Diarmuid, speaking in his usual disinterested and dispassionate manner, shakes his head at Sik's words

They seemed more interested in my horse than me. They were not, as far as I could tell, aware they were attacking an armed man and his warhorse. You loiter in such places after dark with a kingly prize you can hardly be surprised when someone tries to take it from you.

Diarmuid presses his hand once more into his back. Blood seeps off his fingertips and a drop lands on the chair he is sitting on.

Now, does anyone know of a good healer who can keep their mouth closed? I'd prefer to stop bleeding sooner rather than later.

Characteristically Diarmuid does not sound in the least annoyed.

When my wound is seen to we can hit the inns again, unless of course you managed to uncover the whole sordid story in the short time I was standing on a street corner seemingly waiting to get royally serviced.

"Hadn't noticed you'd been pricked," Harry said, looking concerned but not having much idea about how best to treat Diarmuid. "I think you're right though. They were dockers, not much to them. Seems the old man's one of Sikhandyn's sort."

Harry gave his friend an odd look. "Is there a club or something for the masters of the...or a particular place to look for ingredients?" Harry always trod delicately around this subject as if walking on glass.

"So, once we've patched this lad up, we'd best hit the sack and then take a gander at the market bright and early. Agreed?"

"Aye.  My trip down that street was a might quicker than yours Harry.  I could use the rest.  So it's combin' the market in the morning then, eh?  Sounds better than running around all night," Jos reasoned.

It occurs to Diarmuid that Grandma Kale would be just the person to see, even as he cleans his longsword. Rising from his chair with his usual nonchalant self assurance he starts walking towards the door, sliding his longsword back into the scabbard with practised ease.

Though quiet and self contained, Diarmuid somehow manages to exude an aura of quiet menace.

Grandma Kale is close by. She's a dab hand with a needle and a bandage. I'll be back in a little while.

While Diarmuid headed off to see a wise-woman, Sikhandyn bid the others good-night and returned to his (still fairly chilly) house. After a fitful night of sleep in the uncomfortable beds of the Tubs, the three made their way down to the dockfront, where Sikhandyn was waiting for them. The exit from the flophouse had been mercifully Tom-free - it was far too early for him to be up.

Diarmuid felt much better today. The salve the old woman had applied with her rough hands seemed to have done the trick. The wound ached a little, but didn't impair the young man in any way.

It was a fine, clear morning; the cries of the seabirds and fishwives carried a long way, and the glitter of the gentle waves out at sea was almost hypnotic. The streets around the harbour were cluttered with traders. Many were street-walkers doing their best to get coin out of visiting sailors, but plenty of room was taken up by merchants hawking their goods right there, fresh off the ships as they were.

Harry led the questioning. He knew that concern for Heiroth had been raised after he didn't show up at the Mizzen Fair - it was expained to Diarmuid that this was a local celebration of the sailing profession that also happened to attract some of the more exotic merchants - so that made a natural lead.

It didn't take too long to find a few sellers who'd been at the Fair, though tracking down those who knew of Heiroth was trickier. Still, one old seller of curios was acquainted with the man. He sucked his gums a little, before allowing that Heiroth would usually be there, and maybe he'd got caught up with his latest project. What was it again, he wondered, suggesting the memory was just out of reach.

Harry got the idea and slipped him a silver piece.

Now he remembered. It seemed Heiroth had found an old keep a few days travel from Guril-Forsihe, and had been spending a fair bit of time there. Strange business, that. The old fellow reckoned Heiroth was very capable of defending himself, so bandits likely weren't in the picture, and beasts weren't too likely that close to the city. Maybe he'd just decided to stay away this year?

With that done, and once they were out of earshot, Harry smiled brightly at the others. "Sounds like we're in for some fine country living for a few days. Rain, mud and blisters. It's still early, so what do you say? I'll have to leave word that we'll not be taking the other jobs, mind."

"If we're leavin', it might as well be now.  And the country's not that bad.  I grew up on my da's ranch out in the countryside, and I turned out just fine," Jos said.  He was beginning to worry about why Heiroth had gone missing though.  After hearing that bandits and beasts would not have been problems for the old wizard to defend himself from, it left a few chillingly imaginative things for Jos to wonder about.

Diarmuid's unbreakable equanimity was not much appreciated by the hawkers and merchants of the fair. Judging Tuatha to be valuable, as he plainly was and Diarmuid to be Ithrecan they went out of their way to try and sell him things. The ones who laid a hand on him took to massaging their wrists for a while.

Though they sang their praises of their wares and attempted to become friends with Diarmuid the young soldier walked through it all like he was oblivious to all charm. Diarmuid wasn't intimidating, he didn't really have that aura about him. This naturally meant his sword was on display most of the time.

When the information is forthcoming Diarmuid's interest is obviously piqued. "Maybe you should ask if anyone else has been asking about him?" suggested Diarmuid. "Finding out more about this keep wouldn't hurt either."

"Good idea," said Harry, heading back to the old man with a question on his lips and another coin in his hands.

Sikhandyn had secretely hoped that their mission would allow them to stay in town. But in view of the new information, it was clear that the rational thing to do was indeed travel to that keep...

What the wizard disliked most was the prospect of trudging around in swamps, possibly with heavy equipment. He would be sure and bring his spellbook so he could spend the evenings studying. 'That should make the trip more enjoyable...' he thought.

Sikhandyn let Harry lead the discussions.

In true tattle-tale fashion, the old man remembered nothing until Harry pressed the coin into his palm, after which he became eminently useful. It seemed that some tough looking types had been asking after Heiroth a couple of weeks ago. He couldn't give an accurate description, but there'd been two of them, local lads by the looks of it. They hadn't worn any livery, but only idiots would do so whilst asking questions about a local noble.

As for the keep - the old fellow insisted he wasn't a historian. Probably it was an old watch-tower, he mused. Certainly Heiroth has seemed excited about it's potential, which meant he'd either bought it, already owned it, or it was in wilderness. Or, of course, he could've been breaking into someone's (albeit abandond) property. It'd been about a month since he 'found' the place.

Harry questioned the man a little more on the lads who had been in, then decided to try his luck with the other sellers nearby. At the very least, a pair of tough lads without any obvious affilitation would have been noticed by the other tough lads hereabouts; those who liked to think they kept things nice and orderly with the merchants. For a fee.

[Private to GM: 14:26, Today: Harry the Bastard rolled 27 using 1d20+9. Urban tracking - GI +9.
:)))]

While Harry was looking for the information, Jos kept an eye out for Harry.  Since last night's work had ended up with Diarmuid in a street fight, Jos wasn't about to take any chances.  At a crowded fair like this, it would be all too easy for a tough to 'stumble' into Harry and knife him in the process.

So Jos casually followed Hal around, keeping an eye out for anyone acting suspicious around Harry, or people who took more notice of him than they should.

With a wary eye being kept upon him by Jos, Harry began to spread his net a little wider. Though most stall-holders and sellers shook their heads and averted their eyes, not wishing to get involved, one or two were a little more forthcoming.

As Harry stood talking, Jos had a good look round. For the most part no-one paid them much mind. The odd floozy took a good look, especially the young socialite girls out walking with their maids - some would point, smile, and wink quite openly at the tough young men. Local bravos too would look the lads over, sometimes strutting in a show of machismo, though none tried to start anything, and most showed a respect that was familiar to Jos - they saw in his eyes that he was something they would never be.

Harry soon found something useful. Although the stallholders were indeed unlikely to know much, two groups might have been paying more attention. The first was the watch - if any had been in the area, they might have noticed a couple of hard-men asking questions. Likewise, those employed by local nobles as guards generally made it their business to know the street factions, and they spent a long time standing around whilst their employers perused the local wares. Finding a chance to speak to members of either group might be more tricky, though.

Fortunately, the stallholders Harry spoke to could be more useful. He got the names of a couple of watchmen - they usually came down to the seafront a couple of times per day, though there was no guarantee they'd seen what Harry was after. There were also a few minor nobles who were regular customers - Harry knew a couple of the names, and reckoned he could find the others by the liveries of their guards, once the stallholders had passed on a description.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:24, Wed 08 July 2009.

Diarmuid was a picture of patience while Harry went about his business. However after a little while he rode Tuatha to a nearby field and put his stallion warhorse through his dressage moves, using only his legs to guide the animal. The big stallion walked backwards, spun around in its own radius, kicked forwards, kicked backwards, reared and stomped, leaned back on its back legs and jumped forward. While Tuatha was doing that Diarmuid practised his sword and shield moves timing his actions to Tuatha's movements so that they might one day fight completely as one. He followed that by racing up and down the field bow in hand turning this way and that in the saddle, while Tuatha jinked and dodged.

Pretty soon however, some of the more martial types at the fair started wandering over and shouting advice at him. Some were wearing noble livery...

Turn needs to be tighter.
Lower your elbow, son. You'll get a better pull on the string.
Never try that move with a spearman.

In one's and two's they jumped the fence and came closer to advise the young warrior on what he was doing wrong for the most part. Diarmuid was quietly respectful and did as he was told.

Grateful for the tips, and thinking of potential future customers, Harry decided to look for the nobles; or their men, rather. He could try the watchmen later.

[Private to GM: 09:51, Today: Harry the Bastard rolled 21 using 1d20+9. Urban tracking.]

Rather conveniently, Diarmuid had decided to put on a bit of a show, using Tuatha to great effect. He'd started displaying some moves in a corner of the square that was often used by local guards for drills, and so was roped off.

His performance was respectable and impressive to those onlookers who didn't have any martial training, but the some nobles and their retinues and hangers-on couldn't help but offer advice and, in some cases, instructions.

Using the show as an excuse, Harry began to make his way around those gathered. It didn't take long at all to spot a few of the liveries he was keeping an eye out for. Skillfully he directed the talk towards the two men he was researching.

One guard remembered who he was asking after - he'd noted the unusual behaviour as one of the men asking after Heiroth had been an old comrade of his. They'd both been employed in House Ermineshield, and as far as Harry's contact knew, the other fellow still was. What was odd was that the man hadn't been wearing his uniform. Tymin, his name was.

Two fellows in another livery who were standing by stepped in. Hang on, they said - didn't we see our mate Mateus hanging around asking questions with some other bloke? Yeah, he was out of uniform too. House Ab'Shal, he worked for. If they were right and Tymin and Mateus had been seen together, that was bizarre indeed - the houses in question had no close ties.

"It seems we could pay a visit to our friends Tymin and Mateus, Harry..." Sikhandyn told his friend once the conversations were over and no one could hear them.

"Just in case they are reluctant to tell the truth, I suggest we split and approach them simultaneously - so they do not have a chance to prepare a common story."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:03, Sun 12 July 2009.

"Never a good idea to get involved in the affairs of nobles." idly remarked Diarmuid in his usual bloodless fashion. "Also what do you think these noble houses will do when we start twisting arms to get answers. Nothing pleasant I'd warrant." Diarmuid didn't look afraid. Then again he never did.

Diarmuid having spent some time talking with potential recruiters (never hurts to put on a show for the high and mighty) was just brimming over with ideas. He didn't really converse much. He mostly watched the interactions between the different house men..

Might want to consider asking our employer if she asked for help in other quarters before coming to Harry here. I conjure we'd not be her first port of call. Could be some other houses had a look around before us. Let's not go jumping to conspiracies just yet. Also could be he bought something in the Market that led him to the tower. If that were the case and you pushed me to guess...

Somehow pushing Diarmuid seems like a bad idea. Diarmuid pauses as he considers what he just said and with a nonchalant shrug added..

I'd say it could be an old book or a map or something. Anyone know if there's a book or map seller in the market?

"Look, knowing why those two are looking for Heiroth may help us understand why he has gone missing." Sikhandyn told Diarmuid, slightly impatient and possibly annoyed. "It is not about conspiracies, it is just about following leads and building on the facts we have."

"Now if that idea has no appeal to you, that is fine with me. I can bring you to a good library instead - I'm sure there will be books and maps."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:07, Sun 12 July 2009.

"Well," said Harry softly, "I say we should look for these lads. But, I warrant at least one of them is out of town, and if we find out where, we have a trail." He looked around at the others to make sure they were paying attention. "But we've no need to let them know what we're about. So, we can say we are looking for work and someone told us to look for them. I reckon Tymin first."

Diarmuid regards Sikhandyn as one might regard a botanical specimen, the note of annoyance in Sikhandyn's voice having not even ruffled the outlander soldier's hair.

You know the words might want to consider are most often taken to mean that one is offering a suggestion in a helpful manner. As for books and maps well if one wanted to go traipsing off to a tower far from one's own abode, one would first have to know of its existence, have a good reason for undertaking the journey and possibly a map of how to get there.

However, if you are anxious to apply thumbscrews to a noble's servant then pray lead on. It will need to be done subtly and I am looking forward to seeing how Harry moves from the subject of work to where Heiroth has gone and why he was looking for him.

"Well," Harry strokes his chin thoughtfully, "I've been working on the assumption that Heiroth headed for the tower but was intercepted. If he was, we've two candidates and our best bet of finding him is to find them. Otherwise we run the risk of travelling to an empty tower and ending up none the wiser."

Diarmuid offers what could be the suggestion of a smile. A Diarmuid smile is really just a collection of small barely perceptible muscle movements. You have to know him pretty well to recognize it.

"That is a reasonable assumption." he murmurs. Yet another characteristic of Diarmuid. He never raises his voice. Even when he has to shout it seems like he doesn't exert himself. It's like he saving every scrap of energy for killing. Diarmuid is a little creepy.

"Well, shall we be about it?"