Raliscar grimaces as he catches view of the chamber beyond the door Rutter opened, "Well, that's as grisly a sight as I've seen. No wonder there're sharks an' worse about."
"Well, skulls on things is never a good sign. Combined with that doctor in the other cabin and his little 'disease god' totem... it'd be enough to convict a pinchless pauper, but I think Kroft would want something more substantial before she moved on the Queen's doctors."
"Let's check the other deck." Rutter leads the way through the turned over stairwell into the other 'room'.
"And Kroft won't have the freedom to move so openly against the Queen."
Vyshael says, "Pieces of death are a wonderful way to carry a plague.. I've heard takes of such being used in sieges to weaken the defenders or poison the water supply. I think we're on the right track. "
"Well, then, back to the surface, finally? I'm looking forward to feeling something under my feet again."
"Aren't we needin' a sample or somethin? Might the healers make use of it to fight the sickness floodin' the city?" Raliscar looks to everyone, but seems to direct his question to Neva more than the others.
Vyshael shrugs, "If this is it, then I guess we'd best. "
Let's be takin' one of the boxes and be tellin' everyone to not be usin' water supplied from this ere' source.
"Yes, Raliscar, it might help...let's take the box. With it, the mask, and the strange beetle necklace, we should be able to learn more about the Queen's physicians and if they're linked to this ship and the plague."
Vyshael says, "Likely the diseased bits have been pickled by the salt water. We'll take a chest with us, just in case. I think it's safe to say we've found the source of the plague -- if not proof of it."
"So what good does that do us? If we can't prove anything, it'll be nigh impossible to hold someone responsible for the mess. And it's not as if there's anything left here that can help cure the blasted plague. So what was the point o' this jolly swim if the only thing we're leaving here with more of is shark-teeth shaped holes in our bodies?!"
Frustrated and obviously feeling stymied by what he sees as a largely dead-end, Raliscar throws his hands up in the water and begins making his way out of the hold, grabbing a stamped box and grumbling loudly as he goes.
"Well, it might not be enough proof for Kroft and others in the city, but it's enough for me to feel comfortable breaking into the Hospice to see what else is happening in there. We might find more proof, or at least have our fears allayed. But given what we've seen, I'll be damned if I just walk away."
After returning the boat whence it came, Rutter returns with the group to their place. He changes into drier clothes, and then examines the totem, the box, and the doctor's outfit. "So I wonder if all these doctors are carrying one of these amulets? Pfft. They'd probably just say they wear the god's charm to ward off the disease from themselves. Is there any positive side to this god, whatshisname? Like Pharasma is death and birth, y'know?"
Neva hrumpfed in grumpy acknowledgement of Rutter's arguments.
She gave the items a desultory review with her magical powers.
There is nothing spectacular about the symbol, box, mask, or robes, specifically nothing magical. The symbol itself, just for being a bronze carving could net about fifteen gold. The box, despite the very dark and morbid motif, is actually very well made and of quality material. The thing could probably turn a profit of a hundred fifty.
"Crap. We may need to go back down there for more of these boxes. I wonder how Doc Davaulus would react if those things started showing up all over town?"
Neva rearranged some of her drying clothes on a chair and growled, "Let's get some rest and then go ask him."
Vyshael says, "If we do go back, at least, we know the hag is there and can be ready for her. And maybe I can think of a shape that already has natural weapons.. "
"Yer wantin' ta go back down into the muddy slop?! You lot are crazier than ye look!"
I not be likin' a return either cuz.
"Oh, we're not going back into the Jeggare ever again, if I can help it. Let's get dried, rested and fed, and then I think it's time to pay another visit to the Hospice."
Her anger was getting the best of her and she knew it. But that realization didn't help her control her temper.
"And if you folks can't think of a better way, I'll likely just march up and knock on the cursed door, I'm so mad."
Raliscar chuckles, "Ha! Somethin's lit a fire in yer belly, Neva! If ye think there's foulness behind the doors o' th' hospice, I'll help ye bust 'em down if'n ye like." He rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck by bouncing his head from side to side, a grin peaking out from beneath his beard. "Do a dwarf some good ta get into a tussle back on solid ground, I can tell ye that. Swimmin's for th' fishes! And, ah, also for Vyshael, apparently." He offers the half-elf a jovial wink as he slaps his cousin on the back, laughing at his own joke.
Vyshael chuckles, "Only when I'm feeling froggish. However, I'm all for not going back."
He sighs, "Still, we should probably report on the nothing we found, dry off, have a nice dinner of something other than seafood and some wine or ale before deciding our next step. I'd hate to die just because we were being rash... Desna know I came close enough to that when I charged the hag!"
"I don't know. If we could get 150 gold sails for each of those boxes... gods, how many were there? Let's say there were only 20, that's 150 times 2 is 300 times 10 is If there's 40, that's Oh man... we've had worse paydays than that!" He rubs his hands together in revelry, then becomes conscientious of his hygiene. He sniffs under his arm, though the smell was hardly localized, "Whoo, I got too much money to smell like the Jeggare! I'll meet y'all here in the morning."
He slides on his wet boots, and tips his wet hat before heading out the door to find a 'lady' to provide him a bath and a bed.
Neva stops herself from scolding Rutter as he leaves with obviously salacious intent.
Let him go. He almost died today.
With that, she started to brew herself a pot of tea, slamming the pots down angrily.
I should write out some prayers.
Neva began to arrange things for her writing: tea, paper, ink. The semi-ritual was calming and she soon sat down to copy some heartfelt prayers onto her pieces of parchment.
The tea was warm, the paper crisp, and the ink was....empty.
Well, that's just perfect! she fumed.
Neva got up and stomped off to bed.
Raliscar throws himself into the wall of the hallway as Neva rounds the corner in a huff, nearly plowing him over. "Whoa there, lass! That fire still burnin' in yer belly or has somethin' else put some pep in yer steps? Ha! Nearly bowled me over there." He looks up at the normally reserved woman and offers a wink and a grin. "What's troublin' ye, lass? I was about to fix myself some tea if ye'd care ta join me?"
Neva tried to avoid a collision with Raliscar, failed, and then helped straighten him up. She placed her hands on his shoulders in apology.
"I'm just so angry! All these people sick, and these fake doctors, and Rutter almost dying. I just..." Her voice trailed off and tears welled up in her eyes.
But the irrepressible dwarf with the grin and the wink had a beneficial impact on her. She blinked the tears away with a laugh and looked to the ceiling with a sigh.
"I've made some tea, and I'd be happy to share it with you. While I'm out of ink for writing, I think your company will do better than prayers right now."
She took his hand and led him back to the common room.
"Aw, it's kind of ye to fuss over Rutter but the lad's fine. Might not be keen to go for a swim any time soon, but then neither am I! Ha!" He waves Neva over to the table and takes a seat himself, pouring her a cup first then pouring his own. He breathes the aroma in deeply then scratches his beard. Snapping his fingers with a grin, he fishes the bundle of herbs and leaves from his pocket he'd been planning to use and plucks out a small hunk of what looks to be bark. "I like mine with a bit more spice than what I've found to be typical in Korvosa," he explains with a wink as he slips it into his cup. He offers another small hunk to Neva, bouncing his eyebrows as if to dare her to try it.
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Neva took the proffered hunk of bark and tentatively swirled it in her tea. She took the now-moist bit out again and sniffed, a smile growing on her face as she did so.
"That smells nice"
She touched the bark to her tongue, but pulled away with a grimace. "Oooh! That's bitter. Maybe just in small doses."
She stirred the bark a few more times around her cup and then set it dripping on the saucer.
"You're right of course about Rutter. I think I'm more upset about it than he is. I guess it just seemed like we were all going to die down there."
She paused for a moment and took a sip of her tea. She nodded that she liked the flavor, but her smile faded quickly and she became serious again.
"Raliscar, I've spent my whole life just trying to be a simple midwife who tended to the needs of the poor. My parents, Lady judge them gently, were always a bit disappointed I didn't make more of my gifts. And Zellara, especially, thought that I could do even greater things. She thought I SHOULD do greater things. But I wanted to see the beautiful, beginning parts of life: new marriages, new babies. I guess I didn't want to see the other stuff. I was afraid of it.
But being with you all this short time, I've realized I can do more. And this plague and the suffering it has caused..." her voice trailed off for a moment.
"Down there in the Jeggare, when it didn't look good, and Rutter's blood, and Vyhs' and yours and Felgar's too was all I could see. Well, a part of me kept thinking, 'they're going to get away with it'.. The people who did this. The ones who have murdered all the people who have died of this plague; the ones who have torn apart so many families with loss and grief." She paused again, and her face was grim.
"I want them to pay. I don't care who they are, or who they know, or what magics or powers they can call upon. I want to find them, and make them pay for their crimes."
She gave a sad little laugh. "I just don't know how." Tears welled up in her eyes and she took another sip of her tea.
"It really is good, Ral. Thank you. Thank you for everything."
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"Ah, Neva, but yer a kind woman in an unkind time." He takes a sip of his tea and sighs as he swallows it down, letting the warmth ripple through him. "Do you know what I did before that runt cousin o' mine asked me to help you lot? I'd escort travelers from Korvosa to other settlements in the area. See, it used to be that the wilds was where all the real danger dwelt. Folk, huddled together in their cities behind their walls were pretty well safe and they kept roads between cities safe too. Over time though, the roads stopped being quite so secure and travelers needed folk like me to help make sure they got from here to there without bandits or beasties fallin' on 'em in the middle. Been that way for longer than any of us have been 'round, sadly. Now though, there's just as much danger on a city street as there is in the furthest wilderness. The danger looks different sure, but a dagger in the dark can kill just as sure as the jaws of some terrifying beast, don't ye doubt." He takes another sip and taps the rim of his cup, watching the ripples shine in the surface of the drink.
"Thing is, Neva, it isn't jus' plague this city's sick with. Plague is a terrible, terrible thing, took my wife from me years back if ye didn't know, an' it's something we'd be right to fight as best we may. But that's more just a symptom at this point of what's wrong with th' city, far as I see things. There's a sickness upon it that isn't plague, a rot that's somewhere up at th' top and running down and ruining everythin' underneath. You're right to want justice like you do, its precious scarce these days. But, from what I've gathered, you an' the others have been bringing some with you where ever ye go."
He looks up from his tea and holds Neva's gaze before taking another sip. "It might take some time, but we'll do our best to stop those who're making things worse for those who're already trod underfoot, lass." He smiles warmly and raises his cup, "This is good, by the way. If ye get tired o' being a meddlsome dogooder at any point you'd do well runnin' a tea shop."
Neva's eyes shone above a spreading smile as she reached out and clasped Raliscar's hand.
"A tea shop would be wonderful. But you'll have to provide the exotic herbs and spices. I think Korvosans would like that, once they're past all this. Maybe we'd even make enough money for Rutter to settle down and help us out."
She chuckled at the thought and refilled her cup.
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Vyshael watches his new companions for a moment before heading up to find a warm bath... I could use my magic to clean me, but tonight, even at the cost of a few silvers, it seems far better to just soak in some warmth.... And not the kind the Halfling seemed interested in... He chuckles slightly at the thought, Not that I begrudge him finding comfort wherever he may... It's times like these that I miss that stupid little cottage in the woods... Liir, Tinranael... and especially Rakesh. I wonder if I could figure out a way to summon little Foxface? He, at least, would be immune to the plague. With that briefly happy thought, the elf slides himself into the tub of warm water with a sigh.
Raliscar and Neva seem to be more actual friends than comerades-at-arms.... It must be nice to find someone with whom you can open up and be yourself.... especially considering the upheaval and cloud of paranoid distrust that has settled over the city these last few weeks. Just more proof that sometimes you don't need fell magic to really lay a curse on a place.... though that's the sort of thinking that'd get a body kicked out of the Academae.... With that thought, he finds himself smirking wryly, ...of course, so will being accused of murder..
The elf allows himself to slide down in the bathtub, the warm water rising over first over his smirk, then his nose, eyes and eartips until the warm water washes away all other thoughts, leaving only a strange, peaceful quiet.... even if that feeling is a fleeting one.
Later that evening, before going to bed, Neva sat down to transcribe her prayers.
Neva looked at her work with satisfaction, but as she stood up, she knocked the ink bottle and almost spilled its contents on her finished prayers. Her heart pounding at the near miss, she let out a sigh of relief and gingerly replaced the stopper.
Raliscar waves Neva away from the kettle and cups once they're finished with the tea. "Bah! Don't ye touch that! Get yerself ta bed and leave th' mess ta me. We'll deal wi' th' bigger mess o' that hospice tomorrow." He tidies up once Neva's retired then wanders off in search of his cousin to while away another hour or two before he's ready for bed himself. "Runt! There ye be! I just walked by th' wash room and Vyshael drew himself a bath, can ye believe it?! Figured wadin' in the Jeggare would be enough water for anyone, but that crazy elf 'parently didn't get 'is fill." He shakes his head in amused bewilderment, slaps his cousin's feet off the edge of the cot to make room for him, then plops down and extends a narrow pipe to Felgar. "Oh, don't look at me like tha'. You weren't asleep. Here, sit up and chat wi' yer cousin, ya lump."
---
In the morning, Raliscar prepares himself for the day's visit to the hospice, finding comfort in the thought that he'd be on dry, solid ground for the whole of the day. "No sewers... no mucky, murky rivers... nuthin' tryin' ta make a lunch out o' me. Today'll be a welcome change of pace. Ha!"
All that swimmin' done tuckered me out.
He grabs the preferred pipe.
Saw ya chattin' it up with me lady. She be quite the mother of this group, eh?
"She's certainly got a protectiveness about her. Had that same iron look in her eye tha' yer mom used ta get when one o' us would come back bleedin' or brusied or worse. Ha!" Raliscar grins at the memory and scratches his beard, "It's good ye've had one like her lookin' out for you lot and patchin' you up. Speakin' o' that - how're you doin'? You kept yer head about yerself down in that murk, but I've seen you after a fight before an' ye looked just about as bad I've even seen ya by th' time that bloated hag bolted off inta the deep. You all patched up or do I need ta go get us somethin' stiff fer drinkin'?"
I wouldna' turn down more healin'. That hag tore me up good.
Vyshael wakes, his mood somewhat better despite the frustration rolling inside him, Apparently, sleeping didn't give me any new ideas as to what to do next, he sighs.
He swings his legs off the bed and looks across the room to the small worktable upon which he rested both his sword and his spellbook, each reminding of him of his hard-won skill, each providing him with a sense of security and comfort before the frustration washes over him again, I don't even know what spells to prepare....
He stands and crosses the room, sliding the scabbard and belt over his shoulder, then lifting the book... and setting it into his pack. I'll need to talk to the others, just in case someone's had an idea... who knows, maybe I'll even have the right magic to help...
He sighs one last time and then heads back to the common room, looking for his companions... and a strong cup of black tea.
Neva walked out from her room wiping her fingers clean and cursing softly to herself.
She smiled at Felgar and Raliscar talking with each other. But she gasped when she saw blood seeping through Felgar's shirt.
"Oh, dearest, let me take care of that! Why didn't you say anything!?"
She began a lengthy process on the dwarf that was equal parts concern, healing and scolding.
Thanks s'much, me lady.
Raliscar barks a laugh at his cousin's confession, "BWAHA! Well of course she tore you up! What'd you expect would happen after getting up in tha' crusty, ass-ugly tart's face?" He shakes his head and chuckles, "A trusty crossbow, runt. A trusty crossbow. You should consider it!" He chuckles again and nods at Neva as she provides her care. "Talk some sense into him, Neva. He always gave me such grief for usin' that crossbow o' mine, accusin' me o' cowardice and all manner of traits unbecoming of dwarves. Think now he'll realize it's just 'cuz I don't like gettin' bit? HA!" He slaps his cousin's leg jovially and excuses himself with a wave as he turns in for the night.
----
"Vyshael! Finally pulled yerself away from the water, I see. Here, have some coffee if ye care to. It's stronger'n some prefer, so I put a kettle on for some tea too if ye'd rather that. Any thoughts for how to rough up them troublemakers at the hospice? And jus' so ye know, if you're about ta say 'by kickin' in th' door and breakin' some teeth,' well then you'd be singin' my song!" He kicks out a chair and gestures to a kettle on the table, steam wafting from its spout. Behind him, another kettle rattles atop a small flame, nearly ready to whistle.
Vyshael chuckles, "Well, I'd probably blast the door to splinters with magic, just to make a more dramatic entrance... but aye, that does seem to agree with my mood and sensibilities..." and makes his way to the coffee.
He takes a sip and winces a little, Trust a dwarf to make coffee strong enough to shock your system awake..., then says, "Figured I'd best wash off the salt, slime and blood... especially since so much of it was mine.... and just being warm was a nice change, too."
He takes the offered seat with a smile, "Seriously, though, days like this, I wish I'd have paid more attention learning about Illusion and Enchantments.... Subtlety might be helpful, maybe to try to sneak our way in or convince someone to tell us what's happening.... Sadly, though, my mind and personality align with the more... dramatic... magics."