Felgar steps forward.
Then you need to be tellin' us his name and where we can talk t'the guy in charge.
Vyshael tries to suppress a smirk at the dwarf's comments, Exactly the sort of thing I'd have said... but then, I keep getting kicked out of places...
Rutter slaps the dwarf on the back. "Whoa! You just heard her: she ain't his secretary! We can find him on our own. Let's let her deal with the patients." He gives an apologetic wave to the nurse, careful to position his waving hand in front of his face as much as possible, as he pulls Felgar with the other hand towards the curtained archway. "Sorry to trouble you, ma'am! We'll let you get back to the patients."
The heavyset nurse, appearing much bigger after she stands, moves over and places her large body between the curtain and the approaching halfling. "Don't try it runt. No one gets through that curtain without their name getting called. No one gets their name called, without being on my sign in sheet, and no one goes on my sign in sheet unless they're sick. Are you sick, and need to be a patient of this here Hospice? If so, then that lady saying you was here to help ain't much help."
Neva began to fume at the woman, barely able to keep her temper in check.
Felgar steps close to the nurse.
We be members of the Korvosan Guard, here on official business. If'n you're not removin' yerself. I will be doin' it fer ya, ma'am.
The burly nurse is not budging in the least, she calmy replies back, through clenched teeth. "Listen you hairy lout. I don't give a damn if you're Queen Ileosa herself. I work for Dr. Davaulus, and he says I ain't to let nobody back there unless they name's been called. Now you can either leave, or I'll call the Grey Maidens and have them escort you out." She jerks a meaty thumb over her shoulder to indicate the space behind the curtain.
Vyshael sighs, I suddenly understand why my classmates liked their illusion and enchantment spells...
He says, with an overly calm voice, trying to keep his righteous fury in check, "None of us are ill now, though some of us were, but are no longer. We have cured the disease and thought that your doctor would benefit from our knowledge and experience. However, since you'd rather let the patients supposedly under your care die because of the names on a list.... well, so be it."
He turns to the group, and says in a loud whisper, "It'll be a shame when the disease takes what's left of her small mind, but at least, then, we might be able to deal with someone reasonable."
Rutter gets an evil gleam in his eye, but he lets his rage (appear to) pass. "That's alright, that's alright. If the official response is to turn away help and let more people die, we can't dispute that. How do you feel about that, though, lady? Let's say we could save just one person if we were allowed to help. But since our help's being turned away, that person's going to die. You okay with that?" The malicious gleam returns as he awaits her answer.
Felgar crosses his arms and arches an eyebrow to see how it plays out, as he stares at the large woman.
Well played, friends, well played, indeed.
It took Neva a few moments to catch on to the stratagem, but when she did, she struck a pose similar to Felgar's.
Yes! What they said, you fat cow!
The nurse shrugs and gives you the 'scoot' motion with her hand, "I ain't one of the healers, I'm just supposed to sit here, take down names, and not let anyone in until their name's been called. If you wants to tell the Dr. you got some cure, you need to figure out how to arrange a meeting with him. It's not my job."
Rutter's smile is genuine. That was the most important question anyone's ever asked you in your life, lady. "That's disappointing, but I understand. Well, if we do manage to meet with him, we'll let him know at least one of his nurses is following his orders in perfect fashion. What's your name, so we can tell him you deserve a raise? Don't want to accidentally give the credit to the nurse on one of the other shifts!"
She actually seems quite proud to have turned away the unruly lot, and adds "There are no others that sit the desk. I'm here from open to close. But if you want to give him my name, it's Bhrunlida."
Rutter leads the way back outside. Back at our safehouse he tells them, "I'm going to head back and keep watch. See what the place looks like when they close."
He collects a bit of gear and then returns to find a place to hide in view of the Hospice.
As Rutter returns to the vicinity of the building, he is able to watch the goings on for a bit. For the most part it is uneventful, a few stragglers wander in to self-admit. Later one of the wagons used by the Grey maidens and physicians arrives and unloads some of the sick, most of them seem reluctant to receive treatment, and are as such treated a little roughly to get them into the building. From inside the building can be heard the groaning of the sick and dying, much quieter from outside than it was when you were in the front office. A little after dark, your favorite desk nurse leaves the front door, but she is the only one to go.
The hours waiting have softened Rutter's anger at the rude nurse. That, and considering that he might follow her home, just to find out she has roommates or family in the way. It's not like he wants to kill all of them. Plus, a new idea had been forming. That's what I figured. Obviously, they don't leave the place empty overnight. But if the patients aren't tended to by nurses, then that means more docs. Maybe Grey Maidens. He rubs the plaguey sores still on his face from his last bout with the Blood Veil. And if I get caught, I have an excuse. Rutter takes a walk around the building, double-checking for any other exits that the employees may have used to leave while he was watching the front. He hides again and waits, watching the exit until closer to the witching hour, then he slinks across the street to the door.
Once inside, Rutter heads to the nurse's sign-in desk. He then sneaks a peek behind the curtain before deciding whether to head back.
Neva paced for a while. She didn't like it when Rutter went off on his own like this.
But she couldn't blame him. She wasn't good at that sort of thing.
In a moment of appropriate coincidence, her feet began to ache, so she sat down to rub them.
In staking out the building, Rutter notices that the only other doors are the three large loading bay doors. They are each about two-stories tall, and look like they are made of heavy wood. As the evening passes, he notices that neither Gray Maidens nor physicians emerged after the last cart brought patients in. Sadly, none of the physicians looked small enough for him to pass as any of them in a pinch. As he nears the door and inspects it, he can hear the sounds of talking on the other side. It sounds like idle chatter between two females, if not in the front room itself, then just beyond the covered doorway to the hospice proper.
Rutter looks up, wondering for a moment if it would be worthwhile to climb to the roof to look for another access. Oh, well. Hopefully I'll get sick again, so I'll have a reason to come back.
Frustrated, he stops for a drink before he heads back to the group's HQ.
"The docs and Grey Maidens crash at the Hospice all night, and it sounds like they have guards in the front room overnight. I don't know where the docs stay when their shift is up. I understand docs need to be available all night, but all of them?"
The tie to th'boat be overwhelmin, no? Mahap we should be checkin' that out again.
Still nervous about the Doctors, Neva agreed. "Let's go to where the ship sunk."
Vyshael nods, "That seems more like it might be a better course of action..... and it reduces the odds I burn a nurse to cinders."
Neva heads off to the place where they last encountered the ship. She began taking off gear and armor so that she stood in her old peasant's shift.
She pulled out the enigmatic magical dagger.
"Come, let us hurry. I'd rather be drowned be some sunken evil than arrested for indecency at my age."
I do be sinkin' like a rock, but I am with ya. Lady Neva, do ya be needin' me to doff me armor too?
Vyshael offers, "If you think there'll be a fight as soon as we get there, I can protect one of you with mage armour, by way of my arcane bond."
"Well, our associate said there was a shark down there, if he hasn't moved on by now. Keep in mind, weapons through water may not be as efficient. Something like a dagger or spear might be okay, but the water's gonna slow down your arm if you're tryin' to swing an axe or mace."
Vyshael nods, "Combat with a shark while in the water would be a problem. I can alter myself into a lizardfolk, which would help me, though that doesn't last as long as we might like."
As you make your way from the hideout, through the city streets, and toward the docks near the sunken ship, you are approached by a familiar figure. The man is coming north, dressed in the clothes of a common man, but this acquaintance was at other times seen in the garb of an Abadarian priest. Ishani seems slightly winded as he nears, "Blessed Abadar, I found you. I had gone to the Citadel, but you had not been there in a couple days. In the interests of finding a cure, I had hoped I could ask a favor? There is a perfumery by the name of Lavender. The owner, Vendra Loaggri, has been selling a cure to the disease. Could you investigate it and find out if it is legitimate? The Vault is willing to offer you each two-hundred fifty gold for a complete report."
"Yeah, I guess so... we were just going for a swim. Let's swing back and collect some other things. Where is this place? Wonder how many people she's selling the cure to? Doubt the people being afflicted can even afford her regular wares, and I doubt anyone in her line would lower her price just because people's lives depend on it."
"Is there some way to tell it's a fraud, aside from trying it on someone? And do we have any authority to do anything, whether it's true or fraudulent?"
Aye, this be a necessary stop.
Ishani replies with as much information as he knows, "She has a shop in the Heights, roughly between Castle Korvosa and the Acadamae, but closer to the latter. Word of a cure would spread quickly, so there's no telling how many customers she has sold to already, but she is charging them two gold apiece. As for how you will investigate, I am at a loss. I came to you all because you are not only capable, but have the authority of being attached to the Korvosan Guard in case you need to take action."
Well, I'd rather check in on this Loaggri woman than swim in the Jeggare, so let's go. As Rutter says, let's swing back and collect some other things, and then we can go."
Vyshael nods, "This does sound somewhat more promising... and we can always take our moonlight swim later, if need be."
Swinging back by the hideout, Rutter picks up the manacles and lock. "In case we need to arrest her. Hmph. Me acting the guard..."
When everyone else is ready, he'll lead the way, following the directions to this Lavender place. True to his history, he stops across the street to look at the place. "Lemme case the back of the joint." He'll take a wide circuit of the building to look for other exits (or entrances).
True to her own history, Neva fidgeted as Rutter left. "I get nervous when he's off on his own like this."
But she did her best to look like a normal person on the street.
Vyshael says reassuringly, "I'm sure he's got the good sense to make a lot of noise if something happens -- and we'll rush in."
Neva smiled appreciatively at Vyshael's comforting, and placed a hand on his shoulder in thanks.
As you near the vicinity where Ishani instructed you would find the shop, it becomes apparent that will be easy to find. A queue of eager Korvosans stands in a line that stretches nearly four blocks from the perfumery’s distinctive amethyst-shaded windows. Many of these people look healthy, but several bear the obvious hacking, blistered symptoms of blood veil. The line threads through the street and into the store. As you pass by many onlookers can be heard expressing concern or complaint about the possibility of some toughs forcing their way to the front of the line.
As Rutter moves to check out the environs he follows a few small alleys, much like all of those that travel through the cramped housing of the large city. From what he can tell, there is once entrance into and out of the building, cramped with a line of citizens seeking a cure at almost any expense.
Rutter returns to share the bad news. "Looks like we'll have to bully our way in. Or I come back tonight and steal a sample. And the money she's collecting. If we find it's a bogus cure, we'll 'redistribute' her earnings."
Neva rolled her eyes at Rutter's talk of theft.
"Let's go have a talk with this woman, and see what we can learn. The crowd won't like us cutting in line, but maybe we can keep them calm."
She remembered the fiasco at the Vault of Abadar.
"What could go wrong?" she added wryly
Ok, let's do this!
Felgar leads the way forward.
Be clearin' the way in the name o'the Guard!
Vyshael smiles and asks wryly, "Do you want a list?", then chuckles and follows the dwarf.
Neva followed as well, adopting once again her persona of The Midwife: officious, confident, no-nonsense. She hoped that the combination of body language and officious stares and pronouncements would convince the crowd she was here on important business.
"At ease! City guardsmen coming through. We just need to speak with the shopkeep, we're not here to take her supply. You're all still in line."
The crowd grumbles and groans with the guard pushing its way through, but dare not try and act up. With the plague going around, there's nowhere near enough healthy people to put up much more of a fight beyond the angry mumbles.
A menagerie of heady scents twists throughout the cramped but stylish perfumery. A dizzying assortment of bottles, from gaudy ceramic containers to graceful crystalline vials, lines a variety of lace and ribbon-strewn tables, shelves, racks, and an eye-catching display in the wide front window. Across from the front door’s orchid-tinted glass panes runs a long counter, stacked high with hundreds of simple clay phials bearing round, magenta stoppers. Behind the counter, violet flourishes swoop across a sign reading, “Lavender’s Luxuriant Liniment: Either You’ve Got It, or You’ve Had It.”
Rutter looks at all the frilly crap around the store. "No wonder I didn't know this place. I pay women to know about this place."
He looks at the sign, presumably advertising the cure. "Okay... now that's tasteless. If I wasn't doobious before..."
Aye, let's get some help out here. HAIL THE SHOPKEEPER!
Vyshael shakes his head, Selling false hope... Profiting from panic....., feeling anger and magic welling up within him. Calmly now, let's learn the truth before rushing to judgement...