S.P.I.R.E.: Sharn Private Investigation and Risk Elimination

Stinkbone and the Dead Wench

It has been a month and three days since the old man passed on. Though I haven’t yet had the nerve to wear his face in public. Perhaps I might have taken on his life for a time, maybe even convinced his friends and associates that he would be taking an extended vacation in the coming weeks…maybe then I would have alleviated my own sense of paranoia. Killing seems so much simpler when the dead are faceless minions. Alas, again I must reassure myself then I had no other choice. For what it’s worth I gave Tom a quick death, as I would have hoped for had it been my throat at the knife.

Leaving the lesser districts of Sharn, I’ve employed myself with a local group known as Spire. A rag tag PI team whose agenda I have no real intentions of pursuing, but for now they’ll pay the bills whilst I play the part of the learned wizard.

On our first little escapade we sought out a goblin named Stinkbone, apparently residing at the Dead Wench tavern. Not the most intriguing of names, but again, this is why I left the lower districts.

Finding the little sausage with not but a tabard left to his person after a poor bit of luck playing cards, I tried what I could to free him of his debt to the table. But alas, cheating does not always work in ones favor. So instead I put them all to sleep, robbed the lot of fools and dragged the retch out by his ankles. Dropping him at the Warforged’s feet I took a small share of the gold for myself and left the ‘adventurer’s to their duties.

Two hours later, after having my fill of the brothel and noting the subtle twist of colors as my trip set in, I found my way back to Spire’s little enclave and set down at their table to catch the back half of some overtly complicated plan of attack. Apparently the group planned to commandeer an airship, use it to bomb another and then crash the latter into a third vessel all in the name of injuring some arms dealer’s pipe line.

Of course who am I to argue with a good bit of anarchy at the expense of others?

So, tagging along as my contract dictated I aided as best I could and even took my share of bangs and bumps along the way. Not how I had expected to spend my day, but the Dream Lilly might have had something to do with my falling about. Ah but life is never as sweet unless it is threatened upon by death, yes?

Whence we arrived at the second airship and I began to come down, it was of course my stroke of genius that spurred the group to open the gate locks and escape back to our stolen ship before the bomb did its little number on the warehouse and all of its contents, including the other ship.

From here I expect we’ll be off to our last destination…a last stop and a sudden drop for those aboard the third airship.

Whilst I take the time to write this all down, some very interesting questions grip my curiosity.

For one, who owns all these ships? And what in all creation did he do to attract such anger from Spire? Selling arms illegally is one thing, but the real question is who he is selling arms too, and who does that bother so?

Secondly, I think perhaps it is a bad idea to write such delicate thoughts down where someone’s grubby little hands might find and read them, outing me to the group in all of my despicable nature….

(Standing at the bow of the ship, Masyiss lights the parchment on fire, letting it blow away in the wind)


heh, well when you describe it that way, it seems like some lunatic came up with the attack plan. maybe that’s for the best…

Stinkbone and the Dead Wench
Fivegears Fivegears

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