Davin smiles and as the man compliments his new arming doublet, he preens...(while trying to not look like he is preening).
"Thank you for the offer. Now while we wait for our drinks, what can you tell us about this?"
He shows the man the two pieces of the artifact they have gathered so far.
Bhoors nods at the server to get her attention. "Maybe more Coffe than Gin." He adds, "Or a Red Eye if you know how to make it?" He notes her confusion, "Its a northern drink takes the sting out of a morning after. Looks like you have a lot of folks needing such a libation. 2 fingers of Vodka, 1/3 of a good sized mug 2/3 of a simple ale and drop a raw egg in it."
He turns back to the table to pay attention. But he looks about to see if the sudden drawing of magic stone artifacts draws the wrong kind of attention.
Bhoors, most people are blacked out cold save the bartender.
The drunk fondles the artifacts again and again "...ah. Hah...hehe...yeah this might be that cursed thangamawhatsit. If you find more yshould bringit *hic* bring it to me. F$&$ing death curse sucking all the fun out of this city..." he takes a long draught. "Yeah...f@~#ing hate party poopers."
The secretive spy network known as the Harpers frequently employs drunks, or those talented in appearing drunk, as their most forward agents. For all anyone can tell however, Soggy is genuinely wasted...
"Yeash...look, itsh gota lit *hic* little connecty thing here and there...a few more pieces to it I think. Why smash a perfectly good cursed artifact...? Somethin to do with evading diviners probably, f#&& I dunno." he slams another one.
He takes on a more serious tone, suppressing the slurs for a moment "Look, we have a plan but I can't talk about it much now. Bring any more fragments you uncover directly to me...we can't let this thing slip away." he dozes off a moment.
Shaldinari watches the others try to get information from the drunk musician, her expression going from curiosity to disgust at the man's condition and attitude.
"Pah! There's not much more this fool knows." She says with scorn and derision. "He's nothing but a drunk. Another useless Harper who thinks he's some great master information broker, can't even stay out of his cups long enough to write a two copper ode to flatulence, better yet provide actual straight answer of any use."
Leaning down on the table to get in Soggy Wren's vision, she adds with a slight sneer, "That is...unless you care to prove me wrong and give us a reason to waste any further time on your filthy hide."
She turns to Dwalar, "Wasn't there some business you we're going to check on? Perhaps they'll have something useful to offer. Something more useful than a dirty old has been covered in the stench of sour ale."
Understanding how the Harpers tend to operate, Nella stares intently at Soggy Wren, wondering how truly incapacitated he may be.
If you truly wish to see an end to this curse, inform us how we may end it.
"Ha, no one knows the answer to that! This artifact, if itsh in fact the artifact we were tipped off about, might've something to do with it though...might not. Won't know until we get *hic* get it. Best lead we've had in months... Cheers." he clinks glasses with you.
Seeing Dwalar's surprise, Shaldinari unclenches her hand from her robe long enough to reach out and offer the dwarf a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder "I'd be happy to join you." She says to the dwarf letting him know he isn't the cause of her sudden outburst.
Noticing the Harper's sudden lack of inebriation, she frowns thoughtfully and then nods slightly to herself. "As I thought." She says quietly and then mutters to herself "Never trust a harper." With a swift spin, she exits the tavern and waits for the others just outside.
You make your way through the myriad of shops and crafting houses amidst the typical bustle of The Market Ward. Dwalar remembers 2 ton Bol's villa from his time at the races recently. Alastar Bol resides in one of the fancy villas located near the wall of the raised area that supports the House of Gold. One of his many servants escorts you through the main hall to a large, covered balcony. Fat and greasy as ever, he is quick and to the point "Ah yes, the halfbeard! Welcome, welcome, come, I've an urgent matter to discuss with you and your party." he snaps his fingers at a servent while fanning his tan bald head "Fetch me that pitcher of water. Eheh, excuse me halfbeard where was I...yes the undead! Undead are loose in the Old City. Not old corpses, but the locals themselves are vanishing in the night...only to return undead later. Needless to say the Order can not tolerate this! A few days ago I sent my dearest Derio to investigate, but he too has not returned!" after this vocal exertion Alastar quickly pops 10 grapes into his mouth one after the other perhaps as a recharge.
The Red Bazaar dominates the area east of the bridge between the Grand Colosseum and the Hall of Gold. Broad rows of colorful merchant stands span across the area, many selling various meats, produce, and trade goods. Not far to the south, you arrive at Kaya’s House of Repose, one of the more prominent inns for travelers looking for a bit more opulence, as well as the last rumored location of your contact.[dice=Sleight of hand]1d20+5
Bhoors moves through the throng of people. He passes closely someone who looks rich and petty. He aims for interesting things to pilfer.
Bhoors, you lift a little writing set complete with octopus ink, pen, a bundle of note sized paper, a few envelopes, sealing wax, and the seal of a house unknown to you. All of this fits in a shiny metallic case about the size of your forearm, but thin as a deck of cards.
Bhoors notes the fame Dwalar has earned from racing. He mumbles quietly "Sounds like this dino racing can earn a fair bit of scratch. We might need to check it out."
He shrugs, "But we are probably going to set off into the bush to beat up dead things." Bhoors notes the grapes, "They make that in a liquid form too."
At the mention of wine Bol seems aghast, his double chins waggling in distaste "Come now, wine at this time of the day? We're not all snarling animals here on the peninsula. And I said nothing of the bush, though I suppose we can't rule it out. I would start by talking with the locals in the area...down by the old ziggurats I think."
"A few dozen as of a couple of days ago, maybe more now...I've lost my eyes on the area, understand. Derio was a skilled clergyman and did not take his faith nor his duties with the Order of the Gauntlet lightly. Whatever this is, its big..."
In the southwestern section of the city, a central path between two massive ziggurats of crumbling, weathered stone marks the entrance into Old City. Beyond these makeshift palaces, huts and shacks are scattered around a road passing near a third, smaller ziggurat as well as splitting around a long, stone-lined pit. Many of the locals can be seen walking alongside or in between these structures.
Nella holds very still at the mention of undead, unreadable. She shifts her stance excruciatingly slowly, turning her feet towards the door. She listens to the lazy glutton in case he says anything more of use but she is clearly coiled taught and ready to leave when the moment comes.
Bhoors notes the change in the city seeing both ruins and shanty town growing up together. "This must be the Old City."
As they move through the area Bhoors points out the Ziggurats and suggests that might be the place to start asking around. Bhoors starts up a conversation near one of the Ziggurats, "Hiya, We were looking for a friend. He came over these parts looking into people hereabouts turning up missing."
"His name was Derio. We are hoping to put a stop to kidnappings."
An elder emaciated elf saunters up from the bamboo at Bhoors introduction "Derio is known here...He received the Call of the Dead a few days ago." he states mysteriously.
Bhoors looks quizical, "What's the . . . 'Call of the Dead'? Sounds odd."
The elf nods "Its what we call it now. Understand, a few days ago a gnome calling himself 'Svirfneblout' was taking a break in a local tavern. At a most unprompted time he simply stood and claimed that Death was calling out to him...most uncharacteristic. Most uncharacteristic indeed...he was always so plucky and playful." he pauses, holding back emotion "Derio was last seen near the western end of the southernmost zigguraut...come, I show you."
He leads you around the huge fallen stones, quite ancient and covered in vines. At the same time this area of the slum called Old City is full of life, overgrown with vibrant greens of the jungle. It would be quite pleasant, if impoverished, but not for the huge refuse pile to the north unleashing the stink of the damned with every hot breath.
You reach a large clearing under the shadow of the great stone formations. There is a large bamboo hut nearby with a smaller one about 20 ft next door.
Having remained quiet for much of the journey to the ziggurat Shaldinari finally wakes from her internal fugue.
"Has anyone noticed if these folk called to death are actually dead? Do they have wounds, are their bodies rotting away, or is there other evidence of them being true undead?" Shaldinari asks their guide.
"It looks to be some bad juju at work here (wink!!). We had best proceed with caution."
Nella looks up at the old elf and stomps quickly.
Who's huts are these? Who lived here?
She somberly looks around for any clues.
"Yes, rotted and beyond consciousness...but they were much faster than the undead of our Tel'Quissir legends. Also...changed...foreign claws extended from their old hands, like velociraptor claws..."
Bjorn, the two main ziggurats here are sarcastically called "The Beggar's Palaces" and are covered in a variety of little living shacks and market stalls filled with trinkets. You would be able to find some holy water of questionable value there (10 gp). The nearest temple is Gond's, back in the Merchant's Ward, where you could find some for 25 gp.
"I've got a single flask of Holy Water." Shaldinari says to Bjorn. "But you're right, it's probably prudent to get a bit more. Unless anyone else happens to already be carrying some." She adds looking to the rest of the group.
Nella shakes her head in the negative but the stony look on her face seems to say she has little patience when unnatural things are terrorizing the unfortunate. But she sighs and is willing to wait if necessary.
Holy Water: buying one? which kind (10 or 25)
Shal No
Nella No
Bjorn ?
Dwalar ?
Davin ?
Bhoors ?
As an action, you can splash the contents of this flask onto a creature within 5 feet of you or throw it up to 20 feet, shattering it on impact. In either case, make a ranged attack against a target creature, treating the holy water as an improvised weapon. If the target is a fiend or undead, it takes 2d6 radiant damage.
Holy Water: buying one? which kind (10 or 25)
Shal No
Nella No
Bjorn Yes 25
Dwalar Yes 10
Davin ?
Bhoors ?
The nearest hut has a little lean to thatch door, with an old rusty latch keeping it shut.
Who's huts are these? Who lived here?
"Ah, this is master Viplo's compound, a good man. A skilled brewer, have you tasted the wine made from fermented banana and pineapple? Eh...some call it 'tepache'. I believe he keeps his stills in the larger hut, not sure what is in this small one."
Nella, you can hear some heavy panting noises coming from the small hut, sounds like someone with a cold having trouble breathing.