Wow. Argor is useful with those scrolls. Too bad he couldn't hit both of them. And Grommuk missed? Maybe he should sacrifice power for accuracy.... Nah.
With one on the ground, Hrimnagel shoots the other one, then continues to move.
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Seeing the first "guard" reduced to a worthless lump on the flagstone by a rainbow spray, Grommuk audibly scoffs. The immense orc doesn't react much to the second Ulfen's attempts on his own person, though when the fool barks out a threat against Cladissa his pulse begins to quicken.
"Dead not threaten! Dead is dead!" Following his superb reprimand, Grommuk raises both hands above his head and brings them down with devastating force on his victim's shoulders. The sickening crunch that follows is not pleasant.
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>
>>
Seeing Grommuk become flanked by the Ulfen, Argor adjusts his strategy a bit. "Clever, for simple minded brutes. Someone along the way taught them some strategy," He pulls a scroll from the case he had reached for earlier, and recites the incantation as he steps a bit closer to the fight. As his spell work concludes, a wave of color pulses out and washes over the enraged human. The man spasms as he collapses on to the ground, unconscious.
In defiance of the guard's threat, Cladissa cackles in mad glee, again not really understanding the powers she channels but letting it take her nonetheless. She takes another step forward and, noting Grommuk's miss earlier, levels a hex to whither away his defenses. Black energy surrounds the guard, hampering his movements.
Wow. Argor is useful with those scrolls. Too bad he couldn't hit both of them. And Grommuk missed? Maybe he should sacrifice power for accuracy.... Nah, Hrimnagel thinks. With one guard on the ground, Hrimnagel shoots the other guard. The arrow flies out of nowhere, and slams into the still standing guard's shoulder. Everyone has difficulty determining which shadow is Hrimnagel.
Seeing the first "guard" reduced to a worthless lump on the flagstone by a rainbow spray, Grommuk audibly scoffs. The immense orc doesn't react much to the second Ulfen's attempts on his own person, though when the fool barks out a threat against Cladissa his pulse begins to quicken.
"Dead not threaten! Dead is dead!" Following his superb reprimand, Grommuk raises both hands above his head and brings them down with devastating force on his victim's shoulders. The sickening crunch that follows is not pleasant. Though both the man's clavicles and upper ribs are shattered, he manages to remain standing.
He swings his axe at Grommuk again, hoping for a single killing blow against the orc. His axe is again deflected by Cladissa's hex a moment before hitting Grommuk's neck. "Jævla heks!" he curses, stepping back from the orc, and unknowingly right next to Hrimnagel.
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Miss
Miss
Grommuk is confused by the man's capacity for averting his strikes at the last moment. The urge to crush him into a fine paste is no lessened for this, however, and the orc swings both arms out in a wide butterfly stroke. His balled fists connect with both sides of the Ulfen's head.
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The guard's skull pops, and he goes down in a bloody heap, dead.
"We have only a moment before this one wakes up," Argor points to the unconscious foe at their feet. "Dispatch him or detain him for questioning?"
"Question him. We need to know more about what's going on inside. I'm certain Grommuk can persuade him as well as remove his head." Hrimnagel says from a shadow as he starts rummaging through the messy guards kit for keys or anything useful.
The dead guard has a ring with two keys, a chain shirt and a greataxe.
"Grommuk, tie him up."
When the man comes around, Argor leads off with the questioning, "So, who do you really work for, and what is going on here?"
“Why should I tell you? You’re just going to kill me,” he replies to Arhor.
When the prisoner is tied up, he searches him, too.
"Ooo. Keys. What do these unlock?" Hrimnagel asks in his small, thin voice from a shuffling shadow, while jangling them in front of the prisoner.
"We don't have to tear your head off slowly. We could just turn you over to the authorities." He says while looking that the mess of his partner's head.
"You should tell us the answers we seek because we are the only ones with the ability to decide your fate. The more willing you are to comply, the more likely we are to consider a positive outcome for you."
“They’re keys to the gate and the front door. If you promise to hand me over to the guard I’ll tell you who hired me,” the guard replies shakily to the shadowy gnome.
Hrimnagel ignores Argor, "You are in no position to negotiate. Identifying the keys and telling us your employer is certainly a good start. You need to also tell us what to expect inside, how long have you worked here, and what is the plan to replace you on guard duty."
“My life for information. If you’re going to kill me, then just do it,” the man says stubbornly.
"I promise. We will not kill you if you provide us all the information that you have."
"Skelg is inside, he's alive. I work for a man named Bengeirr. He is a rival of Skelg. He is renting a warehouse on the west docks, across from the Rosy fingers Tavern. He commanded us to stay here and let no one enter. Please, that's all I know..." the guard sounds like he's telling the truth.
Cladissa had hung back, nervously chewing a fingernail while letting the others work. She didn't feel very intimidating, despite her recent mutations. She supposed she could have weakened his resolve with Evil Eye, but it seemed like the shadowy gnome was doing well, so she let him work.
She sighs in relief when she hears that Skelg is alive. Thank you for your cooperation, she says genuinely while stepping forward and eyeing Argor, hoping that everyone will keep his word.
Um. Why don't we check on Skelg and see how he's doing. We'll be safer turning this man to the authorities if he can assure them that this one wasn't welcome in his home.
"Very good. Who or what can we expect inside the house besides Skelg?"
"Only his manservant," the guard replies. "He's dying of some curse. Bengeirr just wants Skelg to die in shame."
Argor turns to Cladissa.
"Yes. Let us put our expertise to studying this curse while the prisoner is tended to."
He then makes his way up the stair.
Skelg is easy to locate inside the mansion. He is in the master bedroom on the upper floor. As Argor opens the door to the master bedroom he is greeted by a blast of heat. A roaring fire blazes in the fireplace even though the day is swelteringly hot. A huge bearded man shivers under his blankets, his bed pushed dangerously close to the fire. A thin servant sits in the far corner by a window, fanning himself with a handkerchief. The bearded man looks up at Argor and blinks a few times, then speaks through chattering teeth. “Are y-you a P-path-f-finder?”
"Indeed," Argor says before muttering a cantrip to allow him to see the magical aura's about the man.
"My name is Argor, and this is Cladissa. A couple of our companions are finishing up a couple of intruders on your property. Men working for Bengeirr."
"So what can you tell us of what has happened, Skelg?" Argor asks while maintaining a safe distance from both Skelg and from the blazing heat of the fire.
"Thanks for the info. You've been extremely helpful. Grommuk, let's leave him here and take him to the authorities on are way out." Hrimnagel locks the front gate and heads inside with the others.
Cladissa recoils a bit to the intense heat. As she moves into the room, she shifts and tugs at her clothing, occasionally revealing the dark fur underneath. She comes near his bedside and studies the bearded man.
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Cladissa finds that the only symptoms Skelg is showing are those of extreme exposure to cold. As she looks at him, he motions to his manservant to answer Argor's question. The thin man turns to the Pathfinders and says, "My name is Tyros, I am Skelg's manservant. A few weeks ago a rival of my master, the Jarl Haldyr died. He was a mighty Jarl, and his funeral ship was loaded with a great horde of treasure. His wife Natalya was to burn along with his body and possessions so that she might rejoin him in the Boneyard beyond. My master, Skelg, in his infinite cunning decided to rain the funeral ship. He rescued Natalya from her immanent immolation and stole Haldyr's funeral treasure. He left the ship in Natalya's hands to sail where she would, and came here to Absalom to take up his position as a Longaxe." Tyros pauses to allow that to sink in, and mop up the sheen of sweat on his forehead.
After a moment he continues, "A week ago, Skelg caught Bengeirr’s men in his basement vault, mistaking them for common thieves. One of the intruders had lit a lantern he found in the vault. Apparently the lantern is some sort of powerful artifact. When its light struck Skelg, he began to freeze. When the light shone on a tapestry hanging on a wall in the hallway outside of the vault, a shimmering doorway appeared, frightening the intruders enough to flee the manor. With Skelg in a weakened state from the immediate effect of the cold, the thieves easily escaped him and fled with the lantern and other valuables from inside the vault."
Skelg thrusts himself halfway up in bed. "Thrice cursed bleeding cold! I-I-If it weren't for this damn freezing, I w-w-woulda rung their ch-ch-chicken necks!" He growls angrily through his shivering. The effort seems to have spent his reserves, and he slumps back into the bed. Tyros looks concerned, and lays a hand on his master's shoulder before continuing his story.
"The tapestry in the hall now depicts an Ulfen longship on a rolling sea, mostly encased in an iceberg. It was a meadow scene with shepherd and flock before the lantern shown on it. After Bengeirr’s raid, one of Skelg’s men named Tirfyr walked into the portal on the tapestry to investigate. He returned a moment later saying that it led to a ship encased in ice. He went back to investigate further, but after half an hour, the portal disappeared, trapping poor Tirfyr in the frigged landscape. Skelg recognized the ship in the tapestry as the funerary ship of his old enemy, Haldyr. He believes Tirfyr traveled to the ship and that the cure to his curse lies there."
"Two days ago, Bengeirr’s men returned with Bengeirr himself and killed Skelg’s guards. Bengeirr spat on my poor master. He said 'Now you’ll die in bed like an old woman!' and left two guards to keep Skelg trapped here and make sure no one helped him. I take it you dealt with them already. Master Skelg had me sneak a letter to his old friend Venture Captain Hestram yesterday, I assume that's why you're here," Tyros finishes.
Skelg clutches at his chest, "It is as if the f-f-frozen fingers of winter’s blackest midnight clutch at my heart. I’m f-f-freezing from the inside out. P-p-please, find that damned lantern and bring it back here. The Society c-c-can have it, I don't c-c-care. But, I won't d-d-die without honor!"
Argor is obviously intrigued by the powerful magics at work here.
"Portals, teleportation, curses and enchantments. No wonder the healers couldn't figure this out."
"if. Bengierr still has it, then it is with him at a warehouse across from the Rosy Fingers Tavern. We shall head there and retrieve it, but first I would like to study this tapestry."
Tyros leads Argor down to look at the tapestry. It depicts a longship as the manservant said. Argor notices an additional detail however, a large lantern ring hangs from the mouth of the dragon figurehead, but no lantern hangs there. The tapestry exhibits the same overwhelming aura of conjuration that Skelg had before, though here it is slightly faded with time.
The Pathfinder freaks finish their investigation of Skelg's manor, and then turn their prisoner over to the city watch and report the self defense killing of the other ulfen. The watch says they will send men to deal with body and to watch over Skelg's estate, and to corroborate their story. They do not detain the Pathfinders, simply taking their address instead.
To make their way to the Docks the Freaks have to travel back through the Ivy District, and then through the Foreign Quarter from North to South. The sights and sounds of the Foreign Quarter are becoming more familiar by the day, and it's quickly beginning to feel like home after their years of apprenticeship in dormitories of the Grand Lodge.
Finally, the Freaks come to the narrow busy alleyways of the Docks. The wood plank streets are swarming with sailors, dockworkers, merchants, tax collectors, guards, thieves, whores and every other manner of sentient debris supported by centers of naval commerce. The smells of salt water, fish, spices, smoke, wood, pitch and human body odor fill the air. Gulls cry overhead and people chat, bargain and shout in multiple languages. Cladissa makes some inquiries along the way with Grommuk as her shadow, and they yield fruitful directions. The group makes its way towards Bengeirr's warehouse.
The warehouse across from The Rosy Fingers Tavern is built right on the docks, part of it extending over the water. The building is thirty feet tall with no visible windows. On the landward side is a pair of large cargo doors with a smaller door built into the right one. Piers run along either side of the building and on the seaward side is a massive set of doors able to accommodate a small ship.
The street is busy, with several taverns among the warehouses. Most of the warehouses have sentries in front of them, and the ships at the docks are similarly guarded. A northlander warrior with an axe resting in his lap sits on a small pile of crates across from the warehouse, obviously keeping watch on the main door.
Hrimnagel whispers to the group, "I'll do a little recon. Try not to get into a fight."
He weaves his way down the wharf sizing up the back and underneath of the warehouse. He shakes his head, more water. Then, he works his way around the front. He tries to keep an ear if not an eye out for where the group settles during his recon.
Hrimnagel is able to creep around the area with impunity. He sees the warehouse from all angles. There is only the one guard outside, and only one door. The walls look as if they would be easy to scale .
Hrimnagel eventually returns to the group, "Door and guard in front. Double in back. Maybe some underneath. Walls look fairly easy to climb but are obvious unless you are the waterside."
I'll see if there's any way in through the roof. Cladissa is nowhere near the shadow that Hrimnagel is, but her new catlike instincts and coloration make her a fair approximation. She slinks into the shadows and effortlessly scales the warehouse wall.
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The bouncer looks on in shock as Cladissa scales the wall as easily as if she were walking down the street, but after glancing at Grommuk and Argor he does and says nothing. Once on the roof, Cladissa disappears from sight. The northman guarding the front door doesn't seem to have noticed her ascent. He's currently engrossed in picking at his finger nails with his axe blade.
She finds three sky lights covered in wax paper and steel grates . Creeping up to one, she peels back the paper and looks inside. She sees a mostly empty warehouse with an ulfen longship docked inside. There are five warriors lounging about on the floor of the warehouse, playing dice and chatting. A set of stairs leads up twenty feet to a loft, which set up as a small office. There is also a cot set up in the loft. A noble looking ulfen man with a split beard sits on the cot. A huge bullseye lantern designed to be hung on the prow of a ship hangs over his head on a chain from the ceiling. There are carpets, urns, sculptures, and other works of art piled in the loft as well- undoubtedly Skelg's treasure.
Argor looks at the bouncer directly when he looks at them after marveling at Cladissa's climbing. He raises a finger in front of his mouth, or where it rests under his mask, signaling to the man that he'd best keep quiet. He whispers to Arctyryx, "Fly up and get a report from Cladissa so she won't have to leave her advantageous position."
The bird does as it's told, and relays the information back down to the three Pathfinders on the ground.
Cladissa was just about to head back when the flap of black wings gets her attention. She skulks away from the window to make sure the sound doesn't carry, then has the bird relay the description of the interior of the warehouse.
After a moment's thought, she climbs down anyway, quietly and skillfully. She reaches the others and answers their questions if the familiar wasn't clear.
The skylights have a metal grate over them, so we cant get through, but i thjnk spells can go through. But most of my spells won't have the range. So I've got an idea. They're all human inside. If we cover the skylights, they'll be at a disadvantage. Are there any tarps around here? she glances around looking for sections of sail or other things that could block the upper windows.
The ulfen guard looks up as the large raven flies back. He can hardly fail to notice the huge form of Grommuk standing there. The cat woman walking back from the side of his warehouse and masked man don't exactly look nonchalant either. The guard's eyes narrow as he watches the group closely.
Argor takes in the information that Cladissa reports, and he tightens his grip on his staff as his mind works out a strategy. He can't help but note, however, the curious eye of the bouncer, the posted guard, and the busy street.
"Whatever we do, we either need to be nonchalant about it, which is not our strong suit, or come back at a later hour when the hustle and bustle dies down a bit. We have no authority as Pathfinders, so any violent action we take is likely to bring guards down on us and we wouldn't do much good from behind prison bars."
I could put him to sleep from here, she offers.
"True, but half the docks would see. Also, he could have a strong enough mind to resist the effects, and then we are still the instigators in the affair."
Grommuk emits a low and terrifying growl. "Hay-hairs steal from Skelg—hold prisoner in home. Treasure inside. Why we wait!?"
Likely a surprise to no one, the idea of doing things with care is not on the orc's mind. That his breathing becomes more rapid is a tell-tale sign that violence looms very near on the horizon if something decisive doesn't happen. "Skelg dying. Not waiting. Hay-hairs give treasure or give life; Grommuk not care. Guards defend thieves, guards die too."
Cladissa touches Grommuk lightly on his arm. We do this with people watching, we may get in trouble. She nervously bites her fingernail while thinking.
How do you feel about swimming? You could get in under the water.
Muttering, I still want to cover up those windows.