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As you decide where to head to you suddenly hear a scream. It's close by, seeming to come from the alley down which the fragrant tramp scuttled. What you can be sure of though is that it was a womans scream and she seemed to be in dire need of aid.
But then again, it is raining, you are all tired and hungry and besides, there are lots of other individuals around the square...perhaps one of them will help?
The alley is dark and narrow, probably too narrow to swing a large weapon. About 20' down it, you can make out two shadowy individuals acosting a third. One of the figures is trying to hold a kicking and screaming woman still, using a large club that he holds across her body, whilst the other is dancing around in front of her waving a short sword. Both are laughing. Piles of rubbish lie along the sides of the alley and several rats scurry off, disturbed by the commotion. There is no sign of the tramp that ran this way.
Male human
HD 1d8+2 hp 8
Init +1 Speed 30 feet
AC 14, touch 11, flat-footed 13
BAB +1
Attack/Full Attack +4 melee (1d10+4, greatclub)
or +2 ranged (1d10, heavy crossbow)
Fort +4, Ref +1, Will –1
The thug rushes toward you, and traight onto your thrusting blade. His eyes go wide with astonishment and he looks down at the weapon, before sliding off it and onto the damp floor. The rain mixes with his blood as it drips off the cold steel.
The young woman picks herself up from where she was thrown, dusts herself down and looks to see just who it is that has come to her aid.
She has red hair and prominent freckles running across the bridge of her nose, although these are somewhat obscured by a large dollop of mud that is smeared over her face. She wears plain clothing in a way that doesnt really show off her figure, with an apron over her tunic.
"Yes. This one is frightened. Perhaps it is not wise for me and our barbarian friend to be here while you and the sorceress are trying to calm here down, and the keepers of the order should be informed of blood-letting. The two of us should go, and the two of you should talk to the girl - if everyone agrees, of course. I do not know the customs of this land or this city."
As you start to drag the man away towards the square, he strugles awake and lets out a yelp. He has heard your conversation and digs his feet into the ground.
"No, please...not the guards. Let me go 'n' Derral will tell you everythink. Just letme go...you wont be havin no more trouble from old Derral!"
He backs away from both Ilona and Num-Rah until he is leaning against a wall.
"Ok, here's how it is...I admit that i'm a member of the Pale Dogs; our
leader is Jirraith, but iv'e never actually seen him. And anyway, he didn’t send us on this job.
We were hired to kill the girl, Phon, by a man named Doffel. We each got 10 gp for the job and were each to receive another 40 gp if we
met with our employer at a warehouse on Able Row, on Theoday, two hours after dusk. Look, here's the note. You can have my 10 gold if you just let me go."
He holds out a scrap of paper and a cloth purse.
The young woman, Phon, goes to catch the purse but misses and it drops a her feet. She looks down at it, then bends to retrieve it. Her red hair falls over her face. Still crouched down, she looks up though acurtain of hair, her hand holding the purse.
"Let him go. Maybe he will learn from this, maybe he won't. But I will not have his blood on my hands. He still has time to change. But I will keep his money. It will be a donation to Brother Thisk at St. Gustavs."
"This land has strange justice! In my land a thief has his hand cut off and a murderer is hung from a tree upside down with a light slit cut in his belly. The buzzards or the great bears usually finish him," Ulven steps from the shadows where he watched the entire scene unfold. "I take it you intend to make his rendez-vous in his place and turn the tables on these would-be assassins?"
Walking down the street, Kieran notices the thug turn out of the alley and nearly run him down as he rushes past the young half-elf. Looking back at the fleeing man one eyebrow raised, he shrugs and decides to find out what all the fuss is about. He smirks, with any luck it's trouble.
Turning into the alley he sees the four companions and the young woman, as well as the thug's now-deceased accomplice. Hooking his thumbs in his belt and raising one eyebrow, he calls out to them. "You all run into a bit of trouble?" he asks dryly.
"It's pretty unusual for gold to get passed around like that to kill a random woman. You must have an enemy, that really wants you dead. I gotta feeling you want the Watch out of this. Am I right?"
Phon replies "I have no idea who would want me dead or why. I just work as a seamstress. And yes, I have no wish for this to go further. I just want no bother."
Kieran
You know the following about them:
The Pale Dogs are a gang of young thugs in Ptolus.
The Pale Dogs sometimes get hired forfreelance jobs to do unimportant work by those not affiliated with their group.
The Pale Dogs are based in the Warrens.
Other, more powerful and experienced criminals may exploit the Pale Dogs.
The Pale Dogs’ leader is a mysterious man named Jirraith.
Jirraith and the Pale Dogs ultimately work for the Balacazars.
"Nothing we're not equipped to handle," Ilona replies suspiciously, steeping across line of sight to the girl.
Kieran smirks as he steps forward just a little, trying to appear non-threatening. "As I can well see. Still, another hand is always helpful when trouble's about isn't it?" He asks, his smirk now grown into a companionable smile. " 'name's Kieran Del'gerr, I'm fairly new to the city," remembering his childhood occasionally lived in the great city, and not wishing to lie for the time being, he quickly adds, "well, new again anyway."
His smile breaks out into a wide grin. "Excellent. Thanks..." he pauses for a moment, looking up at the litorian, then at the rest of them, "uh, what exactly should I be calling you all?" He asked while he pondered the litorian's words. Likely he could tell someone was lying by their scent, he'd overheard wizards once talking about people giving off scents that most common races couldn't recognize, but the few that had sharper noses supposedly could use those scents to read a person. Kieran thought it likely that since he could stop all the visible and audible traces of deception from appearing that his body probably wouldn't react and release whatever it was the big guy could smell should he choose to lie around him, but he couldn't be sure. He'd have to tread carefully with this group.
He nods, "Well met. Sacred Spirit, huh? There's a tale or two in that that I'd like to hear once this is all done." Kieran looks back to the others. "And the rest of you?" He then glances down at the corpse at his feet and at the girl beside the darkly beautiful swordwoman, "Mind, we may want to move this discussion elsewhere. Because although it looked like you scared that other guy back there well enough to keep him from going back to the pale dogs and warning them, he still might. And even if he doesn't one of his buddies will likely be sent after him and this poor sot," he nudges the dead man with his boot, "to find out what's taking them so long."