Ul'dah, 2 days before Impact -
The Lalafell Alchemist quietly entered the room where Yssen had been resting for the past eight bells. He set a package on the end table and with a disapproving glare, watched as the Duskwight continued to put on his clothes and gear.
"Your wounds have been seen too as best as possible, and your order is ready," the Lalafell said matter-of-factly, setting a package down on the table. "Teas and tinctures to numb pain, and your special order. While I thank you for trusting me with the fascinating recipe, I really should point out that it would seem dangerous to use it in your condition. Dangerous to do anything in your condition, really. You need more recovery time."
"I have promises to keep. There is no rest for the wicked, Bashram," Yssen said as he spun into his long coat, moving over to the table to look over the contents of his package. "Keep that recipe safe and secret. Study it if you like, but do not let other people find out you know anything about it."
"How did you come across it," Bashram inquired, moving over to the table and picking up the vial that contained the special order. He held the purple liquid up to the light and looked through it with a thoughtful expression. "The properties of this thing are quite fascinating. You'd probably have the Thaumaturge's clamoring to offer you increasing sums of money if you let them in on it."
"None of your business," Yssen said, snapping the vial out of Bashram's hand. "You really should not entertain dangerous thoughts like that. I'd hate for our relationship to be soured by you being killed for having more greed than sense."
"Tch. You and your secrets, are they all so dangerous to know?"
Yssen grinned at the Lalafell as he quaffed down on of the painkilling tinctures he's ordered. "So. Any luck on that emblem?"
Bashram sighed and sat down on the bed. "I've managed to track down it's origin for you. It was not hard. It is the emblem worn by the muscle on retainer of particularly interesting merchant. Not a member of the Syndicate, but it is expected he'll get offered a seat in a few years. His name is Radill, he has a few well run legitimate businesses. Mostly trade in spices, silks, and the like. Standard things for this city. It is suspected that he has more than a few less than legitimate endeavors, as well. Radill is said to be quite fat, and it is rumored he has some pretty vile and ruthless tendencies."
"Brilliant." Yssen shook his head, "Where am I likely to find him?"
"He has a residence in one of the towers, I've marked the location for you on a map. What business do you have with him? Lose a fight with his men? Figure you need to pilfer a few of his things to make yourself feel better? Picking a fight with yet another Monetarist? You have the silliest notions sometimes."
"Something like that."
Yssen began placing the various vials and tinctures into readily accessible pockets and pouches scattered about his belt and other gear. He saved the vial of purple liquid for last, staring at it for a few moments before placing it in a pocket on the back of his belt. After checking his weapons and tightening up any loose fitting armor, he shot a wink to the Lalafell.
"Places to go and promises to keep, Bashram. No rest for the wicked."
With that he strode out of the room, through the Phrontistery, and out into the crowded streets of Ul'dah.
The Lalafell Alchemist quietly entered the room where Yssen had been resting for the past eight bells. He set a package on the end table and with a disapproving glare, watched as the Duskwight continued to put on his clothes and gear.
"Your wounds have been seen too as best as possible, and your order is ready," the Lalafell said matter-of-factly, setting a package down on the table. "Teas and tinctures to numb pain, and your special order. While I thank you for trusting me with the fascinating recipe, I really should point out that it would seem dangerous to use it in your condition. Dangerous to do anything in your condition, really. You need more recovery time."
"I have promises to keep. There is no rest for the wicked, Bashram," Yssen said as he spun into his long coat, moving over to the table to look over the contents of his package. "Keep that recipe safe and secret. Study it if you like, but do not let other people find out you know anything about it."
"How did you come across it," Bashram inquired, moving over to the table and picking up the vial that contained the special order. He held the purple liquid up to the light and looked through it with a thoughtful expression. "The properties of this thing are quite fascinating. You'd probably have the Thaumaturge's clamoring to offer you increasing sums of money if you let them in on it."
"None of your business," Yssen said, snapping the vial out of Bashram's hand. "You really should not entertain dangerous thoughts like that. I'd hate for our relationship to be soured by you being killed for having more greed than sense."
"Tch. You and your secrets, are they all so dangerous to know?"
Yssen grinned at the Lalafell as he quaffed down on of the painkilling tinctures he's ordered. "So. Any luck on that emblem?"
Bashram sighed and sat down on the bed. "I've managed to track down it's origin for you. It was not hard. It is the emblem worn by the muscle on retainer of particularly interesting merchant. Not a member of the Syndicate, but it is expected he'll get offered a seat in a few years. His name is Radill, he has a few well run legitimate businesses. Mostly trade in spices, silks, and the like. Standard things for this city. It is suspected that he has more than a few less than legitimate endeavors, as well. Radill is said to be quite fat, and it is rumored he has some pretty vile and ruthless tendencies."
"Brilliant." Yssen shook his head, "Where am I likely to find him?"
"He has a residence in one of the towers, I've marked the location for you on a map. What business do you have with him? Lose a fight with his men? Figure you need to pilfer a few of his things to make yourself feel better? Picking a fight with yet another Monetarist? You have the silliest notions sometimes."
"Something like that."
Yssen began placing the various vials and tinctures into readily accessible pockets and pouches scattered about his belt and other gear. He saved the vial of purple liquid for last, staring at it for a few moments before placing it in a pocket on the back of his belt. After checking his weapons and tightening up any loose fitting armor, he shot a wink to the Lalafell.
"Places to go and promises to keep, Bashram. No rest for the wicked."
With that he strode out of the room, through the Phrontistery, and out into the crowded streets of Ul'dah.
