The beggar's eyes glitter at the sight of gold and he licks his lips.
"There were two of them: the dead guy and a woman with a skinny, jeweled sword. The dead one had a shorter, silver blade. Their swords were moving so fast it was hard to even watch. In the end, it looked like she barely touched him-just tapped him in the side with her sword and he staggered. But before he fell, he stumbled over to that sewer grate and dropped his sword into it. That seemed to anger the woman, who finished him off with a stab to the back. She looked like she was getting ready to crawl down there herself, to go after the sword, I guess, but then she noticed the crowd that was coming to investigate and ran off, heading east through that alley."
He holds his hand out for the coin and takes it greedily.
It's about this time that a member of the city guard pushes his way through the crowd with a "What's all the fuss about"
When he makes his way into the alley, you see that the guard is a young man who pales considerably at the sight of you all poking about a dead body. "What is the meaning of this?" he stammers.
Moira responds to the guard. "Fine! Fine! Please keep the people away from the crime scene. We are investigating."
The rogue moves towards her companions and begins to speak load enough that on they can hear. "Heard what that beggar said? Lady swordsman.....wait.....swords-woman....swords-lady...swords-dame... ahhh you get me, what I'm trying to say. There is a sword in the sewer grate. Let's retieve it when the guards and people disappear."
Moira keeps and eye on the sewer grate making sure that no one goes in to retrieve the sword.
Graythan takes a slow breath and turns his attention to the guard. He gestures toward the body with a sweep of his hand, "We heard a scream and thought we might help somehow. Unfortunately for him, no one was quick enough. You don't know the victim, do you?" Grayhtan then leads the guard over to the body, hopefully leaving Savarend and Moira unhindered in their attempt to fetch the lost blade.
Moira moves in front of the dwarf, eye to eye. She tries to size up her new comrade and finally comes to a conclusion. "You're right. This is a job for Small-Stack." She immediately squats down and sticks her head in the sewer grate. "Almost smells like home."
The rogue sticks her head out and grabs one of her arrows. "Hey bud....can you cast a Light on the tip of the arrow? Looks pretty dark."
A few words with guardsman is enough for him to realize that you are here to help and weren't responsible for the murder. He goes about dispersing the crowd and calling for a dead cart to collect the slain. The beggar takes this opportunity to do a fade, disappearing into the crowd with his coin.
Moira drops the glowing arrow into the dark and sees pretty much what she expects to. Directly beneath the intake a beautiful sliver sword, its hilt wrought into the form of a bird of prey, lays in a puddle of filth. As you look down a voice calls up, "Enough with the gawking, you coming to get me or not."
Graythan turns away from the guard toward Savarend, "Say that again?" His face is twisted in confusion and it's plainly obvious he thinks he misheard the good dwarf.
Graythan half nods as he scratches the back of his head. He mutters quietly to himself, "Yeah, that's what I thought you said." Seeing some of the others huddled around the grate, he leaves them to it and busies himself helping the guard disperse the crowd.
"Yeah right. No such thing as a talking sword."
Moira takes her rope and ties one end to the grate. She begins to squirm her way in the grate and slide down the rope. "Hey guys this is fun." The rogue, while sliding down, shouts... "ECHO...."
Moira climbs nimbly down and lets out a shout, "Quiet you fool!" Comes a harsh whisper from the sword at her feet. "That Cabanite fiend might still be close at hand. Now pick me up and let's be off before more of them arrive."
Moira stares at the sword with mouth open wide, currently shocked what to make of a talking sword. She then decides to reach down to pick it up saying, "Well....um....Mr. Sword....please don't bite me....or whatever you suppose to do that a talking sword does." She then picks up the sword by the hilt and says "Happy now! So what do I call you?"
"A what? Did you say 'cabanite'?"
When Moira pulls the sword free of the muck, it shines spotless. As it moves thought the air, it leaves slivery traces behind. "Yes Cabanite, and no fouler group of thieves and cutthroats will you find prowling the streets of Sassarine. My weilder and I were following one of the devils trying to see if he would lead me back to his lair. Another of my fellows has gone missing and I dare say that this has the stink of the Cabanites all over it. Unfortunately, our quarrie must have caught wind of our tailing him and he turned the tables with a cunning ambush. We were overwhelmed, but during our valiant defence, our foe taunted us with the knowledge that the Cabanites were indeed the ones behind the disappearance and that they would soon be entombing my ally for all time. He mentioned the place as Featherwhisper's, a name that I can't quite place."
"I haven't much time to waste. So come now friends, carry me into battle, and together we might put an end to this Cabanite plot."
|
That rings a bell…. Featherwhisper's… no I cannot place it. But wait a moment. You will forgive me but you are the first talking sword I have encountered. You must tell us some of yourself and your 'fellows", and specifically of your missing brother. And convince us that your cause is noble and deserving. If you are an intelligent weapon, what powers can you grant your wielder and for what great purpose were you forged?
Moira moves the sword in the air while it speaks, gawking at its shear beauty.
"I know exactly where this place is."
She looks over to Justified. "You think I can hold him of a little while? She gives him the "puppy eyes" look. "Wait....do you think the talking sword was a person before it turned into a sword? I wonder what it or he use to look like. Probably a prince or noble man."
Graythan shoots Savarend and Bronwenir a helpless look as Moira and Justified seemingly bubble over with questions and exuberance around the blade. Shaking his head and sighing with a soft chuckle, he crosses his arms and leans back into the wall behind him, waiting and observing.
The sword proudly passes on its abilities. "I am Saberhawk. Long have the Cabanites sought gain control this fair city through means both fair and foul. My brethren and I were were forged to prevent their vile machinations from ever coming to fruition."
Saberhawk freely answers questions as you head across town to the spa. Arriving outside the bathhouse, you find it exceptionally well appointed and you see several well to do individuals enter and exit its main double doors.
Moira listens intently and adds some of her own questions as she is baffled by such a weapon. "Saberhawk....you are a beauty indeed. Were you always a short sword or were you ever human or humanoid? Or maybe an elf, or dwarf, or perhaps an orc? Hold on a second.... Can everyone hear you? Are you actually speaking or are you projecting your thoughts into our heads so we think that you are speaking and everyone one else thinks we are stupid for talking to a sword."
As the others chitter with Saberhawk on the way to Featherwhisper's, Graythan remains silent and stoic, the rapid fire questions and answers plainly grating on his nerves but he hides it well and doesn't interrupt or interfere.
As they come into view of the bathhouse, he wonders inwardly if his attire is suitable to gain entry into such an upscale establishment. He looks at the others, then down his front, then to bathhouse, then back to the others. He shrugs, deciding it's worth a try at least, and strides up to the door.
Bron is slightly bored, having always found swords to be rather conventional and pedestrian. He knows better than to express this opinion, however. He'll follow right behind the dwarf as they go.
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To Justified, "They have captured Hoardcutter, a mighty sword indeed. Our compatriots are wielded by those pledged to our cause. Together we cannot fail."
Entering the establishment, you find yourselves in an opulent foyer filled with hanging vines and bronze statues of nude figures. Before you is an oak counter that bars the way to the hall beyond. Seated behind it is an immaculately groomed young woman, who seems to be taken aback by the appearance of so many dingy and armed individuals. Obviously, you are not the sort of people who normally walk through the door.
"Can I help you?"
Graythan regards the hostess then states bluntly, "I'd like a bath."
Bron has cleaned himself using prestadigitation while they travel, but would enjoy a bath.
"Are we actually having baths or is this just to get in and search for these Cabanites?" he whispers to Moira in Elven.
The girl's face brightens and she puts on a winning smile. "Well then, you've come to the right place. It's 9 silver per person to avail yourselves of our many services. Beyond the baths, there is a steam room available and a sauna. We also have highly train masseuses available. Unfortunately, our mud room is currently closed for maintenance, and I apologize for the inconvenience. Shall I call the attendants to see you to the change rooms?"
"Nine silvers? I'll have to come here more often."
Graythan nods, his eyes flashing in the dim interior light.
The mud room then.
He glances at his companions before turning back to the attendant and, in his typical fashion, responds with a simple, "Yes, please." He fishes a gold piece from his pouch and sets it before the woman.
"Yes, a bath would be lovely. Would you happen to have a board-certified dwarven beard stylist on staff?"
"We have two, my good dwarf. Shall I pencil you in for an appointment? Let me just check the here... there is a slot available in 90 minutes if that works for you?"
Such a fine facility. Justified comments. Could you show us around before we begin so we do not miss a service that we have paid for?
"The attendants will be more than happy to give you a guided tour, once you have changed." She gives you all a critical once over. "Shall I have your garments sent for cleaning? I can't imagine you would want to put them back on after using the baths."
"That would be fine, yes. How much for the cleaning? And you have secure footlockers for our belongings, I presume?"
So long as the prices quoted aren't egregious, Graythan nods in simple agreement and presents the requested sum. He scratches his beard idly as the others arrange themselves, offering the faintest of grins to Savarend, himself inwardly unsure if the dwarf is just good at the game or if he's asking for a beard stylist in earnest.
Between all of us, we're sure to find something out, though I'd bet it all on that mudroom.
The receptionist makes Savarend's booking and takes your money. She rings a small silver bell and several attendants come to take you to the change rooms. The changing areas are segregated by sex, so Moira is led away from the main party. The change rooms bookend a long hallway behind the reception area. Three other doors open off of it, each with a gold-inlaid sign labeling them the Relaxation Room, the Vanity Room and the Physical Perfection room.
Each change room has secure lockers to store your belongings and large piles of fluffy white towels and robes. There is also a stack of white linen tunics. In each, there are a few other citizens in various states of undress. You see some wearing the tunics, while others appear to have little beneath their robes other than small clothes.
Bron will gladly use his wand on anyone who asks, but will note that the protection will only last about an hour.
[b]"Sounds like a good idea. Can you spare one for little ole me? Should I break ole 'blabber mouth' with us?" Moira eyes her new short sword as to make a reference to Saberhawk.
"Surely," Bron says as he taps the rogue with his wand.
"I don't know, can you keep him hidden? They might thing it odd to bring a sword in. You probably couldn't go into any of the rooms where they expect you to disrobe if you did that. Unless... Hmm. No, I didn't prepare invisibility today, and it wouldn't last long enough to be useful anyway."
Graythan acts the part of a normal patron of the bathhouse, leaving his clothes with an attendant for washing after he dons a robe similar to Savarend's.
As the others decide what to bring on their persons and what magics to shroud their bodies in, Graythan just shakes his head and waits quietly for someone to come and show them around the facility briefly before their respective baths.
During the quick tour, Graythan wordlessly observes the servants and employees working within the bathhouse, trying to identify any who might stand out as possibly being down on their luck, hungover, or otherwise showcasing some manner of behavior he might later exploit.