<strong>Location</strong>: Grismont<br/><strong>Time</strong>: 11pm<br/><strong>Tags</strong>: The party<br/><hr/><br/>It is the cover of darkness on this stormy night, rain pounding on the flagstone roadways. Covered lanterns provide a modicum of light, just enough to see to the next lantern. It is under this downpour that the group slips into the town of Grismont. Smoke bellows from the factories in this large town, hard at work even late into the night. Following directions from a contact, the group finds their way to a side street off the commercial district. From there, they find a set of wrought iron stairs leading to the door of a building. They give a knock, three times quickly followed by two times slowly. A code for those in the budding resistance movement to the vampires of Cardenfell.<br/><br/>The sound of heavy locks comes from within and out pokes the head of a bespectacled man with a curly moustache and thinning hair. He waved the group in, looking around worriedly.<strong>"Come in come in, vilkommen, quickly now! You were not followed, ja? The Duke's men are everywhere!"</strong><br/><br/>Inside is a threadbare parlor with a thin bed resting against a wall with a large trunk atop, clothes spilling out of it. The wall across from that has a bookshelf laden with beakers, leather bound tomes, jar, and strange samples of various things. The man rushes between the chest and bookshelf, sometimes stopping to sniff a piece of clothing then tossing it to the side to stuff another trinket, bottle, or book in.