Touch Of Fate 211 Feeling Spirited

In his limited free time, Mike had been working almost exclusively on his Artifice skill, hoping to bring it up to a high enough level to help his party members. While he'd made a fair amount of progress so far, there was still a long way to go before he was satisfied. He'd hit a bit of a stumbling block when it came to the base materials. The few items he'd been able to acquire from the market had been mostly low quality, and he'd started to reach the point where he would need more valuable resources to make progress in his skill.

Feeling that it might be a good time to take care of some other business in the process, he headed to the Adventurer's Guild and checked with the receptionist for messages. Unsurprisingly, he had one informing him of a place where he could meet with a representative of the shadowy organization that had sold him books. He'd nearly forgotten about the letter he'd sent them a few days ago. Hopefully, they wouldn't hold a grudge.

Following the attached directions, he found himself in a little used section of the piers under the Span. A few abandoned warehouses occupied the narrow stretch of land between the base of the t.i.tanic bridge and the waters of the bay. Judging from the general state of disrepair, the deserted appearance of the area was not just a product of the ongoing siege.

Mike wasn't sure if this effort would bear fruit, since the messenger was probably no longer waiting for him. However, he figured that it couldn't hurt to try. Thankfully, he didn't have to worry.

"You've keep me waiting." A gruff, irritated voice issued from a nearby warehouse.

A thin, dirty man dressed in dark colored rags stepped into view. He wore a frown that could be seen underneath his tangled beard.

Mike used Appraise while phrasing his response.

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Roger

Age: 36

Race: Human

Cla.s.s: Agent

t.i.tle: Silenced

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[...I feel like this guy should be some kind of international spy.]

"Sorry about that, I've been a bit tied up with the invasion and fighting to defend the city." Mike replied drily.

"I'm aware. That's why we are having this conversation at all. Now, what is it you are looking for?"

Mike noted that the man named Roger didn't specify a type of goods. "Primarily, I'm looking for materials used for item crafting through Artifice, specifically ones of high value and rarity. I'm a.s.suming you have a branch that handles that kind of thing, right? Secondly, does your organization deal in information?"

The man frowned noticeably, but nodded. "The first request won't be an issue, since we do indeed have a section that handles magic materials. The second will depend greatly on what kind of information you are looking for." He sighed. "Nevertheless, I will set up a meeting for you to speak with our brokers."

He took out a sc.r.a.p of parchment and quickly wrote down two sets of times and places. "Here are your appointments. I recommend that you not be late to them this time, since the other parties are a lot less forgiving than me."

Mike looked over the sheet, noting that both events were scheduled for the following day. Squinting, he took a moment to contemplate the meanings behind such a move. They were essentially stating that there was no need to fear additional confrontation with the Tenundians until after tomorrow. Something that was in line with the intelligence Emmanuel had pa.s.sed to him earlier.

[Seems like they have some decent sources at the very least.]

"Thank you." He said with genuine appreciation.

Roger shrugged in response. "All part of the job. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go take a well earned break. This place gets creepy at night, and I haven't slept well since I was posted here."

"Sorry."

Shrugging again, the man started walking. "Not the worst experience of my life, but I won't be coming back anytime soon."

After the agent had departed, Mike took a moment to look around the deserted docks once more. Throughout the brief meeting, he'd been detecting a low level hostility from one of the warehouses nearby. However, he'd been completely unable to locate the source. It almost felt as if the building itself was expressing some kind of malicious intent.

Curious, he walked up to it, and found the door secured by a rusted lock. While such a thing wouldn't be much of an impediment to him, he wondered whether it was justified to commit what amounted to breaking and entering just to satisfy an impulse. In the midst of his internal debate, he grabbed the lock intending to test its durability, only to find it crumbling into pieces in his hand.

[Poor craftsmans.h.i.+p? Or is it being this close to the ocean that caused this level of corrosion?]

Examining the building once more, he realized that it was more dilapidated than it neighbors, seemingly abandoned long before the others started suffering from neglect. Between the warped, salt-stained wood, broken windows, and non-existent paint, the difference from the other vacant warehouses was so stark he wondered how he missed it in the first place.

Mike rested his hand against the ancient door, and nearly jumped when it slowly creaked open with the screech of rusty hinges. At the same time, the hostility he'd been feeling suddenly spiked as the whole area was suffused with murderous intent. Had he not become such a ridiculous ent.i.ty over the last few months, such a feeling would have concerned him. As it was, the sensation just sparked his curiosity.

[...I wonder if ghosts are a real thing in this world...Now that I think about it, Tal mentioned something to that effect before. I wish I'd paid more attention.]

Since the decision had been made for him, he decided to go ahead and investigate. He'd long ago learned that these occasional flashes of impulse often led him to interesting, although not always beneficial, things.

The interior of the warehouse was strangely dark, despite the broken windows letting the early afternoon sunlight in. Not that it caused him any problems thanks to his ring. Still, it was a little unusual to see it in action.

[Is this some kind of magic? It seems a little too subtle to be straight up Darkness Magic. An illusion maybe?]

He'd read about a couple of ways to make illusions through magic, which ranged from simple optical mirages through Light Magic to full-on sensory hijacking through Arcane Magic. He figured there must be others, especially when considering the unique skills acquired by unusual races and monsters, but this didn't quite feel like an illusion either.

Shrugging, he boldly stepped in, and was almost immediately forced to jump forward as a section of the roof caved in, collapsing where he'd been standing a moment before. While the debris wouldn't have done much damage, the timing of the collapse couldn't have been an accident.

[Yeah, definitely something here.]

Mike pressed on, scanning the empty storage section of the building. He'd half expected there to be a bunch of old crates and barrels, but it was actually devoid of anything besides dirt and a few dead leaves. He also noticed that there were no signs of animal life either, which definitely seemed odd.

After briefly looking through a few dust filled offices, he turned his attention to a set of stairs leading to some kind of loft. They were rickety, and judging from the current chain of events, he wouldn't have been surprised if they collapsed as soon as he got halfway up. So, with a blast of wind, he threw himself up onto the second story, completely ignoring them.

As he landed with a slightly smug grin, he could almost sense the ent.i.ty in the building growing more angry. It therefore didn't come as a surprise when the floorboards underneath him started creaking in a menacing manner, although they stopped when he moved to a more stable part of the loft.

He glanced around and was a little disappointed by how empty the place was. The only thing of interest was a small ladder leading to a hatch, which presumably had been used for maintenance of the roof. It wasn't exactly clear what this section of the building was used for, although Mike suspected additional storage. Perhaps the builders were looking to maximize the available s.p.a.ce.
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Sighing, he almost started heading back down, when he noticed a strange dark patch on the floorboards in one corner of the loft. Moving closer to investigate, he realized it was discoloration caused by something that soaked into the wood. Glancing up, he didn't see any obvious signs of a hole in the roof directly above, although that didn't rule out the possibility of water being the culprit.

As he squatted down to look a bit more closely, he noticed that the hostility of the building had changed. It no longer seemed angry, and instead felt more flighty, almost as if it was frightened. Whatever was occupying this warehouse, it was clearly centered here and was worried about what he might do.

Reaching down, he cautiously touched the spot with a single finger. It felt cold, and slightly slimy. As he pulled his finger away, he noticed that a few flecks of a black substance stuck to it, evidently the source of the discoloration. The hostility he'd been sensing changed again, this time morphing into something cold, and sightly disturbing. He felt that to go any further would lead to a confrontation of some kind.

While he doubted that something like a spirit inhabiting a rundown warehouse could pose a legitimate threat to him, Mike decided that the didn't want to push things without knowing more. Under ideal circ.u.mstances he would have liked to have spent some time trying to interact with the ent.i.ty. He had a feeling that do so could prove advantageous in some capacity.

However, he had a lot to do over the next few days, and he'd already wasted enough time indulging his curiosity. So, after resolving to come back at a later date, he hopped back down to the first floor and causally left, closing the door behind him. He noticed that the hostility fell to an almost undetectable level as he did.

[I'll add ghosts to my list of things to research when time allows, and I think I'll bring Tal next time, too. She should have a little more luck with this kind of thing.] He thought to himself as he started heading towards the market district. There were still a few errands left to run.

As Mike started walking, he didn't notice a creeping haze of frost develop one of the warehouse's few unbroken windows. He also didn't see a print take shape in it, almost as if something invisible was pressing a hand against the gla.s.s from the inside.

A hand with long, spindly fingers that ended in claws.