Subject 94 Investigation Team

[*Cadence]

No searching of public record nor Kaori Suzume's arrest profile yielded any further information regarding Subject 94.

Ganatog, however, managed to discern something that no one else had before. The knowledge came with a cost, however - as haunting dreams of him traveling through odd quarters of the city at night invaded his dreams.

Of course, there was a part of him that questioned whether the dreams he was seeing were actually dreams. Searching for his peculiar new "friend" may yield some answers, though it would be difficult locating this individual.

[*Mander]

The Jotun had tried to ignore the visions with the tenacity of an old mind set in it's ways, but he could do it no more. The bad quality of his sleep was catching up to Ganatog; he grew tired during the day, unfocused, a serious problem for one in his line of work. One night he had awoken in his warrior's quarters, hands locked around a blue faced bugbear. Ruk had survived with a bruised neck and a heavy bonus for his trouble, but that had been the last straw.

"She seems to be a human woman, all in black with a hood obscuring the face. Dead, or mostly dead. Annam only knows the truth behind this business." He said to Maedbroghail across his oversized stone desk. His eyes were sunken, drooping with exhaustion.

"I know it is a personal matter, but I would ask your aid in this. Every time I've seen this thing has been on her terms; I'm of a mind that we find HER for once."

[*Krayt]

The fey'ri stood with her arms crossed in a black shadow of a broken pillar. Staying her distance. Her golden-green eyes gleaming in the darkness with malice and her usual malcontent. Her daintily shaped pale-scarlet index finger continuously thrummed her ornate vambrace.

"The mist of weakness obscures you still. Not meet be it, the wasting sickness within you."

She had tried to keep the Jotun warded from intrusion of mind but it had not helped against this. If she haden't been there and seen the woman he spoke of she would had believed him raving mad fighting a ghost of his own creation. The discription he gave didn't match that first encounter however.

"Hard methinks the finding of a shade of an eco long dead. How shalt it be done? If the quarry be ye. An arrow mayst yield in it's flitting flight whither from string bore it aloft."

[*Mander]

"There be but one thing I know for sure; the Godsmen are at the center of this....been shown to me again and again. Some were killed when this being was about, posing as dustmen. If we are to get to the root of this matter, it is they and their harbinger house we must learn more of."

[*Krayt]

"Whither will it be found this house of harbringers? A name without stead, whom shall knowest? It recks not to ken the name."

[*Mander]

"I think we know where to start...." The Jotun left his seat, smoothing out his leather tunic and grabbing a hefty bag of gold from a drawer. "It's about time we visited the Foundry, and see if anything is out of sorts there."

[*Krayt]

"It shall not be of profit to us to storm thitherto with hails of question.What will be done once thereat?" She muttered with her usual displeased tone uttered under a bitter mien. The wiser giant knew she was cautious whenever the Factions was involved.

She took the scabbarded long curved great blade placed against the pillar at her side and fastened it at the hinge mounted on the back of her armour. From her leaf-shaped satchel she withdrew a scrollcase which she scimmed through at a fast rate making sure the most essential scrolls wasn't lacking. "The want be of wands." She added, clearly believing that it wouldn't be a short course to this Harbringer House.

[*Mander]

"We will not mention the place to them, but it may be we can learn something there to start with. Perhaps I will comission a helm to ward against mental intrusions, see if that gets any reaction. Now let us depart."

[*Krayt]

Slowly she inclined her head while considering the idea. "The tway of us is all that remain, there be no use in linger and wait for aid shalt not be given. Lead the way."

[*Cadence]

The massive building was more accurately described as a dirty, sprawling complex of workshops, warehouses, storage yards and furnaces. Godsmen worked in it non-stop. By the day it belched smoke and steam, and by night the district around it was lit by its fires. The products of the Foundry; petty metal goods needed by everyone throughout Sigil and beyond, were the Godsmen's major source of jink. They made tools, hinges, pots, nails, and anything else that can be fashioned out of metal. For the most part, their skills weren't very great; very few of them were fancy work - but they were all strong and servicable.

The streets around the Foundry are a jumbled weave of workshops and worker's taverns. They're not luxurious or particularly clean. When a cutter's been at the forge all day, he tracks in a lot of grime. Drinking and dealing are both serious business. There's always someone haggling over the price of goods. Other deals get cut here too, for this is the neighborhood where men and fiends meet.

Mae and Ganatog found themselves at the massive wrought-iron gates of the structure, tall enough to be taller than the Jotun. An armored, helmeted guard that resembled a Harmonium officer (save that his armor was grey not red and bereft of the numerous spikes often featured on a standard issue Hardhead breastplate) approached them with a nod.

"Business?"