Adventure Log, Session 13, The Heist at Kraite Manor, Part 2
General Summary
The three heroes developed a plan. It did not end up involving a coachman’s coat.
Instead, Eykit wanted to see what the inside of the house was like. In order to do that, he would pose as a delivery man, which, hopefully would allow him to bring in a load of something or other. He was thinking loaves of bread…bulky, but not too heavy, so it would involve several bags or baskets. With any luck, he would be able to check out what the interior was like, as the distance he was watching from the previous night was too far for fine detail.
The morning of the day he was going to be stealing the portrait, he talked to his guild members, and arranged to borrow the cart that was to be used later that evening for the portrait drop off. He also talked with Albian Merrand, aka “Swaps”. He was the resident expert in disguises, and had gotten his nickname from his compulsive habit of stealing things, but leaving something else in its place. He just couldn’t help himself, it was a sort of kleptomania joined with an ethical code that wouldn’t allow him to actually steal anything. Most of the rest of the New Town Skulls thought he was a bit off his rocker, but no one was his equal when it came to alternate identities. His ability to mimic vocal inflections was simply amazing. It didn’t hurt that he was also a good storyteller, and his audience loved his ability to “do all of the voices”. Eykit didn’t have time to shadow him and actually learn anything from Swaps, but he did have time to get a few pointers.
“There are several ways to identify people,” he stated, “their looks, their speech, the way they move.” He strutted around the room several times, with a different gait and mannerism for each one. He said the sentence, “Hello, I’m not from around here, my name is Eykit,” several times, each with a different vocal inflection to give Eykit examples. “And of course, with a bit of makeup,” he paused, seeing a look on Eykit’s face, “no not like how the womenfolk make themselves up. It’s more subtle than that, and is designed to fool the eye by drawing attention away from your normal appearance.” He opened a box; it was full of little tins of various colored powders and pastes. It looked like an entire alchemist’s shop.
“Let me show you,” he went on, as he used a small brush to apply some color to various parts of Eykit’s face. It didn’t take long, and within a few minutes held up a mirror so the Goblin thief could see himself in it.
At first, he didn’t recognize himself. Of course, the mirror that Swaps had was an expensive, fine mirror of silver backed glass, not like the polished steel or polished bronze mirrors he was used to. The face staring back at him looked older, more world-worn, and with a prominent birthmark on his left temple.
Eykit pointed at the birthmark. “Won’t this make me stand out like a sore thumb? People will remember me! I’m supposed to be anonymous.”
Swaps grinned. “Yep. That’s the point. They will remember a Goblin with a birthmark on his temple. Does Eykit have a birthmark?”
“Well, no. Of course not.” And then he got it. If anyone started asking questions, they would be looking for a Goblin with an obvious birthmark. Which, of course, would be washed off as soon as it wasn’t necessary any longer.
“Practice doing a voice pattern that is different from your everyday voice.” Swaps started putting his kit back together. “You’ve got some time today before you need to do the job tonight. So practice.” He grabbed his hat, greeted it with a “Hello, you,” and put it on his head. He strode out, whistling.
Then Eykit went to Yeasterday’s Loaves, a bakery in the Old Town borough, bought 30 loaves of bread (costing him $25), and had Taid drive it to Gryphon Street, Eykit riding along on the seat beside him.
It was early in the morning, and the sky was clear, with just a few fluffy cumulus clouds scudding landward from the sea. The heat of the day hadn’t yet encroached upon the city, and the streets of Old Town were crowded with people doing their daily shopping, or going to work, or, in the case of many of the Orcs and a fair number of the Goblins, coming home from work. When almost half of the local population were comfortably nocturnal, the city never truly slept.
Gryphon Street was a tree-lined, shady street, with the manor houses of the local nobility and the nouveau riche on both sides. Driving down about the distance of a single estate, they stopped. Kraite Manor was a quarter of a mile down the street. Then they waited for a wagon to deliver something to Kraite Manor. During the wait, he hopped out of the cart, and “worked” on the wheel, as if there was a problem with it. After all, they didn’t want to be caught loitering in the rich district without a good story. And Eykit was a master at good stories.
A pair of city guardsmen walked up, which was actually fairly common here where the wealthy lived. “Hey, you,” one of them asked, rather gruffly, “what’re ya doin’ ‘ere?”
Eykit, turned on the charm. “Well, we are delivering some bread to a customer, and we had a little problem with the cartwheel. But I’ve pretty much got it taken care of, sirs.”
“Need any help?” the other guardsman asked, hoping that the answer was going to be a “no”.
“Nah, sir,” Eykit answered. “Like I said, I’ve got it licked.”
Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, the second guardsman said, “Well, move along, then, don’t tarry. I know how those nobles can be.”
“Yes sir, right away.”
The guardsmen nodded at Eykit and Taid, then moved on down the street.
About twenty minutes later, he and Taid saw a wagon turn into the manor’s estate. They followed, acting as if they were just another delivery at the same time. The first wagon had crates of vegetables, and the clapboard sides of the wagon was garishly painted with “Haversham’s Grocers” over a pile of colorful vegetables and fruits. They were parked in front of the servant’s entrance, the back of the wagon facing the door. Two people, a man and a woman, were carrying in crates of vegetables, being supervised by Aspen Gregor, the day chef.
“Hey, Taid,” Eykit said. “Stay here, I’m going to go help them unload.”
Taid nodded, and waited to move the cart when he could.
Eykit hopped off of the driver’s bench, and walked over to the grocer’s wagon. The woman, a Human in her mid thirties, grabbed a crate of carrots, and turned to go up the stairs and into the manor. “Here, let me help. The faster we get you unloaded, the faster I can deliver my load of bread.”
The lady looked at him, shrugged, then nodded back at the crates still in the wagon. “Knock yourself out,” she stated, as she turned back towards the doorway.
Eykit grabbed a crate of potatoes, lifted it out of the wagon, and lugged it into the manor.
The small, informal foyer was basically a mud room, with a built-in bench with cubbies for dirty footwear, as well as a small pile of slippers for use in the house proper. Above the bench were a row of hooks, with a few well-worn coats and hats hanging from them. The room was painted a pale green color above the wood paneled chair rail. To the left was a doorway, beyond which Eykit could see a bar, hung with hangers full of coats and cloaks.
He moved through the mud room, following the woman, who went through a small hallway and into a pantry. At one end of the hallway was a door, which Eykit knew opened onto the carriage room. The opposite end of the hall opened into the kitchen, and Eykit could see marble countertops and nice wood cabinetry. He could also see that the hallway had, besides the pantry, a stairway up to the second floor, a privy, and a dumbwaiter. There were too many people in the hallway making deliveries to get a chance to look more closely at anything, so he went back out to get another load.
Pulling the crate of beets off of the wagon, he turned and went back into the house. The wagon was just about empty; the male employee of the grocers hefted the last crate (cabbages), and strode into the house, his long legs quickly allowing him to pass Eykit, who wasn’t really hurrying anyway. He wanted to be the last one out, as it might give him a chance for a quick look-see.
He wasn’t wrong. The worker dropped off the cabbages in the pantry, and headed back out to his wagon. Eykit deposited the beets in the pantry, and, at least for the moment, had a chance to look about without anyone nearby. He examined the dumbwaiter, noting that it had a crank to lift or lower it, and, judging from the ropes that raised and lowered it, had maybe a 120lb capacity. He filed that away for future reference. It might come in handy, even though he knew that if he was to ride it, it would take a second person operating it. Eykit looked at all of the things in the manor with interest, seeing a dozen things he really wanted in his pockets. He fought the urge to take them.
He walked back through the mud room, and glanced into the room with the cloaks and coats. It was a coat closet, with a set of large cabinets along one wall, and a pole hung on the other, which is where most of the coats and cloaks were hung. At the far end, opposite the door he was peeking into, was a pocket door that lead to the hallway, which allowed those coming in from the carriage room to access the coat closet. He popped his head in, and saw, behind the door, a second cabinet. I can use that, he thought, a plan forming in his head.
Taid watched as the two grocery workers hopped up onto their wagon. The woman took the reins, flicked them with a practiced, economical motion, and the horses pulled on their harnesses, the wagon slowly starting to move forward with a creak of wheels. The nearly empty wagon accelerated as the horses picked up speed, slowing only a little as they clopped up the sloping driveway towards the gate that led onto Gryphon Street.
Eykit went back out, to unload his baskets of bread.
Taid flicked the reins, and the horse moved forward, Taid directing him in a curve to circle around to put the back of the cart facing the door. He miscalculated, and had to pull the horse around a bit more sharply then he would have preferred, the iron-shod wheels skidding on the paver stones, and almost sliding into the flower beds. Eykit rolled his eyes dramatically, in case Taid’s less-than-elegant driving attracted attention.
Aspen saw it, but didn’t say anything. He was more interested in the load of bread, which he hadn’t been aware had been ordered. “Flora must be planning something for the evening,” he said to no one in particular. “Darshak will be annoyed that his loaves won’t be used!”
Eykit, shrugging, just said, “I just deliver what I’ve been told to deliver. It was paid for, so it gets delivered.” Then he grabbed a basket off of the back of the cart. He glanced at Aspen, and asked, “In the pantry, with the rest of the stuff?” Aspen replied with a nod, then went back to the kitchen.
Eykit unloaded five of the six baskets of loaves, leaving them on the floor of the pantry. Then he went for the sixth basket. “Taid,” he said, “there’s been a change of plan. I’ll be staying. You go ahead and go back to the inn.”
“Staying? I thought…”
“Yeah,” Eykit interrupted. “I’m staying. I’ve got a plan. Don’t worry.”
“Okay,” the Dwarf replied with a shrug. He wasn’t sure he liked it when the planning got changed at the last minute. In his experience, that was almost always a recipe for disaster. “Everything still on for tonight?”
Eykit nodded, then took the last of the bread baskets into the house, closing the door behind him. He put the basket into the pantry, and noticed that Aspen was in conversation with another of the household staff, the maid Mariam, if he wasn’t mistaken. Now was his chance to begin his robbing hoodlum act.
He made his way silently down the hallway to the coat room, his hand reaching out to grab a silver candlestick sitting on a small table in the hall. He jerked his hand back, berating himself. He was surrounded by a wealth of temptation, and he would have to bend his will to the task of not giving in to his baser instincts. He made it to the coat closet without further incident, then climbed into the small closet.
He snuggled in behind the coats, laying his darkness strip in between him and the cabinet doors. Hopefully, if anyone decided to look in here, they would just see coats and shadows, and not a crouching Goblin. He settled himself for a long wait until darkness fell.
The original plan was for Eykit to sneak inside under cover of darkness. Elitheris was to get into position either on the wall or on a branch near enough the wall to take the portrait when Eykit handed it up to her, before climbing up and over the wall himself. During this time, the New Town Skulls were going to creating chaos and havoc in Flower Street Harrowers territory, as a distraction. They would also have a cart waiting at Jonat Brothers’ Tailoring Shop on Caraliza Street, a few blocks away, ready to receive the stolen portrait.
But Eykit, seeing an opportunity to advance the timetable somewhat, took the initiative, getting into the house much earlier than planned. About 12 hours earlier than planned.
The cabinet he was in was cramped, and filled with what could only be winter coats, as they were thickly padded and had fur at the necks and sleeves. He’d never been to any area that got cold enough for clothes like that, and had trouble imagining what it must be like. Oh, he’d seen snow, from a distance, on mountaintops, and he had, on rare occasions, seen and touched ice (and even more rarely, had ice in drinks). But he’d never truly experienced the kind of low temperatures that required furs.
They were dusty, showing that they obviously weren’t used very often. Which suited him just fine. Less of a chance of people opening up the cupboard and discovering him.
The time passed slowly, with Eykit fighting his urges to just get on with the job. The occasional person came in for a coat or hat, or some other item, but no one looked into the small coat cupboard. He remained undiscovered.
He used his acute Goblin hearing to track who was where in the house. He could hear people in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. He could hear when the dining room was filled with the family, and although he couldn’t make out any details about the conversations, he could tell by the voices who was who, making educated guesses. He knew the voices of the Baron, his wife Gayle, and the two children, Larraine and Kristof. He also guessed Flora Indorill’s voice, as well as the gruff Dwarf Flynt Blackstone’s, and the deep, Orcish tones of Lughnar One-Ear.
It was about an hour after dinner when something happened. He heard someone run up to the servants’ entrance and knock on the door with what could only be urgency. Whoever it was was let in, through the mud room, and into the parlor. A few moments later, Eykit could hear the Baron speaking, and although he couldn’t hear what was said, he could tell from the tone of voice that the Baron was concerned.
He heard the visitor leave the manor, and run up the paved path towards the estate gate. Shortly after that, he heard the Baron speaking with the Baroness in the kitchen. He heard some names: Ashela and Patchman (whom he knew to be Pachekki Dramani, the Goblin coachman), then some quick footsteps going into the carriage room. He could hear the noises of a coach being readied, and horses brought in to be harnessed.
It sounded like the New Town Skulls had started harassing businesses and people in the Flower Street Harrower territory, and the Harrower guild master was heading out to take care of the problem. The diversion didn’t take away many people from the house, but it really wasn’t meant to. It was to put the focus and attention elsewhere, and lull the manor into thinking that whatever problems there were, they were far away from home.
He kept listening, trying to pinpoint the different rooms, and who might be in them. Eventually, the main floor quieted down, and Eykit figured that at least some of the inhabitants had gone to bed for the night. He waited a bit longer for them to possibly fall asleep, then carefully crept out of the cupboard. Above him, in the training room, he could hear Kristof and Flynt sparring. He knew that the gardener, Flogh Drackhill, and the external guard, Penn Florentine, were outside on the grounds. He had heard them a little while ago, but he didn’t know exactly where they were. He heard flute music, coming from the direction of the music room, which he assumed was Melsimonë, playing soft music for Larraine to fall asleep to.
He padded over to the pocket door, carefully sliding it open far enough to slip through, into the hallway. Noise came from the kitchen at the end of the hall: Darshak was chopping something that sounded like root vegetables, likely for the morning’s meals. He was in conversation with someone, talking about how hot various chili peppers can get.
Peering around the corner into the kitchen, he could see Jack, one of the guards, who sat lounging in a chair at the table in the nook, chatting with Darshak, who was chopping vegetables at the kitchen island. Darshak had his back to Eykit, but Jack was looking in the direction of the doorway. Trying to sneak through the kitchen would be impossible.
He pulled back from the doorway, seeing the servants’ stairs to the upper floor. He knew, from his observations of the house, that he would be able to go up the stairs, through a hallway, to the rotunda. Then he could take the rotunda stairs down and, hopefully, sneak into the dining room where the painting was.
Eykit went up the servant’s stair, up to the gallery. The stairs were polished wood, with a sea green brocade carpet runner, which conveniently muffled his footsteps. The gallery was an L-shaped hallway, painted white, with a wood-paneled chair rail. Two waist high cabinets were built in to the north wall. On them were silver and brass oil lamps. At one end of the hall was the rotunda, around the corner at the other end were the doors to the training room that sat above the carriage room.
One the north and south walls were portraits of Kraite family ancestors, both male and female. The frames were either beautifully carved wood, or gilt, and each had a plaque on the frame that had the name of the ancestor, as well as their birth and death dates. They went back about three centuries, with the exception of one, which, judging from the condition of the paint, was the oldest. It had a death date listed as 65 AFE. Since the portrait showed an old man, the implication was that the Kraite family was older than the Empire. But these weren’t the painting he was after.
He heard the noises coming from the training room cease, then the doors to the training room open along with Kristof’s voice in conversation. He could see Lughnar One-Ear, standing on the bridge overlooking the family room, but since Kristof and Flynt were coming around the corner in a moment, Eykit had to risk trying to sneak past him.
Fortunately, Eykit was very good at being stealthy, so the partially deaf Lughnar never turned around as Eykit moved past him to the curved stairs. He hopped onto the carved wooden railing, folding himself over it and sliding silently down to the first floor and out of sight. He moved into the dining room, passing through what would have been Melsimonë’s line of sight, had she not been playing with her eyes closed, fully involved in the music.
The dining room was used for small dinner parties and family dinners, as the table could only seat eight. The floor was polished hardwood, with a large area rug beneath the table. From the design work, it looked imported from the Small Kingdoms, from the other side of the Northern Expanse mountains. Just importing it probably cost more than Eykit had ever made in a year. The table was of fine wood inlay, with a carved edge in a floral pattern. Around it were six chairs, ladder backed, with embroidered upholstery, with similar floral motifs carved into them. Two other chairs were placed against the wall on either side of the large window that looked out over the front yard. Above the table hung a brass and glass oil chandelier, hanging from the ten foot ceiling.
One the walls flanking the entrance to the butler’s pantry were paintings. One was a landscape, showing a forest with ice-capped mountains in the distance. The other was a picture of a lady in a park, holding a book. Eykit recognized the subject as Larraine. The painting he had to steal was five feet high, and three feet wide. It was bigger than he was.
He shook his head, his lips pursed. He had known, from the time he spent casing the place, that it was large. He just hadn’t realized how large it was, compared to his own size. Being next to it really made the point that moving around with it was going to be tricky.
Through the doorway leading to the kitchen at the far end of the butler’s pantry, Eykit could hear Jack and Darshak talking. The butler’s pantry was a small room, designed for tableware storage and last minute food preparation, before serving. To that end, there was a buffet table along one wall, with a glass-doored cabinet above it. In the buffet were various plates, silverware, cups, and serving dishes. Above that, in the cabinet, was glass drinkware: stemmed wine glasses, teacups, saucers, and a beautiful silver teapot. On the buffet table was a three candle candelabra, lit, and the only illumination in the room. Eykit could tell from the smell that the candles were beeswax, not tallow.
He again had to fight the urge to fill his pockets with anything he could find. This manor was a wealth of riches, and everywhere he looked, wealth looked back.
An idea formed in his mind. He had brought a flask of oil, to be used on hinges that threatened to squeak. But so far, most of the doors had been open, and those he had to open apparently had been well taken care of, because they didn’t make much noise. He opened it, and poured it onto the rug in the butler’s pantry. Then he tipped the lit silver candlestick over onto it.
Without even checking to see if the rug caught fire, he ran silently into the dining room, snatched the painting off of the wall, and wrapped the darkness strip around the edges, forming a 3’ wide wall of darkness. Then he slunk into the far corner of the dining room, holding the painting and wall of darkness in front of him as all hell broke loose with the cry of “Fire! There’s a fire in the pantry!”
Darshak jumped into motion, dropping the chef’s knife onto the kitchen island and grabbing a big pot. He ran over to the cistern, turned the tap, and started filling the pot with water.
Jack pulled the tablecloth off of the table in a clatter of silverware, and ran towards the flames. He dumped the tablecloth onto it, stamping on it to try to stop the flames.
Darshak, the pot full, ran in and tossed the water onto the flames. He didn’t even pause to see if it had gone out before he dashed back to get more water.
Lughnar came down the curving stairs, alerted by the noise and shouts, and Melsimonë stopped playing and came into the foyer to see what was happening, and to see if she could help, noting the smoke pouring out of the dining room and into the foyer. She coughed.
By this time, the fire was out, although the tablecloth, rug, and candles were ruined. Darshak picked up the soot-blackened candlestick, setting it on the cabinet.
“Must have fallen over, somehow,” Jack said, looking around. His eyes still smarted from the smoke, and greenish afterimages of the flames obscured his vision. He didn’t notice the slightly darker than normal area in the dining room.
“I don’t see how,” Flora said, “I guess I must have put it too close to the edge?”
She sighed, as Baroness Gayle yelled from the upper floor “What is going on down there?” in her haughty voice.
“I’ll go explain everything.” She went upstairs to deal with Gayle, a resolute look on her face. She wasn’t looking forward to trying to explain something she had no explanation for.
Jack and Darshak, the crisis over, went back to the kitchen and nook, Darshak to continue prepping for the next day’s breakfast, and Jack to resume his spot watching the main areas of the house. Melsimonë, still coughing, decided to go out and sit on the porch, mainly to get away from the smoke, but also to enjoy the evening. She had her flute with her.
Eykit snuck his way into the living room, keeping the painting and darkness between him and the main part of the house. The living room was a pleasant room, with comfortable furniture, including a pair of sofas at right angles to each other, a coffee table with a silver urn and four decorated china cups on a silver platter on it, and a pair of wingback chairs. The ceiling, ten feet high, made the room feel bigger than it actually was. The floor, hardwood, was mostly covered by a dark blue area rug. It was similar to the one in the music room, but not identical. There were tables and cabinets set at various places around the room, some with books, some with decorative items and knickknacks. The ceiling had a hanging crystal globe, which glowed with light. Eykit had seen similar things on streets in nicer areas of town, where mages lit them with Light spells.
There was a nice, silver, palm-sized figurine of a cat that somehow found its way into his pocket. His impulsive nature, fed by his underlying greed, could only be controlled to a certain extent. But Elend and Mr. Ghent wouldn’t find out about it, would they? Eykit knew how to keep secrets. And no one would know about this. He made a note to himself not to go to any of his usual fences to sell it.
But he still needed to get out the front door. And Melsimonë was sitting in a lounge chair only feet away from it.
She started playing the flute again, softly. Eykit decided to chance it, opening the front door and squeezing out, shutting it behind him. He was still carrying the oversized portrait, wrapped in the darkness strip. He kept as close to the wall as possible, to stay out of the Elf’s range of vision. Through the windows of the music room he could see Flogh the Gardener, working on some shrubberies on the left side of the house.
He was so close to escaping. He was out of the house, but now things got more dangerous.
From the front porch, he could see upslope, past the lawn, to the bushes and trees near the 12’ spiked wall that separated the estate from Gryphon Street. The moon was out, its light illuminating the lawn in its silvery glow. He edged along the wall, moving away from the front door and the Elf minstrel, to a point around the curve of the music room that kept Flogh from seeing him well. Then he went over the porch railing. He crouched in the short plants at the base of the stone wall, keeping low and out of line of sight of the Elf and the Orcish gardener. Now all he had to do was run across a large, open field, hopefully without being seen or heard. There was nothing for it, he had to just make a break for it.
He took off, running with the painting held behind him like a shield of darkness. The moon was out, so the lawn was lit by moonlight, and Eykit looked like a 12’ tall, 3’ wide column of darkness. Melsimonë noticed him when he was halfway across the lawn.
“You! Stop right there!” she shouted. This got the attention of Flogh, who looked up, seeing a partially obscured heat signature, and Penn, who saw something darker than it should be moving across the lawn.
Elitheris was waiting in a tree above the wall, ready to take the painting.
Melsimonë came running down the porch steps, but she knew she was too far away to catch whomever the darkness concealed. She cast a spell, intoning the words of power softly, creating a Phantom of a Terror Bird, which shrieked and took off, chasing the Goblin with the portrait. Being much quicker than the running Goblin, it caught up to him in a couple of seconds, running around him to attack him from the front, lashing out with its taloned leg and clipping Eykit in the leg.
Eykit, however, was agile, and wasn’t knocked over by the attack to his leg; instead, he pivoted with the blow, and ran past the 8’ tall, sharp-beaked flightless bird, moving towards the wall and freedom.
Elitheris, not knowing where the hell that bird came from put an arrow into its wing, but it didn’t stop it. It likely just clipped some feathers.
“Stop where you are!” Melsimonë commanded again, but Eykit didn’t stop. Stopping would be…bad.
The terror bird again ran around Eykit, slamming into him. Eykit stumbled, and the bird barreled into him, knocking him flat. It put a taloned foot on Eykit’s chest, pinning him in place.
Elitheris loosed another arrow, this one embedding itself into its back, but instead of shrieking in pain, it simply disappeared. “What the…?” she said to herself.
Eykit couldn’t believe his eyes. The weight on his chest, and the forearm-long razor-sharp beak that had threatened to close on his face was gone. Simply gone. He got up, and started running again towards the wall, and Elitheris. He could hear, with his sharp Goblin hearing, the Elf mumbling something between panting breaths.
Melsimonë cast Phantom a second time, again creating a terror bird. That one, too, started after Eykit. The Elven woman stopped running, panting, as the mana drain from the two spells left her too exhausted to move quickly.
Eykit reached the wall, dropped the painting, and flicked a knife at the bird. It hit, but it didn’t seem to stop it, or even slow it down.
“Give me the damned painting!” yelled Elitheris, reaching down. “Stop messing around!”
Eykit, coming to his senses, grabbed the painting and lifted it to Elitheris, who dropped it down the other side of the wall. It hit some bushes, luckily not receiving any damage.
Eykit leapt up, catching Elitheris’ hand that she offered. They struggled for a moment, trying to get Eykit up on the wall, but Eykit felt heavy, and his boots, although scrabbling wildly, couldn’t seem to find a purchase. But with a little effort, Elitheris was able to pull him up just ahead of the big bird, guard, and gardener.
Eykit was flung over the wall, landing with a thud. He grabbed the portrait, again taking the darkness strip and wrapping it around the painting, making a field of darkness. He ran across the street, ducking into a shadowed alcove. Elitheris ran along the tree branches, using her Elven sense of balance and her acrobatic skills to run from tree to tree.
Penn and Flogh ran towards the gate, but were too late to catch Elitheris, and couldn’t find Eykit, despite Flogh’s infra vision. The darkness he carried with him blocked heat signatures as well as regular vision. When Penn and Flogh passed, he moved to spots they had already searched, until they were far enough away that he could make a break for it. Even then, he kept to the shadows as much as possible, until he got to Caraliza Street, where he saw a cart parked outside of the tailoring shop owned by, if the sign was any indication, the Jonat Brothers.
Sydora Buckner and Merrimas Goodsong were waiting at the cart, two thieves from Elend’s crew. They grabbed the painting and stashed it under a tarp behind some bolts of cloth and a couple baskets of rags.
It was over, Eykit had succeeded. He patted his pocket surreptitiously. And got a little something for himself along the way.
Instead, Eykit wanted to see what the inside of the house was like. In order to do that, he would pose as a delivery man, which, hopefully would allow him to bring in a load of something or other. He was thinking loaves of bread…bulky, but not too heavy, so it would involve several bags or baskets. With any luck, he would be able to check out what the interior was like, as the distance he was watching from the previous night was too far for fine detail.
The morning of the day he was going to be stealing the portrait, he talked to his guild members, and arranged to borrow the cart that was to be used later that evening for the portrait drop off. He also talked with Albian Merrand, aka “Swaps”. He was the resident expert in disguises, and had gotten his nickname from his compulsive habit of stealing things, but leaving something else in its place. He just couldn’t help himself, it was a sort of kleptomania joined with an ethical code that wouldn’t allow him to actually steal anything. Most of the rest of the New Town Skulls thought he was a bit off his rocker, but no one was his equal when it came to alternate identities. His ability to mimic vocal inflections was simply amazing. It didn’t hurt that he was also a good storyteller, and his audience loved his ability to “do all of the voices”. Eykit didn’t have time to shadow him and actually learn anything from Swaps, but he did have time to get a few pointers.
“There are several ways to identify people,” he stated, “their looks, their speech, the way they move.” He strutted around the room several times, with a different gait and mannerism for each one. He said the sentence, “Hello, I’m not from around here, my name is Eykit,” several times, each with a different vocal inflection to give Eykit examples. “And of course, with a bit of makeup,” he paused, seeing a look on Eykit’s face, “no not like how the womenfolk make themselves up. It’s more subtle than that, and is designed to fool the eye by drawing attention away from your normal appearance.” He opened a box; it was full of little tins of various colored powders and pastes. It looked like an entire alchemist’s shop.
“Let me show you,” he went on, as he used a small brush to apply some color to various parts of Eykit’s face. It didn’t take long, and within a few minutes held up a mirror so the Goblin thief could see himself in it.
At first, he didn’t recognize himself. Of course, the mirror that Swaps had was an expensive, fine mirror of silver backed glass, not like the polished steel or polished bronze mirrors he was used to. The face staring back at him looked older, more world-worn, and with a prominent birthmark on his left temple.
Eykit pointed at the birthmark. “Won’t this make me stand out like a sore thumb? People will remember me! I’m supposed to be anonymous.”
Swaps grinned. “Yep. That’s the point. They will remember a Goblin with a birthmark on his temple. Does Eykit have a birthmark?”
“Well, no. Of course not.” And then he got it. If anyone started asking questions, they would be looking for a Goblin with an obvious birthmark. Which, of course, would be washed off as soon as it wasn’t necessary any longer.
“Practice doing a voice pattern that is different from your everyday voice.” Swaps started putting his kit back together. “You’ve got some time today before you need to do the job tonight. So practice.” He grabbed his hat, greeted it with a “Hello, you,” and put it on his head. He strode out, whistling.
Then Eykit went to Yeasterday’s Loaves, a bakery in the Old Town borough, bought 30 loaves of bread (costing him $25), and had Taid drive it to Gryphon Street, Eykit riding along on the seat beside him.
A pair of city guardsmen walked up, which was actually fairly common here where the wealthy lived. “Hey, you,” one of them asked, rather gruffly, “what’re ya doin’ ‘ere?”
Eykit, turned on the charm. “Well, we are delivering some bread to a customer, and we had a little problem with the cartwheel. But I’ve pretty much got it taken care of, sirs.”
“Need any help?” the other guardsman asked, hoping that the answer was going to be a “no”.
“Nah, sir,” Eykit answered. “Like I said, I’ve got it licked.”
Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, the second guardsman said, “Well, move along, then, don’t tarry. I know how those nobles can be.”
“Yes sir, right away.”
The guardsmen nodded at Eykit and Taid, then moved on down the street.
About twenty minutes later, he and Taid saw a wagon turn into the manor’s estate. They followed, acting as if they were just another delivery at the same time. The first wagon had crates of vegetables, and the clapboard sides of the wagon was garishly painted with “Haversham’s Grocers” over a pile of colorful vegetables and fruits. They were parked in front of the servant’s entrance, the back of the wagon facing the door. Two people, a man and a woman, were carrying in crates of vegetables, being supervised by Aspen Gregor, the day chef.
Taid nodded, and waited to move the cart when he could.
Eykit hopped off of the driver’s bench, and walked over to the grocer’s wagon. The woman, a Human in her mid thirties, grabbed a crate of carrots, and turned to go up the stairs and into the manor. “Here, let me help. The faster we get you unloaded, the faster I can deliver my load of bread.”
The lady looked at him, shrugged, then nodded back at the crates still in the wagon. “Knock yourself out,” she stated, as she turned back towards the doorway.
Eykit grabbed a crate of potatoes, lifted it out of the wagon, and lugged it into the manor.
The small, informal foyer was basically a mud room, with a built-in bench with cubbies for dirty footwear, as well as a small pile of slippers for use in the house proper. Above the bench were a row of hooks, with a few well-worn coats and hats hanging from them. The room was painted a pale green color above the wood paneled chair rail. To the left was a doorway, beyond which Eykit could see a bar, hung with hangers full of coats and cloaks.
Pulling the crate of beets off of the wagon, he turned and went back into the house. The wagon was just about empty; the male employee of the grocers hefted the last crate (cabbages), and strode into the house, his long legs quickly allowing him to pass Eykit, who wasn’t really hurrying anyway. He wanted to be the last one out, as it might give him a chance for a quick look-see.
He wasn’t wrong. The worker dropped off the cabbages in the pantry, and headed back out to his wagon. Eykit deposited the beets in the pantry, and, at least for the moment, had a chance to look about without anyone nearby. He examined the dumbwaiter, noting that it had a crank to lift or lower it, and, judging from the ropes that raised and lowered it, had maybe a 120lb capacity. He filed that away for future reference. It might come in handy, even though he knew that if he was to ride it, it would take a second person operating it. Eykit looked at all of the things in the manor with interest, seeing a dozen things he really wanted in his pockets. He fought the urge to take them.
He walked back through the mud room, and glanced into the room with the cloaks and coats. It was a coat closet, with a set of large cabinets along one wall, and a pole hung on the other, which is where most of the coats and cloaks were hung. At the far end, opposite the door he was peeking into, was a pocket door that lead to the hallway, which allowed those coming in from the carriage room to access the coat closet. He popped his head in, and saw, behind the door, a second cabinet. I can use that, he thought, a plan forming in his head.
Taid watched as the two grocery workers hopped up onto their wagon. The woman took the reins, flicked them with a practiced, economical motion, and the horses pulled on their harnesses, the wagon slowly starting to move forward with a creak of wheels. The nearly empty wagon accelerated as the horses picked up speed, slowing only a little as they clopped up the sloping driveway towards the gate that led onto Gryphon Street.
Eykit went back out, to unload his baskets of bread.
Taid flicked the reins, and the horse moved forward, Taid directing him in a curve to circle around to put the back of the cart facing the door. He miscalculated, and had to pull the horse around a bit more sharply then he would have preferred, the iron-shod wheels skidding on the paver stones, and almost sliding into the flower beds. Eykit rolled his eyes dramatically, in case Taid’s less-than-elegant driving attracted attention.
Eykit, shrugging, just said, “I just deliver what I’ve been told to deliver. It was paid for, so it gets delivered.” Then he grabbed a basket off of the back of the cart. He glanced at Aspen, and asked, “In the pantry, with the rest of the stuff?” Aspen replied with a nod, then went back to the kitchen.
Eykit unloaded five of the six baskets of loaves, leaving them on the floor of the pantry. Then he went for the sixth basket. “Taid,” he said, “there’s been a change of plan. I’ll be staying. You go ahead and go back to the inn.”
“Staying? I thought…”
“Yeah,” Eykit interrupted. “I’m staying. I’ve got a plan. Don’t worry.”
“Okay,” the Dwarf replied with a shrug. He wasn’t sure he liked it when the planning got changed at the last minute. In his experience, that was almost always a recipe for disaster. “Everything still on for tonight?”
Eykit nodded, then took the last of the bread baskets into the house, closing the door behind him. He put the basket into the pantry, and noticed that Aspen was in conversation with another of the household staff, the maid Mariam, if he wasn’t mistaken. Now was his chance to begin his robbing hoodlum act.
He made his way silently down the hallway to the coat room, his hand reaching out to grab a silver candlestick sitting on a small table in the hall. He jerked his hand back, berating himself. He was surrounded by a wealth of temptation, and he would have to bend his will to the task of not giving in to his baser instincts. He made it to the coat closet without further incident, then climbed into the small closet.
He snuggled in behind the coats, laying his darkness strip in between him and the cabinet doors. Hopefully, if anyone decided to look in here, they would just see coats and shadows, and not a crouching Goblin. He settled himself for a long wait until darkness fell.
The original plan was for Eykit to sneak inside under cover of darkness. Elitheris was to get into position either on the wall or on a branch near enough the wall to take the portrait when Eykit handed it up to her, before climbing up and over the wall himself. During this time, the New Town Skulls were going to creating chaos and havoc in Flower Street Harrowers territory, as a distraction. They would also have a cart waiting at Jonat Brothers’ Tailoring Shop on Caraliza Street, a few blocks away, ready to receive the stolen portrait.
But Eykit, seeing an opportunity to advance the timetable somewhat, took the initiative, getting into the house much earlier than planned. About 12 hours earlier than planned.
The cabinet he was in was cramped, and filled with what could only be winter coats, as they were thickly padded and had fur at the necks and sleeves. He’d never been to any area that got cold enough for clothes like that, and had trouble imagining what it must be like. Oh, he’d seen snow, from a distance, on mountaintops, and he had, on rare occasions, seen and touched ice (and even more rarely, had ice in drinks). But he’d never truly experienced the kind of low temperatures that required furs.
They were dusty, showing that they obviously weren’t used very often. Which suited him just fine. Less of a chance of people opening up the cupboard and discovering him.
The time passed slowly, with Eykit fighting his urges to just get on with the job. The occasional person came in for a coat or hat, or some other item, but no one looked into the small coat cupboard. He remained undiscovered.
He used his acute Goblin hearing to track who was where in the house. He could hear people in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. He could hear when the dining room was filled with the family, and although he couldn’t make out any details about the conversations, he could tell by the voices who was who, making educated guesses. He knew the voices of the Baron, his wife Gayle, and the two children, Larraine and Kristof. He also guessed Flora Indorill’s voice, as well as the gruff Dwarf Flynt Blackstone’s, and the deep, Orcish tones of Lughnar One-Ear.
It was about an hour after dinner when something happened. He heard someone run up to the servants’ entrance and knock on the door with what could only be urgency. Whoever it was was let in, through the mud room, and into the parlor. A few moments later, Eykit could hear the Baron speaking, and although he couldn’t hear what was said, he could tell from the tone of voice that the Baron was concerned.
It sounded like the New Town Skulls had started harassing businesses and people in the Flower Street Harrower territory, and the Harrower guild master was heading out to take care of the problem. The diversion didn’t take away many people from the house, but it really wasn’t meant to. It was to put the focus and attention elsewhere, and lull the manor into thinking that whatever problems there were, they were far away from home.
He kept listening, trying to pinpoint the different rooms, and who might be in them. Eventually, the main floor quieted down, and Eykit figured that at least some of the inhabitants had gone to bed for the night. He waited a bit longer for them to possibly fall asleep, then carefully crept out of the cupboard. Above him, in the training room, he could hear Kristof and Flynt sparring. He knew that the gardener, Flogh Drackhill, and the external guard, Penn Florentine, were outside on the grounds. He had heard them a little while ago, but he didn’t know exactly where they were. He heard flute music, coming from the direction of the music room, which he assumed was Melsimonë, playing soft music for Larraine to fall asleep to.
Peering around the corner into the kitchen, he could see Jack, one of the guards, who sat lounging in a chair at the table in the nook, chatting with Darshak, who was chopping vegetables at the kitchen island. Darshak had his back to Eykit, but Jack was looking in the direction of the doorway. Trying to sneak through the kitchen would be impossible.
Eykit went up the servant’s stair, up to the gallery. The stairs were polished wood, with a sea green brocade carpet runner, which conveniently muffled his footsteps. The gallery was an L-shaped hallway, painted white, with a wood-paneled chair rail. Two waist high cabinets were built in to the north wall. On them were silver and brass oil lamps. At one end of the hall was the rotunda, around the corner at the other end were the doors to the training room that sat above the carriage room.
He heard the noises coming from the training room cease, then the doors to the training room open along with Kristof’s voice in conversation. He could see Lughnar One-Ear, standing on the bridge overlooking the family room, but since Kristof and Flynt were coming around the corner in a moment, Eykit had to risk trying to sneak past him.
One the walls flanking the entrance to the butler’s pantry were paintings. One was a landscape, showing a forest with ice-capped mountains in the distance. The other was a picture of a lady in a park, holding a book. Eykit recognized the subject as Larraine. The painting he had to steal was five feet high, and three feet wide. It was bigger than he was.
Through the doorway leading to the kitchen at the far end of the butler’s pantry, Eykit could hear Jack and Darshak talking. The butler’s pantry was a small room, designed for tableware storage and last minute food preparation, before serving. To that end, there was a buffet table along one wall, with a glass-doored cabinet above it. In the buffet were various plates, silverware, cups, and serving dishes. Above that, in the cabinet, was glass drinkware: stemmed wine glasses, teacups, saucers, and a beautiful silver teapot. On the buffet table was a three candle candelabra, lit, and the only illumination in the room. Eykit could tell from the smell that the candles were beeswax, not tallow.
He again had to fight the urge to fill his pockets with anything he could find. This manor was a wealth of riches, and everywhere he looked, wealth looked back.
An idea formed in his mind. He had brought a flask of oil, to be used on hinges that threatened to squeak. But so far, most of the doors had been open, and those he had to open apparently had been well taken care of, because they didn’t make much noise. He opened it, and poured it onto the rug in the butler’s pantry. Then he tipped the lit silver candlestick over onto it.
Without even checking to see if the rug caught fire, he ran silently into the dining room, snatched the painting off of the wall, and wrapped the darkness strip around the edges, forming a 3’ wide wall of darkness. Then he slunk into the far corner of the dining room, holding the painting and wall of darkness in front of him as all hell broke loose with the cry of “Fire! There’s a fire in the pantry!”
Darshak jumped into motion, dropping the chef’s knife onto the kitchen island and grabbing a big pot. He ran over to the cistern, turned the tap, and started filling the pot with water.
Jack pulled the tablecloth off of the table in a clatter of silverware, and ran towards the flames. He dumped the tablecloth onto it, stamping on it to try to stop the flames.
Darshak, the pot full, ran in and tossed the water onto the flames. He didn’t even pause to see if it had gone out before he dashed back to get more water.
Lughnar came down the curving stairs, alerted by the noise and shouts, and Melsimonë stopped playing and came into the foyer to see what was happening, and to see if she could help, noting the smoke pouring out of the dining room and into the foyer. She coughed.
By this time, the fire was out, although the tablecloth, rug, and candles were ruined. Darshak picked up the soot-blackened candlestick, setting it on the cabinet.
“Must have fallen over, somehow,” Jack said, looking around. His eyes still smarted from the smoke, and greenish afterimages of the flames obscured his vision. He didn’t notice the slightly darker than normal area in the dining room.
She sighed, as Baroness Gayle yelled from the upper floor “What is going on down there?” in her haughty voice.
Jack and Darshak, the crisis over, went back to the kitchen and nook, Darshak to continue prepping for the next day’s breakfast, and Jack to resume his spot watching the main areas of the house. Melsimonë, still coughing, decided to go out and sit on the porch, mainly to get away from the smoke, but also to enjoy the evening. She had her flute with her.
Eykit snuck his way into the living room, keeping the painting and darkness between him and the main part of the house. The living room was a pleasant room, with comfortable furniture, including a pair of sofas at right angles to each other, a coffee table with a silver urn and four decorated china cups on a silver platter on it, and a pair of wingback chairs. The ceiling, ten feet high, made the room feel bigger than it actually was. The floor, hardwood, was mostly covered by a dark blue area rug. It was similar to the one in the music room, but not identical. There were tables and cabinets set at various places around the room, some with books, some with decorative items and knickknacks. The ceiling had a hanging crystal globe, which glowed with light. Eykit had seen similar things on streets in nicer areas of town, where mages lit them with Light spells.
There was a nice, silver, palm-sized figurine of a cat that somehow found its way into his pocket. His impulsive nature, fed by his underlying greed, could only be controlled to a certain extent. But Elend and Mr. Ghent wouldn’t find out about it, would they? Eykit knew how to keep secrets. And no one would know about this. He made a note to himself not to go to any of his usual fences to sell it.
But he still needed to get out the front door. And Melsimonë was sitting in a lounge chair only feet away from it.
From the front porch, he could see upslope, past the lawn, to the bushes and trees near the 12’ spiked wall that separated the estate from Gryphon Street. The moon was out, its light illuminating the lawn in its silvery glow. He edged along the wall, moving away from the front door and the Elf minstrel, to a point around the curve of the music room that kept Flogh from seeing him well. Then he went over the porch railing. He crouched in the short plants at the base of the stone wall, keeping low and out of line of sight of the Elf and the Orcish gardener. Now all he had to do was run across a large, open field, hopefully without being seen or heard. There was nothing for it, he had to just make a break for it.
He took off, running with the painting held behind him like a shield of darkness. The moon was out, so the lawn was lit by moonlight, and Eykit looked like a 12’ tall, 3’ wide column of darkness. Melsimonë noticed him when he was halfway across the lawn.
“You! Stop right there!” she shouted. This got the attention of Flogh, who looked up, seeing a partially obscured heat signature, and Penn, who saw something darker than it should be moving across the lawn.
Elitheris was waiting in a tree above the wall, ready to take the painting.
Melsimonë came running down the porch steps, but she knew she was too far away to catch whomever the darkness concealed. She cast a spell, intoning the words of power softly, creating a Phantom of a Terror Bird, which shrieked and took off, chasing the Goblin with the portrait. Being much quicker than the running Goblin, it caught up to him in a couple of seconds, running around him to attack him from the front, lashing out with its taloned leg and clipping Eykit in the leg.
Elitheris, not knowing where the hell that bird came from put an arrow into its wing, but it didn’t stop it. It likely just clipped some feathers.
“Stop where you are!” Melsimonë commanded again, but Eykit didn’t stop. Stopping would be…bad.
The terror bird again ran around Eykit, slamming into him. Eykit stumbled, and the bird barreled into him, knocking him flat. It put a taloned foot on Eykit’s chest, pinning him in place.
Elitheris loosed another arrow, this one embedding itself into its back, but instead of shrieking in pain, it simply disappeared. “What the…?” she said to herself.
Eykit couldn’t believe his eyes. The weight on his chest, and the forearm-long razor-sharp beak that had threatened to close on his face was gone. Simply gone. He got up, and started running again towards the wall, and Elitheris. He could hear, with his sharp Goblin hearing, the Elf mumbling something between panting breaths.
Melsimonë cast Phantom a second time, again creating a terror bird. That one, too, started after Eykit. The Elven woman stopped running, panting, as the mana drain from the two spells left her too exhausted to move quickly.
Eykit reached the wall, dropped the painting, and flicked a knife at the bird. It hit, but it didn’t seem to stop it, or even slow it down.
“Give me the damned painting!” yelled Elitheris, reaching down. “Stop messing around!”
Eykit, coming to his senses, grabbed the painting and lifted it to Elitheris, who dropped it down the other side of the wall. It hit some bushes, luckily not receiving any damage.
Eykit leapt up, catching Elitheris’ hand that she offered. They struggled for a moment, trying to get Eykit up on the wall, but Eykit felt heavy, and his boots, although scrabbling wildly, couldn’t seem to find a purchase. But with a little effort, Elitheris was able to pull him up just ahead of the big bird, guard, and gardener.
Eykit was flung over the wall, landing with a thud. He grabbed the portrait, again taking the darkness strip and wrapping it around the painting, making a field of darkness. He ran across the street, ducking into a shadowed alcove. Elitheris ran along the tree branches, using her Elven sense of balance and her acrobatic skills to run from tree to tree.
Penn and Flogh ran towards the gate, but were too late to catch Elitheris, and couldn’t find Eykit, despite Flogh’s infra vision. The darkness he carried with him blocked heat signatures as well as regular vision. When Penn and Flogh passed, he moved to spots they had already searched, until they were far enough away that he could make a break for it. Even then, he kept to the shadows as much as possible, until he got to Caraliza Street, where he saw a cart parked outside of the tailoring shop owned by, if the sign was any indication, the Jonat Brothers.
Sydora Buckner and Merrimas Goodsong were waiting at the cart, two thieves from Elend’s crew. They grabbed the painting and stashed it under a tarp behind some bolts of cloth and a couple baskets of rags.
It was over, Eykit had succeeded. He patted his pocket surreptitiously. And got a little something for himself along the way.
Rewards Granted
Eykit managed to steal the portrait, and a silver bird statuette.
Everyone got 3 CPs.
Missions/Quests Completed
They completed the Heist at Kraite Manor, although what the fallout is, no one knows. Hopefully, the caper had the desired effect of staving off a gang war.
Character(s) interacted with
A few members of the New Town Skulls
Several members of the staff of Kraite Manor
Report Date
10 Apr 2022
Primary Location
Secondary Location
Related Characters
Comments