As the table fills with Brashen’s companions, an undercurrent of whispers and comments goes about the room. The rumour mill in Diamond Lake works fast, and Kullen’s absence has no doubt been noticed before now, and his interest in Brashen was likely not unknown. Now people are starting to fill in the blanks (no doubt helped by the fact that some of the group wear or carry conspicuous gear previously owned by Todrik and Kullen, not least of which being Kullen’s distinctive great axe).
Boland becomes nervous as he approaches the Dog, starting to wonder if he should have ventured out on his own. Still, he presses on and enters the rowdy pub as quietly as possible.
It takes him a moment to spot his companions, and he is at first relieved to find them present. However, the relief quickly disappears when he realises what table they are sitting at. Nervous as ever, he joins them.
"Are you crazy?" he whispers. "Should we really be sitting here?" He tries not to look at the host of faces around the pub looking their way.
"Are you crazy?" he whispers. "Should we really be sitting here?" He tries not to look at the host of faces around the pub looking their way.
"I hate to say it, Boland, but I can't fault Brashen's logic for deciding to sit here, and I didn't even notice when I first walked in... But we took out Kullen and his gang of toughs, and most people here probably know that he was looking for us. We're here, the half-orc is missing... everyone is guessing what happened, and by sitting here we're essentially confirming that we are not to be trifled with. That may make Smenk take us more seriously when we approach him for 'employment,' than if we slunk around discretely in the shadows."
Andolphas takes a sip from his mulled wine, then grimaces. "Terrible, as always... but probably not poisoned."
His dark eyes look back from the depths of his green hood and gaze at the young mage. "Learn anything of interest these past few days?" he inquires with a low voice. "A nod or shake of the head will do -- we can always discuss after we leave this place."
"I hate to say it, Boland, but I can't fault Brashen's logic for deciding to sit here, and I didn't even notice when I first walked in... But we took out Kullen and his gang of toughs, and most people here probably know that he was looking for us. We're here, the half-orc is missing... everyone is guessing what happened, and by sitting here we're essentially confirming that we are not to be trifled with. That may make Smenk take us more seriously when we approach him for 'employment,' than if we slunk around discretely in the shadows."
Andolphas takes a sip from his mulled wine, then grimaces. "Terrible, as always... but probably not poisoned."
His dark eyes look back from the depths of his green hood and gaze at the young mage. "Learn anything of interest these past few days?" he inquires with a low voice. "A nod or shake of the head will do -- we can always discuss after we leave this place."
"I guess so," Boland replies at Andolphas' logic, though he continues to glance nervously around the bar. If they had accounted for all of Kullen's gang he would have been a little more comfortable. "Any word from Harrigan?"
At Andolphas' next question, Boland gives a nod, before shaking his head. "Interesting, yes," he whispers enthusiastically. "I have learned some new magic which should prove of use in our next venture. However, I have not found anything new as to the occupants of the mine. Was the Lady able to offer any further insight?"
When talk turns to the next move, Boland looks around the Dog. "Surely there's someone here who can get a message to Smenk for us, to tee up a meeting?" He is still clearly a little nervous by the prospect, but realises his companions are intent on following that path.
"The Lady did share some lore regarding the green worms and the history of Kyuss and his Spawn... all of it disturbing, if truth be told... and I wonder whether we... I... will be up to the task? I had hoped that..."
The somber priest's voice trails off without completing his last sentence. He seems preoccupied about something, but clearly does not want to say anything more about it...
"The Lady did share some lore regarding the green worms and the history of Kyuss and his Spawn... all of it disturbing, if truth be told... and I wonder whether we... I... will be up to the task? I had hoped that..."
The somber priest's voice trails off without completing his last sentence. He seems preoccupied about something, but clearly does not want to say anything more about it...
"Yes?" Boland presses, after waiting a moment for Andolphas to continue and then realising he wasn't going to.
"May as well fill everyone in at the same time," responds Andolphas with irritation evident in his voice. "When the dwarf arrives..." The cleric looks back towards the tavern entrance, expecting every new patron to be Harrigan...
Brash grins widely at Bowlands discomfort. 'Relax, have a drink.' So saying he gestures for 3 more from the barmaid. He then pats Bowland hard on the back. 'Look on the brightside, maybe these super zombies will overrun the town before Smenk gets a chance to deal with us!'
Brash grins widely at Bowlands discomfort. 'Relax, have a drink.' So saying he gestures for 3 more from the barmaid. He then pats Bowland hard on the back. 'Look on the brightside, maybe these super zombies will overrun the town before Smenk gets a chance to deal with us!'
Boland coughs and splutters as Brash bashes him on the back just as he takes a sip of the watered-down ale. It is difficult to tell whether it is the poor quality of the ale, the bash on the back, Brash's comment or a combination of all three that caused him to choke.
After he finally recovers he watches Andolphas, wondering what the news might be and hoping that Harrigan arrives soon.
Harrigan nods, "Not a problem. Came across a little coin in the process of taking out his boys so I figure a room in town may be in order." He tips his mug back to finish his drink and as he places it back on the table fixes Ragnolian with a steady stare. "Thanks for the cover old man. You were there when I needed a hand and I hope to do the same for you when I have the chance. Take care. I'll be in the shack to night and clear out by morning. Figure I'll stop in some night when I've got enough to report to make it worth the trip."
The next day in town Harrigan scouts around for a boarding house with decent rates and settles in. With that sorted he spends the day visiting the barber and the bathhouse then makes a pass through the market to get some bread, cheese, dried sausages, fruit and a couple bottles of wine for his new room. Finally he invests in some new clothes and drops the old ones to be laundered. The dwarf uses his rounds about town to keep his ears and eyes open getting a sense of the new lay of the land now that Kullen was out of the picture.
That evening Harrigan strides into the Feral dog as a changed dwarf. Gone is the dirty dwarf in patched clothing with straw sticking in his wiry beard and hair and in his place stands a hint of the dwarf who fled a post in Greyhawk by night under a new name some months back. His black tunic is hemmed in a broad band of gray at the sleeves with a slimmer gray hem around the slit down the chest revealing a curling mat of hair and a thick gold chain. His leather pants and boots are spotless and for the first time since you met his beard is trimmed and his hair slicked back with pomade. He pauses in the door briefly and spotting your table heads over. When he joins you, his usual dwarven musk of a life spent au natural has been replaced by a mix of lavender and rose water.
"And we meet again." He nods to the common room, "I see you've got the locals' attention."
Andolphas, Brashen and Boland share what they know of Balabar Smenk. The man owns five mines in the region of Diamond Lake and it is common knowledge that he has designs on more – the mine managers Gelch Tilgast and Luzane Parrin appear to be his main two targets currently, or so the rumour mill has it.
Smenk lives in a sodden old mansion a century past its prime. There are usually several local thugs loitering in the streets around the home – obviously in the pay of Smenk, they keep an eye on anyone who gets close, and have been known to warn away likely trouble-makers with sneers and the brandishing of lead pipes.
Local lore has it that Smenk’s front door is always wide open, fulfilling an old promise that his doors would always be open to his miners. Few are brave enough to take up this offer, given the rumour that the halls of the ground floor are inhabited by huge, bestial apes that Smenk uses to discourage visitors.
Whenever Smenk goes out about the town he is sure to be surrounded by a coven of sycophants and hired goons, who ensure that no one gets too close. If there is trouble in town, or Smenk believes he might be in danger, he makes sure his right hand man and head of security, a reputably very dangerous man named Vetchen Tor is nearby. It’s also a near certainty that Smenk has Sheriff Cubbin in his pocket.
---
Harrigan, although relatively new in town, spent a lot of time studying up on Smenk after being given a task by his uncle Ragnolian, and knows a thing or two more. The rumour about the apes is true – Smenk keeps three of the ill tempered beasts chained up in his house on a series of chains that give them free run of almost the entire ground floor. One of the side entrances gives safe passage inside to parts of the house the apes can’t get to, but Harrigan has been unable to learn exactly which one.
Vetchen Tor was involved with the criminal underworld of the Free City, some say he is a former assassin. The good news is that he hasn’t been seen around in a week or two, word is he’s out of town on some business for Smenk.
One place that Smenk might be found without his usual entourage in tow is Zalamandra’s Emporium. Smenk is known to frequent the place several nights of the week, partaking of either the delights of the Veiled Corridor or the gaming hall or club on the third floor. Despite being one of the richest men in Diamond Lake, Smenk is too cheap to pay the upper floor entry fee for his entourage, and tends to take only a bodyguard or two.
Andolphas nearly falls of his chair when the dwarf finally sits at the table. "What... happened to... Harrigan?" he asks the latecomer incredulously.
"A few coins richer, and a new man... er, dwarf... comes out?"
Brash looks at Harrigan with a raised eyebrow, before looking back to his own dishevelled appearance. He frowns. 'I thought we were going for an image here, the rough, uncouth, not to be messed with kind. Now here you are looking like Bowland did a week ago.' Brash shakes his head and wrinkles his nose. 'And whats that smell? You smell like a high class whore!'
Once Harrigan has had a chance to explain himself, Andolphas shares what the Lady Amariss told him concerning Kyuss and his spawn.
“Kyuss,” muses Amariss. “Little is known of him. He apparently lived many thousands of years ago, rising from obscure beginnings to rule an empire amongst the jungles of the distant south. What he was – a man, an elf, a fiend, a lich, a mage, a priest – is not clear, although by all reports he was a powerful magic user and necromancer, commanding and creating legions of the undead, including the creatures known as the Spawn or Sons of Kyuss.
“Then, at the height of his power, he apparently vanished. Through what cause I do not know, but the empire he had ruled was left in disarray, and soon enough only a small and scattered cult of worshippers and the undead that bear his name were left to show that he had ever been.
“But it seems that he did not die. About a thousand years ago Kyuss – the same entity, or another bearing his name, it is unclear – marched forth from the great Rift Canyon to the north at the head of a legion of undead, strange worm-like monsters and dragons. It is said that a great undead dragon stood at his side as the general of this force. There was a great battle, or war, and Kyuss was eventually defeated, either killed or driven off back into darkness. It is strange … a thousand years is a long time, and the Rift Canyon a long way off … but not so far ago or far away that so little should be recorded. And yet, the history books are very vague on Kyuss, and the story seems little more than a myth … almost as if the details have been deliberately obscured. For good or ill I cannot say.
“There is one more thing known of Kyuss though – his title, or one of them; Harbinger of the Age of Worms … can it be that Kyuss has something to do with my dread dreams?
“You asked also of the Spawn of Kyuss. Thankfully, they are rare, sometimes encountered in the far southern lands, and sometimes near the Rift Canyon to the north, but rarely in the lands in between. They resemble zombies – walking, rotted corpses, crawling with worms – but are much more difficult to destroy, and bear a rudimentary intelligence that allows them to plan and use strategy. It is said that damage inflicted to them heals quickly, and ordinary weapons barely affect them, though magic and divine power should. What one must be most wary of are the green worms that infest their flesh. The worms can quickly move onto the skin of those that the Spawn attacks, sometimes even jumping to new hosts. They quickly burrow into flesh, and if not quickly cut out or otherwise destroyed, they make their way to their victim’s brain, where they breed and multiply, and transform the poor unfortunate into a new Spawn.
“It had not occurred to me before now, as they are so rare, but the rumours of unkillable zombies in the hills … they could be the Spawn of Kyuss. Andolphas, if you have heard anything about this, if you have reason to believe there is an infestation, you must act quickly to cleanse it. Those killed by a Spawn, or infested by its worms, will rise as another, enough of the creatures could quickly overrun Diamond Lake.”
"Little new beyond what Allustan already told us, really... although that apocalyptic reference to an Age of Worms was admittedly worrisome. But if we're going to look further into this and maybe even do something about it, we're on our own. The fate of this sad dump of a town may be in our hands. Boland... do you think Allustan could be convinced to help us hunt and destroy Kyuss's worms and spawn?"
Brash nods thoughtfully, his earlier attitude replaced with a more somber countenance. 'So the fate of the town rests on our shoulders, to contain these things before they get out of hand. Perhaps we could go the authorities with our suspicions, though Im assuming we would at the very least need some more substantial proof before they would be willing to act.'
'So we need more information, and we don't want to be worrying about reprisal attacks from Smenk for killing off his best goons. It seems clear, as we discussed, that we will need to speak to Smenk, to find out what he knows, and to make sure he isn't going to cause us any trouble.'
Brash sighs. 'I would like to simply march in and deal with him the way we did Kullen, but even with his head of security out of town I suspect that wouldn't go so well for us. So do we approach him and ask for a job? Do we let him know that we know about the zombies? One thing going for us is that he seems to want them destroyed, so maybe we suggest that where the ones to do it?'
The warrior reaches for his drink again, though only takes a small sip this time. He lapses into silence, waiting for the others to comment.
"Little new beyond what Allustan already told us, really... although that apocalyptic reference to an Age of Worms was admittedly worrisome. But if we're going to look further into this and maybe even do something about it, we're on our own. The fate of this sad dump of a town may be in our hands. Boland... do you think Allustan could be convinced to help us hunt and destroy Kyuss's worms and spawn?"
Allustan is a reasonably accomplished wizard, but he is a sage and scholar, not an adventurer; Boland can’t imagine him crawling around in the depths of a mine looking for undead. He also tends to take a rather cautious approach to things, advising planning, conservation of resources and research. As such he’s unlikely to provide much assistance at this stage – maybe if he is truly satisfied there is a real threat and exactly what it is ... to add to this, he really dislikes necromancy (even the ‘white’ necromancy practised by his apprentice) and doesn’t know much about undead, so he’s unlikely to be able to provide much assistance.
Brash nods thoughtfully, his earlier attitude replaced with a more somber countenance. 'So the fate of the town rests on our shoulders, to contain these things before they get out of hand. Perhaps we could go the authorities with our suspicions, though Im assuming we would at the very least need some more substantial proof before they would be willing to act.'
'So we need more information, and we don't want to be worrying about reprisal attacks from Smenk for killing off his best goons. It seems clear, as we discussed, that we will need to speak to Smenk, to find out what he knows, and to make sure he isn't going to cause us any trouble.'
Brash sighs. 'I would like to simply march in and deal with him the way we did Kullen, but even with his head of security out of town I suspect that wouldn't go so well for us. So do we approach him and ask for a job? Do we let him know that we know about the zombies? One thing going for us is that he seems to want them destroyed, so maybe we suggest that where the ones to do it?'
The warrior reaches for his drink again, though only takes a small sip this time. He lapses into silence, waiting for the others to comment.
"You give the authorities in this town more credit than I do, friend. I doubt they would be able, or willing, to do anything about the threat... their skill and morale seem lacking to me."
And looking to Boland, Andolphas adds: "No, I did not truly expect that Allustan would come out and help, no more than my Order will, at this point... just wishful thinking... disillusioned wishful thinking... but I guess this is our opportunity to make a difference in the world.
"Brashen, I concur with your suggestions. We tell Smenk we know about the worms and the zombies, and that we're looking for a job... We could aways pay him a visit at the Emporium, however much I dislike the idea of going there. When do you want to go ahead with this -- tonight or tomorrow?"
"Well, I think you look good, Harrigan," Boland says after Brash's disparaging comments, before the discussion turns more serious.
"Yes, unfortunately I don't think Allustan will be of much assistance, at least not initially. And by then it could be too late - we cannot risk another outbreak of undead in this town, after what happened last time." His eyes begin to mist up and he looks away, taking up his beer and taking a long draw to help hide the emotion.
After a moment he faces the others again, a determined gleam in his eye. "We should approach Smenk tonight and find out whether he is in or out."
"Are we able to pool our resources to obtain an enchanted weapon?" asks Andolphas. "If ordinary weapons barely have any effect on the Spawn, we definitely will be in over our heads if we aren't properly equipped to confront them. "
"Are we able to pool our resources to obtain an enchanted weapon?" asks Andolphas. "If ordinary weapons barely have any effect on the Spawn, we definitely will be in over our heads if we aren't properly equipped to confront them. "
'Where are we going to meet him. We need to tread a fine line between being too threatening and appearing too weak. Either way one could get us killed. We have already killed several of his men, is approaching him while his almost unprotected the best idea? He might decide that his not safe and have us killed rather than risk his own life by dealing with us'
Harrigan answers Andolphas and Brashen with a laugh, "Time to cut ties with my Uncle for a while. Set myself up in town and I won't be going back out that way for a while so I reckon there's no need to rough it for now. New to you maybe, but if you'd known me longer it would be the old Harrigan rather than the new one." To be fair, his new look is a little closer to organized crime than dandy, but someone who didn't know any better could be excused for not making the distinction.
Once a new round has arrived the dwarf leans in to fill the others in on something, "Listen- I got my Uncle to agree to us hiring on with Smenk to spy on his mines. Better to filter back what he wants than have other spies giving real information. He agreed, but the old man's reaction set my nerves on edge. He flat out denied the worms existed, suggested Smenk's spies wanted to plant them there, and pretty clumsily hinted that I'd want to believe his story... or else." A grim expression passes over his face before he continues, "I don't know what Uncle Rags is mixed up in. I can't for the life of me fathom why he would deny this Kyuss worm business unless it is just more of the crazy paranoia. I just don't know... "
'Where are we going to meet him. We need to tread a fine line between being too threatening and appearing too weak. Either way one could get us killed. We have already killed several of his men, is approaching him while his almost unprotected the best idea? He might decide that his not safe and have us killed rather than risk his own life by dealing with us'
"Do you have a better meeting place in my mind that would help us appear neither too threatening nor too weak, Brashen?"
Andolphas nods as Harrigan shares his concerns regarding his uncle, but the priest offers no reply.
"Do you have a better meeting place in my mind that would help us appear neither too threatening nor too weak, Brashen?"
"Smenk no doubt has agents around town. If we are serious about going into business with him, then we have to let him choose the time and place. Get word to one of his agents that we have a business proposition and wait to hear back from him. I think Brash is right in suggesting that ambushing him when he's vulnerable would not be the wisest choice."
"Of course, it does mean that he is in the position of power, and that if he wasn't too happy about losing Smenk then we could find ourselves in some trouble."
When Harrigan speaks of his uncle's behaviour, Boland frowns. "What I don't get is why would Smenk invest money to try and clear out someone else's mine of a menace, and why the mine owner would deny it. Could he have planted the Kyuss Spawn there himself, trying to make Smenk disinterested in his mine?" He asks the question hesitantly of Harrigan, not certain how the dwarf would react to the question.
Andolphas nods his agreement to Boland's proposal for meeting with Smenk.
Andolphas nods his agreement to Boland's proposal for meeting with Smenk.
"Brash, who can get this type of message to Smenk?"
Andolphas nods his agreement to Boland's proposal for meeting with Smenk."Brash, who can get this type of message to Smenk?"
1d20+7
'I reckon I might now a few.' Brash looks around the room seeing if there's anyone at the Dog that he might know could get a message to Smenk
Brashen, you noticed one of Smenk’s mine overseers, a fellow named Fyron Hemp, drinking near the bar when you first came in. He’d be certain to have Smenk’s ear. He was right over ... oh, he appears to be gone now, you’d swear he was there when you came in. The group of miners he was drinking with remain for the most part, you catch them looking in your direction when you glance over, though they quickly go back to their drinks as you search the area for the overseer.
Brashen, you noticed one of Smenk’s mine overseers, a fellow named Fyron Hemp, drinking near the bar when you first came in. He’d be certain to have Smenk’s ear. He was right over ... oh, he appears to be gone now, you’d swear he was there when you came in. The group of miners he was drinking with remain for the most part, you catch them looking in your direction when you glance over, though they quickly go back to their drinks as you search the area for the overseer.
Boland tracks the direction of Brashen's gaze, and after a second realises who is missing. "Damn, it's possible Smenk is already getting a message, just not necessarily the one we were planning to give. Maybe if we hurry we can catch up to him before he reaches Smenk?"
Andolphas sighs and shrugs. "Oh well... I don't think we should give chase -- that would just make us look desperate. I'm sure we will have other opportunities to get a message to Smenk." The priest pronounces the name with evident distaste.
"Maybe we should give a few coins to one of those other miners, and send him off after the overseer with our own message?"
A few moments later, the somber cleric smirks. "I think Brashen's been rubbing off on me. I'm not worried about anything, and I'm sitting around the Dog feeling confident and like I belong, as though I were one of the local toughs... I don't know if this change is long term, or for the best..."
The group has been at the Feral Dog for a couple of hours – partly planning for their next move and, at least in Brashen’s case, partly celebrating their recent victories – when the atmosphere in the bar suddenly changes.
Even without a dog fight taking place in the pit in the centre of the main bar, things are usually pretty loud and rowdy in the Dog, but all of a sudden a hush spreads through the room. Eyes begin looking in the direction of the tavern’s main doors.
Standing in the doorway is a large man – prominent gut, florid face, crooked nose and wild hair around a balding head, wearing an expensive looking but rather tasteless green and brown waistcoat and jacket. He surveys the room down the length of his nose, while the group of five or six assorted thugs, heavies and cowled mystery men behind him glare aggressively at the nearest patrons.
Most in the room recognise Balabar Smenk, and back up to give him space, to avoid being the target of his squinty gaze. That gaze soon settles on the occupants of Kullen’s former table, and Smenk begins moving across the room – rather nimbly for a man of his weight and height, although the thugs to either side of him ensure that no one gets in the way.
As he approaches your table, your nostrils are assaulted by Smenk’s over-strong and odious cologne. “Good evening,” he says in a voice like porridge, his expression indicating that the evening is not good at all at this stage, his somewhat haughty accent not quite hiding the traces of Greyhahvian street-talk in his tone. “I am Balabar Smenk ... I’ve been meaning to talk to you lot these past several days.” The cronies crowd close, none with weapons drawn, but some with hands close to belts or shoved into cloaks.
"Funny thing that. We were just talking about how you've made it to the top of our daily planner. Just trying to figure out where to pen you in." Harrigan doesn't rise to greet the mine owner. While he takes a drink from his mug his other hand slips down to his belt and grabs a smokestick.
The sound of hard-soled traveling boots rap against the wooden floor of the inn only a scant few paces behind Smenk as he approaches the others. A grizzled-looking man, clad in a leather jerkin underlaid with finely-crafted chainmail and bearing a massive crossbow and darkwood shield upon his back enters through the front doors. Around his neck is a holy symbol of Pholtus, crafted in gleaming silver and polished to a blinding shine. Numerous pouches and bolt cases adorn his hips and criss-crossed bandoleers, each one stamped with some manner of sigil or holy icon. Atop his dark-haired head sits a wide-brimmed hat adorned with a couple of hanging charms wrought in silver about the brim.
He clears his throat, turning his steely gaze towards the assembled patrons gathered around Smenk.
Stepping closer, he states gruffly. "I'm here, as you requested," his glance moved over to observe the others. "These the ones you mentioned before?"
Harrigan:
“A happy co-incidence,” agrees Smenk, deadpan.
Smenk’s thugs give the grim-faced stranger with the big crossbow a wide berth, most of them seemingly too shocked by his sudden appearance and apparent familiarity with their boss to even reach for weapons.
Smenk purses his fishy lips as the stranger addresses him, but doesn’t seem at all surprised by the man’s appearance. “Thankyou for coming,” he says. “Yes, these are the ones.” He turns back to the table. “I have found good help so very hard to find – or at least keep – of late. As such I have a proposition to discuss with you. If we could move somewhere a little quieter, where we can talk like the civilised gentlemen we all are ...”
Smenk glances across to the bar (somehow managing not to take his eye off you for too long while he does so) and catches the eye of the bartender, who doesn’t appear at all taken aback by Smenk’s presence in the place. The bartender nods, and begins pouring mugs of ale.
:
Harrigan has never been one for too much religion and any such associations are lost on him.
He nods to Smenk, letting his gaze linger over the table of adventurers for quite a bit longer than would be polite.
"Lead the way, Smenk," he says without even looking at the man. "The sooner we finish talking, the sooner the cleansing begins."
Damion:
Boland shrinks into his chair as Smenk and his thugs enter, and then becomes a little confused with the appearance of the stranger. He studies the man's holy symbol and religious iconography with interest. It takes him a few moments to recall what god the man represents.
Boland remains quiet, waiting for Smenk to continue or to indicate where he wants to do to discuss things in private.
"A Pholtan," groans Andolphas quietly. "What business can he possibly have with Smenk?"
The pale-faced, raven-haired cleric stares coldly at Smenk and the new arrival from the depths of his green hood. A ruby skull hangs prominently from his neck on a silver chain. He struggles to keep his cool, wishing the man who had been responsible for the deaths of so many members of his family and other miners would just drop dead of a heart attack. I can't believe I'm actually going to play along with this ruse and agree to work for this sack of s$@@... And who would need 'cleansing' more than him?
A bar maid – neither quite young nor quite pretty, but close enough to both to pass at a distance – approaches the table. “Your usual room Mister Smenk?” she asks with a courtesy. Smenk nods, and gestures towards a set of stairs by the bar that lead down to the lower level of the tavern (where the dog fights are held).
Smenk and his goons begin heading in that direction, no doubt expecting you to follow, whilst the bar maid goes back to the bar to pick up the tray of drinks that the bar tender has been pouring.
Andolphas rises from his chair and gives a quick tug at the blue cloak that drapes his shoulders and clashes with his green robe, making sure that it is fastened securely. His left hand drops momentarily to his belt, where he briefly feels for the morning star and dagger that are concealed by the cloak... just to bolster his fragile sense of security. Andolphas will fall in behind either Brashen or Harrigan (whichever leads the way), hoping that the other will bring up the rear behind Boland and himself as they follow Smenk and his men to the next room.