You are summoned to Count Ravencroft's castle the Iron keep through a letter send by a small boy who is a messenger. He gives no other details and runs off but the letter is clear.

Dear Servant,

You are sent this because of I am in dire need of a special set of skills to help me with a problem. I expect you promptly to arrive at dusk at the Iron Keep. Do not dally.

Signed Count Ravencroft

Letters like this were never good. They were a sign that you often was in his pocket, something that most people desperately tried to get out of with the exception of the more damned. Some enjoyed his steady flow of danger and coin. If nothing else Ravencroft was a man of his word. If he said you were going to be left alone or you had gotten out of your contract, then no member of his family was to touch you. This extended to his elite guard also but only a few had been given this privilege.

When you arrive at the castle of the Iron Keep the large gates leading directly up to the castle from the path of the city down below gives a dark feeling. The gates are of quality unlike anything you've ever seen. Stone statues of something are on two pillars leading up but no one has ever figured out what they are.

The castle itself seems to loom up into the sky above the clouds but you aren't sure if there's more beyond just due to the sheer size of it. You are greeted by one of the count's servants as a very old looking Dwarf with glasses, appears to be in his older age but seems to move with grace.

"This way." he says as he walks you inside of the castle.

Once inside you see that there are a number of rooms but outside of each room is one of his Shades. A knight that stands quiet with no features other than piecing eyes that watch your movements. They stand like statues that have come to life but make no movements other than breathing.

After passing up a grand staircase and some other odd rooms that have very old furniture and chairs with layers of dust on them. You are lead into the man sitting area which has huge room with a giant fireplace that leads out the top somewhere but you are unsure. In the middle of the room is a rug with stains that can not be mistaken for anything other than dried blood.

In front of the fire stands the Count with about six of his Shades next to him. He greets you surprisingly with a warm welcome.

"Greetings. Get these good people some wine and bread. Please take a seat."

Four large couches are positioned around the room at different angles. In front of each is a decent sized tables. Within seconds the servants bring up large carafes of wine and bread with a few cheeses laid out on the tables.

The count takes a seat in a giant chair.

"I am sure you are all wondering why you are here. I am in need of some skilled characters who can take care of a problem for me. Normally I would send my guard but in this case, it requires a special touch of people with a certain background. Please feel free to grab a bite to eat, you will need your strength for this."

Jack looks at the cheese and wine sampling, but otherwise ignores them, "And, what, precisely, is it that needs more subtlety than thugs in armor can provide?"

Turg sits in the common room at the local Inn.  Having a drink when the child messanger arrives.  Takes the note and reads it.  Shakes his head and returns to his room to gather his gear.  Thinking to himself:  This can't be good, everytime I think it is over I get the summons to return.  Oh well maybe this is my way out.  He gathers everything and leaves the room making his way to the castle before dusk.  Greets the Butler and enters the main room, waiting by the corner of a couch as if to maintain partial cover from the Count.

"I have returned per your request.  What is thy bidding?" And is there any assistant I may get in completing this task?

Hadrian was not quiet. A large backpack with more tools than common sense was in, on, hooked to, strapped to his back. Once everyone was in the main room he finally set the large bag down and sat ontop of it. He did not take any food but did take a glass of wine. Which he then tipped to the dark lord of the land before drinking. It was attention to the small pleasures in life that kept someone sane. "The sooner we can get started the sooner we can get on to bigger and better things no doubt." It was never just one thing.

The Wolfhound settled his overlarge frame into a chair not quite built to accommodate.

He tears a chunk of bread off in his maw and washes it down with wine.

The bossman says eat and drink, and so eat and drink is what he will do...

He pulls out one of his long knives and starts slicing a good yellow cheese into reasonable pieces for future morsels...or anyone that wants something of substance with their repast.

"The Wolfhound is pleased with your praise, Master" He rumbles, not sounding particularly pleased at all, "How may The Wolfhound serve you?"

He looks around in case anyone wants a cheese slice.

Muirryl came in his designated attire, pulling at the doublet and frowning at the ostentatious style.  The Count had insisted on this gift when he sprung Muirryl from prison, and it made people watch him with a certain distrust.  He was marked.

Muirryl looked around the room, and imagined taking his warhammer and breaking every piece of furniture in the room.  Kneecapping and braining each of the Shades.  And then taking the hammer to the Count's smug face...

Muirryl touched his face, feeling the most recent bruises under his taut skin.  The pain cleared his head.  That and fingering the two-faced coin medallion on his chest.

Muirryl hated wine.  He barely tolerated meed.  He preferred a drink the Ironhavenites called Borer's Batch.  A combination of equal parts Dwarven Whiskey and Forgegrinder's Expressed Coffee, poured over ice and flavored with bitters.

Borer's Batch gave you ice in your veins and a gem cutter's focus, perfect for working a mithril seem or probing in coal deposits the might contain whitedamp.  It gave a man patience and focus to wander the city's alleyways and put fear into the criminals that thought casual darkness was sufficient cover to hide their scheming ways.

He usually just wore the black outfit on those outings, and the mask he'd made.  Already people were talking about something that stocked the alleyways...

He smiled at the idea that his legend might someday provide people more protection than any one man could provide.

Muirryl looked at the others, and then took some hard cheese and the roughest looking bread.  He stood behind a chair, and, braced on it, he began to flex and stretch his back muscles in a methodical way.  He would proceed through each muscle group as the meeting progressed.

"I am here, as requested."  His voice was gravelly, befitting a duergar, but it carried across the room.  Then he quietly began to fortify himself.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:01, Fri 15 Dec 2023.

Knowing when to graze, socially, Malleus takes a little of the bread and cheese and holds onto a glass of the wine, enough for appearances. His eyes, however, as as much focused on the others the Count has summoned as much as the count

Jack looks around at the folks filing in, "Ok, not subtlety. That means expendability. Oh joy."

Larissa had been sitting in the room above the washer-woman's business that served as her lodgings in Ironhaven. Humble as the surroundings were, the business was honest, and she felt no shame in trading coin to the old woman who did not allow prejudice to rule her heart. The day had not been an exciting one. A simple day of cleaning, writing in her diary, and prayer. But when the messenger arrived her heart sank. Even before cracking the wax seal and reading the contents of the envelope, she knew that her master was pulling on her leash, and that someone would have to die soon.

Traveling through Iron Keep had long ago lost any sense of awe or wonder in her. Still, she followed behind the Dwarf without complaint. A gilded building though it might be, it was home to a family with a blackened spirit. That took the luster out of the finery and opulence just a bit. And the Shades failed to intimidate. Not because they were not deadly, no, she could tell from the way they moved they were skilled warriors clad in excellent armor and bearing fine weapons. But there were only so many times they could loom in the half-light before the routine got old.

"Master," she sad simply by way of greeting, giving a low bow to the Count as soon as her eyes fell on him.

After rising, she also took her seat once he bade them all join him. While she was capable of eating and drinking normal food, she did not need to. And in instance, chose not to indulge in any luxuries provided by her Master. She listened to his explanation, and ran her eyes over the colorful assembly of people that he had gathered.

Strangers all.

"Who needs to die?" Larissa asked without preamble, wanting to cut through all the pomp and get to the real heart of the matter.

The Count looks at the room quickly and is happy with the replies. "Thank you for taking the time to reply. I have a troublesome wizard with a death wish. We had a bargain that we agreed on and he has since let this contract lapse. I need you to go find him and remind him of what we agreed upon. It's a simple contract that states that he will supply me with constructs of all manner. Lately, I have not seen the level of supply I was seeing before. I need this addressed and if he gives you trouble. Please consider his contract void."

The count stands up from his chair. "I won't tell you that he is a patient wizard, quiet far from it. He is a thorn in my side. I've sent no less than a handful of men to him and those have never returned. I need people with a certain set of skills and those people are you. For your trouble I will make sure that you receive proper payment for your time and supplies once the task is complete. Meng. Give the map."

The small Dwarf comes into the room and places the map on the table laying out a three day trip through the wizards tower.

"You will travel through the Shadowbark Forest and over the Stormcrag Peaks to reach his tower. It will take you three days travel to reach him and I don't expect there will be much in the way stopping you but the road is no one of simple horse and carriage. You will need to go on foot after you reach the edge of the forest. You can ride horseback from here through the Shadowbark itself. The horses are being prepared as we speak, leave immediately." says the Count.

There really wasn't much to say in this situation.  Boss said to go do a thing, giving lip about it would likely end up getting someone killed. So Hadrian pulled out a legitimate wooden map case and held it open for the mission map. He would have to make copies for everyone at first break.

Jack shakes his head and leaves, heading out to get first choice of the horses.

“If it pleases his excellency”, offered Malleus, from where he perched by the mantle, “What manner of wizard is this fellow? And what kind of constructs was he supplying, should he have stockpiled them for his own use… which may include seeing off troublesome reminders?”

He smiled slightly, shrugging apologetically, “A little preparation in this matter would improve our odds of its successful completion “
This message was last edited by the player at 19:30, Fri 15 Dec 2023.

So if we must cancel this Mage are we allowed to keep what we kill?  Anything he has is ours to better ourselves.  Is that acceptable Lord?  We are all humble servants and are a reflection of our employer. 

He turns to Malleus Murk with a smile, "He is a bit of a tinker but his creations are mainly dead in nature. You will find that he is a man of many different abilities, but his abominations are one of kind. Still, here was working on something secret before he broke contact. I can only assume he has a new bidder buying his wares. If you can, find out who has contracted him away from me."

He then looks at Turg, "Why yes. If this pest proves to be off the buzzing type. Swat him and keep whatever spoils you find. I care not of his belongings."

Stowing the map Hadrian looked at the dark lord. "Someone has stolen my work?" It was likely an adjacent line of work but he knew of no others who participated in his field.

Nodding his thanks, Malleus mulled over what the Count had said

This was about what she had expected for the mission when the Count had summoned her. Her heart fell once again now that she knew for a fact that she was going to be used for slaughter, despite her attempts to turn away from the path. But this cruel man's protection came at a cost. And if it protected her brothers and sisters, she would continue to pay the price.

"Do you want any kind of trophy, Master? I know you like to use your enemies as an example to others. Shall we bring you his head after the deed is done?" she asked evenly, trying to hide her disdain.

The Wolfhound takes another bite of bread and cheese.

He has nothing to contribute to this moment of logistics and hypothetical constructs.

...in theory.

In practice he's VERY interested in potential rebels and what they are capable of.  Because maybe this one...maybe this time...is the one where The Wolfhound reminds the Count who he REALLY is.

But for now, better to just eat his cheese and bread and let "smarter" people bicker.

The Count looks at the group with a smile that could chill the air.

"Stolen is a bit of an understatement. This man is a master of his trade. Not that your gifts are not of value but he is one of unmatched skill. I think you will be the most interested to meet him in the flesh." he says the Hadrian.

He turns to Larissa. "Ah. No trophy need my dear. I trust in your skill that you will make the best decision for this matter. Hopefully we can sway him to our side again, if not then he is simply a roadblock."

Before everyone leaves you do see someone come from the shadows. The Count nods in approval but makes no specific mention of the person.

OOC: If there is anything else you want to ask him feel free if not then we will move forward with the story and gathering the horses.

Garbed in dirty clothing with a hood, its torn here and there-Echo stops in her tracks seeing everyone gathered around the Count. The halfling doesn't say a word and stares at the Count for a moment then turns away. Biting her lip, she adjusts the dirty lute and pack. Echo sits down on the floor, laying the instrument over her lap. And a mouse comes out of it. It scrambles to her shoulder and she pets it, feeding it some cheese. Tap tap tap. Bit of adjustment, bit here and there. Its hard to tell what she saw and heard.

Muirryl considered.  This was stretching the nature of his service to the Count, but it beat going back to prison.

The wizard was making trouble, and he was doing unspeakable things.  If there was no swaying him, then it would probably be best that he be taken apart and put together into a reanimated form that was more productive.

That would be justice, if the voice he was listening to had its way.

"I'm sure we will hear the name elsewhere, but what is this wizard called?  If we have his name, it might help in negotiations."

Then Muirryl prepared to leave, downing the last of his rough meal.

The Count looks at the Duergar, "Nym the butcher is the name he goes by but most will simply call him Nym. He is a Elf with streaks of black and white hair. Hard to miss if you ask me. "

OOC: Have any of us met Nym the butcher before?  And if yes, what would be the criteria for having done so?