Undoubtedly Agatha Wondmere has crisscrossed the paths of many of the coterie, and scholars of the paranoid arts are free to debate whether it's better to have spotted her than not at all. From her stories, shared liberally, it seems the eternal ingenue has been indulging the temptation to recreate her days of color. Agatha speaks of chandeliers and dancing, masques and exotic entertainments, and she casually name-drops a few of the more snootish mortal revelers. The glamour and gossip reveal very little in the end---and one is left to wonder whether there's any dashed meaning to it all.
Much more quietly, the Waterdhavian transplant has been rebuilding her web of thralls and collaborators. There are the fences, crooks, and crooked guards, naturally, but Agatha has particularly sought out collectors of oddments, relics, and magical rarities. It's in their service that she's lent her nimble fingers on the winged promise of a favor owed.
