"It is not that you should assume the villain role just because someone says you should do so Girrigz." Burahl pipes up from behind Thaven and Raijinn.
"If you do that, people will think the Queen and stereotype is right. Turn it the other way around, be the better party and people in Korvosa will think that the way they look at you is wrong. I myself have been doing good work underground out of sight of the law and I help many poor residents of Old Korvosa. Some of them, mostly the human, were scared of me, thinking ratfolk were all thieves and beggars. That all changed when they got to know me for a helping hand in a weakened community. You could be the same too."
"Besides, eight fighters do not a strong force make," says Fredo patiently, deciding not to take umbrage at the insults. Unlike Tayce with respect to Raijinn, Girrigz at least has a legitimate complaint against Chelaxian chauvinism. He also chooses not to mention that The Big Sky only numbers ten, including noncombatants like Henk, Dalreen, and Pauli. "Only with our groups and others like us united, with the masses below and above on our side, can we be strong."
Now that Girrigz is here, might as well test the theoretical waters, even if the answer is distressingly predictable. Fredo hopes that at least the two they'd been talking to can be won away from such a muddy, dead-end program. "Though I wonder, Girrigz, whether you even believe your people share a common enemy with the oppressed among the surface-dwellers?"
I wouldn't have done much anyway, other than keep a defensive stance for Girrigz's inevitable attack.
Burahl and Goffred's words sow doubt in the minds of Girrigz's ratfolk followers, such that they hesitate at Girrigz's command to kill the heroes. Pausing for a moment, Girrigz looks around at his followers, who are busy trying to crowd backwards toward the cavern walls, and he scoffs. "Fine." he says, "I'll just have to slaughter you all myself!", and then he leans forward, ready to strike.
Thaven, however, is ready for his attack, and quickly nails him with two silver arrows, piercing the wererat's skin and getting through his natural protections. Girrigz yowls in pain from the silver weapons, takes one hand off of his longsword and retrieves a vial from a pouch at his back. Cocking it back, he hurls it at Thaven with a snarl.
The vial explodes on Thaven's skin, coating him with a quickly heating and thick white liquid. After mere moments, the liquid catches fire, though most of the burn and the heat merely scorches Thaven's armor.
Initiative:
Girrigz - 27
Raijinn - 18
Goffred - 17
Burahl - 16
Thaven - 8
Emmera - 1
"I find that exceedingly unlikely, Girrigz" says Fredo, ducking back and drawing Vimanda's silver dagger as Girrigz's flask goes sailing over his head. He scowls at the pained grunt that tells him Thaven was hit. "Though by trying you've proved yourself just as much a servant of Castle Korvosa as any Gray Maiden."
As he delivers this condemnation, Fredo weaves a spell around Cat so she can help bring Girrigz down while he further helps the others . She lifts her head and glares at the wererat. "As for the rest of you," says Fredo, glancing at Girrigz's erstwhile followers, "I applaud your good sense. You can demonstrate it further by giving us room. This should not take long, and we can talk after."
"Bad decision Girrigz. We could have been better allies than enemies."
Burahl brews up a bomb and throws it at Girrigz, making sure that none of the other wererats or one of his allies gets hurt.
Thaven, who always expects treachery, just sends two more silver arrows at Grirrgiggizit.
for
for
Raijinn sighs, realising that the rod he was given by Fredo would do little in this circumstance, as there would be no reasoning with Girrigz. Raising his black blade, cackling with electricity, Raijinn slices at the ratkin with regret in his eyes.
As projectiles begin to fly through the air, Emmera murmurs a quick prayer as she moves her shield-hand across the length of her sword. As she does so, the blade begins to glow with energy. When she finishes, she brandishes the blade before returning to her original stance... with the glow left behind in front of her. With a thought, she sends the blade of force zipping forward to Girrigz where it attempts to slash at him, while Emmera herself follows behind to support Raijinn.
The heroes react quickly to Girrigz' attack, and Raijinn is at the forefront, dashing forward to deliver an electrified slash to the wererat. He is staggeringly accurate, and his non-silver weapon does nothing to the lycanthrope, but the wererat's flesh sizzles and burns with the impact of Raijinn's spell.
Goffred casts a spell and tries to burn Girrigz, but the wererat resists when Cat looks him in the eye. Burahl's flames are much less resistible, though, as he mixes up a concoction and tosses it at the wererat. The explosion has a strange shape as it curves to avoid Raijinn, but it sets Girrigz ablaze.
Thaven is accurate as ever, landing two more silver arrows in Girrigz' filthy hide, but Emmera's conjured longsword flies right by Girrigz when he takes a step to the side to avoid the harm.
Girrigz screams in pain and in anger and slashes at Raijinn, twice, swinging at the tiefling with two-handed blows. The first one is dangerously close to Raijinn, but he sees it coming and hops over the blade. The second, though, Raijinn tries to avoid, but the powerful wererat changes angle at the last second and stabs Raijinn right through the chest, missing his heart by inches. Grunting with the exertion and crouching low to support the weight, Girrigz lifts Raijinn's body off of the ground while still impaled on the sword. With the unconscious tiefling in the air, Girrigz sinks his teeth into the swordsman's leg. Then, he unceremoniously throws Raijinn to the ground with a swing of his sword. He looks to the rest of the group hungrily, a vision of demonic rage in burning, filthy, rat flesh. He spits, growling, "Doubtful that I slaughter you all myself?"
At the same time, Thaven's alchemists' fire continues to burn, searing his flesh through his armor but very soon losing its spark and lustre and burning out.
Initiative:
Girrigz - 27
Raijinn - 18
Goffred - 17
Burahl - 16
Thaven - 8
Emmera - 1
Thaven smiles, though he has only one more silver arrow left. He nocks it and smiles at the rat. "Goodbye, Girrigigz.
for damage!
Burahl mixes up another bomb, ready to throw it at Girrigz if Fredo doesn't down him.
"You are the one wererat on who the word 'Monster is applicable." The rat shouts at him.
"Now die for what you did to my friend."
Burahl carefully keens out the spot so as not to hit the body of Raijinn even more.
Despite his bravado and strength, Girrigz is severely weakened by the wounds he'd already sustained, so Burahl's bomb strike sent the wererat to its knees, still aflame and empty-eyed now. Then, Thaven's arrow goes right through the neck and sends his body back, leaning on stretched ankles and dead.
Around them, the wererats that were watching are wide-eyed with terror and shock. Never have they seen their leader laid low in such a way, and the battle, however short, was explosive and dramatic. They stand open-mouthed and still.
Thaven slings his bow over his shoulder and dives forward to where Raijinn lies. He begins to press on wounds, trying to stabilize the man before he can bleed out.
Thaven might be quick, but Emmera is already there; by the time the ranger is half-way to Raijinn, Emmera is already kneeling beside him, white light emanating from bandaged hands as she pours positive energy towards the chest wound. All the while, she recites a prayer, beseeching Iomedae to heal him.
Once the wound seems stable, she turns her attention to the bite wound. This time, she doesn't enact healing, but divination. If Girrigz had infected Raijinn with anything due to that bite, lycanthropy in particular, time could be of the essence in getting him to a more powerful cleric.
Fredo catches his breath at the sight of Girrigz savaging Raijinn's body, and his eyes narrow in hate. He can't help his friend, so instead Fredo brings Girrigz sharply into focus, bending reality around the wererat so that Cat, Burahl, and Thaven can destroy him . "Yes, even now," he says venomously as Cat yowls from her perch and tries to light him on fire again. "You are a wrecker and a traitor, Girrigz, and you will die for it."
Fredo sidles up against the wall to make room for Emmera and Thaven to tend to Raijinn. Hoping that Girrigz might have carried an unguent or potion, Fredo trains his gaze on the wererat's corpse to see if he can spot any conjuration auras .
"You," he says, pointing at a random wererat and dropping all attempts at politeness. "Quick, if you have any healing potions, Raijinn needs them."
Thaven and Emmera rush to Raijinn's swiftly expiring body and immediately press on him on different parts of his body. There's only one wound worth being concerned about, at least in terms of harm - the huge gaping wound in his chest. Emmera touches him just as he begins a rasping exhalation - his disgusting death rattle...but Emmera's channeled energy stops the rattle before it ends, and Raijinn's breathing becomes more even. A second touch of positive energy and Raijinn's eyes flutter open as he regains consciousness.
The wererat that Goffred designates kind of yelps before he nods his head furiously. "Yes! Girrigz made us fetch many things that would be helpful for the fight against the surface tyrants...be right back!" and the wererat scurries away, quickly returning with two potions of cure light wounds, one in either paw.
Girrigz doesn't carry any healing potions, but he did carry several magic items. His chain shirt, sword, belt, and a ring on his finger are each magical. His chain shirt also has the glitter of mithral.
As Girrigz expires, his burnt flesh melds away into a muscular and unfortunate-looking human man. Obviously poor, he was also clearly of prodigious strength and anger.
Emmera's spell confirms her suspicions and fears - that Raijinn has been infected with the disease and curse of lycanthropy, and that if he doesn't get to an experienced cleric soon he could become one of the afflicted. He doesn't, however, show the signs of any other disease.
Goffred knows that a certain plant called belladonna, which is normally a poison, can be used on an afflicted if applied quickly enough. Other than that, magically curing it as a disease is usually what is done.
"Thank you," says Fredo, taking the potions. He pauses to let the wererat supply his name and repeats it back to him. "It means a lot," he says, turning quickly to hand the potions to Emmera.
"How do you feel?" he asks Raijinn out loud, with a quick glance at the Iomedean carrying the thought will he be alright?
Emmera mutters a curse - a mundane one - as her spell reveals what has happened. Before she can say anything, she finds herself being presented with potions. Startled, she takes them and starts to unstopper one before seeing Raijinn's eyes open. She sets them aside instead, within easy reach of Raijinn should he want them, and turns to Goffred as he inquires to Raijinn's health.
"He's contracted Lycanthropy," she says plainly, "No offense to those assembled, but time may be of the essence. I don't have the power to cure it myself, but I believe Brother Garm should. I can heal the rest of his injuries, though it'll take some time.
"I see," says Fredo, sitting down next to Raijinn with the potions between them. He calls Cat's disc over and lifts her onto his lap. She squirms a little, but lets him scratch her neck. "You do want to go back to the way you were, though?" he asks Raijinn. "It's your choice, not ours."
Burahl kneels closeby his friend and looks on as Emmera administers her care.
"Welcome back to the land of the living. You had us scared there for a moment Raijinn."
He then looks back to Emmera, Fredo and Thaven. "Then we shouldn't dawdle here too long, we should get him back quickly."
Raijinn's eyes flutter open and he coughs blood, unable to take his eyes off the hole in his chest as the others ask about how he is and discuss his condition. 'I can see my heart beating.' he murmurs.
He shows no reaction to the news of potential lycanthropy infection, and pauses for a long time at Fredo's question, before eventually shaking his head, and forcing a smile with a nod to Burahl. "I wouldn't make as handsome a rat as some others do.... It took me many years to come to terms with what I am. Avoiding it now would be cowardice." He continues, forcing the words out. Trying to sit himself up, he looks into Fredo's eyes. "The work we're doing here is important, more than I am." he says firmly, before pausing to catch his breath. "These people need you."
He cracks a twisted smile. "Certainly, I cannot walk to Garm on my own in this state, but it would be reckless for you all to accompany me." Relying on the others to help him stand, he forces himself to his feet, tearing off the tattered remains of his shirt, and wrapping it around his chest as a bandage. "I must remember to apologise to Vencarlo." he mutters, looking at the tattered remains of the tunic the man had lent him.
"However, as I do not want to grow whiskers, I am in agreement that we ought to move soon."
The tiefling then turns his attention down at his sword lying on the ground, thinking that the combination of the being and his own adeptness in magic wouldn't have been enough to save him. He would have to learn more, to work harder, for the next time he might not be as lucky. It was hard to imagine that, with everything he had seen and experienced, it might be a rat of all things that finally killed him.
Unable to bend down and pick it up, Raijinn motions to Burahl to pass the sword up to him, and then smiles at it, turning it in his hand.
'Looks as though you're stuck with me for a bit longer,' he thinks.
The short wererat introduces himself as Jim and ducks back into the little crowd of wererats with a lowering of his head and a quick shuffle backward.
"Well, probably better to see Garm than the alternative," says Fredo, floating his disk as high as it will go so Raijinn can use it to lever himself up, and putting Vimanda's dagger away. He turns to Burahl, looking up at the alchemist from the floor. "It's not pleasant, but if the brother's busy, I believe nightshade, diluted so as not to be deadly, can banish an affliction of lycanthropy."
Fredo gets up after Raijinn, leaving the grime of the floor on his robes, and looks at Jim and Girrigz's other erstwhile followers. He doesn't agree with Raijinn; if the tiefling is having trouble walking, he might need to ride Fredo's disk, which can't travel too far away from Fredo. That means the wererats need to be dealt with now.
"Look," he says, holding his hands out to the sides, "I still hope we can work together even after what happened with Girrigz, on the following basis. Your group would dissolve into ours, which would mean following our movement-building strategy, abandoning futile and provocative putschism, and opening your headquarters here to our members. Our headquarters in 3 Lancet Street on the surface would likewise be open to you, as would my office and all our decision-making." He produces his business card and hands it to Jim. "I'd like to get your names for our roll, to see at least one of you at our next meeting, whenever it is, and to get an article about your concerns for our next journal. As far as program goes, we'll support civil equality for wererats, ratfolk, halflings, Varisians, et cetera, self-rule for your communities, and special punishments for anyone trying to stir up a pogrom." At this point Fredo is operating mostly on guesswork and the principle he had enunciated back in Lamm's fishery: injustice to favor the poor and the weak. Despite his asking for their vision a number of times, the wererats hadn't offered much.
"Finally, much of Girrigz's kit is magical," he says, "and it should help fund or arm the organization. If you joined up with us, I'd want you to keep it, to stay strong. Deal?"
The wererats storm Girrigz' body, looting it of things. Jim, however, approaches Goffred with Girrigz' bloodied sword and unbuckled sheath. "We can take the rest of it, but... I don't think I need to tell you why it would be better for one of you to carry this than one of us."
He's right - the pommel of the sword and its sheath are both emblazoned with the insignia of the Korvosan Guard. "He took it off a guy who came down here to kill him. Girrigz is...was a bit of an infamous guy among the Guard, back when."
Fredo takes the blade and cleans it as best he can on his robe, then shoves it awkwardly back into the sheath. He has almost no practice with this kind of weapon. He does not know what Jim expects him to do with it, other than take it far away. Still, Fredo thanks him. "I think this means you trust me, Jim, and again, it means a lot. It takes a great deal of courage to believe a proposition of friendship from someone wearing the face of your enemy.
"The Guard has a file on me, so all you'd need to do to get me in trouble is get caught committing a crime while carrying my card," says Fredo, looking Jim in the eye. "But I know you won't."
"We'll keep in touch," he finishes with a smile, imagining Amin's reaction to Jim arriving at the next meeting. "But Raijinn wants a cleric and you've got mourning to do. You have my address if you need anything, but I think it would be best if we left for that."
'Victims.' Raijinn replies to the sword, pleased to be communicating with his mind, as talking still caused waves of pain to radiate through his chest. 'The Wererats - or even Ratkin like Burahl - even beings as myself, are judged not for their actions, but for their appearance. They likely have been treated unfairly for years.'
He pauses. 'Do not misunderstand, though - That would not excuse any behaviour. In this circumstance, it may be that Girrigz was the only violent one, and that he took advantage of the pain and confusion of the others. That they seem open to listening to Fredo speaks volumes about them, does it not? They watched their leader be cut down rather than come to his aid, because on some level, even they knew he was wrong.'
Raijinn shakes his head, 'Only time will tell if it's enough, but for now, it's something.'
"Thank you!" says Jim, doing a slight bow to Goffred as the man speaks. "I will most certainly come to get you, should any of us require your assistance." he begins to shift back to human form, the fur wiggling as it retracts inside his skin, and the hunch of his back straightening into a slightly taller, reedy human. "And I will see you again..." he looks down at the card, "...Goffred."
From there, the trip back to the temple to Iomedae is simple. Everybody knows the way, and none are accosted on the walk back. There are several strange glances Raijinn's way, as a very badly injured tiefling walking down the street, scantily-clad, is an odd sight. For the most part, people are too drawn inward and scared to glance anybody's way. And actually, all of the group see several more people, hunched on walls or wearily walking down the street, with the trademark pockmarks of the new disease.
At the temple, the group is greeted with an incredible sight - the place must have nearly two dozen sick individuals camped outside of it. Bedrolls and tents are in evidence here, and there's almost a line creeping up along the side of the building. All of them let the group pass, though, into the temple. Brother Garm is in evidence, in the center of the room, sitting nearby several stretchers, sick individuals lying on them. Nearly three dozen people recline or sit on the inside of the temple, though many of these are no longer sick, or are getting better. The Brother greets the group as they enter, as he sees them. "Friends! How do you - What happened to you, Raijinn?" He sets down a bundle of papers and walks over to the man. "I'm...I'm afraid I've expended most of my magic for the day already, but I can help you a bit. Here. Now tell me how you came by that injury."
"Were-bite, Brother. And the affliction that implies." Superficially, it was the lesser of the two injuries, but it was also the most important to deal with since Raijinn was stable at the moment. "A spell allowed me to know with certainty, but I don't have the capacity to cure it. I still have some power left for raw healing, but I didn't want to close the bite wound in case it was important."
Emmera shifts slightly, looking back at the masses gathered. "Unless there's something I can do here, I am going to go help the others." She waits a moment to see if Garm says otherwise, then (if he doesn't) she moves off to find another Brother or Sister to assist.
Thaven stares at the sick people all around. Grabbing a passing acolyte or priest or anyone who looks like they know, he mutters, "What's up with all these people? What do they suffer from?"
"I'd reckon the same illness we first encountered Thaven." Burahl pipes up as he hears him ask the question.
He looks hopeful to Brother Garm as Emmera asks the question of curing Raijinn. "If you can't help him yet this day, I might be able to procure essence of nightshade to stem the spread of any possible lycanthropy. "
"It's hard to come by and it's best left unknown off course who I get it from." he adds on a whispering tone to Raijinn ,Fredo and Thaven.
Fredo watches Emmera go, sparing a nod for Burahl's whisper before hurrying after her. The alchemist has already absorbed everything of use Fredo can contribute to the discussion of Raijinn's cure. "Wait just a moment," he calls, releasing from his mind a spell that lets him dart deftly around the patients' close-packed sleeping pallets . He hopes he's quick enough to avoid exposure to the pox. Cat struggles to keep up with him, but soon hits on the idea of jumping over some of the beds, her course a straight line next to Fredo's winding path. She jumps on his shoulders just as he catches up with Emmera.
"I've been thinking," he says carefully, his eyes casting down to the sick people around them. How specific can he be when they might hear? "About what we put you through when we met, and about the deal that was just concluded. The circumstances were different, but comparing the two, I think you were treated shabbily." Fredo unbuckles Girrigz's old sword-belt from around his waist, and holds it out to Emmera. "This was given to me as a symbol of trust. In that same spirit, and by way of apology, I'd like you to have it."
Garm purses his lips tightly in response to Thaven's question and Burahl's answer. "The ratfolk is right, Thaven. I haven't seen this disease before a few days ago, and it's all the same. They're all sick with the same thing, and it's taking all of the magic that we have here to even make a dent. I'd wager they're having it much the same way at the Bank. They have more cleric there, though."
Thaven nods tensely at Burahl and Garm's words. "But where is it coming from?"
Raijinn's desire for help had wavered as he saw the numerous sick people camped out around the church. Only physical weakness kept him from protesting any healing from Garm. The priest's touch made him feel considerably better. The notion of an infection in his blood leaves him feeling cold, however, and he is anxious to find a cure. "What must I do to prevent the change?" He asks Garm with a worried look in his eye.
"I have no idea where it's coming from. It's just cropped up all over the city. Hundreds are sick, based on what others tell me from elsewhere in the city. There are even more supplicants at the Bank." Garm scratches his bald head, lines of concern deepening on his wizened face. "I fear for many lives if this continues."
He turns to Raijinn. "As for you, I can heal you tomorrow at the expense of another patient of this mysterious disease. Alternately, you can procure wolfsbane, as some people call it. It's a dangerous poison, but it won't harm you as much as you'd harm others while transformed."
Emmera turns around as she hears Goffred call out, curious what he wanted. She thought he might be wanting to give her details on how to find him or the others again, or possibly thank her for saving Raijinn's life, but she certainly wasn't expected to be presented with Girrigz's sword. She took it without immediately responding, a brief period of uncomfortableness as she remembered the last time the weapon was used.
It was only a brief period, however, and she quickly shook it off. A blade was only a tool, an extension of its wielder, not something with a mind of its own. A fine tool as well, she noted as she drew the blade to inspect it (carefully so as not to accidentally hit anyone in the close quarters). A bit of Raijinn's blood still lingered, of course, but the glint of silver was also unmistakable - a valuable quality, that was for certain. the Korvosan Guard insignia also reminded her of the weapon's ultimate origins.
Resheathing the blade, Emmera looked up at Goffred and nodded in thanks. "A fine weapon from the looks of it, and I'll put it to much better use than its previous owner. Thank you, Goffred. Now, please excuse me, there are many people to help, and I need to do what I can."
Burahl nudges Raijinn in his side.
"Whatever you decide is fine with me Raijinn, but you might want to decide fast. I might acquire some wolfsbane tonight, though it might be tricky doing so. It's your call if you want to use that or wait for the morrow."
"Regarding the start of this illness, I'd say we go back to the one we've seen as the first patient. Perhaps she remembers coming into contact with something out of the ordinary that could have caused this."
Raijinn shakes his head at Garm. "I could not deprive another for myself. Please, tend to them, and I will find another way. You have done so much for me already."
Trying not to wince at Burahl's elbow, the tiefling turns to him. "I think we're on our own with this one." He looks around the room, shaking his head. "I find it rather likely that Garm will still have many people to help when the sun rises." He forces a smile "It seems once again, dear Burahl, that my life is in your hands."
He has lots to do, so with that Brother Garm takes his leave of the party, going to tend to some poor sick fellow, leaving with a nod and a thankful gleam in his eye.
With that, Burahl leads the rest of them out of the besieged temple, leaving behind the many sick folks and traveling back into the city proper. Once there, it's a fairly simple affair for him to find a sample of belladonna - in fact, he's got a sample of it in his very own shop, just waiting to be bought by somebody. Not wanting to let it be harsh, he brews the thing into a tea (although just one small teacup's worth) and feeds it to Raijinn.
The brew is bitter and stings the throat, but Raijinn is a tough man, and has endured much worse than a poisonous cup of tea. He shakes off the effects of the poison, and the belladonna disinfects his bite wound for him.
Thaven lurks around the outside of the temple, worried about the sheer volume of the sick, but unwilling to spend too much time around them. He pets his hippogriff, while watching the skies. Something feels amiss to him, but he can't put his finger on it.
Fredo is a little hurt by Emmera's curtness, but supposes he can't really blame her. She'll come around in time. Instead of sticking around the temple where he can't help, or following Raijinn and Burahl to the alchemist's shop where he can't help, Fredo follows Thaven out onto the street. "So," he says, "Can Whisper bear two riders? We still have to tell Eires what happened like she asked, and we've kept her waiting long enough."