Chapter 2: Into the Cage

Toranna can't help but let out a sigh. "Like I said, bubbers, barmies and nameless sods such as your friend who are found dead are stripped of their possessions by the Collectors, then brought here by the same people. We pay them a few copper for their trouble and let them keep what they found, since we're only interested in the bodies. Should anything evade their attention, which is highly unlikely, as you'd guess since I understand you've already met them, we safeguard it here. In the case of your friend, we found nothing. That means that either yes, the Collectors lied to you or whatever it is you're looking for he did not have it with him when his corpse was found."

As you discuss your next steps, a young man runs up to you in a hurry. His cloak is held in place with a brooch bearing the symbol of the Society of Sensation. "A gnome, a tiefling and a human, right. You wouldn't happen to have business with Bendon Mawl now, would you? Because if you're those people, he wants to have a word with you"

You are led back to the Civic Festhall and Bendon Mawl's office. The tiefling looks to be in a rather serious mood as you enter. "Doomguard got to Eliath first" he announces, before the door is shut behind you. "One of ours saw him at the Black Sail, a tavern in the Lower Ward that's popular with the Sinkers. He was dressed in the colours of the Doomguard. Turns out he may not be that barmy after all."

"All of that is plausible" Mawl says, clearly agitated. "He may have faked his death in order to drop out of sight. The Doomguard and Dustmen are tight and the Cabal allies with them sometimes. You would do well to visit the Black Sail and speak with this individual, see if he is the real Eliath and get his version of the story."

"Could be anything. That is why we need you to find the man and get the information from him."

"That would be... an extreme approach, but one that could be made to work. The real problem lies in the killing itself, would not do our Faction any favors if it can be traced back. So just try to be nice about it?" he gives you his biggest smile, though you can't help but feel there's an underlying warning or threat.

"I do not" Mawl says with a shark smile, exaggerated by his tiefling features. "But please try not to resort to such extreme means indeed. I'm looking for discretion here, not a bunch of thugs out to murder people and start a scene, yes?"

You make your way back to the city's Lower Ward in search of the Black Sail. This part of Sigil is grimy and gray, but not as squalid as the Hive. Dark foundries and smithies belch forth gray smog and caustic steam around the clock. Thanks to experience from your previous visit, you quickly cover up mouth and nostrils to prevent breathing too much of it in and ask around for the place. The Black Sail sits at the end of a dark alleyway between a pair of armorworks in the shadow of the Armory, headquarters of the Doomguard faction. The blackened bowsprit of an ancient galleon juts out over the street end. The remnants of the ship's foresail sag over the figurehead. Soot and smog have stained the sail black.

Inside, there is a dim common room with dark rafters overhead and about a dozen alcoves left and right with thick curtains concealing the tables behind them. Several stained and notched tables stand in the common room's center, where a group of sullen crafters are gathered, drinking quietly. Behind them and straight ahead as you enter is the bar, where a pair of stocky men are busy pouring drinks and sorting mugs. Right next to it is a door leading to the kitchen, in an out of which a tiefling waitress keeps darting, as well as another, smaller door that probably serves as a back exit to bring in supplies. No man fitting Eliath's description is to be seen in the immediate vicinity.

What do you do?