When Erin told Grem what had happened, he immediately went searching for some clue as to where Fahlen might have taken Lydia. He had teleported away, not having said anything that Erin heard which would be useful, and so Grem knew he'd not be able to rely on scent to track the elf down.
There was blood in the alley. It had mostly dried, and some had come from all three of those involved in the struggle. Most of it was Lydia's, which was worrisome, but he tried to push that concern to the back of his mind for the time being. Finding her was the priority; anything that could be done for her hurts would have to wait until then. There were scant other clues. Keys, which had Erin's scent on them, and a few items that had spilled from Lydia's bag. He gathered these things, stuffing his pockets, as he searched for something that would tell him where Fahl might have taken her. He found nothing.
His next step was time-consuming and frustrating. He went from neighborhood to neighborhood, seeking someone, anyone, who had seen someone of Fahl's description recently. His work had introduced him to a number of healers (and a few less magically-inclined medics), and he went to them when there was one in the area. Both of them were hurt, and unless Fahl had healing abilities of his own, it was only a matter of time before he would need to seek some sort of outside help.
Grem only hoped that the stone they had taken during Fahl's last attempt was the elf's only means of departing the realm.
The second day of his search, it bore fruit. A healer had seen a green-haired elven man in an area near the warehouses at the docks. So, Grem narrowed his search, asking the workers at the docks if they had seen Fahl, asking which buildings were not in frequent use, and the like. He was finally directed to a certain warehouse, and had now to find a way in. Preferably one that would not be so obvious as the front door.
The back door was a no-go as well, as the rarely-used door would likely make a good deal of noise in the opening. There were no windows accessible, so he climbed to the roof, to seek a hatch of some sort. The best bet seemed to be the skylight. He took a moment to peer through the dust which had settled on the glass.
As Grem looked in, Fahl was sitting on the floor of the warehouse surrounded by books. Each large, dusty, stolen volume was open around him. He was hunched, slightly, fingers running down the strange symbols in each book. Silently he cursed to himself and pushed one book aside to take up another.
Though the wound was healed, his shirt was still bloody. There hadn't been time to shop. Days were passing and time was running short to get out of the realm. It had become clear that Lydia wasn't going to give up the stone and so he worked to find another way-- any way-- out of the realm.
His plan B had included drugging her. And she slept, still tied to the chair. Though, her injured leg was untied and rested on another chair. He was elevating it, keeping it clean and raised. She ate and drank when she was groggy, but otherwise she was just sleeping beauty in the chair.
The pages spewed dust in the dim light as he poured through another one. A grumble and a groan as he read, he was too absorbed to hear the person climbing to the roof. He was too absorbed to look up and check.
There had to be a way home, and he was going to find it...
Frowning, Grem pulled away from the window and examined the window. It didn’t open, at least from the outside, so he wouldn’t be able to slip in silently. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he looked around the roof. Nothing helpful caught his eye, just an expanse of roof, vents nowhere near large enough for him to get in, and sea gulls. An idea struck, and he descended back to the street.
There weren’t many things he would need, and luckily they were readily available in the area. A good length of dock line was quickly found and borrowed, wrapped around his torso for ease in carrying for the moment. Next, he found one of the small sandwich stands which will invariably be found anywhere that many men work every day. He bought a cup of fries (“chips,” as he was corrected by the vendor). He snatched a loose brick from the ground on his way back to the warehouse, and climbed back to the roof.
The rope was tied around a chimney vent near the skylight, and he took a moment to test its strength before leaving the brick resting next to the glass. Then, a number of the fries were tossed a short distance upwind (though birds tend to have a poor sense of smell, he decided to play it safe), and he crouched to wait as still as he could as a few gulls noticed the free meal. It was only a matter of time before one landed to take a bit of food, and he scrambled forward to grab it before it took off once more. Thankfully, it seemed the sailors of the docks were friendly to the birds, and it didn’t consider the man nearby to be a threat until he had it in hand.
Hoping that the bird’s cries would go unnoticed inside, he crept back to where he had left the brick, holding the bird with one hand. Taking a good grip on the brick, he took a deep breath while considering his timing. Then, he struck the glass just hard enough to break it and immediately threw the distressed bird through the new opening. At the same time, he quickly moved away from the skylight and set the brick down. With any luck, it would seem as though the gull had simply landed on a weak or already cracked pane.
((This thread is a collaborative effort with the player behind Fahlen))
There was blood in the alley. It had mostly dried, and some had come from all three of those involved in the struggle. Most of it was Lydia's, which was worrisome, but he tried to push that concern to the back of his mind for the time being. Finding her was the priority; anything that could be done for her hurts would have to wait until then. There were scant other clues. Keys, which had Erin's scent on them, and a few items that had spilled from Lydia's bag. He gathered these things, stuffing his pockets, as he searched for something that would tell him where Fahl might have taken her. He found nothing.
His next step was time-consuming and frustrating. He went from neighborhood to neighborhood, seeking someone, anyone, who had seen someone of Fahl's description recently. His work had introduced him to a number of healers (and a few less magically-inclined medics), and he went to them when there was one in the area. Both of them were hurt, and unless Fahl had healing abilities of his own, it was only a matter of time before he would need to seek some sort of outside help.
Grem only hoped that the stone they had taken during Fahl's last attempt was the elf's only means of departing the realm.
The second day of his search, it bore fruit. A healer had seen a green-haired elven man in an area near the warehouses at the docks. So, Grem narrowed his search, asking the workers at the docks if they had seen Fahl, asking which buildings were not in frequent use, and the like. He was finally directed to a certain warehouse, and had now to find a way in. Preferably one that would not be so obvious as the front door.
The back door was a no-go as well, as the rarely-used door would likely make a good deal of noise in the opening. There were no windows accessible, so he climbed to the roof, to seek a hatch of some sort. The best bet seemed to be the skylight. He took a moment to peer through the dust which had settled on the glass.
As Grem looked in, Fahl was sitting on the floor of the warehouse surrounded by books. Each large, dusty, stolen volume was open around him. He was hunched, slightly, fingers running down the strange symbols in each book. Silently he cursed to himself and pushed one book aside to take up another.
Though the wound was healed, his shirt was still bloody. There hadn't been time to shop. Days were passing and time was running short to get out of the realm. It had become clear that Lydia wasn't going to give up the stone and so he worked to find another way-- any way-- out of the realm.
His plan B had included drugging her. And she slept, still tied to the chair. Though, her injured leg was untied and rested on another chair. He was elevating it, keeping it clean and raised. She ate and drank when she was groggy, but otherwise she was just sleeping beauty in the chair.
The pages spewed dust in the dim light as he poured through another one. A grumble and a groan as he read, he was too absorbed to hear the person climbing to the roof. He was too absorbed to look up and check.
There had to be a way home, and he was going to find it...
Frowning, Grem pulled away from the window and examined the window. It didn’t open, at least from the outside, so he wouldn’t be able to slip in silently. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he looked around the roof. Nothing helpful caught his eye, just an expanse of roof, vents nowhere near large enough for him to get in, and sea gulls. An idea struck, and he descended back to the street.
There weren’t many things he would need, and luckily they were readily available in the area. A good length of dock line was quickly found and borrowed, wrapped around his torso for ease in carrying for the moment. Next, he found one of the small sandwich stands which will invariably be found anywhere that many men work every day. He bought a cup of fries (“chips,” as he was corrected by the vendor). He snatched a loose brick from the ground on his way back to the warehouse, and climbed back to the roof.
The rope was tied around a chimney vent near the skylight, and he took a moment to test its strength before leaving the brick resting next to the glass. Then, a number of the fries were tossed a short distance upwind (though birds tend to have a poor sense of smell, he decided to play it safe), and he crouched to wait as still as he could as a few gulls noticed the free meal. It was only a matter of time before one landed to take a bit of food, and he scrambled forward to grab it before it took off once more. Thankfully, it seemed the sailors of the docks were friendly to the birds, and it didn’t consider the man nearby to be a threat until he had it in hand.
Hoping that the bird’s cries would go unnoticed inside, he crept back to where he had left the brick, holding the bird with one hand. Taking a good grip on the brick, he took a deep breath while considering his timing. Then, he struck the glass just hard enough to break it and immediately threw the distressed bird through the new opening. At the same time, he quickly moved away from the skylight and set the brick down. With any luck, it would seem as though the gull had simply landed on a weak or already cracked pane.
((This thread is a collaborative effort with the player behind Fahlen))