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With the ruins of the The Silver Star having been investigated enough for now, you make your way back through the streets towards the Thrashing Badger. With some luck, you've somehow been able to avoid any potential threats - be it dottari, militia, or vermin - so far.
The ruins of the the Thrashing Badger almost aren't ruins at all. Once located on the docks bordering the Yolubilis River, the fire that destroyed the tavern looks to have caused the building to burn through the boardwalk, dropping the entire structure and its contents into the river. A cursory glance at the neighboring waters reveals the bar's once proud signage of a starry-eyed, drooling badger lounging back in a barrel peeking out of the submerged ruins.
Geoffrey stares at Issil, having heard the term before back in his college days, before quickly averting his gaze from her.
No need to borrow trouble...we are already in enough as it is.
When the party arrives at the ruins of the Thrashing Badger he quickly glances around the area to make sure no one is taking an undue interest in them. "I don't think anything is left to salvage here, but we still need to check it out. I will keep watch."
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Pádraig Henry looks around the remains of the Thrashing Badger. His eyes linger on the sign depicting a drooling badger. "Seeing that sign reminds me of a hapless dwarf ranger I've read about in some Pathfinder Society chronicles."
Observing the rogue stuffing his pockets, Pádraig Henry says "Victor you mind if we spread those potions around for now? I'm out of healing spells until we have a chance to rest again."
"Let's take a look around. Hope we don't have to get wet. Not much of a swimmer, myself."
Issil looks at the water logged inn. "We're going to have to swim, huh. I'm more of a climber, myself." She starts to take off her chain shirt, carefully keeping the brooch on.
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As Issil begins taking off her shirt, Geoffrey overhears a conversation from nearby between two common citizens.
"What are they doing? Do they plan to go for a swim in the Yolubilis?" A slender female elf asks a gaudy man whose arm is linked with her own.
"Hey, if you're looking for the bar, everyone knows Clenchjaw's tavern has taken over as Kintargo's favorite watering hole. Hell, they even ban political talk from the place! Only thing is," he hesitates, "It seems an afternoon without a brawl there is a rarity these days, and Clenchjaw's been acting odd lately, sleepy and distracted." He shrugs. "Anyway, enjoy... Whatever it is you're doing. Try not to get arrested, yes?" He rolls his eyes elaborately before beginning to walk off.
Victor gives Padraig a wink and a nod and discreetly slips a potion vial on the way to the Badger.
Victor cranes his neck to look down into the water at the ruined tavern, not at all liking this swimming idea Issil is getting. "Bath time again already? You really do like to be clean Issil!"
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"Cleanliness is important..." Issil slips her arms out of her sleeves. "But you know."
Issil gives the brawny man a mischievous grin. "We could check out Clenchjaw's Tavern, if we think that's where the... Thrashing Badger went."
"We cannot simply slip into the river in the middle of the day," Morvena hisses after the man and woman share their tidbit about Clenchjaw's. "Perhaps we should find other means to investigate this area...or risk coming back after dark," she adds as she looks around.
"Or visit this other place, this...Clenchjaw's."
"At least not like that.. if you want to take a swim 'accidently'... you need just give me a nod." Victor gives a coy 'bump' with his hip.
"How 'bout instead of that swim in the river you just buy me a drink for that bet you TANKED on earlier. Clenchjaw's sounds like a fun place right?" Victor reaches over and grabs Issil's shirt, pulling it up over her head and poking her in the ribs with his finger. "HA!"
Victor is struggling mightily with the easy opportunity to hip check the woman into the drink as she leans over the side. That little curl of his lower lip is a dead give away he's thinking of something tricksy.
"Come on now Issil, you owe me that drink already!" He looks around to get his bearings before heading off towards the new watering hole.
"A nice ruse," Morvena whispers to Victor as he hints at a lost bet. "You have a lot of experience with thinking on your feet!"
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Geoffrey sidles over to the other side of Victor, placing a hand on the man's shoulder, "Careful now! We don't want any...accidents now do we?" He turns to face Issil with an irritated look, "You can take a bath later. Right now I am thirsty and could use a drink!"
...or several of them...especially if Victor wants to get more friendly with Issil!
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Longshanks and their flirting. It's a wonder the species even survives. Sing her a sonnet, and then get jiggy with it. That's the halfling way.
"I'll never say no to visiting a new watering hole, but we should keep investigation of the Blissful Badger on our to-do list, at least until our vision improves.
"Swimming at night. Yeah, that sounds fun, too." Issil shrugs. She starts to get herself back in order when Victor pulls a fast one on her. "Hey! Don't antagonize the fire breather! My ring almost fell off!"
"Bah, I don't remember any bet. But I will go to a bar- I need to think up a few dances, anyway."
Victor looks over to Geoffrey and nods "No accidents here my man. Certainly not around a fire breather!" He jokes before throwing the hood of his cloak up and disappearing ahead into the passerby's towards the Clenchjaw.
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Padraig knows a thing or two about Clenchjaw's Tavern even without the impromptu passerbys offering their guidance. The tavern is named after a local variety of oyster, as well as for the owner's strict policy of banning political talk from the tavern - until recently, that is. The tavern's owner is an apolitical and practical sort named Rinston "Clenchjaw" Jon who normally ejects troublemakers, but seems unusually sleepy and distracted of late. The nightly brawls have all begun after Rinston's passed out for the evening - itself a curious development, since until the Night of Ashes he was an energetic man.
There are many out-of-work sailors and helmsmen outside Clenchjaw's, in no small way attributed to Thrune's latest proclamation forbidding them to depart. Inside, the tavern itself is packed. Several long tables are occupied by all manner of Kintargans knocking back shots of dark liquors.
"Greetings, can I get you a table?" A handsome, young host asks, his nametag reading Ben. "Clenchjaw's is half price on all pints from 5 to 7 PM, and you're just in time! Come on in," he smiles, leading you to a table.
"Thanks!" Issil sits down and takes a look around. "Hey, what do you do for performances around here? I'm thinking of a song and dance duo." She glances at Pádraig. "He's the singer."
"Half price beer? This place must get pretty busy now huh. All the sailors must be getting pretty broke being out of work, some enterprising people could really put them to work if they put their mind to it I bet..." Surmises Victor to no one in particular, his attention momentarily distracted by what hopefully will be a song and dance routine and a cheap buzz.
"House beer for me and whatever's on special... so long as it isn't fish. Some bread, butter, and beef or mutton stew maybe?" He places his order with the host and looks around the place for anything that may stand out.
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At Issil's suggestion, Pádraig Henry holds up a finger. He heads to the gents, waits for a private moment, and casts aspect of the nightingale. He returns to his friends and clears his throat, reaching for a growling falsetto.
All the men come in these places
And the men are all the same
You don't look at their faces
And you don't ask their names
You don't think of them as human
You don't think of them at all
You keep your mind on the money
Keeping your eyes on the wall
I'm your private dancer, a dancer for money
I'll do what you want me to do
I'm your private dancer, a dancer for money
And any old music will do
Issil is loving it and she immediately hops onto the table.
Halfway through the song, she almost knocks a mug off the table but quickly recovers. Too bad it throws her off her rhythm...
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"A halfling singer? Pshh, of course he's awful!" A half-orc blurts out as he slams down his mug.
"Yeah - and look at that girl! She calls that a dance? Did Thrune suddenly prohibit talent as well?" His half-orc brethren blurts out. He's met with a blur of raucous laughter.
"Hey! What do you mean a halfling singer? Halflings can't sing?" A small halfling with wispy brown hair steps up to the half-orc table, dangerously close to his face.
"YEAH! You heard me. Haflings. Can't. Sing. What are you gonna do about it?" The half-orc responds, standing over him as if he were a tree and the halfing an ant.
Just then, a swath of grease magically appears in mid-air and falls over the entire table of half-orcs and halflings. A few drops of grease splash onto Padraig and Issil as their performance is rudely cut short.
"WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!" The half-orc picks the halfling up by the shirt, punching him in the face. A female halfling flings a cup of tea across the room at the half-orc. A chair comes crashing to the ground as a half-orc is pushed off of it by the combined might of three halfling brothers. And just like that, the tavern erupts in a full-on brawl.
"Someone's pretty SLICK. I'd have to say this new bar has some GREASY patrons if you ask me..." Victor smiles at his pretty sweet puns.
He takes a step towards one of the brawling half orcs, pulls out his sap and tries to clunk him over the head before he has a chance to make a swing at him.
SWOOSH! "Oh, well now!"
Geoffrey takes a protective stance in front of Morvena as the Brawl breaks out.
Could not even place my order...definitely not leaving a tip!
"Pfft. I'm here for five seconds and a fight breaks out." Issil yawns.
Considering her many options, Issil chooses to cast Command on the first brute to come close to her. "Halt." If that works, she'll pull off a belt buckle, flip the shirt over the head and otherwise annoy the person before spanking him right back into the fray.
"Times like this make me wish I kept that sap, eh Geoff?" She dangles her feet from the edge of the table.
Morvena's jaw hangs open as the tavern erupts into a bona fide barroom brawl; having never seen anything quite like it it takes her a moment to regain her wits. She quickly ducks down behind their table, hand clenched tightly around her quarterstaff.
"This is madness! We shouldn't get involved in this!" she hisses to her companions.
"Wooooow! This is even better than the singing and dancing!" Pava chirps excitedly, fluttering around the table as chairs, mugs, and fists fly. Suddenly she stops, hovering in midair for a moment as if something has her attention.
"Oh! There's some sort of giggling thing up there in the corner!" she chirps excitedly. "It looked like a butterfly-person! Sooooo pretty!"
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"A grease spell. I think I saw who cast it." Pádraig Henry points to a dark corner of the tavern ceiling. "Pavanna and I caught a glimpse of a small, butterfly-like creature over there, but it disappeared from sight a couple of seconds later. Listen, you can definitely hear some high-pitched laughter from where I saw it."
He does some intuitive math. "I think it's causing all the trouble, and enjoying the chaos. Imagine, if we could harness that skill against our enemies!"
Pádraig Henry dodges the fisticuffs and walks over to the corner. He calls out, hoping the creature can hear him. "Friend, your talents are wasted here. Let's talk, somewhere quiet, over some cherry schnapps and cream-filled pastries. Perhaps, my friends and I can give you something more exciting and fun to do."
Milani help me, if this is a devil and not a fey.
"Who are you guys talking to?" Issil cocks her head as chaos erupts. "Well if Pava says she saw something then I guess I didn't." She nonchalantly kicks a mug off the table for someone to trip upon.
"Yeah, so... whatever you are. Do you want to talk outside for a bit, or...?"
A kindred spirit of a chaotic mother trucker? Victor backs away from the brawl and remains in a defensive crouch as he hollers up into the darkness "You and I... we should meet over doughnuts!" He hollers.
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The brawl continues with the three halfling brothers having hopped aboard the half-orc, ruthlessly pummeling at its brawny body with their tiny fists. "You're gonna pay for that!" Another half-orc picks up a halfling and tosses is across to the back of the bar, spilling liquor all over the place.
You slip out of Clenchjaw's unscathed and then, four dottari charge past you and throw open the door.
"By the order of Mayor Barzillai Thrune, stop this madness at once or be imprisoned indefinitely!"
All goes silent except for the shattering of a single mug as it rolls off a table. "You there, get up. You're coming with us. Where's Clenchjaw? We ought to shut this place down right now!"
Three of the four dottari throw manacles around the brawlers and lead them outside, while the remaining one moves further into the bar, likely seeking Clenchjaw.
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Victor hears a shrill, small voice from above, and then something lands on his shoulder. "Come, come, let's head over there. Out of sight, you know. Oh, and I'm intrigued by your offer of cream-filled pastries. Was it a promise? A creampuff splattering into the face of an unsuspecting guard... Oh, how fun!" It laughs, and dismisses its invisibility as it flies into a neighboring alleyway. "Oh, the name's Vendalfek. With a V. Ven-dal-fek. Easy, right?"
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As the party follows the faerie dragon into the secluded alleyway, Pádraig Henry introduces himself. "I'm Pádraig Henry and these are my friends, Issil, Geoffrey, Victor, Morvena and Pavanna. Vendalvek, what a cool name! I've never met a faerie dragon before. Pastries? We live right below a shop that offers donuts to our friends. Trust us, you'll get all you can eat and a safe place to stay."
The halfling makes his pitch. "We're planning the biggest practical joke of all on the city's Thrune overlords. But we need help. We need the sort of creative genius only one of your kind can provide. Are you interested?"
Pádraig Henry jerks a thumb back the way they came.
"Do you know what was going on at Clenchjaw's? Why were the dottari looking for him?"
Issil cocks an eyebrow at the strange creature with butterfly wings. "Ven-dal-fek? I like your style! And you'll love our donuts." She grins.
Geoffrey is glad to have gotten out before the dottari arrived. While he enjoyed a good bar fight as much as the other guy, he knew Morvena would not...appreciate this.
The appearance of the faerie dragon surprised him, yet he quickly recovered offering it a solemn greeting, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance... Vendalfek." Do they even have a sex? "If you know anything about ClenchJaw then I would appreciate knowing of it."
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"The biggest practical joke of all time?! You don't say!" The faerie dragon replies with delightful intrigue, crossing his arms. "Well, this business with Clenchjaw is entirely my doing. I used to haunt the Thrashing Badger, but it was no secret. The locals knew of my existence and tolerated me, and that place was a riot! Always something going on! ... Then, they burned it down." The little dragon flaps his wings hard, creating a miniature tornado that tosses Issil's hair. "So I went to Clenchjaw's, easily defined by one word: bor-ING. I had to do something to spice the place up, so I started pranking the patrons. Did a good job, too. Every night brings on a new brawl!" Vendalfek laughs, obviously proud of himself. "Oh, and possibly the potential for a shut down. I casted sleep on Clenchjaw to keep him away, then dropped the grease to start the brawl - one of my favorite tricks."
"Hey there Vendalfek! Offer stands of course. All the pastries you can eat that I don't get to first. Sorry to hear about the Badger, we stopped by there and it was burned out and under water. Any idea who burned it?" Asks Victor after he heads into the darkened alleyway, one of his favorite spots around the city.
That little dragon made himself invisible! Now that I gotta learn! He thinks as he takes a good look at their new little friend.
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"Quit staring at me like that, man," he grins at Victor. "If it's really true that you're pulling Kintargo's greatest practical joke, you can absolutely count me in!" The faerie dragon backflips in the air and dances around happily. "I do so wish to... reacquire my hoard, however. It's in the rafters in Clenchjaw's. Just some jewels and expensive liqueurs, positively nothing that could be useful to yourselves, hmm?"
Back inside the bar, Clenchjaw and several waiters work feverishly to clean up the mess. All patrons have left for the night, and Clenchjaw himself looks thoroughly embarrassed and annoyed. "Sorry, we're closed. Perhaps permanently, if this keeps up." He sighs as you peek back in. Vendalfek heads up to the rafters and dumps his hoard into a small bag, which floats through the air as he carries it out the door.
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"Something tells me you'll have a turn in business soon, Clenchjaw." Issil grins. "I'll try to put on a better performance next time, too."
"I guess that solves the mystery at the Otter Box." Issil shrugs. "Time to head home for the night?"
Victor creeps into the bar with the others, eager to try to get a sneak peek of the treasure hoard of a real life (if not mini) dragon!
"You know Mr Clenchjaw, I hope things turn around for you. Having those overzealous dottari coming in here nightly really must hurt the bottom line. What if you hired a few of those out of work sailors as bouncers? I bet I could find you a few solid ones to fit the bill!"
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"Maybe," Clenchjaw says, wiping down a table. "For now, I just need to stay awake and stop letting this sort of thing happen. I would have ended that brawl before a single punch was thrown if I were out here. Bouncers aren't a bad idea," he agrees.
You return to the Wasp Nest with your new pet, who Korva and Maggie look at with intrigue. Rexus thinks it's absurd to keep a faerie dragon of "mischief and trickery" as a pet, but he's only really feigning his disinterest, and you're certain you hear him getting to know Vendalfek as you turn in for the night.
A new day dawns with Jay, up before everyone else, hauling down some breakfast bagels care of Laria. As he casually piles a layer of creamcheese on one and doles out the rest, the sound of a wall crumbling tears through the air from the western storeroom. Jay drops his bagel on the ground and stands, turning to the room. "Awright, just what the hell was that?"
Entering the storeroom, a section of stone on the western wall has fallen to the ground, dangerously close to Rexus' legs. "Oh, dear. Too close for comfort," he says, backing away from the mess.
Victor wakes with a start, a light sleeper and a nose for the bakery upstairs "What was that? OOooo bagels!" He hops up and hops over the others in his skivvies, grabbing up a still warm bagel after he whiffs at catching the creamy looking one falling from Jay's hands. "Man, they always land jelly side down don't they."
He heads over to check out what the hell happened. He bends down and inspects the wall, then pushes a crate out of the way and lifts up a chisel and hammer. "Ok, spill it, what's going on here?" His eyes scan the room as he eats his bagel in his tighty whities.
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Pádraig Henry reassures Clenchjaws, "If the lady's willing to dance, I'm happy to sing for your customers. Business will pick up in no time."
Pádraig Henry hears the noise of the wall collapsing and Rexus cursing. "You all right?"
He looks at the damage. "Take a look at this: tool marks around the broken wall." He takes a broader look around. "And see here, in between these two old storage crates: a chisel and hammer. Somebody was digging a hole to somewhere."
The halfling casts dancing lights, sends them through the hole in the wall, and peers inside. "You guys see anything?"
Geoffrey hurries up to the section of the collapsed wall, his weapon drawn. "Someone was digging a hole here...and no sign of anyone here."
As the lights illuminate the hole he peers over Padraig's shoulder looking for any signs of movement.
"Nothing else of note that I can see," Morvena sighs, scowling as she looks at the collapsed wall. She thinks, trying to mentally map what other buildings are located nearby and where their mysterious digger might have originated from. "Where might a tunneler have come from? Surely not extremely far from here, yes?"
"I mean, if you guys want to leave, you can use the stairs. Yeesh." Issil rolls her eyes.
"I mean, who wants to dig in here? The previous occupants have no use for these tunnels, right?"
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The hole is more of a wide collapsed section of stone wall, as if someone had purposely carved it out with a specific goal in mind.
"I have no idea what happened here, truthfully," Rexus says firmly. "I'd fallen asleep while speaking with Vendalfek, and next thing I know, boom." He shudders. "And here I thought I'd somehow die by the hand of Thrune, not by some stone avalanche."
Vendalfek flies into the room with a ball of cream cheese in hand. "Geez, talk about a warm welcoming. What's with the wall? Some light renovating?" He jokes.
"Maybe this is some kind of secret cache? This was used as a smuggler's hideaway." Issil shrugs, then runs off to get her Chain Shirt. "Something tells me I'm going to have to crawl through there anyway."
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"Crawl through there? Miss, you're slender and fit and all," Vendalfek flirts with a coy grin, "But I don't think it's possible even for me to crawl in there."
The faerie dragon flits around the rubble and dust, then looks at the hammer and chisel. "Must've been done recently. No rust on the tools. But... why? And who?"
The Fushi family and your recruits are similarly confused at the sudden collapse. "All while we slept, too? It seems we may benefit from a night watch," Korva adds.