"Agreed, let's go."
Back to the Citadel Volshyenek, you find the place as busy as ever. Marshal Kroft is busy in a meeting with her officers, but with a few urgent nudges to the guard, she emerges and takes you to her office.
"What is it?" she says, snappishly. It is clear her nerves are frayed.
"Evidence of wrongdoing," Absinthe replies, bluntly. "Though nothing is certain, 'tmay be that the pestilence has been spread by means of common coins."
Melianthe, garbed in doctor's outfit, presents the sealed plague-coffer. "Do not open that unless you have proper protection. There are coins and a dead rodent; we suspect the coins were used as a method of transmission. These were found in the sunken ship."
Aye Marshal Kroft. It was guarded by a sea hag with a shark companion. I believe this is the source of the plague, and that it was intentionally sent here. We also received these papers with it. He presents the papers in their mostly waterproof bag.
"Aye, Marshall. Unless you have a spellcaster available to detect disease, I'll go acquire a scroll of the necessary scroll."
Cressida frowns but focuses on the coffer and nods grimly. "I will have one of the clerics verify your claim, though I trust your word. And the scheme to spread disease, and quickly, makes sense in a sick way." She sighs and opens the pouch to peruse the papers. After a few moments, she shakes her head. "It seems the worst is true. Korvosa is under attack and the weapon used is one of pestilence. But from who?"
"Someone with access to Korvosan coins, although that says little," Absinthe replies. "Such coins could have found their way out of the city in payment a million times. We need to gather more information. 'Tis a pity the hag was not willing to speak with us and needed to be put down."
"We have far more pleasant witches to speak with, dear Abby," says Melianthe with a grin. "Friends, perhaps we should speak with moneylenders, both legal and...not so legal. Or other places where coins trade hands quickly."
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This task is done Marshal Kroft. What would you have us do next?
"We still have some leads to follow up, I think... none as fruitful as this one, however."
"Our efforts to stem the spread of infections is going at full pace, but it can only do so much if those responsible continue to seed the city with these coins and such. I will issue notices to avoid handling and trading coins. It will be a blow to trade, which is already in dire straits."
"If you have any more promising leads, please continue to investigate. The only new item I have is a disturbing rumor that some of the lazier northern plague carters aren’t delivering their bodies to the Gray District as ordered, but are instead disposing of them in one of several secluded alleys. If you have the time, check out Racker's Alley in Old Korvosa."
"Treating coin with distilled liquor before handling it might clean off any contagion. I've seen brandy, rum, and such be used to clean wounds and it reduces the chance the wound will fester. Couldn't hurt anyway."
Cressida offers a brief smile, "Thank you. We will be very cautious."
It's amazing that the entirety of Korvosa hasn't fled yet, thinks Melianthe, but she returns the smile. "We'll to Racker's Alley, Marshall, and thank you. We and the city are in your debt," says the witch.
"One wishes to swing by a weapons shop on the way," Absinthe says. Eyes narrowing, she glances at Cressida Kroft. "Unless... the city's arsenal has a quality scimitar one might appropriate?"
"I'm sure we would have one to spare," the Marshal nods.
Referring to the city map, it lies in Old Korvosa, on between the western end of Jeggare street and walls near Palace Arkona (O1).
"Abby, you know the place. We used to run into each other there back in the days of hanging with unsavory types," Seren jogs the tiefling's memory.
Melianthe looks from one roguish compatriot to another. "I was off living with snakes and lizards and other things that go bump in the night, and don't really use weapons much," she says apologetically.
"You had the better company by far, sister Mel," Absinthe says, wincing at the memories Seren has brought to the surface. "Aye, one recalls now. Small wonder one repressed it... Racker's Alley is a good - or rather, a bad place to die or lay waste to one's own soul. Vile dealings go on there."
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"I've had the occasion to heal folks who got in a fight there... not the place I want to go without a heavily armed escort."
He makes an exaggerated look at Segang and Absinthe, and adds, "Oh, look, heavily armed folks to escort me!" with a grin.
His face grows more somber. "We will have to be on the lookout for an ambush. Who knows what we might find?"
Absinthe takes a smooth, dance-like step forward, scimitar fairly flying from its sheath as she does, and finishes with the deadly blade spinning in her hand.
"Indeed," she says, her voice sober as the blade comes to a stop, her grip rock-solid. "Nevertheless, one recommends we all have weapons out when we go to that wretched place."
"We've killed criminals before," says Melianthe, her face grim with resolve. "We'll be ready to do it again."
Segang, grim faced, only nods.
You spend the afternoon traversing Korvosa to reach Racker's Alley. If anything, the city appears eerily calm. The streets are empty of all but a few passersby, and they make little more than wary eye contact. By the time you reach the western end of Old Korvosa, the streets are deserted and a steady drizzle has started. It seems you cannot avoid being wet today.
The scent of Racker's Alley reaches you before you actually turn the corner and see it. The high walls of the surrounding buildings throw the awkwardly bent alley into constant shadow. Although littered with garbage and filth, the refuse isn't the most stomach-turning aspect. 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 reek of death is overpowered by that of rot, suggesting that some of these corpses have lain here for days.
Absinthe secures her doctor's mask, draws her scimitar and starts casting about for signs of danger.
"Move swiftly," she orders, "move with confidence, move in a group - but not too close together. Leave space for your companions to manoeuvre. Casters in the middle, please; one shall take point."
Cherias establishes Lifelinks to all the party and casts Shield Other on Segang. He also draws the curing wand so as to have it ready.
Segang falls in, sharing point with Absinthe when the path forward is wide enough and falling back a spot when it is not. Someone should burn those bodies there. Would the flames endanger the building?
Melianthe has her Wand of Ill Omen out and looks inscrutable in her doctor's outfit. Her scorpion placidly crawls out of the cowl to nestle on a thin shoulder. "I can take a closer look at those bodies, but I don't think there's much to know," she says quietly.
"Even if Korvosa's firemen would be willing to move out under the current conditions and the guards allowed them to move freely, this is the last place they would come," Absinthe says, her lips a thin line of disapproval. "Lives do not... count, here."
Cherias looks a little sick. "Ugh... horrible!"
Absinthe does not spy any imminent danger, but the corpse piles are thick with fat flies and a number of rats gorging themselves on the remains.
Melianthe approaches the corpses to inspect, careful to avoid undue exposure. She looks over the collected bodies for a couple minutes.
"There is a hole in the wall, there," Absinthe notes, pointing out the aperture in question with her scimitar.
Using as much stealth as she can muster, the tiefling approaches the opening, using an indirect route so as not to be visible from the opening until she can take a careful peek inside.
Cherias frowns in puzzlement. "What's that hole there, behind the... uhhhh... those."
Absinthe quickly holds a finger up in front of her lips and frowns at Cherias, indicating he should not draw attention to the hole's presence -- not out loud, anyway.
"Be ready. Twin bite marks on the necks and wrists of some of the bodies. Not all of these died from the plague," says Melianthe in a low voice.
Segang is alarmed; his superstitious nature is piqued. He looks quite ready.
Glancing around the hole's edge, Absinthe scans the interior of the building. Dozens of crooked glass eyes, hollow and crazed, glare from the heads of malformed and half-carved dolls lining several skewed workroom shelves. Rat-gnawed stuffed aurochs, disembodied doll limbs, miniature rolling elephants, unseaworthy wooden ships, and crooked blocks illustrated with deformed or poorly painted animals fill bins and racks about the room.
A cracked wooden door leads to the north, while a rickety trap door breaks the sawdust-covered floor to the east. In one corner lies the drying corpse of an old bald man amid the wood chips, rusty tools, and oily rags of a scored workbench.
"Something bit them but whether it's a vampire or a Chupacabra or a rodent of unusual size, I have no idea."
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Seren will use his last scroll of mage armor, "This doesn't look good. Something seriously unnatural is going on here."
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If there is anything resembling a wooden stake on the workbench, Absinthe appropriates it and keeps it in her as yet empty hand before she goes close enough to the old man's body to take a closer look. After that inspection, she quietly moves up to the trapdoor to peek down into it, and after that to the door to the north. All the while, she remains alert to even the least sign of danger...