Vyshael says, "I don't know. If we swing him at the door hard enough, it could work."
Neva smiled grimly at Raliscar and Vyshael's dark humor.
"So, we're thinking Rolth is set up at the Hospice? Wouldn't hurt to check his old quarters, anyway. If he hadn't returned, we can take another look for loot."
"I don't remember a way to sneak into the Hospice. That wererat nest gave me another idea, though. We can see if there's any tunnels underneath that lead to any drainage grates inside."
"If we have to break in through the front, we still have that eversmoking bottle. I don't know how to use it, though. We can go during the day and open the bottle in the waiting room, and then sneak past that nurse in the smoke, or go during the night and maybe sneak it in to cover our entrance into the waiting room, but the guards there will know something's up and call for reinforcements, and they may retreat to guard the hall, anyway, so we'd still have to fight them."
Vyshael says, "Illusion magic isn't my strength, but I might be able to manage something. Still, conjuring fog and smoke are far more my bailiwick."
He shrugs, "As would something more fun -- creating a distraction."
"I'm thinkin' you might be on to somethin' there, Rutter. There's got to be more'n just that front door they're usin' if they're as up to as little good as we're guessin'. Though if we go rootin' around in those sewers again an' some flamin' otyugh tries ta make me lunch again, I'm not going to be the least bit amused."
As they reached their house, Neva began dividing the treasure out on a table.
She lightly stroked the crossbow, impressed with its obvious beauty. But she remembered their agreement on how treasure was to be shared, and didn't want to be greedy with her friends.
"Unless someone wants to use this, I suggest we sell it for gold. I'm a bit low, and need to buy some ink and paper. Plus I owe you all for my boots."
The potions she turned over in her hands, examining the seals and holding the vials up to a candle to check the color and consistency of the liquid.
"These seem good, but others probably need them more than us, Lady be thanked. I wonder if we should give them to Kroft? She might put them to good use."
What do we want to do with the crossbow? Raliscar already has a +1 heavy to suit his build, and while Neva uses a crossbow and wouldn't mind the magic weapon, would prefer the boots, for which she still owes money.
So, unless anyone wants it, it seems fair to sell it for cash and Neva will use her share of that cash to pay off more of the boots.
Neva will take half the crossbow bolts, and Raliscar can have the rest (15 each to both PCs).
The potions of Remove Disease are interesting. That's a domain spell for me, and so we could either sell them, or give to to an ally as a gift. Perhaps Church of Abadar or to Kroft?
Is anyone taking the glammered studded leather?
I'm good with a sell everything approach. (remove disease notwithstanding -- I'm thinking that, given the plague, an ally is the way to go..)
I don't have any particular need for any of that stuff, though the 15 additional bolts are welcome in the quiver. Personally, I don't get particularly bent out shape with uneven loot distributions so long as everyone is having fun. If Neva wanted a nice crossbow and the boots as well, I'd be quite fine with that.
I do like the possibility of gifting the potions to one of the groups or factions we frequently bump into. I think that's a great idea.
After taking the rest of the day, spent chasing and questioning the madwoman, to recover, the gang discusses loot and their plans. The next morning, the trip to Rolth's cave netted no results. The place actually looked in a state of disarray, like either looters picked through what was left, or someone throwing a fit, possibly both. Changing focus, the next destination is the sewers. Getting in, and around the hospice, took a little planning and unrequested aid. After only a stint in the filthy tunnels, Eries Yelloweyes found you and helped you find your way around, but no signs of hidden or alternate entrances into the former warehouse exist.
The day was mostly a bust, except for the silver lining of knowing that the two locales were not options. The evening begins to set in, the stink of the sewers clings heavily to you, and the day has been a long one. It is the early evening, and the light of the moon is just starting to take over for the waning light of sunset.
After the fruitless seach, Rutter takes his leave to get a bath at a nearby brothel. When he returns, he sits down and kicks his heels up on the chair opposite him. He had to slump a bit in his seat in order to reach it.
"Well, how else can we approach this? Even if any of us can infiltrate the place in disguise, we can't all do it. We know there's at least two Maidens waiting inside the waiting room during the night. It'd be hard to take them out before they alert any guards further in the Hospice. We could send one person in early, claiming to be sick - if they're not strapped down, they might be able to open another entrance, or help out with the assault from behind the guards. If we all go in at once, during the day or night, we can use the eversmoking bottle to create a cover. Then we steal past in the smoke, before they know we've left the front room."
"Well, I'm certainly no strategist, and simply feel it is time to confront these Maidens and the so-called 'Doctor'. If they've nothing to hide, they won't begrudge us entrance. But I understand your concerns. Perhaps one of us can be disguised and enter, then letting the smoke out so the others can enter unidentified? Sadly, I'm less worried about the defenders of the Hospice than about the political repercussions for us and Kroft. This won't be some sewer dwellers nor a madwoman murderer without friends we'll be crossing."
"Well, of course they wouldn't begrudge us entrance if they were on the up an' up, lass. The problem is that they're most certainly up to some sort o' no good in there and they'll be begrudging us every which way they can." Raliscar shakes his head and throws his calloused hands up in the air in frustration. "An' don't think for a second I'm alright wi' the fact we went back down inta those otyugh-infested tunnels for naught but catchin' a stink! This doctor's got even more ta answer for now, if ye ask me."
He scratches his chin, and looks from Rutter to Vyshael. "If they aren't gettin' in by the sewers, and they aren't just usin' th' front door, how else are they gettin' in tha' wretched hole? They usin' magics or something, you think?"
Vyshael says, "If we think the infiltration is a relatively quick thing, I can turn into something else. A human, for example. But that'll only last a few minutes -- though I could probably make a distraction that way, if we think that'd get the rest of you in."
He shrugs at Raliscar, "There's magic that could do that -- but magic is often expensive. Wouldn't shock me to know they have tunnels or other secret access. "
"Are there buildin's adjacent to th' place? If they're usin' tunnels tha' aren't connected ta the sewers, then they likely don't run all that far."
Rutter lifts his head, and looks around. He pats himself down, to verify that he has his belongings, taking special care to check his new boots, his ring, and his gold pouch, light as it was.
"I thought my days of waking up in unfamiliar places were behind me! I might as well start drinking again if this is going to happen anyway!" He thinks back to what he remembered from the night before, and tries to get his bearings while standing up.
Neva woke early.
Rutter didn't come home last night? He really should stay away from those brothels. He's going to catch something as bad as the Blood Veil.
The grate doesn't move. It is more of a series of bars built into the street. Regardless, it doesn't take long to find another one nearby, one of the bars already missing, and allowing the halfling to wriggle out with just a little effort. Getting street side, it's easy to tell that he isn't all that far from the Citadel itself, and Zellara's old place is on the way.
Rutter takes a look around as he emerges onto the street, checking if anyone's watching for him. If he doesn't see any possible culprits, he makes his way back to the safehouse, taking a circuitous route, trying to determine and shake anyone following him.
When he gets back to the safehouse, he eyes his partners suspiciously. "Someone want to tell me what the crap happened last night?!"
Vyshael shrugs, "You went out, as you often do."
"An' I'm guessin' from yer look an' smell that yer second trip wasn't to the brothel." Raliscar wrinkles his nose and waves his hand in front of his face as Rutter moves closer.
"Oh, dear!" Neva gasped at Rutter's appearance and stench. "We've got to get you cleaned up."
Neva busied herself trying to undress the halfling, to check for wounds and get the filthy clothes off him.
"Really, I don't know why you can't simply stay home and keep out of trouble!"
Rutter squirms away from Neva and peers at her through narrowed eyes. "I crashed here last night, but I woke up in a gutter. I ain't drinking that much anymore. It seems a little suspicious that no one saw me 'sleepwalk' out of here."
Rutter pauses for a moment fuming, and then changes the subject, "We better go by Kroft's and pick up that other fellow she had for us."
Neva acquiesced, but showed additional concern over his lack of memory.
"Here, let me take a look and at least try to find out what happened. Maybe it's some sort of malady we can treat. Follow the tip of my finger with your eyes. What did you eat last? How have your bowel movements been?" Neva began an urgent, lengthy barrage of questions.
Raliscar blinks before suddenly bursting into laughter. "So it's our fault fer not stayin' up to keep you from sleeping walkin' out o' yer bed? That's rich, Rutter. I'll just never close me eyes again then, is that it?"
Shaking his head as he clomps off, Raliscar chuckles to himself as he fetches his gear for a visit to Kroft.
Rutter waves off Neva's fussing, as sincere as it may seem.
"Well, I didn't sneak outta here to go sleep inna sewer. I even just had a bath. Whatever dragged me outta here woulda made a racket that shoulda roused someone, 'less you were all in on it." He backs out of the safehouse and waits for the group outside. He keeps his distance as the party walks to the Citadel, and waits for the others to enter before he follows them in.
Neva threw up her hands in exasperation at Rutter's intransigence. But she gave in, preparing to leave.
She walked the entire distance to the Citadel in a cloud of head shakes, rude mutterings and stern, sideways glowers.
Neva remembers that the last time she treated the group, a lot of them had diseased bites from the dire rats or wererats that they fought. Rutter, though, was bitten by the leader. That may have much further reaching consequences than the other bites. Especially, since last night was the full moon.
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Based on the way the plan is looking to go down, Felgar informs you all that he won't be any good at either sneaking in or a hit and run style. The idea of operating out of the Field Marshal's authority makes it feel too much like vigilantism. He decides to stay and be a more active member of the Korvosan Guard official. He tells his cousin that he will have their backs as a guard if they need the support of the authorities.
Given his choice to avoid the mission, the Field Marshal advises that she knows of a few pupils and or tenants of the Orisini Acadamy that might be willing to help. As such, you guys are introduced to, and meet with, one such person by the name of Nik'olo Gaczi.
The meeting was set up in what used to be a popular cafe located a stone's throw west of the Great Hall in The Heights. Given the recent events, the place looks deserted, haunted almost, as its patronage has either died or left the city for cleaner air.
It's hard to miss the man; In fact, it's impossible to miss the man. Tall, lean, muscular, and fair, Nik'olo Gaczi sits straight as a plank, one hand holding a cup of coffee, the other holding the waitress' hand, smiling and laughing with her in shared connivence.
But what drew your eye to the man is the extravagant crimson hat he's wearing, adorned with a gigantic feather of the purest white.
He seems to notice you too, and quickly sends the waitress away with kind words and a piece of silver. As you approach he stands, and perform a formal curtsy popular among the brash young fencers and troubleseekers of Old Korvosa.
"Well. Yer a hard one ta miss." Raliscar extends a weathered, calloused hand in greeting. "Name's Raliscar. I'm guessin' from how you sent the server off you were expectin' us?"
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Vyshael chuckles, "A tall dandy? Look, we found the opposite of Rutter."
Neva stifled a laugh at Vyshael's joke and extended a hand in greeting.
"Neva Vallastoi, midwife. Pleased to meet you." Her tone was polite, but she kept a wary eye out for anything that might hint at danger to her companions. A stranger in such times needed to be treated warily.
"Chaaaarmed, no less!" replies Nik'olo, beaming a perfect smile at Neva. "Master Orisini has had nothing but good words about you, and I can only consider myself fortunate that he asked me to meet with you. So please have a sit, let's order some coffee and plan mischief together!" he offers, his arm pointing to the chairs around the table.
Vyshael raises an eyebrow, noting Neva's wariness, then chuckles again, Can I really chide myself for being paranoid given everything that's happened these last few months?, then takes a seat as directed. "Well, I do like coffee.... almost as much as mischief likes me..."
Despite his recent misgivings about the gang, Rutter can't help but chuckle when they take in the flamboyant Nik'olo, including Vyshael's observation. "Heh. You must be a spellcaster with all that going on."
Rutter declines the coffee, or anything else, still wary of a potential conspiracy. He picks a chair that watches the entrance and the kitchen, and tests his chair before sitting down. When everyone is settled, he fills in the newcomer. "Kroft knows the delicacy of what we're investigating. If she vouches for you, then you must be trustworthy. On a professional level, at least." He casts a reproachful gaze over the rest of the party before continuing, "Or Kroft is in on it, in which case, we'd have worse troubles than having to finish you off for turning on us."
"So we're looking at a place with only one door. No windows. There's a carriage door, but I fear that may attract too much attention. Not sure what's through it, either. Behind the one door, there's at least two heavily armored guards. Who knows how many others they can call on if they have the chance to raise an alarm. So, what can you do to help us get inside?"
"Have you tried knocking?" asks Nik'olo with a raised eyebrow.
"Ahahahahah! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Mmmh... Yes, indeed it is a complex issue... I'm not usually keen on subtle approaches... You need to get inside? Or you need to speak with someone? If it's someone, you might be able to trick them out, no?"
"Who goes in doesn't always come back out, so we gotta go in after 'em, to see if they're still... anywhere. Lots of someones go in and don't come back out. Have you guessed this place yet?"
"Mmh... The Boneyard?" teases Nik'olo, flashing a smile at Neva.
"Well, I might help you talk your way through, or fight your way through. I'm guessing you asked around and made sure there was no other way in. In that case, I'd say we pass for 'customers' or 'employees' or simply find another excuse, an inspection perhaps? A bereaved nobleman who needs to say goodbye one last time?"
Raliscar shoots Rutter a tired look as the halfling continues to allude to a deep-seeded and nefarious anti-Rutter conspiracy. "Give it a rest already, Rutter. Fer pity's sake. This is the last I'm goin' to waste any breath on this: whatever yer thinkin' happened to you, it wasn't us that did it."
Shaking his head, he rolls his eyes slightly before returning his attention to Nik'olo and the business at hand. "It's the hospice. We're talkin' about the hospice. And I'm gettin' a bit a grumpy at this stage," he shoots Rutter another tired look, "and I'm findin' myself ta be more in favor o' kickin' the bleedin' door in than I was before."
Vyshael shrugs, "The issue with that isn't whether or not we succeed, but whether or not we can show our faces in town afterward.... though I'm certainly running out of patience and subtle myself."
"Have you thought of trying to go in disguised? Invisible? I'm sure I can find someone who makes us look crazy enough, and with the right bribe... Or we can always find those murky gypsies and buy elixirs that will make us look the part, or invisible even..."
Vyshael nods, "Invisible would be hard, given the watchfulness of guards... and the fact that illusion magic isn't my forte."
"Then what about a good disguise? How often do they admit people? Do they know each other? Do new doctors show up from time to time? New guards? In any case, what you're describing requires either brute force, at which I'm proficient, or great subtlety, which will require spending some money on enchantments, which I guess can also be done." persists Nik'olo.
Vyshael shrugs, "A disguise might work, but we're not talking a fortress of several hundred. Odds are, people generally recognize each other and would wonder about a new face... at least, from what I've been told. I'm thinking bluffing our way in might be hard... That said, we may be able to get a few of us inside, but I'm thinking they'd be without their gear"
At the agreed time late in the night, Rutter meets the rest of the group. "No new guy, huh? Well, hopefully he at least hasn't warned them."
Rutter leads the group toward the Hospice, then leaves them cross the street more discreetly. He listens at the large doors, and then moves to the front door to listen there.
Raliscar waves his hand dismissively, "Bah. That dandy's hat was so loud they'd have heard us coming as soon as he stepped out 'is door!" The dwarf chuckles softly at his own joke before shooing Rutter off. "Go on then, Rutter! You've a gift for this sort of thing after all. But give a holler if ye need us an' we'll come running."
Vyshael chuckles, "That's probably true, sadly. Still, I do think Rutter's right to be worried... or at least he would be if we'd actually had a plan the dandy could reveal."
Rutter listens at the two doors, hearing nothing at the cargo doors in the back, and only the sporadic coughing of the sick in the waiting room beyond the front door.