Sigil: City of Doors

Rhistel enters the Hall of Records, early in the morning: the meeting he took part to the day before had gone wrong on almost all the levels in the young man's eyes, still, he knew the job needed to be cared for, despite everything.

The plan the midget she-drow had proposed was almost reasonable, if he was willing to skip over the fact she was apparently determined in dragging him around as her personal beating toy, in any case, he had decided to ignore this nuisance for now and just dedicate himself in collecting the informations they could need before even approaching the Iron Circlet.

He greets the Handler of Records with a slight bow.

"Lady's Grace, ma'am. I'd need to consult the documents inherent the business held by the Iron Circlet Guild here in the Cage," he asks quietly, "namely, everything that would concern it's location, members and current employees, if possible and if we have them."

About the same time, one Factotum had planning of her own.

One message was sent through Fated channels addressed to warrior of same rank, but completely differing experience. Sillxhsistraja, however, made sure to sign it as someone who would be more trusted by him.

From Sally to Ra'zeth.

As rendezvous place, a room in Foul Olde Spirit was chosen. One with number five.

The warrior made his way to the designated place at the correct time.

//IG or here? Either's good with me.

//We're going to do this IG at the end of the week

Hydra,Oct 13 2014 wrote: //We're going to do this IG at the end of the week

//I was reffering to Rainbow's post. I'm gone during the weekend.//

\\Let's do it IG. I think we might not make it in time if we do it on forum.

After discussing something that resembles plan with Ra'zeth, Sillxhistraja started to contemplate the needed parts of equation.

For now, she needed to order these contraptions with haste. Pulling cloak around herself and downing cowl, drow exited Foul Olde Inn. Her stride took her to the Hive and then to Lower Ward. Putting handkerchief to the face, which just barely made breathing in industrial smog easier, Sill moved to one of the greatest workshops in the city.

Gust of hot wind on opening door was scorching, but there she was. Now, it depended on craftsmanship of Great Foundry's smiths...