(this takes place in a small private home just south of Yew. Ongoing story- open for involvement/investigation)
"Sir," Aaron the surveyor said as he set aside the latest stack of maps, his voice making his growing impatience clear "as I have told you many times it is just not possible."
Turning to face his companion he continued, "Whatever rumor your employer heard it predates my time here. And it predates anything cartographers have documented over centuries."
The man before him, dressed in oiled brown leather from neck to toe, spoke gruffly, "Wut abouts off book works?"
The surveyor paused in his straightening up and thought a moment, "Hmmm, well I suppose it is po…" He shook his head regretfully, "No, I am sorry. That could not be either."
He turned back toward the shelves and began putting the maps away, "The Monks in the Abbey are very diligent in their own record keeping. Any off book work, as you say, would have still been noted by them. I am terribly sorry."
A grunt was the only verbal response from the leather clad questioner. The surveyor did not hear the man draw the dark blade from his side. He was dead when the second blow landed. After the 9th the man left into the night- increasingly desperate for answers that may not exist.
House D'Amavir
"Sir," Aaron the surveyor said as he set aside the latest stack of maps, his voice making his growing impatience clear "as I have told you many times it is just not possible."
Turning to face his companion he continued, "Whatever rumor your employer heard it predates my time here. And it predates anything cartographers have documented over centuries."
The man before him, dressed in oiled brown leather from neck to toe, spoke gruffly, "Wut abouts off book works?"
The surveyor paused in his straightening up and thought a moment, "Hmmm, well I suppose it is po…" He shook his head regretfully, "No, I am sorry. That could not be either."
He turned back toward the shelves and began putting the maps away, "The Monks in the Abbey are very diligent in their own record keeping. Any off book work, as you say, would have still been noted by them. I am terribly sorry."
A grunt was the only verbal response from the leather clad questioner. The surveyor did not hear the man draw the dark blade from his side. He was dead when the second blow landed. After the 9th the man left into the night- increasingly desperate for answers that may not exist.
House D'Amavir