The Gresh stands up as the group crawls out of the lair and eyes their new acquaintance. “Yeah, so. Ok, now what?” He says through gritted teeth. The group looks askance at Galstaff who just shrugs and looks into the distance as he rolls his left hand about in a circular motion. He tosses it up and down, twitches it this way and that… then suddenly looks down at it. In his hand, he holds out a small stone which is covered in blood with a glowing green glyph carved deeply into one face.
Everyone realizes that Galstaff had used his arcane arts to search the room in which they stood. He scowls at the symbol. “We were right in coming here. They may have known we’d try to crash their little party. In fact, this token is an symbol that they will be summoning the dread evil tonight. I suppose we stumbled into that.”
Kelvin rolls his eyes and blurts, “You think so, eh?” He shifts his weight and continues, “See, what we need to do is get an actual reliable source. Our new ‘friend’ here brought us, frankly, nothing. Nothing except a few new scars. I can’t keep putting tattoos over these things. I’ll run out of room.” He lifts an arm to show a tattoo he had gotten back in Esztergom.
Galstaff looks down at Kelvin’s arm and clicks his teeth. “Wow. How much did you pay for that? Did you know it says ’I’m a dyslexic Polar Bear’ on it?”
Kelvin mumbles something about asking for it to say “Speedy Vengeance.” Then he snorts and looks out the window.
Galstaff laughs, “I’m only joking. It says ‘Swift Vengeance.’ Swift is a more complex character and looks better, I suppose.” Kelvin bows up to take a swing, but Khorin steps in the way to keep the two apart. “Seriously, though, we need to…” He perks his head to the right and looks distractedly out the window down onto the river quay.
The cool autumnal wind bears with it the howl of fell voices. The far off pattering of paws on packed earth ushers with it the threat of lycanthropic fury. Lights spring to life in the windows nearby. Everyone knows what the howl means. Everyone knows the threat of the pack.
The Gresh looks down at his feet then up at the underside of the thatched roof. “If they’re coming, that can mean one of a few things: 1) She’s not left the city, most likely, and 2) meat is about to get cheaper.”
Vladislav fights to control a guffaw.
Ibn, who stood silently with his helm off, spoke softly and said, “I know someone who might be able to help us. He knows of her and of them. He’s bound to her fate, it was foretold. Quickly, before the pack arrives…”