Nik'olo stiffens slightly as he recognizes what the doormen are, but keeps to himself. Momo seems to know how to handle them, making them laugh even, but who would hire such thugs, even for the Gullet, this was a sign of trouble.
He warns the others as Momo enters: "If it's the fast guy were running after, he will make us the moment we step in. May I suggest that some of us wait outside in case he bolts?"
Alfen looks around nervously as they get deeper and deeper into the Gullet. I would so much rather be at the Silk Scabbard right now," he mutters to himself.
He grins at the bugbears, desperately trying to mask his fear of them. At least they don't seem to mind us being here. The "werefox" is about to follow Momo into the Broken Seal when Nik'olo speaks up.
He warns the others as Momo enters: "If it's the fast guy were running after, he will make us the moment we step in. May I suggest that some of us wait outside in case he bolts?"
Alfen is quick to volunteer. "I know a spell that can hopefully stop him if he tries to run. As long as our new friends here don't mind spells being cast outside of their establishment," he adds, glancing again to the bugbears.
Momo looks disappointed that Alfen chooses to stand outside but it doesn't deter her from wanting to enter the tavern. In a gruff voice: "I need drink... and meat." Momo looks at the bouncers again, confirming that she's still planning on coming inside. Momo thinks she sounds like a cave cat, mimicking the bouncers' speech.
Alfen is quick to volunteer. "I know a spell that can hopefully stop him if he tries to run. As long as our new friends here don't mind spells being cast outside of their establishment," he adds, glancing again to the bugbears.
The bugbears scratch their heads. "Outside you do what want. It free city. Hurr hurr."
[dice=Perception (Visual)]1d20 +8[dice=Perception (Scent)]1d20 +8
Down the stairs Momo goes, into the underground bar. The place is dimly lit with flickering candles in red glass candleholders, painting everything in flickering red hues. The patrons of the bar are like the man who Momo followed here by an overwhelming majority. Most have horns of one sort or another. Rams horns, goat horns. Many have tails, cloven feet, claws, fangs or forked tongues. There are a few standing guard who look like the bouncers instead. Large goblins.
Despite what the bouncers had said about magic being prohibited, there are obvious displays of magic openly being performed all over the bar. Mugs of ale float across the bar in mid air to land at the appropriate table. A dice game is played with two opponents locked in competition manipulating the dice with gestures of there hands, brows furrowed in concentration. Momo even sees a pair of lovers at a table in the corner hiding their passionate embrace with a bank of summoned mist. A goblin in an apron has a shortsword drawn, sparring against what looks to be his own broom, which has been turned against him by some enchantment, to the amusement of a table full of demonmarked patrons who seem to be placing bets.
The place is crowded and full of scents. Momo loses the trail of the tiefling in the crushed velvet cloak, but she knows he came this way. She will have to make her way through the crowd to see if he is still here.
Morrigan frowns uneasily as she recognizes the creatures guarding the entrance. She reaches to grab at Momo, but is too late. The youngster disappears into the building and, against her better judgment, Morrigan hurries up the stairs to follow. We're going to have to talk about this run...." she thinks, and then stops and gawks in alarm at the view that greets her. Quickly, she steps just inside and lingers at the edge, hopefully unobtrusively as she looks for Momo.
Momo's ears twitch excitedly as she sees so many of the same race inside. She grabs for Morrigan's hand or sleeve - whatever is available first - before continuing deeper into the tavern. The gesture serves to get Morrigan's attention. Momo attempts to be as stealthy as she can, sticking near the walls of the tavern. She moves slowly, sniffing the air.
Momo is the most interested in the couple hiding in a bank of summoned mist. Momo moves in the direction of the mist, curious. Did they eat fish? Are they Momo avoids the area with the goblin sparring against a broom. Momo has a sinking suspicion that the horned ones may be bullying the goblin. Momo looks for furniture to crouch and hide behind. Perhaps a barrel of ale or a decorative curtain.
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As Momo maneuvers through the crowd, she spots the tiefling in the crushed velvet cloak. He is sitting in a booth discussing something with a small, ugly but well-dressed goblin. A pair of larger goblinoid creatures like the ones upstairs at the entrance of the tavern stand guard beside the private booth.
Momo is able to slip discretely into a neighboring booth within earshot as the tiefling speaks.
"...it was Grigori the burglar who brought this heat down on us. He must have told the Spyglass Guild he works for us. That's why they came around here asking questions. I went to the Wheatsheaf and disguised myself as a kobold and I heard Grigori talking to some newcomers from out of town. He was fresh out of the Blue House and all he was worried about was his girlfriend. He didn't say anything about a Black Book. He only mentioned stealing the jewels. I think someone else is pulling his strings. Grigori is a two-bit thief, he couldn't get close enough to Lady Marack to steal her personal jewels without some kind of help."
The ugly goblin undoes the top button of his fancy shirt and stretches his neck, as he listens to the rest of his instructions from the tiefling in the crushed velvet cloak.
"I want you to find out who helped him, and I want you to find out about this Black Book. If it's of interest to the Spyglass Guild it's of interest to us. It might even give us leverage over Lady Marack. If we had the Lord Commander of the Free Army and Praetor of the Blue House in our pocket, think of what we could do... the Cloven Nine would be restored to our former notoriety and beyond! Go to the Silk Scabbard. That is where Grigori sent the newcomers. Let them find out where the girl is hiding. Ambush them outside, question them, then eliminate them. Grigori has done us a favor by involving them. The girls at the Scabbard would have never talked to us knowing we are Cloven Nine. They will talk to these newcomers, and the newcomers will talk to us, at pain of death. Everything is playing into our hand."
The bugbears standing guard over the booth are distracted as they try to stare past the mist to see the tiefling couple making love. They do not notice Momo listening in as their bosses discuss plans.
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The ugly goblin undoes the top button of his fancy shirt and stretches his neck, as he listens to the rest of his instructions from the tiefling in the crushed velvet cloak.
"I want you to find out who helped him, and I want you to find out about this Black Book. If it's of interest to the Spyglass Guild it's of interest to us. It might even give us leverage over Lady Marack. If we had the Lord Commander of the Free Army and Praetor of the Blue House in our pocket, think of what we could do... the Cloven Nine would be restored to our former notoriety and beyond! Go to the Silk Scabbard. That is where Grigori sent the newcomers. Let them find out where the girl is hiding. Ambush them outside, question them, then eliminate them. Grigori has done us a favor by involving them. The girls at the Scabbard would have never talked to us knowing we are Cloven Nine. They will talk to these newcomers, and the newcomers will talk to us, at pain of death. Everything is playing into our hand."
Momo eyes widen in surprise. She doesn't understand everything she's just heard but she plans to share her knowledge later with the group - once they've safely gotten far, far away from The Broken Seal and are alone. If it wasn't for the topic of conversation, Momo would have stayed longer to observe the couple mating in the conjured mist.
Momo stealthily retracts her steps back to the entrance of the tavern and to Morrigan. She takes her time moving as to not attract attention. I feel like I'm in a werewolf den... Momo pulls on Morrigan's sleeve so Morrigan will lean down for Momo to whisper in her ear: "We need to leave. Please." Momo looks up at her beloved friend with big, pleading eyes. Concern is clear on Momo's face. Please, hurry. Momo feels like prey and she doesn't like it. A similar feeling to three years ago when a werewolf attacked her village.
Once outside, Momo waves cheerfully to the bouncers and states in a gruff voice: "We go!" Momo quickly gives each of her companions a glance, blinking a couple times. "All done. Time to go," Momo gives her companions a somber look. Without waiting for a reply, Momo starts to jog back the way they came. I don't want those scary bouncers to know anything. Momo's instinct is to flee if there is a predator - especially if the surrounding area doesn't feel safe.
Momo is only willing to speak once the group reaches Redrock Bailey. If someone asks Momo what happened, Momo states gravely, at a normal volume: "Quickly... Nik'olo, to the Silk Scabbard? Quickly." Momo repeats herself but is serious and not at all cheery. If someone asks about The Broken Seal, Momo defers by saying "Later" If her companions continue to press for information, Momo says: "At the Silk Scabbard I'll tell you everything. Privately." For the ones who know Momo, it's strange for Momo to be so serious. Momo begins to jog again in the direction of the Silk Scabbard. She feels like she's hunting - except she's the prey.
Nik'olo cannot help but wonder at the fear he sees in the young one's eyes. He wants to wring her ears, to shout at her his displeasure of running through town without knowing what he's running after, except that it is not where they were supposed to be headed.
And now, now she wants them to run back to where they were supposed to be headed...
He takes a long deep breath, and exhales slowly, concentrating on preventing the fumes from steaming out of his red ears, and manages to say evenly: "Very well..."
The Fates are in luck, I really need a break. Let's trust the girl. For now.
And he starts leading the group at a brisk pace to the Silk Scabbard.
As they walk, Morrigan frowns over at Momo. She wants very much to stop, grab Momo by the shoulders, and demand the other woman answer her questions, but she has never seen Momo quite so.... scared? Just what had gone on in there? Nothing good... the place was nothing but goblins and demon-blood, this is likely to be very bad.
Instead of acting on her desires, she contents herself for now with grumbling discontentedly under her breath as she hurries along with the others, once asking, "Do any of you know what that place was? It was filled with demonmarked..."
Momo casts a glace at Morrigan as she scurries along hurriedly:
Momo says: "At the Silk Scabbard I'll tell you everything. Privately."
Momo is uncommonly silent the rest of the way to the Silk Scabbard. Once the group reaches the Silk Scabbard. Momo tugs on Nik'olo's short sleeve. "Ask if we can get a private moment. At a table or maybe in a spare room. For just a couple minutes." Momo contemplates how to explain the conversation she overheard to her companions.
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Írwen barely has time to react before Momo darts away in front of very eyes. The clacking sound of heeled boots on cobblestone echoes though street and square alike as she races behind the catfolk, trying not to lose sight of her as she leads their ragtag group behind corners and past alleys in a wild chase, much like a curious cat chasing an invisible, unravelling yarn.
When the trail finally ends in front of the Broken Seal, Írwen quietly slips inside with only the softest of smiles and a silent nod addressed at the hulking, non-human bouncers. The crowd gathered inside immediately elicits a pang of nervousness in her, though. I don't feel like I'm a chasing a prey. Quite the opposite, in fact. She's wondering how they'd be able to find the velvet-cloaked demonmarked among such a peculiar congregation, and even if the did, what they'd intend to do with him when she spots Momo already inconspicuously sneaking through the crowd.
She seems to know what she's doing the elfmarked courtesan muses as she nonchalantly mingles with the crowd gathered around the gambling table. Perhaps I should worry less.
With that, she pulls out all of her well-practiced repertoire of characters and personas, discreetly moving from patron to patron and listening to every word they utter as she seamlessly slips into the part of the naïve newcomer and the inveterate gambler alike, one moment a lost young girl and a flirty seductress the next.
It's only when she sees Momo scurrying away with Morrigan that she wisely excuses herself and follows the two women out of the tavern. Írwen wonders what the young catfolk might have heard to make her rush away so abruptly and towards the Silk Scabbard, and her apprehension only grows when it's clear she doesn't want to discuss it openly.
Momo is uncommonly silent the rest of the way to the Silk Scabbard. Once the group reaches the Silk Scabbard. Momo tugs on Nik'olo's short sleeve. "Ask if we can get a private moment. At a table or maybe in a spare room. For just a couple minutes." Momo contemplates how to explain the conversation she overheard to her companions.
"Let me" chimes in Írwen. "I used to live here, that ought to count for something."
"Ahh... wait... is this the..." Momo's ears twitch as Momo recognizes the building. Momo's face turns red from embarrassment, remembering how she had soiled herself in fear over nine years over.
"Let me" chimes in Írwen. "I used to live here, that ought to count for something."
She used to live here? I should have guessed. Momo obediently stands at a respectful distance from Allegra while her longtime friend speaks with someone from The Silk Scabbard. Momo nervously checks her hood. Momo fidgets with the trim of her cloak, wide eyes documenting Allegra's body language as she speaks. Hurry up... I don't know how far behind the horned one is.
Momo looks around outside of the Silk Scabbard for possible threats, horned ones, or kobolds.
After looking around, Momo huddles close to Morrigan, signalling for Morrigan to lean down. Unable to wait any longer because of fear, Momo whispers into Morrigan's ear:
If anyone stares at Momo or raises an eyebrow at her, Momo will repeat what she did and said to Morrigan with the respective party member.
As Irwen reconnoiters about the bar she is able to gather or at least get a hunch that it is the headquarters for the Cloven Nine. From what she has heard about the gang over the years, the presence of all these goblinoids in their midst must be something new. They were always an infernal gang comprised of demonmarked and human arcanists.
Nik'olo and Irwen lead the way, back past Redrock Bailey this time cutting South East across Crown Square.
There is a place where the borders of Lower Zobeck, Upper Zobeck and the Kobold Ghetto all meet. Within a block from that point is a large but nondescript two story brick building standing out from the wooden buildings all around it. The entrance is a heavily reinforced metal door with a sliding viewing plate. This is the Silk Scabbard.
Irwen knows there is no cover charge here on days without a big fight.
It is now dusk.
The street is quiet. Whatever gangsters are supposed to be coming here they haven't arrived yet, or they are well hidden.
When the plate slides open Irwen recognizes the bouncer, Atsen, a barrel chested man known to squander his wage at the tables and on the girls. If Atsen remembers Irwen he doesn't say so, but the metal door slides open. Inside Irwen sees the familiar arrow slits from the kill room off to the side of the entryway. She knows there are crossbowmen with poisoned bolts on duty at all times in case anyone tries anything.
The cage for collecting cover charges is closed. There must not be a fight going on at the moment.
Nik'olo walks in, uneasily. They were finally there, though he was out of breath. He bows slightly when Irwen offers to lead discussions. This was not the kind of place he usually frequented and knew little of its customs.
Once outside, Momo waves cheerfully to the bouncers and states in a gruff voice: "We go!" Momo quickly gives each of her companions a glance, blinking a couple times. "All done. Time to go," Momo gives her companions a somber look. Without waiting for a reply, Momo starts to jog back the way they came. I don't want those scary bouncers to know anything. Momo's instinct is to flee if there is a predator - especially if the surrounding area doesn't feel safe.
Momo is only willing to speak once the group reaches Redrock Bailey. If someone asks Momo what happened, Momo states gravely, at a normal volume: "Quickly... Nik'olo, to the Silk Scabbard? Quickly." Momo repeats herself but is serious and not at all cheery. If someone asks about The Broken Seal, Momo defers by saying "Later" If her companions continue to press for information, Momo says: "At the Silk Scabbard I'll tell you everything. Privately." For the ones who know Momo, it's strange for Momo to be so serious. Momo begins to jog again in the direction of the Silk Scabbard. She feels like she's hunting - except she's the prey.
Alfen could've laughed at Momo's attempts to make herself seem tough in front of the bugbears if she hadn't looked so serious. What had she seen in the Broken Seal? I guess any answers will have to wait.
When the plate slides open Irwen recognizes the bouncer, Atsen, a barrel chested man known to squander his wage at the tables and on the girls. If Atsen remembers Irwen he doesn't say so, but the metal door slides open. Inside Irwen sees the familiar arrow slits from the kill room off to the side of the entryway. She knows there are crossbowmen with poisoned bolts on duty at all times in case anyone tries anything.
Alfen breathes a sigh of relief as they finally reach the Silk Scabbard. He is happy to have left the gullet far behind. Alfen glances at Momo and Morrigan as Irwen works on getting the group a table and sees the two whispering. A little annoyed, Alfen resists the urge to pry. Whatever happened in the Broken Seal could wait until they were off the streets. And preferably sitting comfortably at a table, he thinks to himself. Now that adrenaline was wearing off, he could feel the ache forming in his legs from suddenly running after being out of practice for so long.
The others might notice, and Alfen in particular would see Morrigan stiffen perceptibly at whatever it is Momo whispers to her. The older woman's eyes narrow almost to slits and she hisses softly as she glances behind them, back at the door.
Morrigan straightens from where she had leaned down towards Momo, then casually smooths her skirts flat. Inwardly, she bundles all the frustration and fears of the past hour and concentrates it into a point before deliberately releasing it all through the bond. Fiachra, danger... I have need of you.
The bouncer Atsen looks for a long moment at all the weapons and armor adorning the party. He seems about to say something but he waves you in. Maybe he remembers Irwen after all. The group passes through the entrance, leaving the cruel arrow slits behind them. The first site that greets them is a wide open area containing tables for public games, a wide bar, and the metal rail encircled, sandy-floored fighting pits, which are literally recessed 12 feet into the ground. Scantily clad women are everywhere. On a flight of stairs just to the left as you enter, a particularly lascivious looking lady leans out of the shadows over the rail, covering her otherwise bare breasts with her hands alone. She withdraws again after making eye contact with Nik'olo.
A door at the side of the stairwell leads to the mustering area for the guards, who do not make their presence felt, but are never far.
Off to the side of the small public gaming tables are several unoccupied booths. No special permission is required to be seated here. They are intended for private conversation and seat 6 comfortably.
Morrigan strides into the room and glances obliquely at the surroundings and its.... occupants. She feels her cheeks growing warm at some of the clothing, or lack thereof on display. Spotting the private tables at last, she immediately starts herding the others towards one of them.
When they are gathered more privately, she calmly says. "Now, tell everyone what it is you heard, Momo."
"It's a pleasure to see you too, Atsen" Írwen says quite theatrically as she enters. "A pity you would no longer be able to afford me."
Once inside, she seeks the Madam to do some brief catching-up as well as explain their need to discuss some matters privately. "And by 'private matters' I simply mean what I said" she adds almost immediately, with a quick glance at her variegated group. "Unless it brings us a discount. Then by all means, feel free to think what you want."
"That place, the Broken Seal" she says through her teeth once they're all seated. "that was the headquarters of the Cloven Nine. We're lucky to have gotten out of it alive. But that's not what gotten you so scared, right Momo?" it seems we're stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Momo follows Morrigan to a private table and she huddles with her back against the wall. "Shh," Momo looks around. She leans forward and whispers to the seated group: "The horned one was speaking to a goblin. A goblin in fancy clothes. They spoke of Grigori. Grigori told the Spyglass Guild of his employment with the horned ones and the Spyglass Guild went to The Broken Seal asking questions. Before Grigori was in... Blue House. He told the Spyglass Guild of the jewels but not of this Black Book. They think he had help stealing Lady... Marack? Marack's jewels."
Momo tilts her head and twitches her ears. I think they said Mady Marack. Momo thinks a moment, trying to recall the rest of the conversation before continuing:
"The goblin... I think... was the one who spoke next. He said he wants the horned one from Wheatsheaf to find out more about the Black Book. The Spyglass Guild are interested in it too. And it's important to Lady Marack? They want the Commander Lord of the Free Army and Praline of the Blue House in their pocket. The Commander Lord and Praline of the Free Army must be very small. Perhaps the size of nuts..." They had said Praetor not Praline but Momo had misheard. Momo stops speaking for a moment, imagining and thinking literally of a tiny human the size of an almond living inside a blue dollhouse. Momo looks lost in thought until someone says something or clears their throat.
Momo looks startled and continues in a whisper: "The don't know where she is hiding and they think we will know after talking to the people at the Silk Scabbard. The goblin told the horned one to ambush us, torture us for information, and then kill us. And... they spoke to the girls at the Silk Scabbard before but they said the girls didn't know they are the... Cloven Nine? Do you know what that is? We need to prepare! I don't want to die!" Momo's last two sen tenses come off as a hiss and her ears tilt back.
Momo looks at her companions, calmer after relaying the information. Momo asks to nobody in particular: "What race are they? Are they always bad?"
On a flight of stairs just to the left as you enter, a particularly lascivious looking lady leans out of the shadows over the rail, covering her otherwise bare breasts with her hands alone. She withdraws again after making eye contact with Nik'olo.
Alfen flashes a quick grin to the girl just before she takes off. Guess we don't look like their normal clientele. He shrugs and quickly takes a seat at the table with everyone else.
Momo looks startled and continues in a whisper: "The don't know where she is hiding and they think we will know after talking to the people at the Silk Scabbard. The goblin told the horned one to ambush us, torture us for information, and then kill us. And... they spoke to the girls at the Silk Scabbard before but they said the girls didn't know they are the... Cloven Nine? Do you know what that is? We need to prepare! I don't want to die!"
Alfen leans in with interest as Momo recounts her experience in the Broken Seal, but involuntarily throws himself back at this last part. "Are you serious?" he whisper shouts, trying not to raise his voice loudly. He looks around frantically to see if anyone else is listening and is relieved to note that the nearby tables are currently empty. He turns quickly to Irwen. "Who was your friend that knew this Ilyana? She might be in danger too."
"Praetor" Írwen absent-mindedly corrects Momo, her lips moving on their own whim while her brain is focusing on the task of unraveling the colossal intrigue they were just unwittingly dragged into and which now threatens to swallow them.
"Praetors are like... a secret cabal which governs Zobeck. The Mayor's left hand, the Council's shadow counterpart. Lady Marack is the only publicly known member. If the Cloven manage to get some sort of leverage on her, their tendrils would spread into the very heart of the city's administration virtually unopposed" she explains, one finger on each temple.
"As of now, we're sitting ducks. I don't think we can get away from this scot-free by merely walking away, not anymore, not at this point. The stakes are too high. They would torture and kill us even if we had discovered nothing, just to err on the side of caution. And as of now, nothing is all we have discovered."
She's biting her upper lip as her fingers start fidgeting with her hair, her foot tapping rhythmically on the table's leg. "The only way out I can think of is to find some leverage on our own and use it as a bargaining chip, be it with the Cloven, or the Blue House, or the Spyglass Guild, or whatever. But first, we need to stay alive."
Once inside, she seeks the Madam to do some brief catching-up as well as explain their need to discuss some matters privately.
The madam is still the same one Irwen remembers. Her name is Katya, she has black hair and a sharp tongue. The girls and the patrons respect her no-nonsense ways. She remembers Irwen and volunteers the booth table, but she would do that for anyone.
Irwen is aware that the comfort rooms where the ladies entertain the patrons have secret passageways that lead to a back alley.
The girls who Irwen remembers talking about Ilyana were called Iskra and Filipa. They always spoke of her critically, saying she was foolish for refusing to work in the brothel. With her looks and charms they thought she could make a lot of money. Despite describing her that way, they did at least care enough about her to worry about her.
Irwen can easily spot Iskra at the bar now, on the arm of a local tough, getting him to buy her drinks and probably working up to a trip to the comfort rooms.
Katya the Madam idles over to the table. "What brings you back to the Scabbard anyway, Irwen? I had started to think you were too good for us. Or have your suitors finally realized your nothing but a tomboy who can't decide whether she wants to fight or screw? Feel free to get yourself a drink at the bar... on you, of course."
Katya's face is cool and betrays almost nothing but her knuckles are white where she grips the edge of the table as she leans in.
"The rest of you, if you want to see what a real lady is like, there are plenty still here since Irwen moved on. Two silvers for a private room." She addresses the table as a whole with this last invitation but her eyes linger on the men, and Nik'olo in particular, profiling being part of her trade.
As Momo explains what she witnessed, Nik'olo gradually turns from pink to light green, then to dark purple. With his strangled voice he says: "And so you just walked us straight into a deadly trap..." His eyes bore between Momo's eyes for a heartbeat, then he catches himself.
"In any case, we're in more trouble, but at least we know about it..."
He thinks for a moment: "The players are: the Cloven Nine, the Blue House, the Spyglass Guild; the pieces are: the jewels, the Black Book of Lady Marack, Ilyana, Grigori, and us, of course..."
When Katya approaches them, Nik'olo feels a deep urge rise from within. He can't help but be captivated by everything about her. He smiles charmingly and ponders her offer: "I just might... Let's start with something to drink though. A whiskey would be wonderful..."
Alfen grins at Katya as she walks over to the table, but it quickly disappears as he notices how rude she is to Irwen. Thankfully, her off behavior seemed more out of hurt than actual malice. They had made enough enemies already in the short time since leaving the Wheatsheaf.
"The rest of you, if you want to see what a real lady is like, there are plenty still here since Irwen moved on. Two silvers for a private room." She addresses the table as a whole with this last invitation but her eyes linger on the men, and Nik'olo in particular, profiling being part of her trade.
Alfen would flush with embarrassment if his cheeks weren't already covered in red fur. He looks at an interesting spot on the wall past Katya, unable to make eye contact. "I agree with Nik'olo, a drink would be great," he says, avoiding responding to the proposal directly.
"We were already in a trap" Írwen says in rebuttal of Nik'olo's statement. "Too late for us to evade it, but by coming here... we might be able to run straight through it. You did the right thing, Momo" she tells an obviously agitated Momo in the most comforting voice she can muster.
"Listen. As of now, we're but pawns, as Nik'olo quite eloquently put it. But pawns gan be promoted. If we can grab a piece for ourselves, we might very well become players. That girl there" she nods towards Iskra, standing by the bar, while her tone suddenly becomes conspiratorial "she might know about Ilyana. If we can squeeze some information out of her, there are passegeways in some of the comfort rooms that lead directly to a back alley – a side benefit for the more discretion-minded patron. If we could snatch her and bring her into one of those..."
The sentence is left hanging when she notices Katya approaching the table.
Katya the Madam idles over to the table. "What brings you back to the Scabbard anyway, Irwen? I had started to think you were too good for us. Or have your suitors finally realized your nothing but a tomboy who can't decide whether she wants to fight or screw? Feel free to get yourself a drink at the bar... on you, of course."
Írwen's cheeks suddenly flush as she feels a pang of mortification at the well-placed insult, cutting deep into her own insecurities as only someone who had known her for many years could. "No need to be so feisty, Katya. I might have moved on, but you know full well it wasn't you I was moving away from. Besides," she maliciously adds, " believe it or not, there's plenty of suitors who quite fancy this sort of indecision..."
"The rest of you, if you want to see what a real lady is like, there are plenty still here since Irwen moved on. Two silvers for a private room." She addresses the table as a whole with this last invitation but her eyes linger on the men, and Nik'olo in particular, profiling being part of her trade.
"Don't be shy, dear" Írwen says languidly leaning toward Nik'olo and placing an arm around his waist, her head resting on his shoulder. "My Nik'olo, here, he has a rather... unquenchable appetite, one I struggle to fully satiate myself. He has just laid his eyes upon Iskra as we were speaking, so I was wondering... could you arrange us some time with her? You still have those lovely rooms in the back, right? We wouldn't want to inconvenience anyone on our way out."
”Praetor" Írwen absent-mindedly corrects Momo, her lips moving on their own whim while her brain is focusing on the task of unraveling the colossal intrigue they were just unwittingly dragged into and which now threatens to swallow them.
"Praetors are like... a secret cabal which governs Zobeck. The Mayor's left hand, the Council's shadow counterpart. Lady Marack is the only publicly known member. If the Cloven manage to get some sort of leverage on her, their tendrils would spread into the very heart of the city's administration virtually unopposed" she explains, one finger on each temple.
Momo sits and listens intently to Írwen; Momo is learning a lot about Zobeck today. Momo gazes up lovingly at Írwen, smiling with perky ears. Írwen is so smart. I’m so glad we’re friends!
As Momo explains what she witnessed, Nik'olo gradually turns from pink to light green, then to dark purple. With his strangled voice he says: "And so you just walked us straight into a deadly trap..." His eyes bore between Momo's eyes for a heartbeat, then he catches himself.
Nik’olo’s angry faces intimidates Momo so Momo presses herself into the companion sitting closest to her. Momo continues to stare cautiously at Nik’olo until he smiles charmingly at the human female. He mood changes as quickly as the wind. Nik’olo’s charming smile makes Momo forget about his earlier scary face and Momo returns to her seat, relaxed.
Katya the Madam idles over to the table. "What brings you back to the Scabbard anyway, Irwen? I had started to think you were too good for us. Or have your suitors finally realized your nothing but a tomboy who can't decide whether she wants to fight or screw? Feel free to get yourself a drink at the bar... on you, of course."
Momo’s mouth gapes open stupidly for a good five seconds before she reels her face in. Momo hadn’t realized this about her friend until now. Maybe I don't know as much about Allegra as I thought... Momo is comfortable with intimacy because coupling was common in her village during festivals. But, due to the circumstances in which Momo met Allegra, Momo always imagined Allegra as a brave fighter than a sensual lover.
"Don't be shy, dear" Írwen says languidly leaning toward Nik'olo and placing an arm around his waist, her head resting on his shoulder. "My Nik'olo, here, he has a rather... unquenchable appetite, one I struggle to fully satiate myself. He has just laid his eyes upon Iskra as we were speaking, so I was wondering... could you arrange us some time with her? You still have those lovely rooms in the back, right? We wouldn't want to inconvenience anyone on our way out."
Momo nods knowingly, convinced by Allegra's words and choosing to be utterly unaware that it's a bluff. Momo is completely trusting of Allegra and has no reason to believe that her friend would lie. So that's how they know one another.
Momo silently looks back and forth at the others talking. Momo feels uncomfortable talking to humans and would rather talk to fey or other races.
"You saw right through me Irwen... Yes, she would do just fine. Thralldom makes a man... Well, you know!" Nik'olo adds, playing along, longingly looking at the woman at the bar.
Morrigan leans against the back of her seat. She stays silent and lets the locals Irwen and Nik'olo take the lead here as she was nearly as out of her element as Momo.
She is full of questions, but now, as the others made their. errr...inquiries, did not seem the time to ask. Cloven nine? Blue House, guilds, lady Marack, what and who are these things? What do they want? And how can I get Momo and myself disentangled from them? She is too young and naive to play this game...for that matter I do not wish to play either. We do not know the rules or even the objective. Politics is not why I have come. Why did I ever let her run off?
As these things pass through her mind, the fingers of Morrigan's right hand drum absently over the tabletop in front of her in a repeating pattern. She remains aware of what the others are saying, but her eyes take in the rest of the establishment, making note of who is there, what they are doing, whether any seem to be taking undue note of her party...
or
Know Local Cloven Nine]1d20+7+1d6
Know Local Blue House]1d20+7+1d6
To hire them, rumors claim, one need only draw a drop of blood and call their name. They always make the conditions of their agreements clear, but they rarely name a price up front or specify a time of payment. Whether permanent Constitution drain, the death of a loved one, a portion of the bargainer’s soul (including several years off their life), information, servitude, etc., the Cloven collect the fee they want when they want. The Cloven Nine worship Asmodeus and claim direct blood ties to him, though many times removed.
As a coven of warlocks, some hire the Nine to cast subtle and horrific curses. They know secrets about everyone of import in town, and their informants, enforcers, and mystique keep much of the city’s petty gangs awed and respectful. They hold themselves apart from (and, they believe, well above) the other criminal guilds, and they rarely sully their own hands with criminal activity. That is what lesser gangs are for.
The Cloven Nine reserve for themselves magical crimes and the summoning of evil familiars and servant creatures such as dretch and yeth hounds.
The Blue House is simple enough. It is the seat of the secret police. No one acknowledges the secret police exist, but this building is there in plain view right outside the Citadel. They say common murderers, frauds, smugglers, and bandits stay in Redrock Bailey. The Citadel holds those convicted of diabolism, sedition, coining, treason, spying, or other high crimes. The Blue House is where the latter are investigated and interrogated. The secret police of the Blue House are also known as the Spyglass Guild.
"Don't be shy, dear" Írwen says languidly leaning toward Nik'olo and placing an arm around his waist, her head resting on his shoulder. "My Nik'olo, here, he has a rather... unquenchable appetite, one I struggle to fully satiate myself. He has just laid his eyes upon Iskra as we were speaking, so I was wondering... could you arrange us some time with her? You still have those lovely rooms in the back, right? We wouldn't want to inconvenience anyone on our way out."
Bluff: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (10) + 11 = 21
Katya looks surprised but if anything her dour mood is ameliorated by the prospect of Irwen needing the service of her girls. "The comfort rooms are 2 silvers per person. Pay me or pay Iskra, for the rooms. Whether she wants to party with all of you is up to her... and she will negotiate a rate. Nik'olo, is it? Prepare to find out what you've been missing! And yes Irwen, you can leave out the back. For Rava's sake just don't go telling everyone you know about the tunnels."
After scoping out the surroundings Morrigan feels pretty secure that the coast is clear for now. There is Iskra at the bar picking up a client. The bartender is a baldheaded man with a sleeveless shirt showing his tattoos. The gaming that goes on down here is unsupervised. A couple of simple round tables. There's no house dealer downstairs, these tables are public, but there is someone there to collect a sitting fee. There is a card game going on right now. An old gypsy woman, a polite, nervous looking young fellow and a rather downtrodden middle aged man with a pot belly. They don't seem concerned with anything but their game. It seems to be a fairly low stakes affair compared to the action upstairs in the proper open gambling area. The section where the group has seated in the booth has a view up to the gambling area. It's set up as a balcony half the width of the building. The other half of the second floor is open to the ground floor. Things are a bit more lively up there but no one seems to paying any mind to the five of you.
Katya looks surprised but if anything her dour mood is ameliorated by the prospect of Irwen needing the service of her girls. "The comfort rooms are 2 silvers per person. Pay me or pay Iskra, for the rooms. Whether she wants to party with all of you is up to her... and she will negotiate a rate. Nik'olo, is it? Prepare to find out what you've been missing! And yes Irwen, you can leave out the back. For Rava's sake just don't go telling everyone you know about the tunnels."
Írwen draws one gold piece from a well-concealed pocket hidden under a buckle on her left boot and lets it slide toward Katya. "Don't worry" she winks. "Oh, and is Filipa still around?" she asks with a teasing smile, her lips silently spelling the word unquenchable.
Alfen swallows a chuckle as Nik'olo and Irwen work Katya to their advantage.
Private rooms, secret exits, and the girl we need to talk to is right there at the bar? Too easy!
Alfen suddenly glances around the room anxiously. Actually, it did seem too easy. Where were the Cloven Nine right now? Could they be absolutely sure that they hadn't been spotted and followed after the Broken Seal? Not that it mattered, since they were apparently headed this way anyway. He eyes the gaming table and Iskra's client with suspicion. They seem to be the only ones in the room who weren't employed here; if there was anyone here to spy on their group, it could be one of them.
Alfen turns his attention back to Katya and the table. He chides himself for letting paranoia get the better of him. The tiefling from Whatsheaf was fast, but according to Momo he had only just been ordered to ambush them as the group was quickly leaving the Broken Seal. There was no way he had gotten here before them. Everything would be fine. Probably.
"Two girls, eh?" he winks at Nik'olo and grins at Katya. "He's quite the rascal, our Nik'olo."
Nik'olo blushes while looking outraged by Alfen's insinuations.
Momo nods wholeheartedly at Alfen's statement. Nik'olo must be a real horndog. What stamina! Momo continues to stay silent as the ones with human blood speak.
"Two girls, eh?" he winks at Nik'olo and grins at Katya. "He's quite the rascal, our Nik'olo."
"Oh, he will be punished for that, doubt not."
So, it seems we are clear, for the moment. Morrigan relaxes somewhat in her seat and returns more of her attention to the table.
Katya accepts the coin and tilts her head up to the balcony. "Filipa is upstairs at the games. She's with a cattle merchant. She's put a lot of time into him already, I don't think she'll want to be bothered. You know you lot really paint quite the picture. You look ready for war. Are you going hunting Irwen?" She plucks the string of Irwen's shortbow. "Anyway, they say it's a Free City, isn't it? But Nik'olo dear, we do have a washroom if you'd like to freshen up. Think of the girls won't you?" Katya wrinkles her nose.
Outside, the raven Fiachra lands on a storm drain. Morrigan feels his mood through her empathic link. No present danger on the street.
With a voice like steel on stone, Nik'olo beams at the lady and replies with knowing look: "Indeed! But I'll need a hand with the sponge..."
"You look ready for war. Are you going hunting Irwen?" She plucks the string of Irwen's shortbow.
Hunting? For what? Momo tilts her head in curiosity. Momo looks up at Morrigan to see if Morrigan understand was Katya is talking about.
With a voice like steel on stone, Nik'olo beams at the lady and replies with knowing look: "Indeed! But I'll need a hand with the sponge..."
Momo's stomach rumbles and Momo touches the vibrating area above her navel. Food. "While you satiate your appetite of the flesh, we should satisfy our stomachs..." Momo attempts a smile, mouth closed and hiding her incisors. Momo pulls out ten silver pieces and places them on the table. She looks tentatively, gaze shifting between Katya and Írwen. "Do you have meat and something sweet to drink?"
When Momo looks at Morrigan, she sees that the woman seems for a moment to be elsewhere entirely, as if her attention was on something unseen. This is perhaps something not entirely unusual for the often aloof-seeming elven woman though.
Her attention seems to focus once more and she looks directly at Momo in that moment and mouths the words "the weapons" in answer to Momo's unspoken question. Morri seems slightly more relaxed now compared to moments earlier, but her fingers still drum across the table once more. One eyebrow lifts slightly in surprise as Momo begins to order food.
Nik'olo blushes while looking outraged by Alfen's insinuations.
Alfen grimaces at Nik'olo's reaction and decides not to make a comment about taking a spongebath. He glances at Momo as she asks Katya about their food selection. Can't believe she's still hungry. I guess tracking that tiefling across the city took a lot out of her.
"You know you lot really paint quite the picture. You look ready for war. Are you going hunting Irwen?"
Alfen shrugs nonchalantly at the question. "You never know what you might run into," he says, all too aware of what they might run into once they've left. "Better to prepared, that's my motto."