Duvessa:
"While I would normally advice you to not become invested with them, insight into their operation will be highly valued going forward." She leveled her stare at Mallory, hoping her implication was clear.
"I've no interest in joining such an organization and they too made it quite clear they had no interest in recruiting me." Mallory almost sounded amused at that as she thought back on the turn of events. Among nobility, having one's companion extended an invitation instead of both was frankly a proverbial slap-in-the-face level insult to the person not invited. Still, she hadn't been cast out of the Tower, so the potential for becoming an insider remained.
"That said, I do have every interest in furthering use of their facilities and answering to Madame Harpell should she call upon my services again. The membership of the Arcane Brotherhood - at least on a surface level - appears scattered and unfocused. Frankly, it hardly seems like half of them even like each other. They may yet consolidate themselves into something more dangerous but, for the time being, there seems to be... wiggle room. I expect to be in fairly regular contact with a pen pal or two among their ranks."
Tympani:
"Is that kidnappers who eat people? Kidnappers who eat wolves? Or kidnappers who eat other lycans? Though, I suppose, given the nature of Lycans, simply eating anything that they can get their hands on could rightfully be called cannibalism. Except maybe chicken. Can you imagine? Werechickens."
The young noble herself momentarily paused and stared off into the near distance as her imagination puzzled together the very concept of Werechickens, and she couldn't even begin to suppress the shudder such an idea caused. Toril would never survive such a calamity.
"Kidnappers who are themselves Lycanthropes - Werewolverines, specifically - who have devoured those unfortunate folk they captured." Mallory clarified on the subject.
"The Reghedmen tribes are varied and numerous, but this particular group has been taken over by those who have sworn themselves to the god of beasts, Malar, and been transformed because of it. When we encountered them before, we were almost able to convince the non-Lycanthropes to let us go peacefully. There's some rift in the ranks, to be certain... they are afraid of what their fellows have become. But even they fell in line quickly when their leading tribesmen ordered it. There was an unfortunate amount of bloodshed; we thinned their numbers before escaping."
Duvessa's mention of potential diplomatic efforts with the hostile tribes was met with a welcoming nod from the young noble. Even the Lycanthropes themselves had been mollified by the idea of one of their hostages being able to help them all hunt for food rather than just eating him, so there was still potential for peace even with those who had welcomed Malar's curse. An unsteady peace, perhaps, but better than open aggression against such a foe. Ten-Towns, by and large, would be broadly helpless against Werewolverines and even less suited to handle an uptick of Lycanthropy amid their population.
"Is it wise to gather the Speakers together though? With so many enemies about and the roads being so dangerous to traverse...?" Likely little choice, though. Messenger bird would be too slow in the constantly shifting yet perpetually bad weather, and Ten-Towns surely didn't have the resources for shared magical communication even among its leaders.
Tympani's investigation of the strange tunnel Mallory had magick'd into existence yielded a few simple observations outright. The interior was pitch dark yet with a faint glimmer to its surface when the light from outside or Mallory's ever-lit Lantern Rod glanced off its interior. It felt perfectly solid as stone yet was made of some kind of unbelievably luxurious black silk, the likes of which she'd surely never known unless she had a hobby for jaunting into the Ethereal Plane in search of Phase Spider nests. The dimensions of the space were a bit cramped for a Human like Mallory but downright spacious for the likes of Tympani - three feet at its width and eight feet deep. Near the back of the chamber sat a battered old hand cart one would normally expect to see used to haul firewood or animal feed, and it was loaded with particularly well-organized and bound boxes and parcels that looked like they'd been given special attention to their handling. They had labeling that was little more than a string of numbers on their sides, all in the same tidy penmanship. Amid the boxes sat a wrapped bulk that looked to be some kind of storage chest that had been covered up intentionally and a stout, iron safe bound with multiple solid locks; of all the items present, that one seemed to be the most heavily secured. It was also labeled on all sides with dire warnings in multiple languages - even Draconic - that all seemed to indicate the same thing: that exposure to whatever the safe contained was extremely hazardous to one's health and warning against opening it.
Yet, at the very back of the tunnel laid a particular bundle. A heavily shrouded shape, only about as big as Tympani herself, wrapped in oiled tarp and cord, with a small leather backpack similarly bound atop it. At a glance, it might've been just another load of goods but, with further scrutiny... it looked very suspiciously like the sort of binding one would see carried from the healing houses toward the graveyards, born aloft by those with dour faces and a shovel...
However, Tympani didn't have the chance to get more than a few steps into the tunnel with her interest leading the way before she was met with Mallory's gloved hand outstretched before her. The young noble cleared her throat primly with an obvious intent to dissuade their newest companion from prodding too deep and, with smile and gesture equally gentle, urged the Halfling away back to the task of moving foodstuffs out onto the Speaker's floor space.
"As for the matter of Duergar--" she shifted general attention back to the discussion even as she motioned to usher Tympani's curiosities away
"--some of my companions have just returned from Lonelywood. There were apparently some recent murders, though the source is unknown. If you wish to speak with them yourself, you need only ask for a young Half-Orc woman named Moyrah, who is currently staying at the Geldenstag. Just let her know that I sent you and she's certain to cooperate with any questions you may have." she gestured out to her gathered allies in the office itself.
"As for us, we're headed to Easthaven next. As I've demonstrated prior, mere things like invisibility, illusions, and solid walls are of little concern to a Diviner's gaze - should it be of interest to you, I'll keep my eyes and ears open."
A thought momentarily occurred to the young noble as her dark eyes drifted over the varied paintings that decorated the room.
"On an unrelated note - do you happen to have a proper map of the region I might borrow for a moment? I would like very much to confirm a few locations in more than just my mind."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:47, Fri 19 Apr.