The night was still young when a ghoul-at-arm spotted a figure making its way on a small boat inside the ruins. As it would be the honorable thing to do, Gaston de Heulierplaine would lead his trio of flayers after this would-be thief. Quickly and near silently so as to not disturb the peace they would swoop down and carry the cloaked human man to the tallest point on their section of the wall. The swamp-like water below would be moved by the fins of large fish but was unusually still this night.
The half-collapsed cell was dark and cold, contrasting with the warm and humid air of the outside world. The man was a scruffy fellow with a disdainful look in his eye, he would struggle in his bindings as Gaston would enter the dilapidated cell and would clear his throat.
“My apologies my good man, but I must ask you about your business here.” The courtier would ask with a hint of sarcasm. The man was still in shock from being hoisted by the shoulders from his canoe and being dropped into this cell. His mouth would not even twitch as he stared at the ghoul in front of him.
“Perhaps you did not hear me well enough? What were you doing in your little boat so late at night?” Despite the question, the man would not speak at all as he was still quite in shock. His eyes were wide as the fish were hungry a few stories below them. After a few minutes Gaston would groan, exit the cell, then turn the hall with the leader of his Crypt Horrors.
This is when the spy would make his escape, struggling to pick the lock on his rusted manacles and cutting through the rope with a swish of his dagger.
“How could I have failed my assignment so quickly?” He would ask the midnight air as he leaped out of the cell and onto an exposed beam of rotting wood.
“House Vermillo is going to have their pound of flesh alright.” He would mutter with an aggravated tone. However swiftly approaching him was one of the flayers from earlier. Her eyes set upon the spy, she would divebomb towards him. The cloaked man would backflip off the beam and would grab on to the masonry of the garrison and scale his way down, hiding in the shadows as he descended down the wall.
When Captain Levi and his flayers couldn’t find him, Gaston would raise the alarm and the Ghouls-at-Arms would set off to search for this spy, Gaston and Captain Levi leading from the front.
The spy, as unprepared for a garrison of ghouls as he was, did pack for peckish and predatory swamp creatures, using a mix of herbs, he would repel any creature that stirred in the water towards him as he slowly floated underwater with only a hollow reed to breath with, to his destination further inside.
“Step one.” He thought to himself as he cautiously would tread further inside the flooded ruins, bits of debris would give him small bits of cover from anyone searching for him. “Get past the walls.” He would scowl as he thought how speechless he was in the face of that creature. “Gaston, that shambling fake of a human.” He would eventually make it to the base of the tallest point of the ruins.
“Clearly he must have been here for something, Levi my goodfellow.” Gaston would remark as he would look through a rusted spyglass. It would be then when Levi would give a command. “Stop the boat!” The ghouls would follow this order, letting the boat bump slightly off of a chunk of the ruins as they ceased rowing. Levi, the old bat would start smelling the air. This would confuse Gaston for a second before he would smell something as well. “By the Lady, what’s that stench? It’s faint Levi but I smell something.” Levi would give a dry cackle. “It’s far from faint to me you knave!” He would give a command to “Row that way, good serfs! I’ve got the trail of something!”
The spy would check his climbing equipment, a set of devices worn on his knuckles and the bottoms of his shoes carved from ivory, were secured. With a quick prayer to Malerion he would make his way up the tower of the so-called “Mad Inventor”.
Levi would lean over the bow of the small boat as Gaston de Heulierplaine would ready his bow as they reached somewhat dry land. “Mademoiselle Nikos’ tower?” He would whisper to himself. Gaston wasn’t the smartest mordant in Civilia’s Ruin, but he knew whatever this spy might be after in that tower of Her’s, it couldn’t be good for her people in a vampire’s hands. “Row faster my companions! I will not have this man slip from my claws again!”
He thought himself wise, avoiding the holes in the walls, navigating through the mists and around the arcane wards. “House Vermillo better pay well, double even for all this trouble!” He would think to himself, all the while as he got higher and higher, he couldn’t help but wonder about what she has up here. “Whatever it is, it must be something powerful to have some damn kook lock it away in a tower.” He didn’t have a second before hearing the woosh of an arrow embed itself into a stone just a hair below his foot.
“I’ll strike you down!” Gaston would mutter as he would knock another arrow, this one strangely reflective on the light.
“They’ve caught up?! But how?” The spy would think to himself as he scampered up to a patch of stones that jutted out from the wall. The second arrow would hit just a few inches to the right of his right hand, creating a brilliant flash as the arrowhead hit the stone wall. He was dazed but wouldn’t quite let go of the stone bricks.
“Curses, not down yet?” Gaston would quickly search for another specialist arrow from his quiver. Levi would have already taken off to capture the spy. Gaston would let loose another orange sunmetal arrow and this time it would hit.
The spy would wince in pain as the white-hot arrow pierced his shoulder, the brief moment of pain causing him to tense up and lose his grip on his fake claws. He would regain his composure and yank the arrow from his chainmail covered shoulder. “I need to get up there, quickly!” He would say as he would be more daring with his climbing, no longer concerned with a steady footing or stealth, he would leap from place to place, setting off traps and breaking off loose stones.
“Lord and Lady, guide my aim.” Gaston would say as he aimed and fired another arrow with a small symbol of Aqshy on the tip. The arrow would fly through the air and would have hit its mark were it not for an erratic twitch of the spy’s head, as he saw the leather winged scout’s old and sharp eyes reflecting in the night sky. His hands were slick with sweat and his head swam with panic as he would leap off the part of the wall he was perched on and onto a rope, Captain Levi having missed his target.
His fleeting feeling of pride would be replaced by his stomach going up into his throat as the rope he grabbed onto would snap, and that feeling would be the last he felt before traveling to Shyish after hitting the ground.
The Ghouls-at-Arms and Gaston would look at the body as Levi would fly his way back. It would be a moment of silence broken by “I couldn’t turn quick enough, my commander. My apologies for my failure.”
Gaston would take his pipe, light it, and would take a morbid puff. “Well, what could be done? He has traveled the path he made for himself. Now he has reached its end.” Levi would scratch his beard as he would look at the disjointed mess of spilled blood and broken bones..” What do you believe he was looking for?” Levi would ask.
Gaston would ponder this question before breathing out the smoke from his pipe into the Ghurish night sky as he lay his eyes on the tower. “Trouble, my old friend. He was looking for trouble.”
