Post/Author/DateTime	Post
Savael 06-15-05, 04:39 PM	The shroud of night hung heavy over the mazeway of alleys and warehouses that made up the dock district. Whisps of fog seeped in from the darkness of the ocean, lingering like ghostly snakes in the darkest corners and deepest shadows well into the wee hours of the morning... Yet life and activity was abundant, even here in such a dismal place. Through the drifts of fog and stench of rotting fish, spices from faraway ports and babble of foreign tongues strode sailors of every rut and colour, on to taverns and mead-halls where they could quench their thirst for one more night afore the sun begun her journey once more. The largest and most crowded amongst these by far was a drinking den called "The Ogre's Hall" by the plaque above the entrance, or simply "The Ogre" by those inside. It was here that a certain individual came to begin his search... OoC: And enter the Farel!
Farel 06-17-05, 06:23 AM	Moving into the light cast off by the tavern's windows, Farel was seen to have discarded his usual black thief's garb for that of a sailor. He had smeared coal dust over his lower face lightly and under his eyes to give the impression of one who had not slept much in the past few days. Instead of walking with his usual feral grace he had adopted the rolling gait of one who has spent most of his lifetime at sea. Pausing by the largest, and noisiest of the drinking dens he nodded to himself once and then staggered through the threshold and deep into the belly of "The Ogre"...
Savael 06-17-05, 07:38 AM	Stepping in through the tavern entrance, a wall of noise consisting of shouting, brawling and drunken revelling is the first to greet Farel. A wide common room containing several round tables and crude benches in varying states of disrepair is dimly visible through a screen of oily smoke and pressing bodies. Most of the patrons there appears to be, much like Farel's chosen disguise, men and the occasional woman why ply their trade at sea. Drinking, singing, yelling or in some cases fighting appear to be the order of the day. For a brief moment as the press of bodies parts for more than a few seconds, one can catch a brief glimpse of a shabby counter, manned by a squat, even shabbier barkeep with a beefy, muscular build.
Farel 06-18-05, 01:32 PM	Looks around, and then adopts a slight limp and stomps wearily over to the bar, avoiding those who are carousing in an enthusiastic manner to avoid being knocked about. Once he makes it to the bar he slumps down onto one of the stools there. He looks to the barman and speaks in a voice brimming with exhaustion, "Whisky mate...make it a double will ya..." Once that is said he rests his face in his hands.
Savael 06-19-05, 11:30 AM	The barman eyed Farel wearily and, with a slight nod, poured him a double wiskey as requested. Gurn Lowig hadn't mannaged to run a succesful establishment for over 6 years now by extending undue curtesy where it wasn't needed. Indeed, he suspected, and justly so, that a large part of the blame for his success was his tendency to pour his guests whatever they ordered with a tired shrug, not charge them too much for his own brew, and not tell the watch anything appart from "Naw, I was busy with another customer just then". The greasy, foodstained apron he wore along with his broad, beefy face and rather impressive handlebar mustache all gave a silent testimony to a lifetime of hard work pouring wiskeys, scrubbing tables and cooking books. The last activity being more of a free-time, relaxing sort of thing more than anything else... "That's five coppers guv" he rumbled at Farel, feeling a pang of pity for the crumpled, run-down fellow before him. He looked like he could need it...
Farel 06-19-05, 01:39 PM	Took the drink and drained it in one go, handing over the coppers with his free hand. "Cheers mate, tha' really 'it the spot..." Frowned slightly, looking around at the packed drinking den, "Say...you seem to attract most of the local population to this place...would you perhaps have heard of some bloke called...what was his name again, oh aye, thats it. He goes by the name of Obollis or something like that around these parts." Faren then gave the barman a look completely filled with hope, his hands shivering slightly on the bartop.
Savael 06-19-05, 04:15 PM	Gurn Lowig's eyes took a rather greedy gleam to them, if there was something a man could always sell to others, it was information. "Naw, I dunno about that" he said, licking his cracked lips as he turned his full attention to the bleary-eyed Farel. "Obollis... Obollis" he mumbled, tugging gently at his mustache, "I might have heard the name before, I'll give you that" he said after a little while "but if you want more than that I'll have to stretch my memory" It was then that his mouth slowly split into a wide, yellow-toothed grin "and sadly, that'll have to cost ya" Gurn gave Farel a shrug and turned away from him to handle a couple of new customers, leaving Farel to ponder his next move, but never straying too far form where he sat... money was moeny after all.
Farel 06-20-05, 05:26 AM	Farel's expression turns slightly pained as if he can't believe what he's hearing. He sighs and pulls a pouch from under his shirt, "This is all I have, now tell me what you know. Be quick about it to, i have to find this guy before my ship leaves." Places the pouch on the bartop, the clink and jingle of coins emitting from it as it strikes the polished wood.
Savael 06-20-05, 05:58 AM	Gurn fixed his beady eyes on the pouch Farel presented to him and pocketed it faster than an elf on Ziran. He tucked the filty rag he'd been toying with in his apron pocket, and leaned heavily on the wooden counter. "Last time I heard-" Gurn spoke in a low, wheezy tone, "Obollis held kip down by Shonda's warehouse on Green street. Thats some odd month's past however, and he might have moved somewhere else by now. Sorry. Mighty queer lot living over by that way..." He shrugged apologetically and half turned back to the tap, before adding: "Oh, and where Green street meets the docks, there's this tavern he'd go to sometimes. The 'Scroll and Goblet' I think it was called..." With that, Gurn put Farel's pouch safely away and went over to serve a mountain of a half-orc at the other and of the bar.
Farel 06-20-05, 06:42 AM	Let out a slight chuckle at these words and got to his feet. "Thank ye matey, you've just saved me a spot of bother ye have." With that he stomped on out of the tavern. He headed down the street towards the "Scroll and Goblet" hoping to find more information there. Every now and again he'd stop to ask directions, making sure he was going the right way, and taking advantage of these quick conversations to make sure he wasn't being followed.
Savael 06-20-05, 03:41 PM	"The Scroll and Goblet" was a wooden, two story building with a slanting, green-tiled roof. Unlike The Ogre, it's prime hours was during the daytime, and so Gurn's directions led Farel to a quiet, non-particular dive with only a few regulars in the booths at the far end of main room. Farel's questions for direction actually enabled him to find a shortcut down a back alley past a couple of dye vats. The smell of it all was bloody horribly, but it made the way that much shorter. Thin, willowy tendrils of fog had slowly begun to make their way up from the inky black sea beyond the dim light of the harbour lanterns, filling up dark allyways and shadowy corners. Most people had by now either found their to a tavern somewhere or had shuttered up their homes and tucked themselves in for the night. If anyone was following him, Farel didn't see it. The Scroll's proprietor was a bruly halfling named Brelvic. A pair of bushy eyebrows and lightbrown hair tied back in a ponytail made up the most striking features of his otherwise clear-cut face. He greeted Farel with a tired smile, his eyes betraying a touch of surprise at having customers at this hour. Never the less, he had his eyes on the newcomer.
Farel 06-23-05, 06:43 AM	Stands still for a second, allowing his nose to finish recovering from the stink that it had been forced to endure while walking past the dye vats. Then he looked down to the halfling at the bar. He sat down at a stool at the bar. He nodded politely to Brelvic in return to his greeting before he motioned for the burly proprieter to come over to him. When he did, Farel spoke in calm, determined tones. "Hey mate, this looks like a fairly wealthy establishment, so perhaps you will have something that will be of use to me. I've been sent here to find a man named...Obollis? Perhaps you have heard or seen of him yes? My master must speak with him most urgently yes? so perhaps you would be so kind as to tell me where he is no? Farel waited for a moment to let the words sink in before placing a silver coin on the bartop. "Perhaps, while you think, you would be so kind as to fetch me a glass of wine?" ((OOC: Sorry this took so long mate, had some trouble with my browser last few days.))
Savael 06-23-05, 08:19 AM	Brelvis took in the looks of his newest customer, a sailor by the looks of it. A sailor with a taste for wine no less. He listened patiently to Farel's requsts, both for information and wine, before reaching under the bar to fetch a tankard and a worn glass. "Weeell, I dunno about the wealthy bit, guv", Brelvic replied in a weary tone. "Me little dive is a respect'hable place, an' we get by well enough" This had been a long day, long and uneventful. Uneventful days were bad for business, but none the less, Brelvic couldn't help but enjoy it at times like these, when he could scratch his nose in peace and there wasn't so much noise around him that he couldn't hear his own thoughts. "Obollis... ya mean that lanky fella, aye? I dunno whar he is right now, but I'd be guessin' he's sound asleep like most honest folk-" he chuckled for a bit at his own words, for here he was, awake after all. "You'd find his house down at the end of tha' ally by Shonda's warehouse. Ya know whar that is?" Awaiting the messenger's reply, he wordlessly handed him his drink after pocketing the silver coin on his counter. "In any cese, if ye find him, tell yir master I sends my regards" OoC: Often have I been plagued by the evil Demons of Microsoft Word, and their compatriaot, the Entity of the Unholy Browser. Such things happen mate, no need to worry.
Farel 06-23-05, 04:16 PM	Chuckled softly along with Brelvic, listening attentively to what he had to say. "You have saved me from a lot of bother my friend, my master will be most pleased to hear of this. He has been trying to find this man for some time now. Not entirely sure why myself, but then, those who are wealthy often feel that they are above us people who get all the work done for 'em." "But no, I do be afraid that I do not know the way to the warehouse, perhaps you could tell me?" Took a sip from the glass and smiled to himself as he savoured the taste of it. He let out a soft sigh and held the wine glass up to the light so as to admire the colour of the liquid. "This is a very nice vintage, I reckon I'll have another glass before I leave."
Savael 06-23-05, 07:04 PM	Brelvic gave a half-harted shrugg in response "They kin feel they're as good as any fella' to me, 's long as they pay their tabs 'afore they leave" He smiled at this, and nodded over Farel's shoulder to one of the regulars by the far wall. "excuse fer a second" he rumbled, and stalked off to refill a well-worn mug and colect a copper piece before returning once more to Farel's musings. "Shonda's a merchant in texstiles an' spices an wha' 'ave ye" he said, his gaze drifting as he tried to recall "Jus' follow tha smell of his stock after ye go down tha street d'rectly west from 'ere on. When ye've done that, carry on down that blind alley to that right side of tha warehouse, and you'll soon be findin' Obollis' kip. Now, as fer that second glass, it's me own brew aye, to be sure, or me cousins more likely, he jus' does tha brewin' fer me. If you've taken a shine to it, there's enough of around it fer another visit 'ere if ya get thirsy again" He filled up another glass for Farel and waited expectantly for another silver coin, watching this new customer intently.
Farel 06-25-05, 04:57 PM	Took a thoughtful sip as his mind sifted through all this new information. He smiled as a few interresting ideas came to mind concerning how he would deal with this Obollis fellow. First of all however..."Thanks for your help friend, I'll probably be back later for another glass, also, if you have any rooms for rent I would be willing to pay for one nights use of it." "First however I better go deal with Obollis, I'll be back in a hour or two. Keep a bottle of wine back for me would ya?" With that he placed a silver coin on the bartop for the wine and a gold coin for the rent, then he headed off.
Savael 06-26-05, 09:05 AM	"As ye wish" Brelvic gave Farel a slight nod, and tucked the advance money into his pouch. His eyes lit up momentarily as he found gold as payment for the room. He never usually charged that much, but hey, who was he to argue? With a little bit of window-tax and other niceties thrown into the price, he was sure he could make the cost rice expectantly... * * * Shonda's Warehouse was a sturdy, squat building made of solid oak one floor high. A single lantern hanging above the front entrance served as the only source of illumination around right now. The windows of the other nearby houses were dark and unwelcoming, as foreboding as the empty eyesockets of a reanimated skeleton. The windows and allyways around the tightly packed group of dingy little houses seemingly leaning against eachother for support stared accusingly at Farel as he made his way down the street towards them. Barely a moon up tonight, and the damp seaside fog had made the cobbles wet and slippery. It might be a good thing to watch where your feet went, as the ground might come up to meet you if you didn't. Down by the right side of the warehouse building a small, crooked ally snaked it's way down another 60 feet or so before ending in a wall half-crumbled into ruin. The row of dingy tenements on the left leaned dangerously out across the street, seemingly about to fall down upon any weary passer-by's... it was a proof of the God's favour that they didn't though. All the windows of these houses were dark and devoid of life, save the upper story window of the one closest to the crumbeling little wall at the end of the alley, where a warm, yellow light filtered out through half-shut curtains.
Farel 06-27-05, 05:20 AM	Farel smiled as he headed off, the way things were going he'd be able to get the job done in one night, rest the next day and then meet up with his employer's messanger the next day. All in all, things were going quite well. *** Farel leaned against the shadowed wall of Shonda's Warehouse gazing intently at the houses around. He decided that the best house to examine first would be the one with the light glowing out the window. He stealthily made his way over to the dingy little houses and rested one hand against the wall. It was crumbling a fair amount but should support his weight. At least for a while. With this decision made, he slowly hefted himself up the sied of the building, hand over hand, until he reached the window. He slowly leaned in and peaked into the lighted room.
Savael 06-27-05, 01:41 PM	Indeed, things seemed to be going very well for Farel. But he had yet to locate his target, and yet to get hold of the missing book... * * * His feet perched precariously on top of the crumbeling wall, Farel could just manage to poke the upper half os his coal-smeared face over the windowsill, and spy the interior of the room beyond. The room was small and gloomy, being barely lit by a single oil lamp. It was obviously a converted attic, and the faint smell of fish which was always present in the area around the docks, along with a mixture of mildew, permeated the cold air inside. The small oil lamp was perced on a footstol right next to a low bed containing but a single matress filled with hay. A few sturdy crates stood here and there along the wall opposite the window, and a few torn, rumpled clothes hung on a washing line secured to the upper windowsill. Poking out from under the bed was a small wooden bowl, containing a small loaf of moldy bread, most of it had started to go green already... Appart from another grimy window on the far wall, a trapdoor was the only visible means of descending into the lower part of the house. Somewhere far off in the distant inght, a dog howled against the waning harvest moon hanging full and yellow in the night sky. A few lonely stars had alos begun to peek through the curtain of clouds hanging low over the city. It was night, a night for dirty deeds and cries for mercy unheard.
Farel 06-27-05, 04:51 PM	Farel hmmmed softly. The trapdoor held numerous possibilities to it. However, he would have to be careful. He meticulously searched around the edge of the window for any traps, he then pulled a small bottle out from his shirt and spread its greasy contents all over the hinges before gently pushing the window open. He then crawled in and slid over to the trapdoor. Examining it carefully and then looking around the room a bit more intently. He decided that he would wait for an hour or so before making a decisive move. The presence of the lit lamp told the tale that someone at least would come up here at some point. He pulled a beaten up old ring and slid it onto a finger. For a moment nothing happened. And then he seemed to slip into his shadow. The shadow moved into the darkness under the table. After all there is nothing more obvious than a shadow without an owner in a well lit room.
Savael 06-27-05, 05:27 PM	Whatever contents came out of Farel's stoppered bottle, it certainly did the trick for the window's hinges, which revolved as quietly as the nighttime fog. Finally, with the worn ring on his finger and his form neatly masked by the dancing shadows of the single oil lamp, the thief slid well under the small table and took to examining his surroundings more closely, leaving the worn trapdoor for now. Dust. Thick layers of it. Most of the attic was covered by a thick shroud of it, with only the area nearest the window Farel had just entered through seemingly free of it. Mostly free at least. Now, along the far wall untouched by the flickering light of the oil lamp there weren't only boxes and burlap sacks. In the darkest corner of the attic, something else was covered by a large piece of canvas, probably old sailcloth, mayhaps a particularly large crate, or was it something else... The matress on the bed wasn't really worth much attention. A cheap cloth sack stuffed with old hay which stuck out through the odd hole here and there didn't exactly make for very exciting details. The few crimson staines on it did, however. OoC: So what manner of ring is it your charrie's using there, Farel?
Farel 06-29-05, 03:47 AM	As Farel took in the state of what lay around him he almost kicked himself. He should have noticed straightaway that the dust was there. And such a thick layer virtually screamed that this part of the house was rarely frequented. He frowned however. For the lamp would have to be refilled, and it had had to be lit. First his shadow removed itself from under the table, for a brief moment it stopped and then Farel himself stood there. He examined the lamp and the area around it, he then moved over to the old sailcloth. He picked up a stray piece of wood and used it to flick the sailcloth away and reveal what it was hiding... OoC: Just a ring he...ah...borrowed a little while ago. It causes the person who wears it to sink into his shadow. Only problem of course is that the shadow is still there :) .
Savael 06-30-05, 11:08 AM	The converted attic around Farel was indeed dusty, and most of it couldn't have been used for quite some time. Around the bed however, a trail had been worn through the layer of dust. So the same was around the table and worn trapdoor, someone might have been here not so long atime ago. Also, a modest, though much older trail led off through the gloom towards the sailcloth-covered thing in the corner. As the cover fell to the floor, a large, sturdy seaman's chest came into view. It migt once have been painted dark blue, and a beautiful image of a crashing wave had once been carved with great care into the chest's lid. Also, a strong smell of tar and mould, probably from the stuff smeared on the inside of the fabric to keep it from rotting, assulted Farel's nostrils - but behind this smell again, a quite different smell seeped through... It might be something akin to the smell of the dye vats Farel had passed earlier that night, a vague odour of rott, decay and decomposition...
Savael 07-01-05, 06:42 AM	OoC: Ok, so let's get this straight. I'm going away for a few days for a walk in the mountains. It's not going to be fun, but I guess it can only do me some good. I'll be back and posting again within 3 or four 4 days. You're not getting away, so don't imagine anything. The Hans
Farel 07-01-05, 07:09 AM	Farel eyed these trails curiously. Someone had been up here, fairly recently at any rate. They had done something to the chest. The smell eminating from the latter giving a few hints to what it could be... Farel stepped into the already made trail in the dust and creeped over to the chest. He rested one here against it for a moment, his face twisted into a slight expression of disgust at the smell. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a strangely twisted piece of wire. He inserted it gently into the lock of the chest and jiggled it around slightly. He continued this until a triumphant click was heard. He stood up, and reached into his tunic with both hand, when they re-emerged they were holding a pair of serrated daggers. Then he reached out with one foot and flicked the chest lid open...
Savael 07-01-05, 09:23 AM	The lockpick did it's work seamlessly, and soon enough, the antique lock of the old sailor's chest gave away with the triumphant 'click' Farel had been waiting for... ... Like a wall the smell of decayed and rotting flesh wafted up from the chests interior as Farel flicked the lid open. Inside the chest with a rough blanket of some sort wrapped tightly around it, lay the body of an old man. His skin had the unhealthy greyish pallor of someone long dead, devoid of the rosy redness of life. His dry lips were cracked and brown with decay, his eyelids dark and heavy. The body looked to be that of a working man, perhaps in his early fifties or late forties if Farel were to play the judge. Only the man's head was uncovered, pressed down between his shoulders to make the body fit inside the chest. ...and suddenly the muffled sounds of movement came from downstairs. Someone, or something... had just come home.
Savael 07-03-05, 07:34 AM	Hmf. Well, look at that. I appear to have returned sooner than expected.
Farel 07-08-05, 06:54 AM	Examined the corpse appraisingly, a twisted expression on his face. He remained silent for a while before the sounds of new movement came to him. With a slight start he quickly closed the chest and slipped his ring on. Once he had returned once more to shadow he drifted over to the wall near the door...and waited... OOC: sorry it took so long to answer this, i didn't receive an e-mail saying you'd replied. Dunno why. Hope you had a nice walk. :)
Savael 07-08-05, 07:16 AM	The corpse has apperantly been here for some time, stuffed brutally down into the chest after having been wrapped in crude sailcloth soaked in som sort of herbal concoction, probably in an attempty to cover the worst of the smell. Over his chest, the man sports a nasty pair of deep claw-marks, the sailcloth coloured crimson red where the blood have gushed out. Judging by the bloodstains on the matress on the bed, he might have breathed his last there... Farel meanwhile took up position near the wall by the trapdoor as a soft, warm glow came spilling up through the floor from the room below. Another lamp had perhaps been lighted? Soon enough, the glow is followed by the scraping of wood against wood, - perhaps chairs? - and the distant mumble of voices. OoC: No worries - such things happen. Perhaps you've accidentaly unsubscribed to it? It's happened to me. The trip was fine enough, only I stubbed my toe rather badly, so it now sports a nice shade of purple/blue. I seem to have taken on a slight cold as well, so I now sound like a damn chain-smoker... Oh well, I guess the fresh air did me some good at least!
Farel 07-10-05, 06:41 AM	Farel's mind seethed with frustration, his shadow swept across the floor to the trapdoor where it remained for a moment. He then resumed his normal form and glared at the trapdoor. After a moment he spread some oil from his bottle over the hinges and slowly lifted the edges of the trapdoor, just enough so that he could listen to what was being said below. Once more he despaired of the fact that his shadow wasn't able to manipulate objects, which would most certainly have made his job easier... While he listened he kept one hand inside his coat where he kept his knives. HE wouldn't admit it to anyone but that corpse, with its claw marks on it had unnerved him slightly...
Savael 07-10-05, 08:54 PM	Soundlessly the trapdoor, on smeared hinges, went up, up, up, allowing a thin beam of light to seep through into the attic, along with a jumble of hushed voices... Through the tiny crack afforded by the barely raised trapdoor, Farel could make out the outlines of a larger room - a livingroom perhaps? A table was quite prominent, a few chairs around it. So was also the dark fireplace, and there - in the corner - a window covered by heavy drapes. The source of the light must be comming from a lamp or some such hanging over the table where Farel couldn't see. "-500 gold, just as we agreed on, an' the book is yours" The voice which spoke - a males by the sound of it - had a thick accent of some sort, though Farel was damned if he could place it. "I'd prefer it if you surrendered the book to me first, freelance, before I hand you the payment" The second voice came in a more steely tone, subdued yet dangerous. Owners of such voices usually belonged to people who either knew something about your immediate future you didn't, or worked as high-ranking bureaucrats. "Ere' sir, we agreed upon that price 'afore the job was pulled - you canna go an' have a change of mind now". A soft, mirthless chuckle heralded the following: "I know quite well when the price was decided, and I also know that you'll never get as much as what I have to offer you if you try to pawn that thing off at someone else". The babble of voices continued, the speakers seemingly quite oblivious (and rightly so) to the unassuming form of Farel, peering down at them.
Farel 07-11-05, 04:44 PM	Farel's eyes widened slightly at this new predicament. He had been fortunate in finding the freelancers hide. He had discoverd the location of the book. However he had managed to enter at the same time as the exchange was taking place. This was going to require some careful planning, from the sounds of that steely voice, its owner was probably a man to be reckoned with... Our young thief opened the trapdoor a bit wider so that he could get a better idea of where these two were positioned in the room below...
Savael 07-11-05, 08:35 PM	Indeed, Lady Luck's favour had been with Farel so far this evening - but for how much longer? The Lady was known to be a fickle mistress after all... Lifting the heavy trapdoor another few inches, a better view of the room became possible. A soft layer of dust also coated most things here, though the situation wasn't nearly as bad as the one in the attic. Visible to Farel at a glance was one of the walls which made up the room, as well as the corner containing a sturdy table where two people conversed in hushed voices. One of them was clad in a coarse, burlap tunic of ochre colour. A mane of brown, tangled hair flowing down his shoulders. In the flickering light of the oil lamp, his face looked gaunt and unhealthy. The man opposite him wore a pair of long, light green or grey (It was difficult to tel in the darkness) robes whose fine cut fit his light frame rather snugly. His eyes gleamed in the glow from the lamp, the yellow beard which fringed the lower half of his face bristeling as the conversation wore on.
Farel 07-14-05, 05:50 AM	Farel ground to himself. Lady Luck was indeed a fickle mistress, but who ever relied slowly on the favours of the Lady? A good thief and assassin was always prepared for the worst. Farel gave the room a more scrutinizing look, before slowly pulling his mask off, just long enough to place a veil over his nose and mouth. He ajusted it so that it fitted snugly and replaced the mask on his visage. He then pulled a rather large pouch from under his shirt and held it in the same hand as his knife. First he needed to know exactly where the book, and the nearest exit once he was in the room below were, just in case this didn't work and he had to make a speedy retreat. Once he had located these he slowly counted to 10... his body tensing slightly in preperation for his next move...
Savael 07-16-05, 07:14 AM	OoC: I'm currently at my grandparents place, and so do not have access to a computer. Sorry about the short notice. Will be back in three days. Take care all, The Hans
Savael 07-20-05, 10:37 AM	OoC: Righty'o - make that four days. Back in black everyone. BiC: Prepearing for a bit of living-room guerillia tactics, Farel's eyes scanned the recesses of the dimly lit room below for some sign of book and entrance. Not being able to see more than two walls of the room from where he was positioned, the only conclusion was that the nearest exit had to be located along one of the other two walls which made up the room. From the outside it had been a brown, weathered door with a small window on the wall beside it That shouldn't be so difficult to find once he was down there. But the book on the other hand... Halfway underneath the rickety chair where the gangly, sallow-faced man named Obollis was seated a small, grey cloth bag lay discarded. It's current from didn't betray any of the contents inside, could it really be that simple?. Without a better view of the room below him, it was damn hard to say anything for certain.