Business was good at the Brass Tankard, and its proprietor Rowan Drake couldn’t be happier. Yes business was good, but not in the way many might think. Despite all of the attention and praise Rowan had been getting for his food and stitchwork, Rowan was most happy about the new addition to his humble, cozy tavern. Beneath the floorboards laborers worked tirelessly to complete Rowan greatest achievement. It only took them days to complete what would become one of the greatest criminal inventions the Lone Islands had ever seen.
The cellar itself was unassuming, cobblestones pocked the dank and dirty floor, but it was what lie below that caused the most intrigue. Rowan looked at the off colored stone in the corner, darker and larger than the rest, smirking as he pushed it away and looked down into the darkness. turning to the forman, he pulled out a large bag of coins and wordlessly tossed them to the man, immediatly returning his gaze to the darkness.
"Is eet all er?" said the forman
"see for yourself" said Rowan without looking back
The hiss of escaping gas immediatly followed as Rowan covered his nose, "it would not do for people to know of this tunnel and its secrets" thought Rowan. He had already sent Cedric to dispose of the other workers, but Rowan took sick pleasure in dispatching this man himself. "If you want things right you must do them yourself" he thought. The gas was subsiding then as rowan replaced the stone and turned to inspect the now still man. Cael had done well with the poison trap, and now all that was left was to dispose of the body, and Rowan knew just the man to help…
