Garvid chuckles, as his armour-clad finger pushes the rotten half of the apple away. "Well it wasn't for the stew.", he chuckles lightheartedly. "Honestly, Eries, it's the first time I've heard the name.", he admits, shrugging. "Thanks for that, at least." A particularly bold rat crawls next to his foot, as Garvid nudges it away. "You know how stereotypes are. I'd hate to let a few bad apples get the bunch spoiled."
"Look, Eries, I'm not here to b&~~+&!% you, and you know that.", he explains calmly. "There's a Lamashtu cult in Korvosa, and there's rumours wererats are involved. And rumours are more contagious than even that blood veil plague we've got going on. You think you know something we should, you tell it. You know me, and I'll vouch for every single person in this room, we're not looking to harm anyone that doesn't deserve it." And no promises on those who do. He looks around the very same group he came with, prodding them for confirmation. "So, what about that Girrigz?", he asks, raising his mug to take a sip.
Mouse nods in affirmation at Garvid's reassurances. Honest as high tide, ma'am - all we want's t' keep good folk from gettin' 'urt. Y' c'n un'erstan' tha'. Though she's only had the one fishjack, her words are already slightly thick, but the effect only serves to enhance her sincerity.
Pietro was content to leave the questioning to others. He passed the time by paying attention to his surroundings and making sure the rats stayed out of their food and drink.
Talfryn is clearly out of his element; he reacts by assuming a distant and frosty expression, holding his cloak tightly about him as if expecting looting hands to gently begin tapping at his every pouch, and joins Pietro stiffly. He goes so far as to order an ale, but shows absolutely no inclination to even touch the mug.
Instead, he listens in, studying everything and everyone as Garvid and the others exchange words with the barkeep. When the peacekeeper looks to him for confirmation, he gives a tight nod, but otherwise remains silent.
Li orders a fishjack along with Mouse. She drinks the spirit while Garvid chats up Eries. When they speak in private, Li tries to focus on the information being discussed but finds herself distracted by the vermin. She may be used to rats from her younger years but the ones running around the kitchen, near the food, turns her stomach.
Yaziyah leans against the door, crossing her arms casually. At Garvid's words, she nods, then adds. "Things could get very ugly around these parts - and that's not a threat, by the way. You know how mobs work, rip to pieces first and ask questions later. And people like you, like me..." She shrugs. "We get thrown to the dogs. I'd like to avoid that."
”Soup’s s-sound,” Eries counters casually. ”E’erone knows they’s eatin’ worse in th’ Shingleses. S-s-slurry’s best after a few days marinatin’, anyway.”
Whatever is cooking on the stove responds with a meaty bloop as it simmers laboriously.
”Lamashtu?” She giggles nervously, her face pinching and eyes narrowing mischievously, like a fox. The sound is part hiss and squawk and somewhat unnerving. ”I didn’t figure you a s-superstitious sort, Garvid. But ever’one’s gotten nervous now that th’ sick’s ‘bout. Spoutin’ nonsense. Customer’s been talkin’ ‘bout quarantines, as if whole wards could be shut in. That’d be a feat. No way that’d every fly, I say. But then, there’s the rats...”
She eyes the strangers warily, her nose fidgeting as she mulls over her next words. She nods solemnly at Yazi’s words then, seemingly decided, picks up a large hand-paddle and begins to slowly stir the stew. ”The wererats. They’s a whole mess of ‘em. ‘Neath the city, in the s-s-sewers. Keep t’ theyselveses, mostly. Just try to l-l-live one more day. But, like you say, every bushel has its taint, it does. And the mobses...”
”Last night, word is. A mob of tall-folk. They c-come ‘crost one of the wererats in an alley.” Eries’s begins to stir quicker, more forefully. ”They m-m-murdered him, Garvid. Convinced he carried this b-b-lood v-v-v-v-...sickness, they was. Kicked him to death in the street, left him layin’ in th’ mud. Like a piece o’...piece o’ g-g-g-garbage!” She slams the paddle against the side of the pot, then throws it down onto the stove, bits of stew flying.
”B-but they didn’t stop there. Fools. They went down int’ the sewers, tryin’ to chase out the rats. Like that’d ever work! Now one of the wererats. Girrigz, his n-name be, workin’ the others up t’violence. It won’t work. The rats, they tried t’live with th’ normal folk ‘afore. And they was p-p-purged. Makes me think this talk o’ q-quarantine might not be so crazy. I...I hear Girrigz won’t be reasoned with, he’n his gang. Maybe...maybe you could speak t’him? Here, here I’d make y’ a map showin’ th’ way...”
She scrawls hastily onto a scrap of a potato sack with a bit of broken chalk.
Garvid sighs, slowly rubbing his temples with his gauntlet. "Of course...", he mutters mostly to himself. "I'll do my best, Eries. You got my promise.", he responds quietly, standing up from the shelf he was leaning upon, and sending a look at Yazi, tiredness visible in his eyes. "History just loves repeating itself, doesn't it.", he remarks, putting his hand on his belt. "What happened to the ones chasing the, hm, rats, Eries?", he asks in a calm tone. "Because if the same group is in the sewers now, it'd be best if we could talk to them." A wane smile appears on his face. "At least to enough of them. Can't cure stupidity."
Crossing his arms, he nods at the door. "Best get going. Sooner we go, the less chance of some f++&ing idiot doing something f~*+ing idiotic.", he grunts, folding the map and putting it in his gauntlet. He turns to the others. "Stay safe, Eries. And keep everyone you can, too.", he says, leaving the kitchen.
"What happened to the ones chasing the, hm, rats, Eries?"
Eries has picked up one half of the bruised apple and is now nibbling it furiously. "Hard t'shay," she replies with a mouth full of fruit. "They m-mushta run back above. The ratsh, they'sh fearshome folk."
Luckily, The Sticky Mermaid is in close proximity to both Racker's Alley and the subterranean sewer entrance marked on Eries's map. All are situated in Old Korvosa. Yet before you dare to venture into the shadowed and corpse-kissed recesses of the city's poorest district, you take some time to assess your supplies and seek out additional resources.
After hours, it is time to proceed through Bridgefront. Here in a narrow spit of land at the base of Garrison Hill, reaching only three blocks inland from the strait, live more than a tenth of the city's population, including almost eight-tenths of its poor and destitute. At times, the sky is all but invisible behind the overhanging tenements of the district's hastily-constructed slums and the Shingles. Occasionally, the light breaks through, yet the persistent shade creates an unnatural chill in the air.
Still, as the amber light of late afternoon washes over the rooftops, you find yourselves facing Racker's Alley.
The high walls of the surrounding buildings throw this awkwardly bent alley into constant shadow. Although littered with garbage and filth, the refuse isn’t the most stomachturning trait of this rundown side way. Heaped against a bent wooden wall rises a pile of more than three dozen plague victims, their faces blistered and flushed, eyes open and staring. The scent of death is overpowered by the reek of rot, suggesting that some of these corpses have been here for days, but even a casual glance reveals that certain bodies seem strangely pale compared to most of the victims who succumb to the sickness.
Just to the side is a decrepit storefront, "Giotorri's Toys" glumly scrawled across the neglected shingle. The storefront window allows easy examination of the interior. Awkwardly stitched stuffed animals, poorly equipped toy soldiers, and dolls exhibiting myriad accidental deformities stare blankly out of the filth-smeared front window of this toy store showroom. Several heavy-looking kites dangle purple and crimson tails from the ceiling above, and a dollhouse recreating Castle Korvosa’s intimidating towers dominates one of the room’s side tables. Festooned with tiny bells, the shop’s entrance stands to the north, across from a doorway marked “Private” and a counter cluttered with dusty jars of candies.
Shivering, Garvid slowly starts walking down the alleyway. "Friendly place...", he remarks sarcastically, as his halberd thuds on the grimy road. In his path appears a dead body, and he leans down to pay more attention. "That one look right to you, doctor?", he asks Pietro, the body's pallid skin unsettling him, as he steps over the corpse, looking down into the alley, standing guard. "Look at the blood stains. Someone must've dragged it here. Or the poor sod did it himself.", he notes, looking down at the trail of the lone body.
Yaziyah follows Garvid into the alley, maintaining a careful distance from the filth-smeared walls and treading gingerly through the refuse. It wasn't so much that she minded the mess, but with so much sickness about one had to be careful not to invite even more through... unsanitary contact.
Using the butt of her spear, she prods gently at the lone corpse, trying to discern more about its past and fate, and looking about for further clues.
The air is thick with fat flies and rats gorging themselves on the corpses. More than forty corpses lie piled against the eastern wall. Yazi and Garvid determine that not only are many of the bodies drained of blood, nearly half of them bear no signs of blood veil at all--merely twin puncture wounds on their necks, wrists, or inner thighs.
There is also a hole in the wall behind the bodies, leading into darkness.
Pietro nodded at Garvid's comment, opened a flask, and poured some liquid on a handkerchief. He then tied that handkerchief to cover his mouth and nose. Looking very much like a bandit, the doctor examined the corpses, specially those that did not show any outward sign of the blood veil.
---------------
Mouse follows behind as Garvid and Yazi lead the way into the rank alley. She can't quite suppress a shudder as she walks into the filth of the alley; slipping the front of her tunic over her face, she looks around, trying to take in as much of the scene as she can without gagging (and having only partial success). So...looks like Ishani's folk was righ' 'bout th' body-dumpin', she manages to choke out in a strangled voice. Le's git some kind o' barricade set up, somethin' t' keep people 'way 'til th' Guard c'n git in 'ere...
Then her eyes fall on the gap in the wall behind the heap, and her face blanches. I don'...don' s'pose th' mound o' stiffs'll be 'nough t' call tha' blocked off, huh? From pale, her face continues on to visibly green at the prospect of digging through the wretched heap to discover what lays beyond; nervously, she fingers a cabochon opal that hangs from a chain around her neck. The man at the shop had said it would help to make her hits and kicks land more effectively, and the yellow bits in it had glowed comfortingly...but now, looking at the dark hole, a shiny stone offers little comfort.
It's one thing to have read Jacob Faleni's How The Other Half Lives with its heart wrenching accounts of the destitute and shocking charcoal sketches of children gripped by the vice-like hand of poverty, and another altogether to actually visit the base of Garrison Hill and step amidst the ordure and vermin, to breath in the stench and see with his own eyes the palpable misery of the people.
"Shocking," he mutters to himself from the back of the group, "Unconscionable."
Hunched over, leaning on his walking stick, face folded into a permanent frown, he does his best to avoid the filthier spots of the street, and it's only when the group stops that he looks up and sees the dead piled up like cord wood. His lower lip juts out all the more at the sight, and he lifts a handkerchief marked with chalk smudges to his nose, monocle glittering in the afternoon light.
The sight of the blood drained bodies elicits a low growl from him, and in curt, almost peremptory words he casts a quick spell, intoning and gesturing efficiently such that for a moment golden motes of light swirl about in the shape of a suit of armor before fading away. He then draws a little closer, eyeing the pallid corpses with unease, and casts a quick cantrip to ease his own worries.
"I think not, Ms. Redfist. To my dismay, I think not."
Li immediately readies her new crossbow as the others mention the oddity of some of the bodies. "Tha alley bein' more unnervin' than I be thinkin' initially...an' that be pretty spine-chillin'. Mebbe we should be thinkin' twice about enterin' any dark holes. At least not without sendin' in some light first."
The group huddles around the first body. The man, a pauper, lies on his stomach, his lifeless eyes staring vacantly and his arms and legs extending out in such a way as to suggest he may have been crawling. A smear of blood measures his distance from the other corpses.
It appears he drug himself.
The twin puncture wounds on his neck and arms are indeed the telltale signs of vampirism. The cause of death: exsanguination.
The hole in the wall remains as dark and lifeless as before.
Pietro's fears confirmed, he passed on the information, "Undead. Vampire. The worst kind. Are we equipped to fight a vampire."
He checked his bombs, "Do vampires burn? What do we know about vampires?"
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But they were not all-powerful. Vampires cannot tolerate the strong odor of garlic and will not enter an area laced with it. Similarly, they recoil from mirrors or strongly presented holy symbols. These things don't harm the vampire—they merely keep it at bay. A recoiling vampire must stay at least 5 feet away from the mirror or holy symbol and cannot touch or make melee attacks against that creature. Holding a vampire at bay takes a standard action. After 1 round, a vampire can overcome its revulsion of the object and function normally each round it makes a DC 25 Will save.
Vampires also cannot enter a private home or dwelling unless invited in by someone with the authority to do so.
Reducing a vampire's hit points to 0 or lower incapacitates it but doesn't always destroy it (see fast healing). However, certain attacks can slay vampires. Exposing any vampire to direct sunlight staggers it on the first round of exposure and destroys it utterly on the second consecutive round of exposure if it does not escape. Each round of immersion in running water inflicts damage on a vampire equal to one-third of its maximum hit points—a vampire reduced to 0 hit points in this manner is destroyed. Driving a wooden stake through a helpless vampire's heart instantly slays it (this is a full-round action). However, it returns to life if the stake is removed, unless the head is also severed and anointed with holy water.
"I don't know how experienced you all are with hematophages, but for those who are new to such horrors, listen closely." Lord Talfryn speaks with a quiet, urgent voice, clearly not wanting his words to be overhead.
"Sunlight will kill them in a matter of seconds. Immersion in running water will do grievous wounds. They heal at an extraordinary rate, and are resistant to all non-silver weapons and channeling. Further, they are said to be immune to sleep spells, and resistant even to cold and electricity. Verily they are formidable opponents."
Drawing himself up, Talfryn eyes the tunnel. "But they are not all powerful, these masters of the night. They cannot abide the smell of garlic, and cannot enter a residence unless invited within. They recoil from mirrors and holy symbols - though with great mental effort they can overcome these aversions."
Talfryn continues his quick lecture, speaking ever faster as he seeks to finish. "Striking the creature down with weapons to the point of what we would think death does not always destroy it. They can retreat and reform. A wood stake driven through its heart will slay it instantly, as the aforementioned sunlight and running water."
He scowls around at the group. "This is a serious venture if we are to enter that tunnel. I suggest we leave to acquire mirrors, garlic, wooden stakes and silver weapon blanches. Then, we must strike before the fall of night, when it shall become active."
"Great...", mumbles Garvid as Talfryn finishes his impromptu lecture. "Sure am glad you're here, lordship.", he sends a man a respectful nod. "I wouldn't be surprised if tomorrow we get invaded by an orcish horde led by a dragon or two.", he spits down on the ground as he takes another look at the body. "You think someone's using the disease as a cover to feed people to the vampire? That's... a new low.", he growls, the grip around the halberd's hilt hardening as he turns around.
"We should go get prepared. I got a silver dagger for the wererats, but I think we might need more than that.", he pats his boot.
Li's face blanches at Talfryn's words. "I be, I be havin' a mirror," she said quietly. Then she asks Lord Talfryn, "Would a crossbow bolt be actin' like a stake ta a vampire?" She nods at both Garvid and Lord Talfryn as they suggest more shopping, "It be seemin' wise ta get a few more supplies before huntin' it down." Her voice becomes barely audible as she voices a terrifying question, "Could there be bein' more than one?"
"The wooden shaft must perforate its heart completely, I believe. Thus if you are able to impale the vampire with one shot, then yes, I imagine it would work. Merely shooting it in the chest, however, would most likely have little permanent effect."
Talfryn coughs into his fist. "As for numbers... Look at this situation. They are nesting in a squalid tunnel in Racker's Alley, right beside their source of food. Behavior more apropos of animals than sophisticated beings. However many we are faced with - and this situation most definitely brings to mind the idea of a nest - I would expect them to be bestial and base."
Mouse's eyes go wide as Talfryn recites his litany of facts and figures about their new, surprise enemy. Latching onto his practical advice, she begins composing a mental list of all the things she'd need. She'd always preferred fighting with fists, but it sounded like that wouldn't be the best choice if the monsters could shrug off such attacks, and she'd fought with knives before - even stakes and spikes on occasion, if it was all she could get to hand. For a moment, her mind strays to the serpentine-handled dagger...they needed silver, and it was a beautifully-made, well-balanced weapon...
Stakes'll be easy 'nough t'get, she pipes in, shaking her head slightly. That dagger was more trouble than it was worth, and a silver knife wouldn't be hard to get, even if it wasn't so well-made. Cheap enough - hell, jus' a couple o' tree branches an' a knife an' we're set. Guessin' they've gotta be still t' stake 'em righ' - maybe tyin' 'em up'll help? Git some ropes - or c'n y' git chains made o' silver? Would that make any difference? C'n magic make light that'd be bright 'nough t' 'urt 'em?
Yaziyah's blood drains from her face, perhaps in a sympathetic response to the creature's victims lying all around them. The answer was obvious, and Talfryn's lecture held no new information for her, but to confront a vampire, or worse, several, in its lair...
Uneasy, she fingers Pharasma's holy symbol at her belt. She thinks of how the undead are anathema to both the goddess and her own tribe, her resolve strengthening. "Silver... We can coat our weapons in it, I think, and should do the trick. No need to buy new ones. Although magical weapons would be good, if you can get them. Good for more than one foe. Holy symbol, I have. Holy water, we can get from Brother Ishani. We'll need some kind of protection. I'll see if my people can get us another useful stick or two."
Pietro sighed as he heard that the vampires had little to no defense against his fire bombs. At least they burn.
he echoed what was being said, "You don't want to touch these things so no punching or kicking."
He then added, "Garlic. I'm sure I can concoct an 'eau de garlic' fairly quickly for everyone. That sound good? So we gear up and come back later or will this take longer and we come back tomorrow?"
Talfryn scrutinizes the alley. "Before we depart for supplies, may I suggest a little more reconnaissance? It would be wise to determine the nature of the building beneath which they have chosen to reside. How many exits, who lives there, and so forth. This being Garrison Hill, I doubt there's a main sewer tunnel beneath us, but it would be good to ascertain for sure."
The horrible reality of Racker’s Alley recedes back into its own shadows as the group resolves to augment their abilities with anti-vampiric procurements and, perhaps, to investigate the wererats.
"Now. For our other... matter. I trust you all know what manner of creatures lycanthropes are, yes? Supernaturally thick hides, but they have a weakness against silver, just like our friends here." She jerks her chin towards the dark hole in the wall. "Wererats in particular are nimble little buggers, I can see them easily hop out of range of your little confections, Doctor. And don't let them scratch you or bite you - not only do they carry all manner of disgusting diseases, but the condition of lycanthropy itself is transmissible through their bite." She crosses her arms, waiting for questions or comments. And if she has the slightest smug expression at having given her own lecture... well.
Lord Talfryn returns from peering in through the windows of Giotorri's Toys.
"Ghastly little shop," he mutters. "It looks abandoned, but who's to say this Giotorri isn't connected to the filth that's made its home on his abandoned premises? Unfortunately I believe there will be a crawl space beneath the house, so we shall undoubtedly be having to go below into those cramped quarters." He gives a shudder.
Yaziyah reveals what she knows, and Talfryn nods along as she does so. "Double the reason to acquire silver weapons or blanche," he adds. "And if any of us are infected, we must hope that Ishani will prove magnanimous with his healing. Shall we?"
Nervously, Mouse drinks in all the others' advice, making a list in her mind. There any kind o' concoction c'n keep y' from gettin' lycanther...ly...lycanthropy, 'f y' do get bit? Somethin' what can stop it from takin' hold? The chain shirt had seemed fine protection at first...but facing such threats, it suddenly doesn't seem as impenetrable.
"Mebbe I c'n be pickin' up some silver bolts on tha way ta tha sewers. Don't be havin' much ta help fightin' tha wererats or tha vampires at tha moment."
There was little to add by the doctor to the discussion about getting ready for both the wererats and the vampire. he really hoped it was only one vampire and not a coven or whatever more than one vampire was called.
"Silver is what we want. It seems that it affects both of these monsters. I could make silver sheen but I'm afraid it would take too long so our best bet is to buy it or silver weapons."
He then added, "I will use some of the money given to me and acquire a wand of lesser restoration."
He looked at Yazi, "Can you make use of it reliably? I can try and coax magic out of it but it may not always work for me."
----------
He looked at Yazi, "Can you make use of it reliably? I can try and coax magic out of it but it may not always work for me."
The woman nods. "The spirits have blessed me with healing and restorative magic. It would be definitely less... straining to have the magic in a stick, then the spirits can grant me other blessings."
Following Eries’s instructions is fairly straightforward, save for an unfortunate finger smudge. You find yourselves beneath one of the numerous bridges connecting Old Korvosa to the rest of the city, staring into the darkness of one of the drainage pipes that leaks into the Narrows of St. Alika. With last, nervous glances, you take a deep breath and say goodbye to the fading sunlight and begin what looks to be one of the more memorable walks of your life.
Most cities have sewers. Some can even claim dungeons and deep caverns beneath them. No city, though, has a complex system of subterranean tunnels quite like the Vaults of Korvosa. Modern Korvosa stands atop the remains of at least two other civilizations and integrates both of them in its design. First, most of the Vaults are formed from natural geological forces of erosion or volcanic activity. Second, ancient, subterranean burial mounds of the Shoanti formed a complex system of tunnels that the city's founders transformed into a sewer. It is through these ancient tunnels you now climb, stoop, slip, and splash as you navigate your way through muck and filth.
Through the disgustingly visible haze of noxious sewer reek, the flow of unmentionable slop through the sewer tunnel’s filth-slick channel unexpectedly forks. Most of the muck continues on its expected path, but a small stream of ooze diverts off through a wide cleft in the moldy masonry wall. The man-sized crack cuts deep into the rock behind the wall, and wisps of thin white smoke issue forth.
Talfryn brings up the rear, moving ponderously and carefully, testing the slick surfaces and pools with the tip of his staff. Occasionally he casts prestidigitation on himself almost absent-mindedly to clear away the worst of the guck, and should any of his traveling companions suffer an ignominious stumble he casts the same on them without comment.
When they reach the tunnel he stows away the handkerchief with which he'd been covering his mouth and nose and frowns at the cleft. He makes no move to take the lead, but after drawing a slender wand of worked malachite he gives a firm nod to any who glance his way, leaving no doubt as to his being ready.
Pietro made ample use of perfumed handkerchief, making himself look like a bandit once more. He was already thinking of a good soap he could use to clean his clothes.
Pietro adjusted his chain shirt and kept a sunrod handy in case the magic casters were not able to provide light. He fashioned a special pocket in his vest where he could place the sunrod and still keeps his hands free.
-----------
As they enter the sewers, Yaziyah snaps her fingers and three glowing spheres of light spring into existence, orbiting slowly above the heads of the group. As they move deeper into the Vaults, she replenishes them when they fade, keeping up a steady illumination level. Slinky is perched precariously on her head, as far away from the filth as it can get, sneezing now and then and chittering unhappily. A sudden noise makes Yaziyah turn her head sharply and the weasel almost loses its balance, in imminent danger of becoming Stinky. The woman hisses sharply in pain as her companion sinks its claws into her hair and scalp, desperately scrabbling for purchase. The danger averted, Slinky settles down once more, its eyes gleaming and whiskers drooping.
Yaziyah smiles faintly as they reach a section of the Vaults that is clearly Shoanti in origin. Her hand trails the wall, tracing the mostly faded paintings. Arriving at the fork, her fingers hesitate for a moment at her belt, now displaying no less than four sticks of various shapes and colours. "Damn, I'll have to start labelling them." Eventually, she selects the one she wants, chewing on its tip. A glowing warmth suffuses her companions, filling them with daring in face of the unknown. Her other hand touches them lightly, each of them, fortifying their spirits. Only then does she peer into the darkness of the crack.
The smell in the sewers was bad but it was nothing that the rogue hadn't grown up around. She mentally takes stock of her weapons and their accessibility to distract herself from the odor. Li readies her crossbow with one of her newly acquired silver bolts just to be on the safe side. She was still surprised that Yazi had handed over the troublesome silver dagger which was now handily hidden in one of Li's wrist sheaths. If she had to fight wererats or vampires, she was definitely more prepared now than a day ago. In a low voice she asks, "Any of ya be knowin' what be causin' tha smoke?"
The noxious reek was awful - but Mouse had had to use the Vaults to her advantage from time to time, when she'd been foolish enough to let a guard see her doing Gaedren's work. And she hadn't had the luxury of magical laundry service to go home to, either; stale ocean water didn't do nearly so good a job of cleaning her clothes as Cal's servants, and sometimes the stink stayed for days. Still, though, she runs a finger over the bundle of herbs Yazi's associate had said would help to stave off illness. Better safe th'n sorry. Stuffing the pungent herbs into her mouth, Mouse steps toward the crack as she chews, feeling the warmth of Yazi's blessing wash over her as she takes the lead into the passage. I'm tryin' t' see, Li...
Half-chirps and skittering whispers carry through the dark tunnel, and the faint gleam of firelight reflects in the river of refuse ahead. Could this be a den of rats?
Pietro adjusts his perfumed bandit's mask, "This is certainly worth a closer look."
He looks at Garvid, "Will you be entering first? I'll be close behind to support you."
----------
"I am ill suited to the front lines," rumbles Lord Talfryn almost apologetically. "Perhaps I should follow from the rear. After you."
Frowning at the smell, Garvid gives Pietro a curt nod before marching in forward. "Finally something smelling worse than the stew at the Castle.", he squeezes through his teeth, as he grabs his halberd midway, and slips forwards in the tunnel, stopping a few paces to look at the path splitting. Great., he thinks, turning backwards. "I'd suggest Li taking the rear guard from now on. We should protect Talfryn and Yazi.", he relays, staring deep into the broken down hallway.
Li nods at Garvid and moves in behind Talfryn and Yazi. "That be workin' fer me. I c'n cover ya from tha back."
If y'got th' back, Li, I'll stay up 'ere wit' Garvid - in front's where the surprises is most likely t' pop up. Adjusting her shield on one arm and testing the fit of a plated silver gauntlet on the other hand, she takes a place next to Garvid where the cleft cuts into the wall. Well, further up 'n further in, I s'pose. After you? she finishes questioningly, gesturing to the former guard.
Garvid inches forward to peer into the crumbling hole in the eastern wall. Within, the flow of sewer filth oozes into a rough-hewn stone cave, pooling to the south before continuing through a crude channel in the eastern wall. Fat black mushrooms and other disgusting fungus grow thick around the pool of slime. Several low alcoves are cut into the walls, each filled with moldering hay, filthy furs, and tiny bones.
As Mouse steps forward her boot snags something fixed beneath the stream of filth beneath her. She stumbles and her next step splashes loudly into the water. A hiss comes from the northern side of the chamber, followed by a grumble and a scold. ”Hush, baby, ya just eat! Unless...Shh! D’you hear somethin’?” A shuffling is heard as someone stands and moves toward the entry.
___________________________
Red dire rat:
Blue dire rat:
Orange dire rat:
Red wererat:
Blue wererat:
Orange wererat:
Lord Talfryn tenses as Mouse splashes, and the hissed words cause him to raise his wand and wait, arm extended, for the slightest sign of their enemy to appear before muttering the command word.