Late Greenwash was unusually pleasant that year, as many resident have noted. The day started crisp and clear, and by mid-morning the sun was bright and the air had a certain fragrance from new plant life, even inside the keep.

A surprising amount of folks were in, even the leader of the rangers has come to visit the fort. While most people were going about their business, Torok was sitting with his back leaning to the south wall, 'greeting' everyone with a smirk. Olek was slowly preparing his cart, his aides hauling the heavy bags and boxes. Karek was hurrying (as usual) across the yard on some important business and Cass was listening to a few farmers with a sceptical eye.

The adventurers' guildfolks were practicing some with weapons to the delight of a few local kids, while two of the rangers - not Blackhand, of course - were negotiating with Jarek in front of his shop.

Allan took in all that went on around him with the entrepreneurial eagerness he had inherited from his father. The keep was busier than usual today, and that had the instincts Allan's mother had trained into him murmuring that something was going on today. Though in all honesty, Allan had not needed those instincts telling him as much to know something was going down. It wasn't every day that Blackhand himself took time out of his duty to the common folk to come visit. And if something out of the ordinary was going on, that implied the possibility of unique opportunities for profit. Opportunities that Allan was all too eager to seize.

Figuring that the best of these opportunities would be in Blackhand's vicinity, Allan resolved to seek the man out. But to do that, Allan would first have to know where the man was. The only rangers the half elf merchant had found in his initial inspection of his surroundings had been the two rangers negotiating with Jarek in front of his shop. Allan's first instinct had been to go ingratiate himself to the rangers. Help them with their haggling, learn the current location of their leader from them, and go from there. Though after a moment, his gaze turned towards the other half elf merchant in town. Olek was chatty enough and well informed enough that Allan felt fairly certain he could get Blackhands's whereabouts out of the guy. But soon enough, Allan noticed Torok leaning against the south wall. Allan was in the habit of sparing the old beggar the occasional silver. On top of his tall tales being fairly entertaining, the talent for being easily ignored that all beggars possessed meant that the madman often had useful information to share during his more lucid days. And so it was that Allan fished a coin out of his coin purse and rolled it over his fingers as he made his way over to the south wall.

"Ho there, Torok." Allan greeted the elderly man as he closed to speaking distance. "How has your day been so far?"

"Mmmmm. Nice person, aintcha? Not many like that. Poor Old Torok, left alone." He suddenly looked up at the half-elf after miserating to the dirt. "The house is not empty, no no no no. Not. Empty. I'm telling you now. It drinks ... the life from you, that he will do. Yes. Don't go there, nice person." Shaking his head, he started crying sadly. Then his head shot up to look Allan in the eye. "The rats, mind you, they are here. They are here, as always. And they will be, too, for ever and ever. The rats, them. Together with the dead, for ever. And, you know, dear customer, the dead in the walls and the flags flying in the wind. All full of the dead. But the ravens, they flew west, do you believe that??? West! They have no business there, poor boy. They should stay away." He carefully leaned closer, with a conspiratory smile, and a quiet, snorted laugh. "They will want this badly," he showed Allan a key on a chain around his neck. ", oh, yes! Where the dead go. Or come from? I don't know, please don't hurt me!"

It seemed that Torok was having one of his rambling riddle days today. Getting him talking on these days was the easy part, the hard part was figuring out just what it was that the madman meant by what he was saying. Allan didn't mind all that much though, guessing the riddles was a fun pastime and there were worse states the half elf could have found the old beggar in. States such as the episode of paranoia Torok seemed to be entering. Not wanting that to really get going, Allan rolled the silver coin off his fingers and onto the palm of his hand before addressing Torok with a reassuring tone. "Easy now, Torok. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm the nice person, remember?" Allan said. "And look here. I've got a nice, shiny silver coin for you." Allan then held the coin out for Torok to take.

At the half-elf's soothing words and tone, the beggar gradually calmed down, until he sported a serene smile. He slowly took the silver piece, and kept it between his palms, as if warming it.

Despite all the chaos in his soul, he seemed quite clear and focused at certain topics. Allan saw it dozens, if not hundreds of times, to recognize those parts. Strangely enough, the house drinking the life from people sounded solid, then the ravens flying west, and the key he showed was the most focused.

He was also prone to take proper names literally, so the 'Where the dead go. Or come from?' part could refer to a location with cemetery, grave or tomb in its name. "If you take it to them, will you share your reward with me? Old Torok can eat well many times, and maybe have a bath or two, if they are a straight deal."

As Torok took the coin, Allan considered what he had managed to sift from the old man's riddles. When Torok had spoken of a house that drank the life of people, Allan got the feeling that while it certainly wasn't completely reliable, it wasn't a complete fabrication of the beggar's delusions either. Allan made a note to be wary of any seemingly empty houses he came across. Torok had gone on then to speak of ravens with that same level of coherence. Allan wasn't entirely sure of what to make of that though. Possibly that someone was interfering in things that were best left alone, but Allan couldn't be certain. Finally, Torok had revealed a key he had chained to his neck, claiming that the ravens would want it and that it had something to do with where the dead went or came from. Something that Allan took to mean a cemetery, grave, or tomb. That interested Allan more than the other two tidbits. If these ravens Torok spoke of wanted his key, that meant they wanted to open something. And if they wanted to open something, that had to mean that there was something of value locked away somewhere. Something that Torok's key could open the way to.

"If you take it to them, will you share your reward with me? Old Torok can eat well many times, and maybe have a bath or two, if they are a straight deal."

It seemed that even Torok could notice when Allan's desire for wealth was taking hold of him. It didn't sound like that bothered the old man through, so long as the half elf was willing to share. "That would be fair enough." Allan said with an obliging nod. "I wouldn't have even known about the reward if you hadn't told me, after all."

Nodding half a dozen times, Torok's head slowly dropped forward, and his snoring told the merchant that the conversion was very likely over for now.

A faint yet fond smile played across Allan's lips as he turned away from the old man and turned back to the keep at large. He looked around to see if anyone he saw before was still about. As vaguely enlightening as his chat with Torok had been, Allan still wanted to find out why Blackhand had come to town.

Meryn and Avara, the two rangers, were still occupied with Jarek, the two most obvious candidates. However, Cass Fallow was the one Blackhand had to talk to eventually, if he wanted dealing with keep folks, since she was responsible for the civilian side of running things.

And Allan new that Olek was a generally good source of mundane information just about everything.

After mulling over his options for a moment, Allan decided to make his way over to the two rangers bargaining with Jarek. There was no telling how long he'd have to wait until Blackhand came looking for Cass, and Allan didn't want to go to Olek completely clueless about what was going on. And so it was that the half elf found himself in front of Jarek's shop, browsing the various shopfront display pieces so as not to be blatantly obvious in the fact that he was eavesdropping on the conversation while waiting for a good time to join.

The rangers and the blacksmith weren't as much negotiating as first seemed, they were more arguing. The rangers insisted on Jarek making them silver scimitars or short swords, while Jarek maintained that he could certainly make those, but silver wasn't combat material and it would lose its edge and shape too fast to be usable.

- "Silver is for decoration, you want steel for fighting, friends!"
- "What we want are silver weapons, Jarek. That's what we need. For close combat." - Avara argued impatiently.

The blacksmith's wares were all good quality, but he aimed for practical, and he didn't like fancy things. He was obviously frustrated with the rangers.

It didn't take Allan long to realize what it was that the Eastwatch Rangers wanted silver weapons for. "They have good reason for wanting those kinds of weapons, Jarek." Allan spoke up then. "And they have equally good reason for not wanting to say why that is." Allan had played enough games of Werewolf as a child to know the harm a paranoid lynch mob could do. "You do make a good point about silver not being a good choice for scimitars or shortswords though." Allan turned to the rangers. "Then again, close combat against the quarry you intend to hunt isn't exactly a good choice in general."

"Lucky us!" - exclaimed Avara. "Everybody knows exactly how we should do things despite not even knowing what we want to do."

A quick smile ran acroos the older ranger's face, then he added his thoughts in a calming tone. "Allan wants to help us convince Jarek, Ava." He turned to the half-elf. "Yet Ava is right, too. You don't know what we are preparing to fight. If we expected to fight from a range, we would be ordering arrowheads and crossbow bolts."

Jarek shook his head with a worried face. "And there's the little question of getting enough silver for three real blades. Or do you already have that, Meryn?"

"No. Not yet, unfortunately. And you could help us with that, Allan. Will you?" - Meryn said. Avara looked astounded, and no words came to her.

"The Vanovar Merchant House is always happy to supply the Eastwatch Rangers." Allan answered Meryn's request with honest and genuine enthusiasm. "As righteous as your cause is though, businesses don't stay afloat if they don't see a return on their investment. Tell me how much silver you need and how quickly you need it, and I shall tell you how much it will cost to make that happen."

"In fact, we know of such an amount, and we tried to buy it from the owner, but she didn't deal with us. She is an old lady in Gravestone, who has many items of silver, but she doesn't like us, rangers. If you are willing to talk to her and come up with some deal she likes, you can be a middleman for us. Without telling her you're one, or mentioning us at all." - Meryn explained.

"Alright then. Let me think..." Allan said as he became thoughtful. "The market value for the amount of silver you are asking for sits at somewhere above a hundred gold. And that price is only going to go up depending on the artistic quality of the silver and the sentimental value the owner has for it. Then there is the cost of transportation to think about. Gravestone is a day's ride from here and a day's ride back. Meaning I'll need to hire bodyguards for a two day journey from the Adventurer's Guild. A sell-sword's pay is a gold coin a day, so five guards for two days would be ten gold. Then there's sustenance costs and lodging and stabling fees to think about. Another ten gold all in all." Allan's focus returned fully to the rangers now that his calculations were done. In a perfect world, I would only need a little over 120 gold to get you what you need. But sadly, a perfect world this is not. The silver will likely cost more than my estimate, and I can't stay in business if I don't make a profit. So with that in mind, what do you think of starting the haggling at say... 500 gold?"

Allan knew this initial asking price wouldn't be accepted. It wasn't meant to be accepted either. It was a common tactic in haggling. Start with a higher than reasonable offer that no one would accept so that when the true offer was made, it seemed like a more palatable offer by comparison.

"There's no need for bodyguards, friend, we'll accompany you. Three experienced rangers will be enough protection. And we'll provide food and drink during the trip, that's also our speciality." Avara reacted to Allan's offer.

Meryn nodded a few times before speaking. "We don't even know what Elareth's going to ask in return, might be partly or fully some service instead of coins. But, we'll definitely pay you whatever price you negotiate with her, and some more. Is our word good enough for you?" - he asked with a faint smile.

"I would indeed deem your word good enough." Allan said. "Would it not be impractical for you to accompany me though? The success of this deal hinges on me keeping my role as your middle man a secret, after all."

"A fortnight's living and first bid on whatever salvage you claim from your quarry." Came Allan's counter offer. "Promise me this and the bargain is struck." With that said, Allan offered his hand to shake on the terms.