Ty is anxiously waiting the hour he was asked to wait, passing the time getting his wounds tended and asking questions of whomever he thinks he can trust and who might know something about what's going on.
"I think I heard the name, but I don't remember who it is." Carrow then muses, "I think we all know why he might be after me, quests and such, but how does this Otto Rolhannes fellow know so much. Dorgarth, any idea?"
"This human Otto says that Darenaeok is an old enemy of his as well. Apparently he gets around... so Otto says he knows where's Darenaeok is holed up here in town, just needs some help in taking down him and his henchmen so thought that we could aid him as he just tried to kill us. Oh, and he mentioned there's some reward and/or loot to be had... "
"Excellent. His hideout is some manner of derelict warehouse in the Southgate-Ostwald District. And based on my observations, he is likely to be there now, overseeing his criminal enterprise. I know little about his servants, although they certainly do not have the bearing of ones from Altdorf. Their number and nature are unclear to me. Perhaps they are local hirelings. As to the nature of Sedrazzi himself, I would elaborate, but I think it is a tale best told on the way."
The rum has a strange, slightly sweet taste. It also produces a deafening roar when consumed. Throg nearly falls out of his chair, but quickly recovers. He finds that he has a splitting headache and his ears are bleeding. It looks like the daemon wins this round, but contestants are still in shape to continue. The bartender brings out the next tray...
"You drank calmly, but maybe the drink was not calm enough.
We must decide your fate.
But it is getting late.
I'm sure this next brew has just the stuff.
Ale and wine and rum are nice.
And you've both been brave.
So now matters turn grave.
Do you have what it takes to handle ice?"
The next tray contains no phantom additives, although Throg still has the items from the previous trays. The bottle is so perfectly transparent that it is difficult to see at all. The liquid inside seems to be a slurry of subliming hoar frost in a pale fluid.
Resplendent Frost Brandy
Throg feels a chill just watching the brandy being poured into the cups. The daemon sucks down his brandy quickly. He tries to gloat, but the cumulative effects of the magical beverages is getting to him. He looms over the table, clutching his head in his hands.
"Whatever the ultimate goal of his operations here, Sedrazzi seems to be collecting money. It is possible that his dealings are largely restricted to petty crimes in a deliberate effort to avoid the notice of the local constabulary. It seems likely that he is smuggling something in the sewers. Sedrazzi took at least three levels of precaution in his written messages. Firstly, the messages are written in a cypher. This would befuddle a commoner, but Otto Rolhannes is another matter: I can decrypt the messages easily. Secondly, deciphering the messages leads to the Black Elven language, which most people cannot read. Again, I am not so easily eluded. But the third level of protection is a simple use of coded language by swapping out terms in some previously agreed upon system. So even if you could read the messages, a document that, for instance, ordered the assassination of various targets here in Middenheim would seem instead to be a list of grocery deliveries."