OOC: I think we can do that, but only after the talk is just about over. All important matters, at least.

IC: Fathis watched the young man radiate confidence. Fake confidence, but helpful to both their causes nonetheless.

"The truth?" Fathis pretended to think about it "Well, my dear Tobrecan, you cannot be sure. I can sit here and tell you the truth all day, but there is no way to prove it." The Fox smiled, both within the act and at the thought of telling this boy the real truth. 'I doubt he would believe that either.'

"So, you have two options. To leave here and have Crow and the empire die at your hands, or to use what I tell you and save them. Be more than the Hero of Chorrol, be the Savior of Tamriell." Fathis wanted the boy to believe it, to imagine the idea. 'Men's greed is never satiated, and that is something we can all use to help our own.' He stared the boy down, made sure he believed it, saw the unwavering truth in his eyes.

OOC: This should be the last little bit once I reply, unless you want to stretch it out anymore. We're probably boring our fellows...

Ghostpaw, please wait for my next post, in which I hope to reveal all necessary info. You may enter as you will then, don't want to control anything. Thanks ^^.

OOC: Don't worry Darkom, I've been poised to leap to the keyboard and post when the time is right. I'm fine.

Tobrecan swallowed his heart, which had jumped into his throat. Gilnes was right, he couldn't very well prove anything he was saying, pretty much forcing Tobrecan to beleive him. His comment about becoming the Savior of Tamriel had interested Tobrecan, but to his surprise, he cared more about helping the people of Tamriel than having the title. Tobrecan sighed 'Well, I don't have much to lose do I?' he thought to himself, this time he answered 'Except your life'

Ignoring the pessimistic part of himself, Tobrecan gave a small smile, nodding "I agree, you can't prove anything, at least not in the timeframe we are currently working with" he said, speaking slowly to ensure he didn't trip over his own tongue "So, where are these Brothers of the Night hiding?" he asked Gilnes.

As he looked at him he sensed, however briefly, that the man wasn't exactly telling the whole truth. He wasn't lying in his information, apart from at first. That was all Tobrecan could manage to catch before his insight left him.

OOC: Ah, I look forward to this at the end of every day...

IC: Fathis was relieved; their work was almost at a close. This was what he had been working up to, he didn't intend to share any more information than this.

"My friend, you are wise beyond your years to accept. I will get right to it, the Brothers are here. In Cheydinhal." Fathis stopped to let the news sink in. He was pressed for time, who knew when someone would walk into the dining room and discover them. No danger there, of course, but it could lead to questions Fathis did not want to answer.

"Specifically, they are in a place we have suspected for years. The taboo house on the south east side, across from the chapel. The door is boarded up, it appears abandoned, but it is a hive of evil. The house itself is only a front; the basemant is where they are. There are only two ways in." By now Fathis was talking quickly, almost excitedly "The front door leads to the basemant and from there a tunnel. At the end is a radiant obsidian door, with an engraving of a woman. To get in that way requires a code-word, but even then they know when a stranger calls." Fathis knew the password, or at least the old one, but he didn't trust that door. It screamed evil, in a sadistic whisper. He by far preferred the other way in "And the second way is the well, behind the house. The grate opens, but only with a key. The ladder inside the well leads to the underground hideout or "sanctuary" as they call it. Both entrances, however, are under constant watch, and they can flee at a moment's notice."

Fathis finished with a small hint at how they should proceed, but he wouldn't control the plan any more than that. He preferred to aid from the shadows, to be forgotten in history, only to add to the legend of the master thief. An alias much greater than himself.

He didn't wait for him to answer, he had dawdled too much already "Tell the others, but I must take my leave. Tobrecan, my friend," His clandestine demeanor left, replaced by a sincere look. As one would give a son being sent off into the world "I cannot be known to have had a hand in this. The Brotherhood will live, they will take revenge, and I cannot endanger my family. You cannot, you must not tell anyone of my hand in this. Lie as you need, I cannot jeopardize myself for this. I am not as noble as you all, I am no hero. Please understand." His voice changed slowly from genuine concern to beseeching and suppliant. Lords and ladies weren't known for their strong wills, and Fathis was more than willing to fake this.

Fathis stood, and waited for an answer before he left. He made sure to express he was meaning to leave to young Tobrecan.

OOC: Don't feel very good about this one, but I hope the rambles were a bit in character. Tobrecan, if you will finish, then me or Ghost will take over the last of this scene. Thanks all ^^.

OOC: Apologies if I've stepped on toes with this post, but I've had it ready all day and now I have to switch computers, didn't want it to go to waste. Sorry again, if it's not acceptable then just ignore and I'll edit it out later.


IC: Voices drifted out of the dining hall as Burd approached, causing him to slow his steps as he came to the entryway. If he hadn't slowed he might very well have been bowled over by the dunmer who was just leaving and not looking where he was going. Burd sidestepped the hurrying man, holding his hands out to the sides, watching him rush past curiously.

Burd turned back to the dining hall to see Tobercan standing there, for all the world looking very confused, "What was that all about, kid?" Burd asked, "Tobrecan, was it?" He was only slightly distracted from his intentions of finding the nearest liquor cabinet. "I've been looking high and low in this dusty old relic, trying to find something to wet my palate a little, I'm parched," He smiled confidentially at the boy.

As Gilnes had turned to leave, Tobrecan had stood quickly, mail clicking together. He wanted to get the information to the others as soon as he could. As Burd walked in, Gilnes darted out. Tobrecan pretended to think for a while, giving his dunmer informant sufficient time to get away. Tobrecan acted out snapping back to reality, smiling as he laid eyes on Burd. 'Now heres the hard part; making an excuse for getting this information suddenly.' Tobrecan thought, heading over to Burd.

"Yeah, that's me." said the lad, beaming up at the man "The kitchen is a bit farther down this hallway, I noticed it when I came in here." Tobrecan started out the door, turning and waiting for Burd to follow. "Probably some nice stuff in the cupboards." said Tobrecan, cocking a thumb towards the kitchen.

Suprisingly, Tobrecan's false confidence was holding. If someone didn't know better, they would say that the confidence was real, and a bit of it was, but it could go either way between real and fake. The more he was drawn into this situation, the more that confidence solidified into self-assurance, rather than making himself seem so. Less of the bird puffing up its chest than the lion shaking its mane.

(OOC: Lol, that whole bird-lion thing was lame, I know, but I thought of it and thought I might as well pop in in there)

OOC: Not noticing Burd seems a bit different than what I would have done, but he was in a hurry, so it's fine. I'll get him out of there so you guys can talk ^^ Anyone else can feel free to notice me leave or the like.

IC: Fathis ducked out of the room before Tobrecan could make a reply, and almost ran into a large Nordic man. The man Fathis guessed was Burd, the oldest of the Heroes at the meeting, sidestepped to avoid the Dunmer noble. Fathis cursed himself on the close call, if he had heard anything Fathis had said, it would take much longer for them to act. He hoped Tobrecan could come up with a sufficient lie, but he doubted it.

The Fox slowed his pace as he turned the corner from a jog to a brisk walk. He made a beeline for the castle exit through the halls, making sure to look unexemplary to passerby. He casually addressed the guards as he opened the gate.

"Morning, gentlemen. Just passing through." He smiled slightly, but made sure to keep his conceited expression. He hoped they wouldn't think it strange, but he was too preoccupied to keep up his facade.

The guards hardly acknowledged his passing, and barely bothered to watch him walk down the hill from the castle.

'Now to wait it out until they make their move. Best to be in a position where I'll know what's happening, but I can't go back to the castle until I make serious adjustments to my wardrobe and face.' As he planned he changed his face once more, it became more relaxed and light. Weight seemed to lift from his shoulders, and he walked with much stronger legs. One would think he was ten years younger than his last persona, and that was just as Fathis intended.

Fathis took stock of all the houses next to the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary to see if any contacts lived there. He discounted all but one, Ganredhel, an acrobatics trainer for many guild members. She wasn't in the guild herself, but she would be more than willing to help the Gray Fox. 'Especially since her increase in business since her help with Springheel Jack. Of course, officially, that never happened.' Fathis' smile grew wider.

He turned to the right and walked past the Abandoned House, he decided to avert his eyes to the chapel instead. Not because he felt comforted by the church, he did not worship the Nine; he simply didn't know who was watching him from the boarded up windows. He knocked on Ganredhel's door twice, and then waited, staring at the door solemnly. He shook his head once and all seriousness changed to joviality, no one must think he was there on business.

OOC: Needless to say, Ganredhel welcomed him inside, found out he was the Fox, and let him hide for a bit. So he's not going to do anything until you guys start whatever with the sanctuary.

Something's up with this kid, he thought as Tobercan talked. Too many years chasing criminals and liars made it very difficult to fully deceive Captain Burd. This kid is hiding something; something's different than before when he seemed like a little green soldier-boy who stole his daddy's armor. Burd wondered what the sudden change in personality could be from, did the boy know something about their current situation? Who was that dunmer who rushed so suddenly out the door? What had they been talking about?

Burd chuckled, allowing the easy smile to remain on his face. "Well guess we'd better go see what we can find then," he said walking up and slapping the boy on the back harder than he had before.

As they walked along, Burd asked, "So, what do you think of this hare-brained scheme the others have to flush out the Dark Brotherhood?" Burd looked ahead as he talked, "Personally, I think it's a horrible idea. 'Course, I'm not one for lurking in the shadows waiting to trap a panther with a butterfly net." Burd laughed at his anology, and then stopped abruptly, eyeing the kid seriously, his tone becoming dangerous, "If that group of vile cowards is responsible, I want to face them head on and crush them." He punched one fist with the other as he said this, his brow furrowing low over his eyes, "That's the only way to face bastards like them, weaklings all if you get them out in the open."

Burd's features lightened slightly then, he reached out a hand and rested it on Tobrecan's shoulder, "You're a soldier, right boy? Deception isn't the game for you and me is it?" As he said this, his grip tightened meaningfully on the boy's shoulder, not to the point of pain but indicating that he'd better choose his next words carefully. Burd didn't want his suspicions confirmed, he liked the kid.

Tobrecan felt guilty under Burd's gaze. This man was treating him like a favorite nephew, and Tobrecan was lying to him. Burd was right, Tobrecan was not one for deception, but he was not a soldier. He was a kid who knew how to do things, and found work based on that. Fighting was not one of his better talents, and deception was even lower on the list. With the information he had been given, it was the Dark Brotherhood, and they had to get the antidote from them. Tobrecan even had their entrance. He deceided that when the questions came, he wouldn't lie to Burd, but he wouldn't tell the whole truth just yet. He smiled "Well, no, I'm not exactly a soldier, but I'm not a spy either," he said as they walked, one hand on his sword and the other behind his back, not for fighting, but because he didn't like having them hang at his sides.

If Burd were a Khajiit, his ears would have stood up and then immediately flattened against his skull at the boy’s words; a growl would have formed in his throat and his claws would have extended threateningly. As it was, the stark and deadly look he was casting at Tobrecan this very moment was animalistic nonetheless. Burd noticed the Tobrecan's hand on his sword, and he flung the boy back with the arm he’d held his shoulder with then balled his fists at his sides and yelled at him with frustrated anger.

”Then what are ye boy?!” Suddenly he was very much an enraged Nord, his voice degrading into a thick brogue. He punched the wall, growling at the sharp pain it caused, “Who are ye workin’ for?” He punched the wall again, “What is yer purpose here?” After the third punch Burd’s knuckles were starting to bleed. ”What the hell is going on around here?! Why is all of this happening now? Why last night when I wasn’t there to stop it? Why does everyone die when I’m s’posed to protect them?!” After each question came a punch in the stone wall of the castle, little strings of his blood were strewn all over it.

Burd was panting heavily, his jaw slack and his eyes wide and glazed over. He fell back against the opposite wall heaving his chest and staring at the floor. “Why can’t I save anyone?” He whispered to himself more than anyone else, as he slid slowly to the ground and just sat, his bloodied hands resting limp on his knees. He looked beseechingly up at Tobrecan, bitterness and longing in his gaze, “If you’re here to kill us all, just do me next and get it over with. I don’t want to live to be responsible for another useless death.”

OOC: Sorry, been occupied. I appear to be in charge of Sisemo and Fin, as well as the councillors. I'm sorry to Poly, Tom, DarkNova and Ezequiel for keeping you all waiting.
IC:

Lyssa frowned as she heard Babur's cynicism for the plan. "It's true," she said, in her rough, warrior-like voice. "The fact that they have been recently summoned to kill people from this castle makes for a dark outlook on them actually falling for this. Besides- does anyone know how long it takes them to initiate the assassination? By the time they come for the bait, time could already be up for the Chancellor... and Crow." She shook her head. "Not a risk we can take."

Eilonwy spoke up. "...If I may," the alchemist began politely. "...The Dark Brotherhood have been particularly active in Cheydinhal over the years. Our Guild has been aware of a darker presence here as well... cultists, pagans... worshippers of the Void." She shook her head. "Perhaps there is a chance of catching them out?"

Lyssa shook her head. "I think not," the councillor replied. "However active they might be in this city, the idea of their being a permanent presence within one of Cyrodiil's own cities is ludicrous. Only think how poor our authority would be if we could not even ferret out a coven of assassin's within the walls of our own cities!"

---------------------

Councillor Fraius had slipped the discussion party, and found the young Hero of Leyawiin. He was not particularly inclined towards liking argonians, but neither did he look down upon them. Nonetheless, this argonian was pompous, fierce-looking, and with his youth... manipulable.

"Ah, the young Hero of Leyawiin," the bearded councillor began as he approached. "You are looking fine today, a picture truly worthy of your legend. One can easily see that you are a mighty warrior, the greatest warrior, perhaps, of all those gathered."

Fin bowed respectfully to Fraius, but his eyes were alight and shining with pride. "My sword has slain many daedra, Councillor, and I have pledged my service to this mission, a weapon, a tool to be... er... wielded. Whatever glory and talent I have gained, I bring now to this... great... er... mission."

Fraius reflected that he was rather long-winded in his pomposity, but not, perhaps, so fluent with his words as some of the others. He seemed happy natured enough, though, and certainly willing enough to be used.

Just what he needed.

"You see... Fin, if I may. I have come to you, and not the others, for a task of the utmost importance. You alone have the skills for what I need." He beckoned to the argonian and led him out of the room, murmuring, "This is what I need you to do..."

Byron was, frankly, tired of waiting around. He had put up with all of this political nonsense and had helped with the curing process of the two "patients", but now he felt rather useless. He hated that, if he was useless then that ensured he would throw some sort of tantrum very soon. He closed his eyes and breathed, thinking of one thing he could do in the mean-time, but he couldn't think of anything. He got to his feet and wandered around for a while before leaning on the far-wall, looking for somebody to take his bile and anger out on. He knew he shouldn't try it on his team-mates, all of whom might have a negative reaction like the psychopaths they are, so he would have to settle for a servant of some kind.

Unable to find one, he did the next best thing. He argued with this Lyssa girl. "Bah, our authority means NOTHING to these people. What little authority we have anymore, that is. The Dark Brotherhood are MASTERS of stealth and espionage, while the city-guards under your employ are far from that. Hell, your legion aren't much better. It would be quite easy to hide in this town, believe me, I've hid here MANY times. Not from the law, obviously, but from people who weren't quite as fond of my forthwright and eloquent nature than the rest of you" He said this without a trace of humour, once again oblivious to his companions obvious dislike of him.

He was talking nonsense as far as he knew, obviously, but if he ever knew he was right he would have done a somersault in excitement. He did have an obvious dislike of the Legion, mainly because they on several occasions had tried to arrest him. They said he had a "Necromancer-ish" look to him. Why did everyone say that anyway?

Tobrecan stood wide-eyed, looking down on a Nord for the first time. His body ached from where Burd had shoved him up against the wall, bouncing him around in the armor, too large for Tobrecan. He himself felt horrible for having brought this upon the proud man. He crouched down next to him, not feiging confidence anymore, showing his genuine self, answering each of Burd's questions, his voice wavering as he did; "First, I'm just a boy, like you said, a kid forced into being a hero," said Tobrecan breathing deeply, straining to keep himself composed "To answer the second and third questions, I'm here to do my brother's memory good, to be the hero he thought I was." Tobrecan felt tears well into his eyes, realizing this truth as he said it, moving to sit beside Burd, lying back against the wall.

Tobrecan looked up at the ceiling, contemplating his answers to the rest of Burd's questions. He still didn't know how to respond to Burd's last comment. Tobrecan felt sick when he had first killed a deer with a bow and arrow, and he had to keep telling himself that the daedra would kill everyone in Chorrol, his family, his friends, every last person if he didn't stop them. He doubted he could kill a person holding a knife to his face, let alone one of the few men who treated him kindly during this whole incident. "The truth is, I don't think anyone really knows what we're doing here," he said, facing the wall the entire time "My insight is along the lines of the Council not being able to lead for too long without an emperor, and since we don't have any more Dragon-Born, they're going with the closest thing they have." Tobrecan finished, vocalizing his doubt in the Imperial government.

Tobrecan thought harder, answering the last couple questions "This is happening now because whoever wanted to bring down the Empire started it at the right time for what we are going through now to happen at this time." Tobrecan offered what little opinion he had on the subject. He was a smart kid, but he wasn't exactly as informed as to the Oblivion Crisis, just as much as the papers had. He answered the last question with something his mother had told him before he left "You can't be there to save everyone, just save who you can." He let his head lay back and said "I'm not here to kill anybody either, just to help the state of things"

Burd stared at the ground for what seemed an eternity, and then he started to laugh. It was a bitter and dejected sound though, like laughing at a funeral. He took a deep breath, he was almost relieved that Tobrecan wasn’t the assassin he feared him to be, and almost disappointed too.

At length he spoke, quietly and soberly, “During the Oblivion Crisis, our enemies were on all sides. Mankar Camoran and his Mythic Dawn attacked us in the streets and our homes, Mehrunes Dagon and his Daedra hordes poured out of their cursed gates to ravage the countryside. On all sides we were surrounded but they were there, plain to see and we destroyed them. Against all odds we each went into those vile corruptions of existence, faced our enemies head on and shut the doors of damnation in their faces paying a heavy price for each victory.”

He paused still attempting to compose himself, and continued, “Now the gates of hell are closed, but the crisis isn’t over and our enemy is not so apparent. The Empire is still crumbling, our enemies gnawing at its foundations from the shadows. They are leaders and politicians; kings, counts, and ambassadors; they are the very people we looked death in the face to protect and they will tear apart our home and theirs for a slice of Imperial pie.”

He took a deep breath, at last in full control of himself, and finished, “I don’t know who to fight anymore. Enemies abound and threaten to destroy us and I don’t know where to look for them. I feel powerless, for the first time in my life I can’t just run up and hit my enemy with a sword and it’s driving me crazy.”

Burd shook his head chuckling sourly and looked sidelong at Tobrecan, “You’d better be careful kid. Stay in this business too long and you’ll become a bitter, paranoid old man like me.” He laughed again and it came easier and more sincere the second time, “Maybe I’ll skip the drink. We’d probably better get back to the group and find out what the plan is. I still say it’s going to be silly to try to get that vile brood of assassins to come to us, I’d rather take the fight to them but I guess we don’t know where to look.”

He stood, extending a still bloody hand to the boy, with a crooked smile on his weather-beaten face.

OOC: Sorry for the long, one sided post. Figured everyone probly wanted to get this thing rolling again.

ooc: Sorryz for the ooc post, but I'll try and put in a good post once I figure out whats going on. I apologize for being inactive, I just finished my exams and I bought a few new games :3, so I'm quite busy with them.

Sid turned his attention towards the female councilor, Lyssa, he believed her name was, raising a solitary eyebrow. "My dear Councilor," he began, his tone formal and polite. "While under normal circumstances, I would be more than happy to sit here idle, listening to you and the others discuss the finer points of politics, I believe this is hardly the time or place." He let his arms hang at his sides as he strode forward with a confident gait to his step.

"We are on a timetable, for the sakes of both Ocato and the lovely young Crow," he re-iterated simply, stopping several feet from the Councilor. "And if it truly is the Brotherhood we find arrayed against us, then prompt action becomes all the more necessary." The Breton captain reached for his silver cutlass, and brandished it with an expert precision and grace, though he held it in a decidedly non-aggressive fashion. No need to alarm the others, after all.

"The longer we allow those wretches to fester in their holes, the more difficult it will be to come by any sort of solution to save our fellows here. If there is any chance that we can come by a solution within the city walls, then the time for action is now!" He turned towards the other woman, the alchemist Eilonwy, and nodded. "If you have a plan, my good woman, I pray you tell us now. I can sit here waiting for action no longer."

"Regardless of such a permanent residence of the Brotherhood here, it would be wise to remember that we speak of assassins. Unless their reputation is extremely overstated, which I do not believe to be the case, judging by our present situation, any attempt to find them or route them would inevitably lead to failure, or at best the temporary dispersal of the Brotherhood members in the city." Babur said this as sympathetically as he could bring himself to; though he did not like to openly admit it, he believed that the state of the two poison victims was...dire, at best.

"Of course, again, it would be wise to remember that these are assassins," he repeated pointedly, "and we may not have to be militant to get what we want from them. What I mean, to put it bluntly, is that we could simply pay them for the cure. Clearly there is some motive to the poisoning besides simple assassination, or a slow-acting poison would not have been used. They may be more willing to deal with us for this reason. And I am certain that the servants of the Void would not easily turn away a generous sum of money." Babur knew perfectly well that suggesting open negotiation with that murderous rabble was borderline criminal, but he also knew that in matters concerning the safety of individuals of high importance, exceptions could be made. "But, if you are disinclined to take such steps, I would completely understand, and I shall even now retreat to ponder other options."

And he did so, folding his hands behind his back and turning to walk towards the nearest chair in the room. He sat down and crossed his legs, staring into the floor while he thought. But to his dismay, no matter what idea crossed his mind, his worry of the situation's chances of a good outcome loomed in his mind over all.

Tobrecan smiled and took Burd's hand, not caring about the blood. He now had a real friend in this group. He didn't fully understand what Burd had said, but he got the gist of it. People are all groping for power since there is no Emperor on the throne, and these people are those who had been relied upon as loyal to the Empire. Now they were hiring people to mess with it to help them get into power. 'And here I thought talking politics with Dad was complicated' thought the lad, smiling as he walked down the corridor with Burd 'Now I'm right in the middle, and I'm still barely holding my grasp on the predicament'

The young master Floeus agreed with Burd on one thing, however; once he got out of this mess, he'd stick to hanging out in the countryside for a long while.

Sisemo looked up at the Councilor, then at Sid, and finally at Babur, a calm peace upon his mustached face. His musketeer hat shadowed his eyes from the room light, but one could still see the gleaming of thought behind them.

"My dear Orc, that idea poses greater problems than my own. For one, they will take advantage of our desire to offer monetary compensation." Sisemo looked around the room. "Criminal types always do."

He proceeded to roll up his thin rope as he continued. "And that will make negotiations burdensome. There is also the problem of their hesitance to come to a peaceful meeting. They will suspect a trap of some kind with such an invitation. Assassins are not ignorant of their infamy within society. I still prefer the idea of using a civilian or otherwise and bringing them to us in a way they expect to be summoned. But, I am inclined to trapping, so that is just my preference." He looked to Councilor Lyssa now, as the rope was nearly finished being rolled up.

"If they do have residence in this city, they would answer the call sooner than normally. However, you make a valid point; I have not worked with this cult before and am unsure of how long they take to respond to summons. I would imagine a week would be very unusually delayed, though." He stuffed the rope somewhere in the depths of his large cloak, then looked back to the Councilor with a smile.

"I have little doubt they have a permanent residence, though. Anyone would expect a dark, evil cult of killers to inhabit some cave in the wilderness; but who would ever think that terrible assassin is, in fact, your neighbor that waters their garden plants while whistling a merry drinking tune each morning? It is, your ladyship, the most effective of all stealthy arts, and takes skill that the legends of this cult do hint towards. A skill I am practiced in myself, but nowhere near as much as they are said to be." The smile became a serious expression now, and his hand moved to stroke his goatee.

"The problem becomes finding out truth. We need to, in order to act with the utmost efficiency, ensure that the Brotherhood is, indeed, within the city walls. Any plans we conjure will hinge on this single factor. Somehow we must discover them. So far, all plans are faulty and our information is uncertain. No plan can succeed in such a state. I eagerly await your next idea, sir Orc, for I am currently without one." Don Leon rose from his sitting position smoothly, adjusting his gloves and cloak.

"And in light of that, I am inclined to take a walk. Those who wish to, may join me." Don Leon tipped his hat politely and gave a small bow to the Councilor and company, before striding out of the room.

OOC: Bit more wordy than I originally intended... Don Leon is such a wordy guy I'm back folks, and thanks for being willing to handle Sisemo even if he was unneeded, IN.

OOC: Tobrecan has important info; he needs to share it. If next post, Polish, Ghostpaw, Tobrecan and Burd could join in with the rest, that would be fantastic.
IC:

Lyssa turned to Byron, and the fires of her power seemed to burn through her eyes. Byron might be one of the more promising mages of his time, but Lyssa was a veteran battlemage, of such experience and power that she had been brought in to help govern the Empire. Her political power was also considerable; if she so wished, she could set in motion a complete dishonouring and perhaps even denobling of his entire House.

Byron had chosen the wrong 'servant'. A Councillor of the Empire was not to be messed with, however helpless they might feel. Indeed, they were all the more dangerous when vulnerable.

Or, at least, Lyssa was.

"Be silent!" she hissed at the conceited mage. She continued to stare him down as she heard out Babur; a frown grew on her face.

That posed a great dilemma.

Then Don Leon Sisemo began to put it down and explain his trap once again. He was as arrogant as Byron, in a less hostile way. She sighed. SHe was dealing with all of the biggest headed men in the Empire; and she had thought the Elder Council was bad.

"Look," she said, not bothering to ask Sisemo to wait- no doubt he would if he wanted to. She looked at Babur, "I dislike your idea on oh so many levels... but..." she looked at the comatose Ocato. "...It stands the greatest chance of working."

"Don Leon..." she inclined her head to the back of the privateer. "Your plan has too many variables, and relies on the Brotherhood being stupid, as well as using bait, something I abhor more than anything else." She grit her teeth, and looked at Babur. "Your plan relies on their greed- and the brotherhood are nothing more than mercenaries and hitmen. It is still difficult, but stands a greater chance. As I see it, they are more likely to treat with us if we are meeting them on even terms and openly, rather than if they catch us laying a trap."

She shook her head. "And there is no secret hideout in Cheydinhal," she added again firmly. "Or don't you think we would know?" her jaw was set, and her eyes sparked, daring anyone to question her. Sub-conciously, fire played around her fingertips. There was a reason why Crow found Lyssa the easiest Councillor to deal with; they were both political bulldogs, in different ways, but both stubborn as hell.

"And where the hell is Fraius?!"

"I'm here!" the bearded councillor entered the room with a smile. "Here, I'm here. The Chancellor on his deathbed obviously leaves much for us to work on..."

Lyssa explained Sisemo and Babur's plans to him, and Fraius wrinkled his nose in disgust. "The privateer, little more than a criminal himself, is worried about the Brotherhood milking us for more money? Fabulous, and how little worth he places upon the life of our High Chancellor..." something about how he said it suggested that, freaked out though he was by all this, he almost agreed.

"Though appealing to their greed seems little better." He flapped his hands at them. And turned to Eilonwy, who was standing by and listening. "Well?!" he barked at her, turning purple. "My lady, are you so incompetant as to do nothing for them? Get to work!"

Slowly, the elf complied, giving the councillor a lingering look.

OOC: Returning now

IC:
"Walk away for five minutes and look where everyone's got to, my boy," Burd chuckled as he and Tobrecan entered the room, looking at everyone coolly. "Precisely nowhere, of course. I bet they're still arguing over how much they're getting paid for this little side quest." Leaning toward the boy, he whispered, "Tell them nothing of our 'conversation' in the hall."

He walked casually over to his bedroll and sat down pulling his gauntlets off with a wince, exposing his torn knuckles underneath. Rummaging in his pack he found a healing potion, uncorked it with his teeth and dribbled a little on one injured hand, gasping at the sting of restorative liquid.

OOC: That's all I'm posting for now, I don't want to steal the show from Polish

Tobrecan stood akwardly in the doorway. He felt extreme unease. 'What if they don't beleive me?' he thought, clasping his hands behind his back 'What if they want to know where I got the information, I can't sell Gilnes out..' Tobrecan felt himself clear his throat as if he was having an out-of body experience.

"Excuse me, I need your attention for a moment!" Tobrecan boomed, his voice deeper than it usually was, getting the other's attention, or so the young man hoped. He glanced over at Burd, hoping his eyes showed he wasn't spilling their conversation earlier. "I have some information regarding Chancellor Ocato and Crow," he began, his hands held tightly behind his back "As you know, they have been poisoned. I know who the poisoners are, and where we can find them." Tobrecan waited for his information to sink in before starting again "As you have suspected, the Dark Brotherhood is behind it. They are hiding in the abandoned house, near the graveyard." Tobrecan felt his face heat up, however it didn't turn red by some source of luck "There are two entrances, the well behind the house leads down to them, and a door that you must answer a question to gain access." Tobrecan prayed that he didn't forget anything as he finished "They have the cure to this poison, and without, Ocato and Crow will die"

Tobrecan's palms were sweaty inside his gauntlets. He looked again to Burd, displaying he had nothing more to hide from him. The young Imperial waited for the responces that would follow, hoping that he could maintain his composure throughout the impending questions.

Don Leon was already gone from the room by the time Tobrecan sought to make his announcement, and had barely even caught a word of what the Councilor had said to him on his way out. Therefore, he missed out on the revelation of information that was key to their current endeavor. Which was probably very beneficial for Tobrecan, as Don Leon would not have trusted the young warrior much after having spewed forth more information than a young and naive warrior ought to know. His patience was monumental, not his trust for others.

Right now, Don Leon Sisemo was uncomfortable. It was not an experience he had often, and that just made it worse. So, he was focused on retreating to the one thing in this world that always soothed him; Nature. His boots were soft upon the stones as he passed by the guardsmen with a tip of his hat, acknowledging them and ensuring they acknowledged him. If any of the group required him or they wished to know who had recently left the castle, he wanted to be sure they could account for him.

Moving quickly, Don Leon headed right down the path to the small bodies of water that divided Cheydinhal into sections, ignoring the wooden bridges and moving right to the shoreline. He walked along this for a time, eyes wandering about the reeds and cattails of the pond with a distant dreaminess. He moved slowly and thoughtfully, until he came to a part of the pond that had a small island in the center of it. Wadding through the shallow water, Don Leon came up to this small isle of grass and sat down, looking at his reflection in the water.

This discomfort was not new to Don Leon, but it was one he was not used to and did not enjoy. One might call it butterflies in the stomach, but it wasn't really that. Just a sort of ache in his gut, like the meat was slightly off in his morning ham. He knew perfectly well the cause; last time, it had been from working with local hunters to route out and kill a cavern of vampires in the County of Skingrad, along with the help of some mage who Don Leon suspected may now be the Archmage, but had forgotten his name. The cause was simple; he didn't work well in a group.

All his life as privateer, he was a one man show; his traps were prepared and executed by himself, his jobs dealt with by himself, his plans created by himself. Sure, he plans didn't exactly always working; Lyssa was right in the fact that there were so many variables. But Don Leon had grown accustomed to working with the variables, not against them. He'd molded his teenage thrill-seeking desires and focused them elsewhere. The variables in the traps, in his plans, are what made it so challenging -and therefore exciting- for the man. He took pleasure in knowing his targets still had a chance to outsmart him; it gave him more ways to plan, more moves to consider, more methods to outsmart his prey. It made the hunt and chase more thrilling, just like teasing a deer in the forest.

But that sort of methodology did not function well in a group setting. And that presented a problem for the privateer.

Lyssa turned to Tobrecan, shocked by the information he presented. Fraius looked equally shocked- but more that the little snip of a boy could possibly have vital information.

Lyssa finally found her voice. "How do you know this? Where has this information come from?"

But Fraius waved away her questions. "Greed, greed, Lyssa! Any information can be bought, if you know where to go for it. Mercenaries, all of them!" He shook his head.

"So! We need to raid the sanctuary! I suggest that-"

"No," Lyssa interrupted him. Fraius looked flabbergasted- it was not in Lyssa's nature to interrupt, or so he had always thought. "A raid is doomed to fail. Though we may have superior strength and skills, they are in familiar territory, and could easily escape. We don't know what we'd be walking into- we need time to plan this- and more time than we have. And if nothing else, the assassins could shoot us out. No doubt they have a healthy supply of weapons," she continued on grimly.

"We stake out both entrances, and wait for one of them to surface- this is our best option. We stand a chance of catching them unawares- I doubt they arise, blades drawn and hoods up, in the middle of Cheydinhal."

"It is to be a trap then, as Sisemo said," Fraius said unhappily.

"It depends," said Lyssa. "On what is the fastest way of getting the information we need." She looked meaningfully at Babur.

Babur looked back at her bemusedly. "If you imply, madam, that I would be any more capable of gathering such precarious information than anyone else here, while you very well may be correct, there are very few sources within less than a week's travel that might be able to divulge said information. And I doubt that any locals are willing to provide such a service, for fear of their lives."

Despite this, the pilgrim continued thoughtfully. "But the challenge is tempting. I am not well known in this city, and I suppose I could learn a good deal firsthand, given a day or so." It would not be exceedingly difficult to simply witness someone coming to or from an abandoned house. The difficulty would be in remaining undetected himself. He would have to examine the placement of the residences adjacent to said house, maybe find one from which he might get a good view of his objective. Oh, the challenge was invigorating!

Babur broke from his thought process and looked back up at Lyssa. "But first, tell me, what information precisely do you seek? A name, a profile, a schedule? Shall I take any direct action, do you want a member apprehended, or will you leave me at liberty to handle the matter as I see fit?"