Snippet #2560881

Following the Zarc's departure, Tryn rejoined the bustling crowds making her way to her first destination, the tavern. The Drunk or Dead, as it was known, was owned by a former adventurer by the name of Ferrus Farragut, one of the few people Tryn had never managed to piss off. As she approached the tavern, she was pleased to see it in the same state of half-disrepair that it was when when she last visited. Ferrus, while excellent at brewing spirits, wasn't much for carpentry, and he only bothered to pay for repairs when there were more holes in the roof than wood. She was glad that here, at least, was not too much changed.

Tryn stepped into the bar casually, drawing attention from no one but the bartender, Ferrus himself, who was chatting up a young elf at the bar. When he saw her his eyes widened, he stopped in the middle of whatever exaggerated tale he was telling, and let the glass he was cleaning fall to the floor, shattering it.

"By all things holy and otherwise, I swear I'm not drunk yet! Tryn? When did you skulk back into town? Tryn smiled a genuine smile as she approached the bar and took a seat a stool down from the other elf.

"Just this morning, Ferrus. I'm here on particular business." She trusted Ferrus, but not any of his patrons. It was probably best to be vague, in case anyone was listening. "I'm looking for our friend. The one who stayed behind. Know where I can find her?

"Oh, aye," he nodded, obviously intrigued, "She's with him. His eyes darted up to the magefire lantern above their heads, and Tryn caught his meaning. Her dragon, kept in the palace and harnessed for energy. She felt Ankh's anger flare up at the thought of what they were doing to the other dragon.

"So it's true, then, what I've heard." She could feel the anger in herself rising up now. She wanted to believe the rumors were lies. "I need to speak with her, can you arrange it?"

"You don't need my help, Tryn. They aren't being kept a secret. Most people know, and don't care. You can walk right in and see them, if you want.

"What!?" she slammed her hand down on the bar, her voice raising. "They don't care? What sort of...of monsters would be okay with that? Ferrus placed his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off and stood up, her voice trembling now. She didn't care that she was making a scene. She had assumed that the citizen's were guilty of only ignorance, but the fact that they knew what was going on and did nothing set something off within her. She took a breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was low, measured, and chillingly calm. "I will speak with her, and whether or not she wants to help, Ankh and I are going to put a stop to it. Thank you, Ferrus. You should take a vacation away from the city. You deserve it." Finished, Tryn turned and stormed out of the tavern, her next destination in mind.

The walk to the palace afforded Tryn much needed time to cool off, and Ankh dutifully reminded her that the guards would likely not let her inside if she was visibly upset. When she approached the gate, she was approached by two guards, an older man with a smug sense of satisfaction about him, and a younger one who looked rather shamed.

"Halt! What business do you have in the palace?" The older one asked. Tryn continued despite his order, and his hand went to his sword. Before he could draw it, however, Tryn waved her hand towards the two men, drawing on her magic as she spoke.

"Not your concern. Open the gate then forget you saw me. The spell clouded their minds and they obeyed, mumbling incoherently as they did. It was an incredibly useful spell when used on those with feeble minds, which most guards seemed to have, and once she was inside and out of site, it wore off and they returned to their duty, slightly dizzier than before.

Tryn had been in the palace many times before during her years as a rider and she was familiar with the layout. They'd done renovations, but the only place she figured would be feasible to keep a dragon would be in the dungeons somewhere. She made her way into what had been the dungeons with ease, surprised at the lack of security, only to end up lost. They had changed drastically to accommodate the magefire systems, and the lower level seemed like a maze of pipes and gears.

Follow the magic to it's source. Tryn could feel the magic in the magefire flowing through the pipes, all emanating from a central location. The dragon had to be there. She followed it through the winding tunnels and copper doors until she came to what seemed to the the epicenter. Before her, a copper door left casually open. She approached it, bracing herself for what she was about to witness, and pushed it completely open.

No amount of bracing could have prepared her for what she saw. Suspended in the center of the chamber, the dragon hung like a deer carcass strung up to dry. Cables and tubing protruded from it everywhere and held in place by a metal claw that dug into it's chest. The anger and anguish that flooded into her from Ankh nearly deafened her, and her own anger left her dumbstruck, her jaw hanging open as she gazed at the once mighty creature. The, Tryn saw her. Knelt near the head of the dragon was the woman she had come to find. Her voice cracked as she tried to speak.

"Maeve of the Mists?"