Enter the Baron

Baleon rendevoued with Trik at their arranged spot early in the evening. The sun was beginning to set and already the drow was finding his mood improve as he gained some relief from the summer glare.

Baleon observed Trik as he walked into the tavern and strolled over to his table. The human seemed happy, or rather happier than usual. Baleon would have used the word "giddy" to describe the bounce in Trik's step, except that "giddy" wasn't in Baleon's vocabulary.

"You're awfully... buoyant." Baleon remarked as Trik sat down, leaning slightly across the table to examine Trik for signs of drunkenness.

"What?" said Trik defensively, pulling back. "I'm not drunk."

And he was right. Baleon heard no slur in his speech, smelled no alcohol on his breath. But there was a faint scent of what? Blood? Baleon catalogued that and put it away for later consideration. Instead he leaned back and steepled his fingers. "Mmmhm. So where are we headed next?" He asked.

Relieved to change the subject, Trik layed out another note from thorn's packet. "OK, this is a letter of invitation to meet the Baron Arkov Vandermir. Apparently he has a job for us."

And so the pair leave the tavern and travel to one of the most opulent manor houses in all of Ghastenhall. There they present their letter to the door man, who ushers them into a drawing room where after some delay they meet the esteemed Baron Vandermir. Baleon's blood rose as the baron strode into view. Wile the baron's lank black hair was clearly of human origin, is long lean frame and sharply pointed ears gave away his half elven heritage. Baleon scoffed to himself and thought for the hundredth time that the surface was indeed a strange place. In his home a half breed like this would be born into slavery at best, yet here they are raised to royalty.

Vandemir allows no time for small talk, perhaps uncomfortable having the pair in his home. "I have entered into a business arrangement with your master, Thorn. Forty years ago one of the noble families in this city was accused of being Asmodeans. They repented and were spared the pyre as little actual proof could be found against them. The current scion of said family has fallen on hard times and owes me a considerable sum. Under some...duress, he confided in me that his family had hidden many incriminating and valuable relics in the family tomb to avoid the purges. Among these are supposedly some artifacts taken from a fallen drow ally. This upstanding citizen and I have come to an arrangement. In return for wiping away his debt, he has arranged for the guards and priests normally stationed in the mausoleum to be away tonight."

Vandermir leans forward. "In this tomb you will find a sceptre - a Crook of Mitra. You will know it by the blue starburst it emits. bring me the crook, and anything else you can carry out of there is yours."

He slides across a piece of parchment upon which is scrawled the location of the family crypt. "Can you do this before the sun rises?"