Orphiel gestured to one of the rugged benches dotting the walls, his booted feet cooling in the low-lying mist. It was an interesting setup, he just wondered if there were any surprises non-locals would fall afoul of under the blanket of fog.
The notion of foulness reminded him of the two bottles he carried from the liquor trader. A simple grunting exchange, and his sheer size convinced the man he was on a mission from 'Mister Dexter'. He set each bottle down - although the term was a misnomer, these things were stone-bottled gallon ewers, carrying a brew of dubious provenance. He pulled one of the bungs with the common squeak-pop common to glass-lined bottlenecks, and the pungent aroma of something calling itself booze, hit his nose.
It had a bouquet of potency that likes of which Orphiel had never encountered.
Grimacing, he drew the packets of Obscura from his robe pockets and tipped them into the ewer, re-corking the neck as the sweet narcotic perfumed it. As it dissolved, it would settle. He gently rocked the stone jug to make sure it was mixed, then left it to stand. He repeated the process with the second ewer and the three wraps of Spook.
It was going to be one hell of a night.
Orphiel watched Brynjarr heft the comms device they recovered, and nod at the drinking den.
“Shall we try and lure some of them out here?”
Orphiel nodded in approval. +It is worth a try Brynjarr - pray let us make good on our delivery first. Dex did ask us nicely after all.+
The others couldn't see his grin, which was good, because it wasn't pleasant.
EDIT: Typo begone! Blam!
Edited by Mazer Rackham, Yesterday, 12:34 PM.