a goblin. Mordrog licks his face and tells him he tastes like fish. The goblin is freaked out, gives them their directions, and then leaves. They venture far back into the darker parts of Graywall and see the bar nestled between two larger buildings.

Upon entering, they see 2 men drinking at the far table, a skeleton drinking water, Frank the Troll, and a man relaxing in the far corner, keeping to himself.

Redin’k approaches the man and asks if he is Des.

“That depends on who wants to know.”

“We heard that you’re the person to talk to about Derek.”

The man frowned. “Definitely not Des.” He took a swig of his drink.

Redin’k tried again. “We received a letter asking us to find out what happened to him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shook his head and continued staring at his drink.

Mordrog approached. “Rustle up any fillies lately?” He grinned toothily behind his armor helm.

“What?” He asked, raising his eyebrows and giving him a disapproving smirk.

“It means to forcefully insert yourself into an unwilling woman.” Mordrog animated the statement with hand gestures.

The man raised his eyebrows, digging out a coin and slapping it on the table. “Wow.” He pushed his seat back and got up, leaving the bar. “No.”

“What did I say?” Mordrog frowned.

Markl shook his head.

“I thought he was a cowboy.”

Mordrog approached the bar and took a seat.

“Do you have any fish?”

The troll nodded and went into the back, eventually returning with a large, alien-looking fish. Its skin was smooth, instead of scaly, and it had five eyes perched on the top of its strange face. Its fins were ribbed and spiked.

“5 Silver.”

“Yes!” Mordrog said excitedly, reaching for the fish.

“5 silver.” The troll said again, keeping the fish just out of his reach.

Mordrog frowned.

Redin’k walked up to the counter and handed the bartender his coin.

Frank handed Mordrog the fish.

YES.” He said. He began to pull out the creatures large teeth and stick them into the counter as the bartender watched, fascinated. After pulling out the teeth, he bit into it, taking just a few large bites to finish the whole thing. Once it was finished, he used the large fangs of the fish to pick his teeth.

Mordrog left the bar and pondered what to do while the others talked. He grew bored quickly and took a seat next to the skeleton. They exchanged friendly conversation and shared a plate of food and then they had a friendly arm wrestling match. Much to everyone’s surprise, the skeletons won. There was a little speculation on whether or not Mordrog had thrown the match, but with as upset as he was, it didn’t seem plausible. He grew steadily more upset and left the table, heading moodily back up to the bar.

Markl was leaning up against the counter speaking with Frank.
“Do you know that man that just left?”

“That depends,” said Frank. He scratched the counter thoughtfully.

Markl set a copper piece on the counter. Frank shot him a look and walked away. His information was worth more than copper.

Trying to get the bartenders attention once again, he began setting more coins on the counter.

Frank purposely ignored him and headed over to talk to Mordrog.

“I saw Bo beat ya in a wrestlin match.” He laughed.

“You want to arm wrestle?”

“Sure!” He smiled and slammed his thick arm on the bar, extending his hand towards Mordrog.

Mordrog easily won the match. Frank laughed and tossed him another fish.

“You’re pretty good. Still wonderin how ol’ Bo beat you though. Name yer prize, boy.” He grinned toothily. Mordrog thought a moment.

“Who was that man that just left?” He said beginning to eat his next fish.

“Oh, that guy? That’s Des. He hangs around here from time to time. Nice guy. Doesn’t say much though.”

“Thank you.” He hastily chomped down the rest of his fish and left, standing with the rest of his group.

“I guess we should go look for him…” Redin’k said slowly.

The group slowly moved outside to see Des leaning against the building.

Markl approached him. “I wish to speak with you about a private matter.”

Des eyed him and shook his head, sighing. “Are you going to buy me a drink?”

Markl nodded. They went back in, taking the same small table towards the back and Markl ordered two ales.

After Des had taken a few drinks, he set his small box on the table.

“I’m with the Order. They’re looking for a man named Derek. We heard that you might be able to help us.”

Des leaned back in his chair and took another swallow.

“What a mess this has been. Fine. I’ll help you. But I don’t do anything for free.”

“How much?” Markl nodded.

“100 gold.”

Markl’s eyes widened slowly and he thought for a moment. He reached into his pocket and drew out ten platinum, stacking them and sliding them across the table.

Des took them and slid them into his pocket.

“The Derek I met was a rogue hired by the Arcane Order.”

“Not a cleric?” Markl asked, slightly taken back.

Des shook his head. “He was disguised as a cleric of the Silver Flame. He had found me in town and had been looking for the Cult of the Dragon Below. I told him to meet me at nightfall the same day and he never showed up.”

Markl’s brow furrowed.“Did he tell you anything else?”

Only that he knew the Cult was using dragonshards to collect sacrifices.

Markl pulled the purple dragon shard out of his cloak.

“Like this one?” He said, setting it gently on the table.

“Yes.” Des eyed it warily. “They had a plan to use the sacrifices to undo the Silver Flame. Derek told me that he had discovered one of the Nine in ”/campaign/56112/wikis/graywall" class=“wiki-page-link”>Graywall and had come to investigate." He shook his head. “Not a surprise how he ended up… sending a single man to take on a Daelkyr.”

Markl shook his head. “Do you know where we could find his body? We’ve been sent to collect it.”

Des frowned. “I know where you can find the Cult.”

Markl sat quiet a moment. “Okay. We’re going to rest tonight. Meet us here tomorrow? And we’ll follow you?”

Des nodded and finished his drink. He set a silver on the table and left.

It was morning when they met next, and Des pounded on the cart in front of the bar. Markl showed his head, sleepily. “I have to prepare my spells.”

“You’ve slept late. The Cult meets in two hours. We need to leave now. Prepare your spells on the way.”

Markl nodded grudgingly and stepped back into the cart.

“You’re forgetting something, wizard.” Des pounded on the cart again.

Markl showed his face again, annoyance on it now.

“My daily fee.” Des raised his eyebrow and looked at him expectantly.

“It’s daily now?” He asked incredulously. “A hundred gold?”

“You’re asking me to take you to the most powerful cult in Khorvaire, a cult aiding a Daelkyr, and you’re bitching about a 100 gold? I should make it a thousand.” He said angrily.

Markl grumbled and passed him 10 platinum. Des dropped it into his pocket and waited for the others to ready themselves.

“Time’s wasting.”

They finally proceeded across town and stopped half an hour later and a large abandoned building. It was made of thin rickety wood and had no windows. It looked like no one had been inside in ages.

“This is the place. They’ll be here within the hour.”

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Happenings 2nd session.

They climbed the stairs leading to the dark walls of Graywall and met two ogre guards each standing 7ft tall. The guards allowed them to pass asking only what their business was. Mordrog replied “fish”. The guards looked at one another and opened the gates, having no idea what to say and no reason not to let them in.

They met a dragonne just inside the walls and he stopped and asked them their business and told them it was a town full of monsters so to be careful. They exchanged words and the dragonne told them of a cleric he had seen recently with two ogres fitting the description of Derek. The travelers what he knew of the ogres and he said he only knew that they owned a tavern in town.

The party decided to go bar hopping and stopped at the first bar they came to. “The Drunken Hag”
There was few people in the bar, including an orc dressed in a brown cloak with golden designs, a drunken goblin, and some skeletons eating french fries.

In the next bar they stopped at, “Two Brothers Brews”, they discovered Derek behind the counter looking dirty, starved, and all around miserable. The bar was packed and there were multiple people drinking, eating and chatting. In one corner sat three beautiful women drinking frilly drinks, in another a tall, dark, handsome gentleman drinking a blood red substance. In the opposite corner were 2 men and a woman chatting quietly and drinking ale. In the other corner, there was a man in a black cloak, covered from head to toe, drinking water. In the middle of the bar were three zombies, chowing down on brains. Behind the counter, was Derek and the two ogres.

Astrid approached the bar and said she was in heat, proceeding to hit on the ogres. They asked her to leave and then threatened her. Redin’k spoke to Derek while the ogres were distracted, asking him what had happened and why he was here.

He explained that he had come to Graywall after hearing of one of the nine Daelkyr being here and planning something. He had yet to complete any of his research and had been captured by the two Ogres who saw him as a slave.

They went outside the bar to plan on how to rescue the poor cleric but no one could decide what to do so Mordrog knocked down the door and strolled in. “EVERYBODY OUT!” He shouted.
The zombies shambled out and the man in the black cloak left but everyone else stayed. “NOW” The man in the corner stood, putting down his drink and approaching Mordrog, attempting to calm him. But before he could do anything, Mordrog struck at him with his chain, injuring him badly. The man limped back to his chair, drinking his drink. The three women in the corner stood and began to cast spells simultaneously. Mordrog dropped to his knees, feeling his strength being zapped.

GIVE ME THE CLERIC” He screamed. The ogres took a step back. “Fine. He’s yours.”

Mordrog picks up Derek and takes him out of the bar.

“Thank you for saving me!” He says, slightly terrified of this nine-foot tall creature who saved him. “I appreciate it. I was staying at the inn. I left some stuff there. I’d like to return there and take a bath.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No… if you want a bath, make some water, fill some barrels, and bathe behind the cart.”

“That seems…rather awful. Can’t we return to the inn? It’s only a stone’s throw away from here..”

“No. You either stay with us, or stay here. If you stay with us, you get to sleep in the fish cart.”

Derek looks at them wide-eyed, unbelieving he was just saved to be treated this way.
“I’ll stay here… I’ll head back to the inn if you change your mind. I needed some help with my research…”

“Nope. Let’s go west.”

Derek leaves them and goes to the inn, returning to give them a letter to give to clarence with his seal on it.

The party then leaves to go West towards the Shadow Marches, proceeding to get mercilessly attacked by Harpies because the DM was angry.

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(Happenings 2)

The travelers left Wroat to take the ferry to Galethspyre. The town was known for it’s trade in dye’s, particularly a color known as Galethspyre Blue. The had drapes, curtains, dresses, clothing, everything in was in blue.

After wondering their way through Galethspyre and out of the town and to the west. They past Ardev. Marcus follwed his nose to a dank fishy smell and ran into a black lake. The lake reflected no light and Mel and Astrid spotted a white/grey fish moving underneath the water.
The fish attacked them and they killed it easily. Mordrog ate it and developed translucent, tacky, skin and began to feel weak. After collecting the body, the made their way to the cleric to get Mordrog cured and discovered the fish had been plaguing the town for weeks, causing the people of Ardev to give up fish trade. It had also been killing anyone who could get close enough to the water. Astrid had taken a tooth as a trophy from the fish and had taken it to a blacksmith to make it into a necklace. He had done it free of charge for them killing the fish that had taken his daughter’s life.

After finding out that the fish had a bounty on his fish head, they returned to speak to the lead cleric at the church. They discovered that another cleric had gone missing. Upon searching his room, they found a dagger like the one used on Mel the Magnificent. They resolved to find the missing cleric and followed the brimstone smell out of town and towards Greywall.

On the way to greywall, they were attacked by gargoyles. They dispatched of them quickly, with only minor damage to the wagon train and continued their journey.

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Chapter 1

There are stories told of great endeavors and of tragic heroes, who save worlds and end wars. They are often told of one great mortal, who single-handedly thwarted evil and freed the lands. This is not one of those stories. Do not begin reading this thinking it will be a tale of morally righteous characters, of those whom devote their lives to just causes and ending world suffering. This is not a tale born of good deeds and virtue. It is merely an account of various travelers that perchance banded together because the gold was right. But, I digress. Let me continue.
The land, cracked and broken by combat, is Eberron. It has been a decade since it was ravaged by war and the cities are piecing themselves back together, finally on the mend. The war was The Last War. That is the one recent in minds, not yet fully recorded in history books. It was a territory fight and it broke the land up into several smaller countries, mere shadows of the great land before it. Though, this is not the war of the story. The war that matters is the one that happened before time was recorded, between the Dragons and the Daelkyr. The Daelkyr are foul beings, forged by the blood of Kyber, the underworld. They sought to control Eberron and pushed the Dragons back, forcing them into a corner. The Dragons created their friends the Coultr and the Coultr were wise and brave beyond measure. They sacrificed their souls to bind the Daelkyr in the Silver Flame, a large ethereal fire that traps evil within. There is more to this story, but this is what any child knows in Eberron. It is considered fairy tale, myth, as intangible as the story of Creation.
Our story finally begins in Wroat, the capital of Breland. It was a quiet day, not a common occurrence in the large city. The clouds hung low over the marble and stone that created Broken-Blade castle and the surrounding manors. The city itself was placed on an island in the middle of a large lake. Walls surrounded the outer edges of the city and there were only two bridges on which to exit, both heavily guarded. It was evening time, and rain was threatening from the low slung clouds across the sky. A small crowd was gathered in the town square, watching a wizard perform small magic tricks: levitations, lights, conjuring fire and different items. His name was Mel the Magnificent and he was a rather well known old man. He traveled from town to town, putting on shows and inspiring young magic users to explore their talents in wizardry. He was performing on a small wooden stage, canopied by a red cloth. The crowed was cheering lightheartedly, amused and thankful for the free show. Amidst the people cheering, there were some odd figures. One was a wizard, Markl Hoenheim and his bodyguard, Mordrog, clothed in a large black robe, towering at least three feet over the majority of the crowd. Another was Astrid, a traveling Catfolk merchant. She had large pointed ears and orange fur covered in black stripes. She was handy with a bow, and had worked with a caravan most of her life. Another was a young man that stood off to the edge of the crowd, his eyes not really focused on the show. His clothes were torn and dirty, hanging from his frame. He looked like he had barely escaped a brutal death. His name was Marcus and he was a were, a full-blooded shape-shifter that could change into a wolf. He seemed to shake slightly, or fidget, and one could only wonder if he was nervous or watching for something. The other was even stranger still, a psychic, with dark yellow skin. His body was speckled with black spots and his hair was a fiery red. He didn’t bother to hide his strange features from the townsfolk. His name was Riden’k Rasir. He was abused and tortured by Mind Flayers, thrown out of his home plane and onto the material plane with nothing but his sanity, and maybe not even that. He glanced around the crowd, his eyes shifting from person to person, not really focused on any one thing. Except for his eyes, he seemed oddly still, opposite the Were.
More curious than any of these characters were several purple robed figures spotted throughout the crowd. They wore hooded cloaks and kept their faces dark. As the show progressed, one figure moved to the back of the stage, making his way quietly up behind the curtain.
“This guy has to be joking. I could put on a better show than that,” Markl grumbled to his bodyguard. “Look at how weak his evocation is. Where did this guy study?” He asks incredulously, folding his robe around him and rolling his eyes.
Mordrog grunted in response, tugging at his cloak to make sure it covered his face. “I’m hungry.” He muttered, growing restless. “When do we eat?”
Suddenly, the wizard on stage collapsed, falling to the floor. The cloaked man stood above him, holding a dagger. The end of it dripped in blood.
“What—“ Markl gasped.
“Cool trick.” Mordrog clapped slowly.
The cloaked man stood on stage, overlooking the crowd. His hood fell back and revealed a pale face with a large tattoo taking up the entire left side. The design wrapped around his eye and covered his cheek, going back into his hairline in all directions. The dagger he was holding didn’t have a metal blade at the end but instead, a black shard of crystal that seemed to glow faintly. The man spared one more look of disgust for the crowd and raised his arms, muttering. The ground began to shake beneath them.
“LOREAT!” He shouted, thrusting his palms upward and vanishing. The other few purple-clad figures around the crowd vanished as well. As the ground quaked, parts of it began to split open and the crowd scattered. Astrid swore and readied her bow, running to a safe distance and pulling out an arrow, notching it to the string. Marcus took a deep breath and pulled two flails from his belt. The metal handle was attached to a chain which in turn was attached to a spiked ball. He had taught himself how to use them and they were deadly when they hit. The yellow creature closed his eyes, taking an even breath and readying his mind for attacks. He was psychic and the only weapon he needed to ready was his mind. Markl muttered and prepared a sign with his hand, furrowing his brow.
“That man spoke Draconic…” He watched the ground, preparing himself for whatever showed. “Loreat… it means… ‘die’”. He shook his head. “Ridiculous.”
Mordrog threw off his cloak. The nine foot tall creature was clad in heavy spiked armor, including a helm that covered his whole face. Chains wrapped his arms and waist, made of several different types of metal. He detached one from his mid-section now, holding it loosely in one hand, ready to attack. “Better get food after this.” He said angrily, watching the earth beside Markl. “Better be fish.” He grumbled.
The rest of the crowd continued to scatter and scream wildly. The cracks in the ground widened and a greyish rotting hand appeared, followed by another, and another as a hideous stumped monster pulled itself out of the ground. Its face was squished into his chest, which sprouted 4 arms, a Morningstar in each one. It had two mouths, one right below the first and two short legs with bare oversized feet on the end of them. It grunted and growled, running after Mordrog.
“A Dolgrim!” Astrid let the word fall from her mouth, unbidden. “It’s a Dolgrim.” She shook her head, taking aim at the creature. Dolgrim were foul beings, created by the Daelkyr as minions in the First War. They were thought to be two creatures smashed together and known to have two separate consciousness’s which abled them to dual wield weapons and perform attacks without flaw. When alone, Dolgrim carried on unintelligible conversations with themselves and kept to the Shadow Marches, awaiting the return of their banished leaders. “How could this be?” She furrowed her brow and took the shot, hitting the Dolgrim through the eye. As he collapsed, others began crawling out of the ground as well. There were 12 total. She had no more time for thought as she took off, raining arrows on the creatures.
Mordrog let out a wild yell and swung one of his chains, lashing out and smashing a Dolgrim into the ground. Markl winced slightly at the disgusting sight before casting his own fireball spell and scorching 4 of them. The Dolgrim let out a stream of unintelligible yowls and ran in circles, patting out the flames. Astrid was streaming arrows at them relentlessly. Marcus approached with a loud growl and sunk his flail into the head of the nearest one, taking it down, and immediately swinging after another.
Riden’k closed his eyes and focused on a group in front of him. As he opened his eyes he released a burst of energy that tore flesh from bone. Several of the monsters fell back to the ground, unable to scream with the wind knocked out of them.
One Dolgrim looked upon the smatterings of blood that remained of his fellow monsters and ran, screeching into the middle of town, desperately looking for a place to hide.
“No you don’t.” Mordrog growled, chasing after him. He caught up with him easily and mercilessly crushed him with one large claw. The other four finished the monsters off as Mordrog sprinted back over.
A cleric stood on the stage, hunched over Mel, examining his body. His name was Clarence and this was the sixth murder he had seen this week. He shook his head. The eyes of the body were white, drained of color, like all the others. What could it mean?
“You there! Heroes!” He called out to the travelers. “I’ve never seen anyone fight like that. It was quite amazing!”
Markl huffed and looked at Mel’s body. “Not so magnificent now.” He muttered, his back turned towards the cleric.
“Any idea what happened just now?” Astrid slung her bow on her back and walked gracefully towards the stage.
“Sadly, no.” He said, once more looking at poor Mel’s corpse. “We have had multiple deaths and disappearances in the past months. Fifteen are missing and ten are dead.” His face darkened. “Nothing so out in the open, though.”
“Do you know what’s causing all of this?” She gestured towards the ground and the bodies of Dolgrim littering the now bloodied square.
“I don’t…” He shook his head. “Derek knew more about the Dolgrim than any of us did, but he’s been missing for two weeks now.” He lowered his head so she wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.
Astrid looked at him sadly, then awkwardly looked around the square.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but do you think you could help us look for him?” He asked, gritting his teeth. “You all dispatched those monsters so quickly…”
Mordrog grunted and turned to Markl. “Fish.”
Markl placed a hand on his large back. “Fine, fine. Let’s go see if they have any. We need to stop by the general store anyways.” They turned around and headed towards the shop. They were slowly followed by the others, who also apparently needed to restock on their items.
“Wait!” The cleric ran after them, frantic. “I’ll pay you!” The desperation was leaking through his voice, staining his words. “I don’t know what else to do!” He fell to his knees. “He was my friend.”
Markl turned, towards him, raising his eyebrow and looking down. “How much gold?”
Mordrog turned and leaned in front of the wizard baring his teeth. “Do you have fish?”
Clarence looked up, wide-eyed and answered Mordrog first. “If you agree to help me, I will catch you all the fish I can.” Turning to Markl he frowned slightly. “I don’t have much, but you can have whatever I own.”
Markl rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
Astrid stepped in front of the wizard, looking at the cleric. “We’d be happy to help. Do you know where we could start our search?”
Clarence breathed a sigh of relief. “Derek was staying in an apartment provided by the church. They’re only about a three minute walk north of here.”
The five of them nodded and Clarence’s eyes welled up. “Thank you.”
“Can you point us in the right direction please?” Astrid asked, politely.
The cleric raised his hand and pointed north through the shops and to a small stone path. After giving them directions and the apartment number, Clarence returned to the stage to take care of Mel’s body.
As they made their way to the apartments, they passed by two shops. The shop windows were plastered with advertisements and posters and the like. A few of them caught Marcus’s eye and he clenched his fists.
John’s Jeneral Goods
Wolfsbane now fully stocked
Don’t become Were-Chow.
His lip curled into a sneer as they passed the window.
“I need to make a stop.” He said to the rest of the group, veering off towards the entrance. He pushed through the shop doors and made his way to the counter.
“Hello there, boy.” The shopkeeper smiled. “What can I do for ya?”
“You guys have belladonna in stock?” He asked, as nonchalantly as he could, his fists still clenched beneath the counter.
“Yes, sirree. Just got a shipment.”
“Why?”
The shopkeeper raised his eyebrows. “Well, it makes good money.”
“Have you seen any lycans?”
“Lycans?” The shopkeeper wrinkled his nose. “Nah, I don’t believe in that stuff, really. They said there was an attack to the south, sent a bunch of Templars and the like. But I dunno if I believe it.”
“Then why keep it in stock?” Marcus was fighting anger at the ignorance of the man.
“Like I said, son, it makes good money. People buy it up.” He shook his head. “You gonna buy some or what?”
“No, thank you.” As Marcus turned away from the man, Markl shouted from the front of the store.
“How much for these wagons?”
“Do you have any fish?” Mordrog stuck his head in front of Markl, asking loudly.
“The wagons are 35 gold a piece. Nah, don’t have any fish. The docks are always full of fisherman selling their catch though.”
Mordrog’s shoulders fell and he stepped back outside.
“When are we going to the docks?” He asked Markl.
“I’ll take five of the wagons.” He said, digging out some coins and handing them to the shopkeeper, who had walked to the front now. “We’ll go to the docks later, Mordrog.”
“Fine.” He grunted.
Markl attached the wagons to each other, making a train of sorts for Mordrog to pull. While Astrid and Markl argued over whether or not she should have to pay for a ride, Marcus glowered at the shop signs and Redin’k focused on nothing in particular, standing oddly still again. Mordrog asked the shopkeeper once again if he had any fish.
After a few moments, the band set off towards the church. Two Templars stood guard. One stood lazily at his post, leaning on his sword and staring off into space, the other stood ready to greet them as they approached. He stared at the ridiculously large Mordrog.
“What is your business with the Church of the Silver Flame?” He asked, his face showing no signs of intimidation.
Astrid stepped forward. “We were asked by Clarence to help find a fellow cleric.”
“Derek?” The Templar nodded solemnly. “He was a good man. I hope you find him.”
“Can you tell us anything about him?”
“Very little. I’ve only been here a week. I met him a few times. He seemed very into his studies. He was very devoted to the Church.”
Marcus’s nostrils flared as he watched the Templar from behind the others. Bradford. It was the man who had led the attack on his town, Reven. The man who had driven him here, starved and alone, without his family. Bradford had stormed the town and killed everyone. His insides flamed.
Suddenly, Bradford’s eyes turned on him. He seemed to sniff the air. “You.” His eyes were cold and his hand moved to his blade. “You do not belong here.” He stared at the boy, willing him to die on the spot. He was a monster. He thought he had slain what was left of them in Reven.
Marcus took a step back, shielding himself behind Mordrog. “You are mistaken, sir. I know not what you speak of.” Bradford was a beast all on his own. He couldn’t best the man by himself, especially without shifting. He also knew it would be wrong to reveal his nature and show himself to this group, especially if he was being attacked by the member of the church.
“Good man, if you will just show us to Derek’s quarters…” Markl said, watching the exchange between Marcus and the Templar carefully.
“Right this way.” Bradford said, carefully, removing his hand from his sword. “He’s in apartment 3.” He walked them over to the neighboring building and unlocked the door. As Marcus walked past him into the room he almost shuddered with disgust before leaving and going back to his post.

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