[hr][hr][h2][center][color=39b54a]Karlus The Half-Mage - Caracas[/color][/center][/h2]
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Karlus breathed a sigh of relief as he slipped from the gangway and into the blessed anonymity of the crowded docks of Caracas. It had been too long trapped aboard that wallowing wooden tub. Aside from the privacy of his own cramped cabin, there had been precious few places to escape the gazes and whispers of the crew. They had recognised him from what he was soon after he had boarded, and they had made their displeasure at his company more than clear. Every time he had forayed up and out onto the deck he had been met with strained silence from the crew, hands fluttering behind their backs to make the sign of averting evil. Mages were feared more than they were respected amongst the kingdoms of men, and seldom were they ever loved. 

Other than himself, his only fellow passenger had been a Queen-Brith who seemingly preferred silence even more so than himself. They had exchanged maybe a handful of words over the course of the voyage. But in the night he had heard her, those strange and sad songs that had come drifting through the planked and caulked walls. It had been strangely comforting to know that even so far away, in the middle of black and empty ocean, his nocturnal misery still had company. 

It did not matter now, it was behind him. Like the rest. And it would stay there if he got on with the job at hand. 

[color=39b54a][b]"... And redeem yourself in the process."[/b][/color] He quoted the letter in his pocket from memory. [color=39b54a][b]"How ridiculous."[/b][/color] 

He was not the one in need of redemption. 

Karlus placed his pack on his right shoulder and began to make his way down the dockside. The morning mist that rolled in from the Veiled Sea brought with it the fresh clean smell of salt, so the inevitable stink of the city did not yet bother him. Amongst the lilting foreign languages and the cawing of the gulls he caught snatches of songs, dogs barking, the clash of the hammer and anvil, men calling out their wares. Ordinary sounds made extraordinary by their absence upon the sea. The novelty of it all distracted him from his habitual brooding, while the sword at his side kept all but the most determined of panhandlers away, so few brushed up against him as he walked. It was almost pleasant.

But the longer Karlus looked and listened, the more something seemed amiss in the city. Many of the dockside warehouses of plastered stone and terracotta were barred shut, guards and militias posted beneath their brightly coloured awnings. Groups of men gathered on the corners of the canals and eyed strangers with hostile suspicion as they whispered and gossiped amongst themselves. And then there was that pulling sensation he felt that in the back of his mind. The hairs that stood up upon his neck. The burning in his arm and face. The erasure ward. To place such a thing over an entire dockside was no small feat of magic. It was most unusual.

The people of the city were afraid of something. 

He ducked out of the throng of people into a narrow alley that led back to a canal deeper in the city. His dwelling on the ward was making him nervous and paranoid. The alleyway was near empty apart from a group of young children playing with dice and knuckle bones where it opened onto the docks. Beside a stack of empty and broken crates set his pack down and faced into the corner. From within his long grey cloak he drew compact mirror from a hidden pocket sewn into its lining. He flicked it open and studied his reflection, careful not to spill any of the precious powder within.

All looked as it should. His fine pale features, his luminous green eyes, the ruinous seamed scar on his left cheek. Karlus sighed and put away the mirror. There had been no need for concern after all. He lifted his pack and turned to exit onto the dockside once more.

A child had looked up from their was staring at him.

Panic flooded into Karlus's mind. 

What had he seen? Had he recognised the mirror? Had he recognised Karlus? A cascade of questions, accusations and conspiracy poured into his mind. All the darkest and worst possibilities imaginable. This child knew something and if he walked away from here he would tell someone and they would find Karlus and kill Karlus... or worse. 

[i][color=39b54a]Kill him first.[/color][/i] Unbidden the voice in his head spoke with perfect clarity. [i][color=39b54a]Bind him now before he can make a sound. Pull him towards us, slit his throat, and then disappear. It would be so simple, so easy. After that we just run away again. Forget the Trading Company, they can't help us. It's probably a trap anyway. Just run like before. If they follow us... leave them in flames. [/color][/i]

The voice spoke true. It would be easy. The Company couldn't help them. It probably was a trap. But he wasn't running away anymore.

He stilled his trembling hand and reached down to his sword belt. The boy's eyes grew wide as Karlus's hand drifted over the hilt of his blade. But his fingers did not stop there, they reached around to delve into his coin purse instead. He drew out a single brass penny and flicked it onto the ground in front of the startled child. 

[color=39b54a][b]"Which way to the La Resplenda?"[/b]
[/color]

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With directions in hand it didn't take Karlus long to find his way to the tavern. A crowd was dispersing in front of it, some kind of dispute between a dockworker and a city guard. The tavern itself was a handsome building stone built with an attractive spread of foliage growing up its frontage. Much preferable to the wattle and mud thatched hovels Karlus so often stomached in Astoria.

Inside it was busy. A group of dockworkers gamed at one table, at another was the imposing figure of a huge, dark, horned Tiefling. Sat next to him was... the Brith girl from the ship? What was she doing here? He eyed them with suspicion as he crossed to the bar. Was she following him? The barkeep was arguing with a minstrel, something about a song. He stood expectantly at the bar for a moment, waiting for one or the other to notice his presence and curtail their discussion. They did not. He coughed apologetically and smiled in a slightly pained and uncomfortable way.

[color=39b54a][b]"Excuse me, sirs. I am looking for Tali Riverend."[/b][/color]