To Catch A Shark

Shining Chalice meetinghouse, afternoon

Rain patters down from the cloudy skies over Alexandria, the last cool fingers of winter on the city as the weather shifts inexorably to spring. Chilly and windy, but the snow is gone and the temperatures continue to steadily rise out of the icy depths.

In a well-apportioned townhouse near the border between the university and noble districts, one of the brightest stars in the Shining Chalice is sipping tea as he works his way through the monthly paperwork. Telamon picks up the next missive, examining it, and nods before signing off on the signature line. Picking up a stamp, he presses a seal in at the bottom, before setting it aside to cool. "Sloan may be a good butler, but we should've hired an accountant," he grumbles to himself. At least the surroundings are warm and friendly, with the fireplace stoked and the mage-lights glowing softly.

There's a rap on the door, followed closely by an opening. The figure that steps through looks like nothing so much as a drowned rat, for having clearly been out in the rain for some time despite sturdy travelers' cloak over his usual outfit. Collar-length brown hair is more than a little damp at the edges and front of the roots, and the shirt beneath the sheepskin jacket is damp and cold, as if the water had _just_ started seeping in. The boots are fairly well soaked, and he smells of damp leather and rain.

The frown he wears, though, is more telling. Dolan is _not_ a happy bunny, tension written in his mouth and remaining eye, left arm in its leather cuff held close against him. The gaze is still sharp, though, focused, present, and determined.

One he's stepped through the door, he looks around him, keenly, but one thing is clear - something isn't right.

The sorcerer glances up, his brows coming together in confusion as he rises from his seat at the office desk. Stepping out, Telamon blinks. "Dolan! What're you doing here -- well, enough questions. Come in, come in..."

Tel has his flaws, but he's a gracious host. A warm towel is offered, and then Dolan is escorted into the parlor and seated next to the fire. Swiftly, Telamon returns with two mugs and a kettle, pouring some hot tea. "You look like you swam here, my friend." Studying the man's face, he takes a seat as well. "And there's something on your mind."

Dolan gratefully accepts, laying cloak and boots aside to dry by the fire and using the towel to handle the rest of the dampness. "Brightest of days, Telamon," he replies, a smile creeping onto his face despite himself. "Glad I found you. I've got a problem. Perhaps you're minded to chase a loan shark with me?" He takes the tea in both hands, letting the warmth of the fire wash over him and carefully flexing the left shoulder in its cuff. Just a little.

Once he has settled, he sets the teacup on the edge of the hearth and fishes in the pack that had been beneath his twin cloaks. It does not take him long to produce a letter, which he hands to Telamon to read.

The letter reads -

Brydion,

It has been a long while since I wrote to you, but mother and father tell me you've been very busy. Seems they've had their fair share of troubles too. They mentioned to me something about demons at the farm? It all seems so extraordinary. We are just simple folks after all. What could demons want with us? It seems to be settling down now though. But you are probably wondering why I am writing you. It's about the farm. Turns out that thanks to the weights coming in and the demons that mother and father had to take out a loan on the farm. Enough money that they had to ask me and our other brother for some money to help pay it off.

Normally I would not write you for just that, but it seems that the person that they got the loan from is not your usual individual, and the loan they took out was more sizable than they originally indicated. Brydon, they sent people out to threaten mother and father. It does not sit well with me, and if I know you at all it will not sit well with you either. The fellow who owns the loan is called Mortin, and he is based out of Alexandria. Just in case you feel like looking him up and breaking a knee for me.

Sincerely yours,

Joffrey

Telamon raises an eyebrow. "A loan shark? How on Ea did you get involved with one of those?" His starry eyes watch the way Dolan handles his arm, but he says nothing. Instead, he takes the letter, and begins to read silently. His brows come together as he works his way through it, his expression darkening a bit. "Hmph." He lowers the letter, looking at Dolan.

"Well, this will be interesting. Most loans are handled by reputable bankers. There's -rules- about 'sharking' or 'tusk-thieving'." He glances back at the letter. "The debt may have been bought up by someone, though, with ... fewer scruples. It's not unheard of. But..." His eyes meet Dolan's. "You don't think this is just bad luck or happenstance, do you?"

"Not in a thousand years, Tel." Dolan's reply doesn't hesitate. "The demons they're talking about were sent by V. It's the same demons that went after the totems, the shadows, yeah? They were threatening my parents and the farm when I got there. Bet me it's either Zinskas or Seraquoix, and the money they're extorting is funding this war of theirs." His words are clipped, crisp, and hold zero doubt, and he picks up his teacup again, cradling it between his chilled hands and using it to warm them. "I haven't forgotten about the bullshit Andie's mother put me and them through, either, and that's not resolved yet."

Telamon grins tightly. "Same here. Happenstance and serendipity can be a thing, but this seems convenient. And we know those bastards are playing the money game too." He takes a sip from his teacup. "Interesting. Do we know anything about this 'Mortin' fellow? The name doesn't ring any bells."

He considers. "If we knock over this Mortin fellow, get our hands on his books, we could do a lot of good for people caught up by him as well as kick Zinskas and Seraquoix right in the tackle."

"I like the way you think, Tel. Maybe it'll lead us to anyone backing them, as well." Between a warm fire, tea, and the suggestion, Dolan's mood is improving already. "I haven't heard the name, but asking around a little should net me something. I can find out. if it _is_ a puppet of Zinskas and Seraquoix, chances are he's a furball, too, and probably not by choice. Get him to the Temple of Eluna, and he just might sing for us."

"From prior experience, we'll want to strip him to his smalls," Telamon warns. "I was present at an interrogation of one of those werewolves, and someone, or something, tried to compel the poor bastard to kill himself. With a tincture of silver and wolfsbane." He winces. "It was a near thing."

"I wonder who else he's squeezing? No offense, Dolan, but I can't buy that he's -just- bothering your parents. I bet he's bought up these debts to funnel money, strongarmed from people nominally productive but in a tight spot." Tel shrugs. "Ah well. We'll find up when we turn him upside down and shake him like a dirty rug."

"None taken, Tel. You're right of course, and the reminder makes it all the sweeter." Dolan takes another sip of tea, hesitates with the cup in one hand, then holds it in both. "Both who else they're shaking down, and who else is backing them. Let's learn as much as we can. Some rope might be good, too, just in case we have to tie one of these bastards up."

Telamon snorts. "Rope? Oh no. I think we can afford a set of nice heavy shackles. Even a werewolf might be inconvenienced if he's shackled hand and foot with iron chains." He taps his fingertips against his teacup, before reaching over and refilling Dolan's, then his own. "And with spring here... you've got my mind moving in certain ways. Some way to help your parents -- and other farmers -- get their footing back."

The suggestion that Telamon makes is enough for Dolan to suck in a breath. He holds out the tea to be refilled, absently, but sets the cup back on the hearth for a minute, instead rubbing none-too-gently at the shoulder in its leather cuff. He seems to be struggling in some way, clawing for words, but finally manages, "Yeah. Farmers, and other people. All those people kidnapped. Taken. Changed. Let's find the people responsible." He sounds - choked, but after another minute, picks up his teacup, breathing deeply from it, inhaling the aroma. "Put a sword in these bastards."

Telamon smiles. It's a funny little smile -- understanding, but there's something in his eyes, mischievous. Almost... fey. Oh dear, Lana really is rubbing off on him. "Absolutely. First step is definitely tracking 'Mortin' down. Let's put some feelers out, spend a little silver. Nobody really likes a loan shark; I'm pretty sure someone doesn't like him enough to talk to us."

Dolan takes another long, slow pull of his tea, thinking about Telamon's words, eyeing the man thoughtfully. "Lana's rubbing off on you, my friend. Or is it Grandfather? Never mind. I'll work the lower circles, if you'll work the upper ones. A man like that makes enemies. Let's see what we can find. Keep it quiet, for now?"

Telamon nods firmly. "Let's not cause him to rabbit just yet. Even if fleeing would take these people out from under his thumb, we need to roll him -and- his friends in town up." He rubs his chin, and his eyes sparkle. "Probably my wife. But don't worry. First we catch Mortin. I'll pass word to that fellow who looked into Zalgiman's finances. Maybe he can turn over some stones as well."

"Done. I hadn't thought of this when I first read the letter, but you've got the right of this. It's not just about one - it's about all of the people that are being strongarmed," Dolan murmurs thoughtfully into his teacup. "Let's go get ourselves a loan shark - without the chains. No need to torture people." A shudder ripples through him.

Telamon winces. "I'm sorry, Dolan. I should've thought of that first. Rope it is." He takes a sip of his tea, and changes tacks. "Did you get the chance to brief those two fellows -- Jacob, and -- Ous? -- about the totems? We need all the help we can muster, but... neither is particularly well known or well experienced from what I've heard."

"I haven't seen then since. I'll brief them and make sure Ous attunes that one. He might not know." Dolan seems quite mollified by the apology, and sets aside the teacup. "What did you make of those two, and of the sith-makar Verna brought with him?" He turns the talk then to other things, allowing tea and fire and good company to assuage his worries, at least for the moment. Eventually he'll need to go back out in the rain, but he's in no hurry.