LOCATION

Azralen Street(#7239RntJ)

The sounds of the bustling crowds abate somewhat here. It seems a less well-traveled street than it's northern sisters. A few shopfronts are here, but mostly residences of the merchant class and older folk of Umbar. Here can often be found things that are hard to come by in the city, and so it has a less than reputable clientele than the more wealthy of the people. No noble would be caught in this area after nightfall, yet they are often abroad in the light of day. Tis told in the taverns and barracks that strange things go on in this part of the city.

Contents:
* Merchant's establishment(#7611Ven)

Obvious exits:
* North leads to Gimilbatan: At the Fountain.

Merchant's establishment(#7611Ven)

This red sandstone building is one of several in this street used as shops. The ground floor is given over to a shop that ostensibly sells antiques (though some would say bric-a-brac). Those in the know are aware that many items more valuable than those on display, and sometimes obtained by more doubtful means, can be purchased by a word in the right ear. The middle floor is occupied by merchants' offices. And on the top floor treasure of a different kind may be found - that of knowledge. There the scribe Sapthanar resides, spending his days drawing up new documents or copying older ones. The well-informed know that he can produce work in a variety of different hands as required, is expert at removing and replacing seals, and has a keen interest in ciphers. Sapthanar does not advertise his services, but somehow he never seems to lack for business.

The guard at the foot of the stairwell looks you up and down, then moves aside with a nod to let you pass. You trudge up the long flight of stairs.

Sapthanar's Office

A long attic room, lit by a row of wide windows on one side during the day, and several ceiling lanterns at night. The other side of the room is taken up by shelves, on which sheaves of parchment, bottles of inks and paints and sticks of sealing wax are stacked. A bookcase occupies the far wall, with separate sections for leather-bound tomes, scrolls and loose-leaf documents. A table by one window holds a large array of scribing tools - quills, brushes, charcoal and the like. A heavy wooden desk sits at the centre of the room, and this is where Sapthanar himself can most commonly be found, head bent over his latest job.

Contents:

* Renzlitha

[Renzlitha:] The square outside still has a fair number of people going about the last day's chores before the night grows darker. Already the sun is long hours past its setting, so most people have gone hom and locked every door and window, for news spreads quickly in Umbar about the last few weeks' trouble....

Behind one of the buildings, Renzlitha the criminal walks, looking around every now and then for people that might be tracking his movement. A cloak completely wraps around the man, making him dark and suspicious to sight. Entering on of the backdoors to one building, he climbs the stairs and knoks quietly on an attic door, keeping an covert appointment...

[Sapthanar:] The room within is lit by several lanterns, and a shaft of light shines out to illuminate the dim stairwell. There in the doorway stands a tall, burly dark-haired man; judging by the overalls he wears he is an assistant of some sort. One hand rests suspiciously on the hilt of the short sword he wears as he stares at Renzlitha. Behind him, the scribe Sapthanar can be seen seated at his desk. A round circle of glass is held to one eye as he peers at what must be a delicate document, carefully inscribing text of some sort. Despite the opening of the door, he does not even look up until he has finished writing. Meticulously setting his quill back in its holder, he rises to his feet to say, "Ah, you are the one who seeks my services. Orroth, show the gentleman in. Welcome, Master ..." He trails off, eyes flickering over the concealing cloak, though he makes no comment.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha scowls at the brute in the doorway, clutching the hilts of his own short sword hidden beneath the cloak, evidenced by a movement under the veil near where a sword should be. As the scribe tells the guard to moce, the villian shoves past him with a non to gentle shove to the brutes ribs. Striding quickly over to the table he says, "Yes, I seek your services man, why else would I be in a dirty old attic with a man of words? Anyway, you shall be payed handsomely, but you must speak to noone of this. Do you understand?"

[Sapthanar:] Sapthanar's eyebrows raise at Renzlitha's behaviour. "I do not take kindly to those who manhandle my staff," he says with a touch of coldness in his voice. "And my confidentiality is assured - do not persume to doubt that. Paid handsomely, you say? The cost is commensurate to the task. Certain types of work, certain signatures are more ... difficult, shall we say, and not without an element of risk." He looks up sharply. "You wish me to ah, shall we say duplicate, certain documents for you?" he guesses. "Perhaps even alter them?"

The dark-haired man remains silent for the moment, though ever watchful.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha backs away some what so that he can keep a better eye upon the man near the door, being ever watchful of those around him has allowed the villian to live a little longer than most. Reaching under his cloak he draws out a small pouch full of lots of somethings and holds it up for the scribe to see. "Yes, I understand, and I have something you may enjoy in payment." With that, he tosses the bag onto the table to let the scribe see. "Wil that do it? On the underground market that would me a whole suit of the finnest mail..."

[Sapthanar:] Sapthanar gives a little exclamation as the bag lands on the table, miraculously missing the inkpot. "Careful, now," he says reprovingly as he lifts the bag away, surreptitiously hefting it in his hand to feel the weight. "A fine, sum, it would seem," he comments, opening the drawstring just a fraction to check that there are indeed coins there. "That will buy you a substantial amount of my time ... are there many documents then?" His assistant, still watchful, nevertheless relaxes just a fraction when it appears there won't be any foul play.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha grunts in approval as the scribe seems to be satisfies. The villian glances back at the door momentarily, a secretive glance expressing a small amount of nervousness. Turning his back to the helper at the door, Renzlitha draws from beneath his cloak a decent-sized bundle of sheepskin scrolls. Handing them to the scribe he says in an almost whisper, "These are the documents. They are in some kind of encryption, I heard you had some expertise in this matter, so decipher them if you can. If not that, then just copy them. IF you can decipher them, then I would possibly have you do more, but that later..."

[Sapthanar:] Now the scribe's interest is plain to see. He leans forward to take one of the scrolls, holding it delicately. He sniffs at the vellum, before stating with contempt, "Not properly cured." Then he unrolls it a fraction and sets the monocle back in his eye to peer at the contents. "Ah yes, I see the problem. I have not seen such a script before," he muses, tilting the page this way and that as he holds it up so the light shines through. "Interesting. It appears to be a list of some kind." He lowers the paper to look Renzlitha in the eye. "I can copy the document, of course," he tells the man, but as for deciphering it ... well, that would be a long and laborious task. And an /expensive/ task," he adds, brown eyes blinking. "As long as you realize that ..." He shrugs. "Say two days for the copying, then another fortnight to work on the decryption?

[Renzlitha:] A frown creases the unshaven features of the villian, leaning closer to the scribe he says in a low menacing voice, "I need it sooner, I hope you can accomadate this. If you need more to focus all your attentions on this matter then that can be arranged. It would be very helpful if you could cease all your other work..." After this one hand can be seen gripping something else on the belt of the villian.

[Sapthanar:] The silent Orroth shifts uneasily at this. He has not said a word in the entire conversation, but now he steps forward, a questioning look in his eyes. Sapthanar gives him a warning shake of the head, appearing unruffled save for the slight clenching of his scarred right hand. "I do have duties to my other clients, you know," he tells Renzlitha mildly, "Some of them would be quite perturbed if I did not deliver in time. But since your need is so urgent," - could there be a hint of sarcasm in his tone? - "I will endeavour to have the copy ready by sundown tomorrow, if not earlier. You will collect it yourself, I presume?"

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha continues to monitor the Orroth's presence behind him, ever weary of the short sword attached to his side. Turning back to the scribe, he frowns and sighs, "Yes, twould not be prudent to attract to much attention, but make it as quick as you can. I will be back sundown tomorrow to see what you have accomplished, and to pay more if needed..." With this he steps back from the scribe to give him more room to respond.

[Sapthanar:] A slight straightening of the back, a light cough - these are the only signs that Renzlitha's withdrawal is a relief. "Very well, Master .. - why I don't believe you mentioned a name? What name should I call you by?" This last sentence is fainter, as Sapthanar turns his back on Renzlitha to surveys his shelves, eventually locating a suitable box to hold the scrolls.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha finally lets a girn cover his face.....temporarily. He heads for the door quietly, not before checking the windows outside. Looking over his shoulder, 'My name isn't important, but if you wish refer to me as the Wolf. I will see you tomorrow, I hope we can works things out to both our advantages.." Here he jingles another bag beneath his robs, a tinklind sound can be heard.

[Sapthanar:] "Oh, I do hope so, Master Wolf," the scribe responds with nary a blink of the eye. "I have always found mutually beneficial arrangements to be the best. Oh, by the way," he adds as an afterthought, "this building is watched at night, so you need have no fears for security." He gives a thin smile. The assistant Orroth merely watches Renzlitha's movements stone-faced, no doubt longing to see the back of him.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha grunts at these last words as he heads fro the door, "I know how to take care of myself, scribe, just take care of my documents. It would be unfortunate for anything to happen to them." With this, he grabs the hilts of his own sword as he passes the Orroth on his way out, a few glances behind him to makes sure the scribe has no grandious thoughts..

[Sapthanar:] Neither scribe nor assistant make any moves to stop the departing Renzlitha, however. Sapthanar turns to watch Renzlitha leave, then lets out a faint sigh. "A rather uncouth fellow, don't you think, Orroth?" he mutters to his assistant. "Not one to cross, though." There is no reply from Orroth, save a deepening of his scowl. "Now," Sapthanar mutters to himself as he surveys the unfinished work on his desk, "where was I?"

Participants:

RENZLITHA

You see a man that looks as if he has spent to much time living a covert life in the forsaken slums of some large city. In fact, this figure is such. Renzlitha, in his mid forties, stands at about six foot, with short, unkempt frizzy hair waving with the slightest breeze. This goes well with the long, thin black beard that forms a wavey trail down the man's chest. His large, greasy forhead slopes down to a sharp hawk nose and ends in an abrupt chin, giving him the appearance of some kind of missing link. Two small, deep-set black eyes scan the area around him carefully, for this villian-for-hire knows he has many enemies. He wears nothing upon his head, so that a slight bald spot can be seen if you look from above. From his neck down nothing can be seen but a complete fur cloak of deepest brown. His left arm can usually be seen twirling the beard back and forth in its fingers, apparently a habit of the Renzlitha when in thought. The other cannot be seen for the cloak, but if you look closely its outline can be gleaned clutching at something, perhaps a weapon? If you should be lucky enough to see beeath the cloak, a jet leather jerkin and matching leggings is all you would see.

SAPTHANAR

A bird-like creature of a man, small-boned and delicate-looking. His shoulders are slightly hunched from years of sitting at a desk, his brown eyes narrowed from peering at manuscripts. His skin is the colour of the yellowed parchments he so often pores over, legacy of a tan that has long since faded to the merest suggestion, and is cris-crossed by tiny wrinkles. These are most obvious in the crows-feet round his eyes. Those eyes are still bright with intelligence, however, and their gaze continually darts from place to place. His hair is brindled in streaks of brown and grey, and has been neatly trimmed close to the head in a circular fashion. He wears a long robe of dusty brown, its sleeves carefully folded and pinned to keep the cloth free of his lower arms. A ridged scar scrawls its way across the knuckles of his right hand; those who look closely might notice a scribe's callous on his left hand.