Location: The Horse's Meadhall, Assassin's Alley, City of Horgith Veil
Time: 1 of the clock, afternoon
Date: Sunday, 12th day of the month of Snow

Weather: Cold and clear skies for the last few weeks. Temperature highs in the 50s and lows in the 30s.

The City of Horgith Veil was nestled in the side of a mountain, high up enough off the ground that the approach could be defended with few fighters. Solid and sturdy dwarven construction was married with gnomish cunning, and human ambition. Situated in the Badushel Spires, it would have been a tough nut for any army to crack before such defenses had been readied. It was a bustling and growing trade city, focused around carving metals and minerals from the rich deposits in the mountains of the Spires. 

Work proceeds apace around the clock as trade goods flow into and out of the city. As such, many travelers come and go, though the steady population of the city could be estimated to be in the neighborhood of around thirteen thousand (13,000) souls. 

Jenphira had passed within the city gates to the north with only a few wayward but appreciative glances from some of the human guards. The dwarves present gave her a more weather eye, noting her pointed ears, with muttered words under bearded breath about 'fool [i]Elves[/i]' being there now. She had shaken it off with a disarming smile which faded as soon as she was out of sight. The young sorceress accosted a human cityguard for a little bit of information about the place, the various districts of the city and who was in charge. It seemed a dwarven woman was running things around here, despite how much some of her male dwarf counterparts grumbled. Despite the complaining the city seemed to be a bustling hive with great potential.

Shouldering her pack, Jen hurried her steps while quietly making sure that her weapons were easily to hand. She whispered a few words as she recalled some of her magic, insuring the spells, her power were still within reach. She would be heading into Assassin's Alley. It was a narrow warren of close-knit buildings tight streets and claustrophobic alleys. It wasn't the best lit place, and it was the kind of location one could disappear into when one wished. And sometimes when they didn't. Few questions were asked there, and your safety was more in your own hands than the city guard. Rough and tumble it could be, there was something honest in it's dishonesty. One should watch their back in that quarter. 

She found herself passing shady folk, mixed with poorer families, tired looking workers covered in soot, dust, and grease. The smell of offal wages war with the distant scents of burning coal and fuel from the foundries, distant stale ale, and cooking food. From somewhere in the far distance echoing off the cavernous walls of the interior of Veil comes a high pitched whistle, sounding once, then fades away. The city had been lit in the interior by glowing golden stone orbs, but here the spacing of these lights was more sparse, the shadows deeper even in the daytime as the buildings drew closer. 

Buildings rose up around her several stories high, with bits of light drifting around the edges of blinds, or orange-white rectangular pools of light in others. Here and there a few were lit with lurid red. On the street, Jen tried not to pay attention to a few street walkers that were plying their trade on their own. By the time she had closed on The Horse's Meadhall, she had passed more than one brothel, and had found herself on the receiving end of a catcall or two. She tried to ignore the rude calls. It was just the way it was in this part of the city, and she was mostly used to it. 

The sign above the doorway was scrawled in Common and Dwarvish runes, with the image of a black horse rearing up on it's hind legs with a large drinking horn overflowing with mead opposite the stallion. Raucous laughter poured from within along with a relatively cheery tune as a couple of squat dwarves pushed their way past her out of the door. "Watch it," one of them drawled drunkenly then let out a great belly laugh with his companion as though it were a great jest while they toddled off down the stone street. With a sigh and a shake of her head, the girl pushed the door open after pulling her hood up to hide her ears. The less trouble because of that side of her blood the better. 

As the door opened, one would be greeted with the smells of cooking lunch, afternoon ale, and a press of bodies. The room was almost hot, and wasn't entirely helped by a hearth burning low. The din of a jabbering crowd was louder, and most barely noticed the new arrival as she slipped to one side of the door, surveying the crowd, only to note the tips of horns sticking out over a booth. "How can I help you," said a pleasantly voiced human woman who held a slightly dingy bar towel in one hand. She looked a little ragged around the edges, the evidence of a busy lunch hour which was winding down. 

"I'm meeting a friend," Jen said quietly, then gestured subtly with one hand toward the booth where Kriv already sat. 
"Ohhhh, right. The Dragonborn fellow. He's been quite pleasant," the blonde hostess said brightly. 
"Has anybody been giving him too much trouble," the sorceress asked. 
"Oh, no. I dunna think so. Can I get ya anything for lunch?"
"Amber ale and do you have your stew today?"
The hostess nodded. "Aye that we do. I'll have it brought over. Be eight copper, miss." 

A moment later some coin was produced and the half-elf was wending her way through the crowd so deftly most didn't even notice her passing unless their eyes fell on her, and when they did, they stared, almost slack-jawed for a moment before shaking themselves and returning to their conversation. Jen gracefully and swiftly slid into the booth opposite of Kriv, able to see most of the common area from her vantage point. "Back to the door? Really," she asked incredulously. He'd been taught better. 

They'd been with their traveling troupe for a month before the group had been ambushed by the city guard in the city of Kethorp. Someone had taken a disliking to the group. Not much had been discovered, as the two of them had been force to run to evade capture themselves. They'd agreed to meet up here, in this tavern in three weeks, traveling separately to make it easier to avoid notice and evade capture. Now was the day of the meeting. 

"Been waiting long," she asked, deliberately avoiding using his given name. She hadn't been followed. She'd taken the time to check. "Were you followed?" The questions were rapid fire. Hopefully he had noted if anyone had followed by now. Still, it didn't mean there weren't parties interested in their conversation. 

((GM/OOC Notes: Nobody followed either of them, and there is nobody listening or really paying attention, other than stealing glances at a good-looking halfbreed.))