The night sky looked no less chilling and mysterious from within the walls of the Grey City, with its ominous darkness being combated by the yellow light of iron lanterns who had no hope of vanquishing the dark.
Victor Amerial strode over the rime-covered cobblestone, the tip of his long, black cloak waving gently behind him.
He had discarded his fine summer vestments and gone for a practical, warm outfit consisting of loose, dark pants and a long-sleeved tunic reinforced with leather padding on the chest and back. Not a lot of protection, but enough to lessen the slash of a knife or the blunt force of a fist.
A deep, dark hood hid his face, with only his bearded chin left visible underneath.
Padding along next to him, was a diminutively short woman in black leathers, a short cloak with a deep hood, and a constant, laid-back smile on what little was visible of her face.
A pair of straight, short blades rested by her hips.
"So, like ah said..." drawled the tiny woman, whose leather boots boosted her height so the top of her head reached Victor's belt,
"...this catacomb's what you're gonna find under th' entire north ward o' the city. Blends with th' sewers, but that way's blocked off for good reason - there's deaders down there. Walkin', hungry, mean ones."
Victor nodded faintly underneath his hood.
"And we are to sneak, fight, or luck our way through until we find this one, specific tomb." said the older Amerial sibling,
"Because you believe that I, with my talents, might be able to help you solve a mystery within."
The small woman bobbed her head up and down. "Yeah! Basically! We got rumors and we got me, who's been in there to take a look - and I'm tellin' you, there's something weird about that place."
Victor scoffed.
"Except for the undead prowling the catacombs."
"Except for th' deaders stalkin' the catacombs." confirmed the woman with no further elaboration.
"Next time, Captain Fira, I'd prefer some more actual information. A hunch that something might be important is hardly a good reason to risk getting torn apart by the living dead."
The little woman, halfling by race, Drain Captain by title, and Fira Brumbat by name, snickered and shot him a reply:
"You get tha' when you earn my trust. Seein' as I've been placed in charge o' you, we do things my way until you've proven yourself. Fair, right? Ah mean, I did agree to come with you on this assignment, right? Fair fair, yep yep."
Fira's relaxed attitude even though the two of them were about to delve deep into a place of great danger, was enough to catch Victor's interest.
How skilled would this halfling prove to be in the end?
If nothing else, it was a test to see if the Drain could really be of use to him and his sister - or if they'd be better off moving on and start looking for answers on their own.
The odd pair moved over the cold streets in silence.
A single patrol of tired Greycloaks walked past the two, ignoring them more or less with only a few glances at Fira's brazen carrying of weapons within the city walls - not that it was strange. Just that she wasn't human, and thus looked down on, much like Rhen was due to her obvious, eastern appearance.
Soon enough, Victor and Fira reached the northern ward, which consisted almost entirely of chapels and graveyards; a morbid part of the city, beautiful in its own way with gravestones and adornments covered in layers of rime like the rest of the city was at the moment.
"Almost there..." said Fira as she slipped over the pathway that seperated the different graveyards and chapels.
Victor glanced around, taking in the sights offered by the area. It was deathly quiet, and for the moment, not a single visitor seemed to be around.
If things went wrong at some point, the northern ward might be a place to flee to, to hide in, until it was possible to move on.
It was worth keeping in mind, he thought.
" 'ere we are then," drawled his halfling companion and stopped in front of a set of stone stairs, leading downwards towards a heavy, metal-reinforced, wooden door.
"That easy?" asked Victor, noting the lack of a guard.
"Fuck do you mean easy? There're six locks on that thing! No one's gettin' in - or out. Unless you're me. Give me 'bout ten minutes to get it open..."
She pulled a set of lockpicks from a pocket and began walking down the slippery stone stairs.
Victor rolled his eyes, sighed, and reaches out to wave a hand lazily through the air, mumbling a single, otherworldly word.
His eyes lit up faintly, just for a moment... and then the locks within the reinforced door clicked six times.
Fira Brumbat stopped in her tracks, stared at the door, then over her shoulder and up at Victor, then at the door again.
"No way..." she muttered and walked the last few steps down the stairs.
She tried the door, and Victor could not help but smile slightly as it swung open with a loud, creaking sound.
"You didn't think me an amateur, did you...?" asked the mage as he strode down the stairs.
"Well, I might've just lost a bet with Kister... but this is a real good start of our shining, new companionship!" replied the halfling with a snicker as the two of them slipped into the darkness within the catacombs.