rounds.
The two wake up before Arc is able to return with the length of rope to tie them up.
However, they're still blind and stunned for more rounds, so they're not really able to put up much resistance.
With the two occupants of that room bound and gagged, the group now has three more doors that has yet to be explored.
Arc turns back to the unopened doors, leaning to listen at the one closest to him before opening it.
Thistle waits as Arc opens the door, ready to jump into action if need be.
This dank room stinks of mildew, and the only light creeps through a single grease-stained window. The room's simple furnishings include a worn mattress, some crate-furniture, and three rusted birdcages. Atop a makeshift desk sit some calligraphy pens, a ream of fine parchment, and a stand holding an oversized magnifying lens. A sack of birdseed rests beneath the cages.
An old man with milky-white eyes turns to the sound of the door opening. "Beltias? I'm hearing some strange commotion, what's going on?" the fellow asks, clearly not able to see. He holds a pigeon in his hands, stroking its feathers tenderly.
Thistle arches a wiry eyebrow, surprised to see the old blind man. She relaxes her shoulders, confident they aren't about to be attacked this time.
"No, my name is Thistle, an adept of The Persistent Weaver. May she always watch over us, and guide us through our failures.
"Who are you? Please, tell me about yourself."
The man turns his head towards the sound of Thistle's voice, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"You don't know me? So Beltias didn't send you? That's odd. I'm Yenden Hodge, but everyone around here calls me Pidge, 'cause of the pigeons. I take care of them, you see." He holds up the bird in his hands, which coos softly.
"Who are you? And who's Persistence Weaver?"
In her squeaky-gravelly voice, Thistle answers, "The Persistant Weaver is at honorific of Cladissa, the goddess whose temple you're living in, and who blesses all who persist through failure. As I mentioned, my name is Thistle. My friends and I here are here in his service.
"It's good to meet you, Pidge. It's clear you have a way with the birds. How long have you lived here? Do you know Father Padrich? If you don't mind, I'd like to learn a bit about the men who live here with you."
The old man shakes his head. "I'm in a temple? I thought this was just a tenement house." He sinks back in his chair for a moment in thought.
"There's not much use for an old longshoreman who can't see very well. Beltias is a businessman. Has my birds run messages for him. In exchange, he lets me stay here, in his building. I can't see to write very well, so he does the messages these days." Pidge gestures to the table with the ink and parchment.
"What's going on? Is Beltias all right? What's this about a goddess?"
"Everything is fine Citizen Pidge. We are merely ensuring a lack of chaotic elements. Is Beltias the man with the dog?" Arc says in his tinny armor-voice.
When Pidge motions to the table, Thistle goes over to see if anything has been written or recieved that she can read at the moment.
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"Well, Fetch is Beltias' dog, but I don't think he's here," the old man says with a shake of his head. "Knuckles is the only one besides Beltias that Fetch seems to like. Which suits me fine. The old mutt scares my birds, so I don't allow it around me."
Thistle finds one note. It reads:
Salty,
Ken ye lemmie a saunty lad fer a pick and pen?
Twenny il get ye fity fer the laidback arrivin Oady.
Sammy hai de laird.
This is in some sort of thieves cant, and most likely translates to:
Salty,
Can you lend me a tough brute for a robbery?
Twenty for the lad, fifty for you, for the mark arriving Oathday.
Have him meet Sammy at the ____. (unknown what the "laird" is.)
"I see. Beltias is also not here. Knuckles was quite rude, and his dog is a terror. We are looking for Beltias, actually. Do you know where he might be?"
Pidge shakes his head. "He doesn't tell me where he goes. Got some messages a day ago, and left in a hurry. Didn't even finish the one he was supposed to have me send."
Thistle scratches her head, trying to make sense of the note. Then she passes it to Lana.
"I can't make out much of this, though 'twenny' and 'fity' seem fairly clear. What do you think?"
Turning back to Pidge, Thistle asks, "Pidge, who's 'Salty'? Is that Beltias?
"And do you suppose you could do a girl a favor and let me see that note he didn't finish?"
Lana takes the message and scans it. ”It’s a thieves cant. Someone looking for muscle for a robbery. The target is to arrive on Oathday. The rented thug is to meet a Sammy wherever this Laird is.”
Thistle frowns slightly at the confirmation of the nefarious deeds being done under Cladissa's nose, and gives Pidge a glance, hoping that he'll cooperate with her request.
The old man's face scrunches up in confusion. "That's the note right there," he says, gesturing to the one that Lana just translated. "But that can't be right. Beltias isn't involved in anything sinister. He's been so good to me. He's helped many of us here. Some are unsavory, I'll grant you, but everyone's trying to do better. I've never heard of anyone named 'Salty.'"
"It seems to me like he might be taking advantage of you, Citizen Pidge. I am starting to believe that this Beltias and Knuckles are running a narcotics den out of this temple. Unacceptable. Can you please show me the incomplete note that Beltias was writing before he left? Do you know of any inns or taverns in town called something with Laird in the name?"
"I can't see well enough to know, but Beltias writes on that table there. If it's not there, I don't know."
The old man shakes his head in disbelief. "I still can't believe he'd be wrapped up in such business. What did Knuckles say? I could believe he'd point the finger at an innocent man."
"He told us we were not welcome and attacked us. Proof of his malfeasance if nothing else."
Arc goes over to the table, and examines it thoroughly.
Arc thoroughly inspects the table, but besides various nubs, ink wells, and small strips of paper for writing messages small enough to be attached to a carrier pigeon, he finds no other message besides the one Lana already translated.
With there (seemingly) being nothing else of interest in the current room, Nemo moves to open the two remaining doors.
Nemo tries the next room, but finds that the door doesn't budge. The door isn't locked; that much she can tell. It's clearly braced or barricaded on the other side, preventing her from easily pushing the door open.
Arc knocks his shoulder into the door, hoping to jar it open.
He bounces off ineffectually.
Thistle pats Arc's arm.
"Give it another try, big guy. Failure is the beginning of every path."
Nemo likewise tries to open the door, but her initial efforts don't yield much success either.
"Please stand back, everyone..."
Once she has a clear path, Nemo takes a few steps back, takes a deep breath, and then rams the door...
...With all her might!
"That was a very impressive show of strength, my friend, and demonstrate the wisdom of trying again after failure...but I was hoping our armored friend could get to try again too."
”So much for subtlety...” Lana grumbles.
Arc watches in awe as Nemo bashes down the door. "Nicely done!" he says appreciatively. Arc offers the goblin a nod of his head, which seems to be his equivalent of a smile. "It is okay, Thistle. I already know all about being a failure. It has not stopped me yet."
Nemo's second try crashes through the door, pushing aside the bits of furniture that had been set up to brace it.
Kicked into one corner of this room is a pile of bedding and a lopsided chair covered with blood-spattered sheets. A disturbing collection of small blood-encrusted tools dangles from pegs on the nearby wall, including pliers, rusted garden shears, some chisels, a hammer a corkscrew, a barber's straight razor, a fireplace poker, and three branding irons. A dull, slightly foggy mirror hangs mounted on the adjacent wall.
The banging on the door had clearly alerted the room's occupants to the attempted ingress. Unsurprisingly, there was someone ready to do battle. An elven warrior stood with a bow and arrow nocked and ready to let fly.
Before anyone else can act, the Elf lets the arrow fly at Nemo.
The arrow bounces off Nemo's stout armor.
There's another enemy hiding behind the door that Nemo just muscled open.
Lana steps up and looks into the room at the two threats. She calls out, ”It would be in your best interest to surrender. As you can see, she pauses to perform an incantation. Suddenly, in a cloud of black and red smoke, a darkly beautiful, but clearly evil, angelic woman in battle dress appears in the corner of the room beside the elf. A longsword gleams in her hands as she looks menacingly at the elf. ”You are outnumbered and outmatched.”
Arc can't see what's going on, much less maneuver to fight anyone. "I can't see anything from back here. Move if you need me to smite any chaos agents!"
The elf blanches at the sudden appearance of the terrifying angel.
However, a sadistic-looking man steps out from behind the door and stabs at Nemo.
In the hallway, the last unexplored door opens up and two sour-faced miscreants stick their heads out. "What's all the racket?!" a pig-nosed half-orc shouts.
============
The archer cowers from the angel.
One of the two occupants steps out of the room and jabs the point of a tarnished rapier at Thistle.
Lana turns and scowls at the newcomers. She sends a beam of bright light straight at the one near the goblin.
__________
Thistle takes a minute to study the hooligan towering in front of her, hoping to find some advantage.
"It's not too late to surrender. Your past of crime need not define you. Cladissa can forgive."
Nemo hisses when stabbed. She quickly wastes no time in retaliating.
Nemo ends the life of the rogue who stabbed her. The elf drops his bow, now equally horrified of the woman with the scythe as the nightmarish angel.
Lana's dazzling blast misses her target, and Thistle's swing comes up short.
A toothy half-orc further inside the room that had just opened up shouts, "We've got invaders! Knuckles, you lazy sot! How'd you let them get this far in!?!" He kicks over a crate, sending it out into the hallway. Four scorpions the size of big rats skitter about, incensed by the mistreatment and striking at everything nearby.
The man who had stepped out of the room takes a step back to get clear of the scorpions that are now underfoot of Thistle and Lana. He pulls out a shortbow and nocks an arrow.
”Ew,” Lana chides at the scorpions now skittering about. She takes a wand from her belt in her free hand, and utters a command word. The tip of the wand begins roiling with electricity. She attempts to touch one of the scorpions with the wand.
Sensing the danger, Lana’s serpent slithers out from beneath her robes. It’s head and body raises up to nearly the same height as her before it’s hood flares open as it hisses. It looks about before settling on one of the scorpions and snaps its head at it in a threatening display.
After everyone ignores him, Arc loses patience with his companions chaotic combat tactics and barrels through them like a bull through a china shop. They see the banner of the ennead star, and feel a sense of purpose and confidence flood through them.
"You will pay for this, fiend!" Arc exclaims before clocking the man with his heavy gauntlet.
"Ooooh, nice punch!" Thistle notes, "...Though I think these fellas are more thugs than fiends."
Seeing the scorpions crawling toward her, and the thug backing off, Thistle follows him. She swings at scorpion, avoiding the other giant bugs as best she can.
...I'll try to use it to disarm him.
The half orc, already sporting a swollen left eye, now sports a rapidly-growing bruise around his right thanks to Arc's punch. He pulls out a morningstar and swings with all his strength at the armored intruder.
Thistle kills one of the scorpions, and then with a flick of her wrist causes the archer to drop his bow. He leaves the weapon on the floor and runs away down the stairs.
The remaining three scorpions attack anything around them, including themselves.
Lana is jabbed by one scorpion, while two of them start battling each other.
”Ow! You little s+%~!” Lana curses as she again tries to touch the scorpion with the sparking wand.
The cobra hisses at the scorpion that stung Lana and its head snaps forward in a flash as it tries to bite it as well.
With no immediate threats nearby, Nemo takes a moment to heal herself.
She then moves into the hall and prepares to help Arc.
"If you could please move a little to your right, Arc," Nemo says to the other warrior, "that would be lovely."
Arc absorbs the morningstar blow with Pan's thick plating and throws another metal-wrapped punch at the half orc, while stepping aside to make room for Nemo.
Thistle calls to the fleeing fellow, "Remember, it isn't too late to listen to the teachings of Cladissa! Failure can be our greatest teacher!"
Then she steps back, briefly studies one of the remaining scorpions, and then tries to skewer it (without much success).
* -1 to each of those rolls, if it wasn't the scorpion I studied that triggers an AoO
The half-orc sidesteps Arc's second swing, and he follows up with his own.
The enraged scorpion skitters out of the way of Lana's wand, but is bitten by her viper's strike.
The two scorpions continue battling each other, while the one keeps striking at Lana.