Argor grows visibly frustrated at the continued disrespect from the ranks of the Venture Captains.
"Yes yes, we get the routine. You talk down to us, despite needing our assistance in a clearly important matter, then we go about and do the task, but apparently gain no more respect within the Society. Let me see, what have we done in the past few months for you lot? Ah, saved the city from an undead scourge, rescued a former pathfinder as a personal favor, stopped a Mwangi curse, and rescued a noble child thought long dead from an undead necropolis. Truly, we are clearly not worth your time."
He turns and walks out, calling to his companions, "Come along, my monstrous companions. Let us not waste the good Venture Captain's time any further. As she said, time is of the essence."
__________
Cladissa stays quiet and withdrawn during the walk to the Lodge and during the briefing. She eyes Argor coldly when he snaps at the venture-captain, but stays silent.
________
Hrimnagel smiles in the deep shadows. Argor can be funny when his acerbic wit targets other people.
The Second Chance is a one-room, run-down tavern turned-grit-den located dockside in Puddles. It has one main entrance and three small rear entrances.
Dimly lit by cheap oil lamps sputtering on walls punctuated by painted-over windows, the Second Chance reeks of unwashed humanity and pungent ash. Threads of sickly sweet smoke drift like smog from tin hookahs. Ale kegs lurk in each corner, and cheap clay mugs hang from nails on the walls.
When the Pathfinders arrive, the Second Chance is in the midst of a frenzied, grit-induced brawl. Next to the bar, the owner of the den, a thick scowling Keleshite, grips a bloody scimitar in one fist,blocking one of the den’s rear doors. At his feet lies a fresh corpse, blood slowly seeping into the floor boards from the dead man’s slashing wounds.
There is a skinny, one-eyed Andoran-looking retch in tattered clothing, perched atop a wobbling table at the center of the room, frantically kicking at several drugged-out thugs who are trying to pull him off.
Hrimnagel starts clapping from his shadows at the doorway. ... and a floor show. It's loud enough to get their attention if there is a pause in the ruckus.
Cladissa brings a hand over her nose as the stink of the place hits her hard. She stays close to Grommuk while she likes looks for signs that the fight might turn toward them.
Argor points to the one-eyed Andoran on the table. "Nyugusk, retrieve that one for us, please. We need him alive."
Before Nyugusk demonstrates his mutated reach, she gives the one-eyed target her Evil Eye, making him easy to hit.
With a tusky grin, Nyugusk's too-many-jointed arm accordions out and attempts to snatch the mangy Andoran and bring him over for a little conversation.
A Nyugusk enters the brawl, the bloody-scimitar gripping owner looks on passively. Nyugusk grabs the Andoran, who the group is assuming is Fredrik, with his accordian arm and snatches him out of the group of thugs. They roar in anger and turn on the party.
Three of the thugs rush the alchemist and surround him while he grips the struggling Fredrik. They try to pummel Nyugusk into submission with their fists.
He can barely even feel their blows through his armor and tough hide.
Hrimnagel enters the bar and wanders around looking for anything unusual.
Cladissa hexes one of the thugs, whichever one seems the biggest and toughest. She then cackles at the spectacle.
Argor cares little for the bar fight. He just wants to secure their quarry.
"Grommuk, please step in and tend to the riffraff so Nyugusk can bring this man out for some questions."
He steps around to face the man and says, "You, tell me your name."
The man is completely ignoring Argor for the moment, being much more concerned with the orc-monster gripping him, and the drug fueled thugs trying to beat him to death.
Grommuk smiles. He ducks his head to step into the barroom proper and begins swiping his fists through the congregation of junkies with reckless abandon. He barely clips one across the temple, but it's enough to send the poor man sprawling across the floor. "GROMMUK GOT PLENTY OF GRIT, HEH HEH HEH!" the orc calls out, indicating something entirely different than the drug in question.
>
The grit junkie move to surround Nyugusk and Grommuk, punching at them madly. One leaves himself open as he punches at Grommuk, and the orc brawler elbows him brutally in the face, dropping him like a sack of flour. Two more bruise their fists punching Grommuk's armor and rock-hard musculature, but do no more damage to him than would a baby. Nyugusk is less able to defend himself while restraining the struggling, one-eyed grit fiend. Three of the thugs attack him with fists and kicks, but he manages to dodge two. The last one is about to kick him in the back when Cladissa gives him the evil eye. The man recoils in horror and misses the alchemist.
Nyug says, "Settle down and you won't get hurt. We've got some questions for you."
Without waiting him to comply, Nyugusk attempts to pin him.
"The first of which I will ask one more time. What is your name?"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" the grit head screams, "AH! AH! AH! AH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!! ! Lemmego, gerrofmeh!"
Grommuk seems to be losing a bit of his fervor when he realizes his opponents are little more than mad dogs without a bite. He begins unleashing targeted blows to knock them out, blows to the head or vicious knees to the stomach.
Grommuk seems to be losing a bit of his fervor when he realizes his opponents are little more than mad dogs without a bite. He begins unleashing targeted blows to knock them out, blows to the head or vicious knees to the stomach. The grit fiends try to fight back, but within twenty seconds the whol thing is over. Grommuk is barely sweating, and there is a ring of beaten, bruised drug addicts unconscious around Nyugusk. In the meantime, the alchemist finally managed to clamp one paw over Fredrik's mouth to stop him from screaming bloody murder. After securing a nodded promise from him to be quiet and hold still, Nyugusk releases the addict.
Fredrik attempts to run for the front door. He’s at the end of a grit high and falls flat on his face as he stumbles over a broken chair. There is no trouble catching the one-eyed Andoren. Finally they drag him into the alley outside and tie him up well enough with rope to make sure he isn't going anywhere.
I believe the black-eyed gentleman asked you a question? Cladissa says, her yellow eyes glittering.
"My name's Fredrik, baby. What's yours?" the addict replies saucily, licking his cracked lips and exposing his dirty, yellowed teeth. "Usually share a bit of grit with a girl before I let her tie me up..." he chuckles.
Grommuk emits a low rumbling growl, a cavernous rumble from the depths of his massive frame. "Grommuk not like Fredrik. Maybe squash ugly face like grape."
"What do you want?" Fredrik asks the orc, his eyes wide.
Grommuk realizes he doesn't really know what they're hassling the man for. The Adventure Lady Captain with fiery hair said something about slaves. Grommuk is not terribly fond of people who keep slaves, given his own history. Did Fredrik keep slaves? "WHERE STOLEN SLAVES GO?" Grommuk roars, the situation desperately needing someone without a rock for a brain to take the lead away from the dimwit.
"You mean that broad, Lady Anilah? I was hired to kidnap her and sell her. I fobbed her off on Pardu Pildapush at his office in the Pits. ’Nough gold for a whole week o’ grit!" he says with pride. Fredrik then breaks into a cough, and hacks up a bloody mess, red phlegm foaming on his lips.
Nyugusk's lip curls at the sight of the bloody phlegm. "This sorry sot is about at the end of his miserable life.
"Argor, do you know the way to these 'Pits'? If so, let's leave this fool to his dying misery and see if we can find this Pardu Pildapush."
Argor steps forward, unfolding his arms to raise a hand to silence Nyugusk for a moment.
"Tell me about this Pardu Pildapush. How many men he keeps at his place? The general layout of the building. Any passcodes for admittance. Frankly, everything you know, or else I let the overzealous orc here test his grape theory."
She looks at him sadly, his crude comment sliding off her. A week's worth, which you have consumed in one day. You're dying, sir. Allow me to help.
Cladissa unpacks her healer's kit and begins to attempt to stabilize him.
Argor steps forward, unfolding his arms to raise a hand to silence Nyugusk for a moment.
"Tell me about this Pardu Pildapush. How many men he keeps at his place? The general layout of the building. Any passcodes for admittance. Frankly, everything you know, or else I let the overzealous orc here test his grape theory."
Fredrik just shrugs. "Aint no building. It's the Row. Ask around and you can't really miss it. Only legal place to buy and sell slaves in the city. I dunno about all the rest o' that."
She looks at him sadly, his crude comment sliding off her. A week's worth, which you have consumed in one day. You're dying, sir. Allow me to help.
Cladissa unpacks her healer's kit and begins to attempt to stabilize him.
[Dice=Heal]1d20+9
Despite her best efforts, there's literally nothing Cladissa can do for the man except clean him up a bit. It would be possible to heal his body with the right magics, but his addiction would likely just lead him back to the same miserable place as soon as he could afford the Grit.
Argor stands and turns from the addict, realizing he is of no more use to them. "I am certain I can navigate us there, yes. There is nothing more for us here, this man is of no more consequence. Let us go find Lady Anilah before it is too late."
He then departs, providing the necessary directions to the party to navigate to Misery Row and begin inquiring as to the location of Mr. Pildapush.
Misery Row, the only street in Absalom on which slaves are legally bought or sold. Misery Row is a massive elevated platform running the length of the Coins’ eastern edge. The platform’s base forms a wall between the Coins and Merchant districts. The slavers sunk cages inside the walls, accessible only from the top of the Row and filled with languishing slaves. These are the windows through which a prospective buyer sizes up future chattel. Between the cage pits and the slave trade, all of Absalom knows Misery Row as the Slave Pits of Absalom.
To find Pildapush, the Pathfinders must first reach Misery Row. The easiest access is up the heavily guarded stairs placed every few hundred feet. As they approach one of the stairways, a burly guard in leather armor stops them. "Halt! This area's for traders only. What business you got up on the Row?"
Argor eyes the man warily, before commenting, "I wish to speak with Mr. Pildapush about an acquisition. We hear that he is just the man we need to speak to in this regard."
She stands after she does what she can for the man. He just admitted to the kidnapping and selling into slavery of the woman. Are you going to let him escape justice by dying this day?
"I care little about his fate. It is the fate of our true quarry I am interested in. He will not live long to continue harming others, anyway."
The guard says, "I see, sir. You seem like exactly the type Mr. Pildapush likes to get in here. You'll find him at Pildapush Chattel" The guard moves aside and lets the Pathfinders go up the steps.
Once on Misery Row, the PCs can easily locate Pildapush Chattel—a sign announces it: “Pildapush Chattel: Absalom’s Finest.” Pildapush’s strong wooden front door is locked and and a “Closed” sign swings from the latch. The few visible windows to the front of Pildapush Chattel are barred from the inside. Misery Row is filled with shoppers, slavers, and slaves at all times of day and night. The guards protect the stairways and assume anyone they’ve let through will generally keep the peace. They are not keeping a particularly close watch at the moment, though the streets are full of people.
Argor will be scanning the building as well as the streets for any signs of people watching them or for any activity inside.
__________
Shall we... knock? Cladissa asks. She flashes back to the dockside fight with the Ulfen and wonders about the best course of action. She looks at the walls and assesses their climbability.
She also leans toward the door and inhales deeply, hoping to catch any scents that might be a clue.
From some random shadow, Hrimnagel whispers "I'm going to investigate the roof." He climbs to the roof and looks around for another way inside.