"Actually," Pagrip says as he moves towards the stairs, "the real reason people don't like dwarf meat is our beards. No matter how hard you try, you just can't keep the hair out of everything else, and people don't like coarse strings of hair in their food. That's why we have the beards, you know. Protection from cannibals." He laughs.
"Lets take a look upstairs." Esme says as she absentmindedly rubs her jaw. "And please stop talking about hair in food. You are making me nauseous."
"After you," Caulder gestures to the staircase with a mock bow. "That damned butcher and his blade did nothing to improve my speed and maneuverability; if Vancaskerkin tries to make it past you, I'll try to block his escape." He'll let the other three go up first and bring up the rear once again.
"Right, I'll go up first."
Esme nods and follows Ten.
Pagrip follows behind Esme.
After everyone else has begun mounting the stairs, Caulder moves to take up the rear, doing his best to fill the staircase from side to side so no one can get past him trying to escape.
Ten enters the upper floor which presents him with a round table surrounded by four wooden chairs. A stack of cards sits on the tabletop. A cabinet to the southwest hangs open, a tangle of dirty clothes and blankets within. Four thin bedrolls lie rolled up against the north wall and a door leads to the south. The door is open.
The sound of a steady stream of liquid can be heard from the room to the south. Not unlike those commonly heard during ablutions.
"Looks all clear here. Try the next door, Ten."
"I think I can hear something... or somebody on the otherside of this door. Pagrip, get your crossbow loaded and I'll throw the door open when you're ready," Ten whispered to the others.
Caulder readies his morningstar and remains at the top of the stairs, determined to be an obstacle. He nods to Ten to let him know he's ready.
Pagrip loads his crossbow and levels it at the door. He nods his readiness to Ten.
Ten opens the door.
The door opens smoothly, revealing Verik Vancaskerkin readjusting his breaches and looking at Ten in quite a perplexed manner. A single large desk stands in the eastern part of this large office, transformed into a makeshift bed by a bedroll and several blankets and pillows. A table and three chairs sit to the west; several papers lie strewn over the table’s surface and a chamberpot sits under it. One of the papers is pinned to the tabletop by an exquisite silver dagger.
Verik shakes his head, "What are you guys still doing here? I thought I told you: I'm not telling you my lady's name. What did you do? Bribe Malder to let you up? I'll have to have a talk with him."
Pagrip, not having been present during the discussion of Verik's "lady", says, "I couldn't care less about your lady. She'll have to live without you for a little while. Now then, I believe you've been placed under arrest for desertion. Come quietly and we can avoid knocking your head in like we knocked in Mulder's or whatever you said his name was." He makes a show of aiming his crossbow at him.
"You can have a talk with Malder in jail. Unless he's the one I smashed with my morningstar; that one might not make it. Seriously, what part of 'we were sent by the Guard to bring you in' do you not understand? Now, are you going conscious or unconscious?"
"Okay! Okay dammit! I'll go with you - but on the condition that you ensure that they all 'make it'. I dragged these boys out here, and I don't want them to die because of it," Verik offers. Mostly to himself he adds, "What's happening to this city that they send a bunch of ruffians and thugs, when all the city needs is compassion."
"Oh gods, cry me a river," Caulder mutters, rolling his eyes at Vancaskerkin's mushy-headed sentimentality. Still, if it gets the job done.... "You got this, Darkbane? I'll go back downstairs and make sure that the philanthropist who almost took my leg off and the saint who tried to rape you continue to grace the surface of Golarion with their irreplaceable presence."
Verik looks a little put-off when Caulder stomps off, he asks to the remaining heroes, "What's he talking about? He was limping like that earlier already."
"He's like that. Now please hand over your weapons and follow the nice man." Esmerelda says nodding in Ten's direction.
"Actually," Pagrip says, "I think he means that this guy's men aren't as compassionate as he thinks they are. Admittedly, I missed most of it because my face was planted in the floor after they smashed it. I'm only alive now because of Caulder's healing. But based on first impressions, I'm not much impressed by their compassion." He looks squarely at Verik. "Do you even know these guys who work for you, or are you as much a fraud as they are?"
In spite of the severity of the situation, Verik smirks at Pagrip, "What? You expect ex-guards to use cotton mittens when defending their new home? These aren't choir boys; and - honestly - I'm a bit surprised that a rag-tag bunch like you could overcome trained soldiers." He hands his bow, a rather well-made and imposing one at that, to Esmerelda, "I trust that my property is safe in your hands." He also points to the spear leaning near the door. A little quieter he adds to the paladin, "That surly guy with the limp, I have a feeling he's always like that, huh?"
"So we'll just leave this place then? I'll need to lock it up proper."
"Don't worry. Your weapons will be safe with me." Esmerelda gives a casual scan of the premises and adds "Well, let's be off then. The day is not getting any younger."
"Cotton mittens?" Pagrip says with a scowl. "I expect ex-guards to at least be law-abiding. Caulder mentioned something about attempted rape. Now I know the guy's a humourless grump, but he doesn't lie, and last I checked, attempted rape isn't a standard defence of the home. So you'll excuse me if I don't think too highly of you or your supposed friends. You can talk about compassion, but it's clear to me, you're no better than the scum of the earth. I have no idea what kind of gain you thought you were getting out of giving away free meat, but it's clear none of you were doing it out of philanthropy."
"Yes, let's be off. There'll be plenty of opportunity, during the walk back, to talk about the legal nuances of defending wrongfully occupied buildings," Ten said, agreeing with Esmerelda.
Once downstairs with Caulder:
"Perhaps we should cover the wagon. It might look slightly less suspicious than dragging a pile of unconscious bodies behind us."
Caulder shrugs and looks around for a tarp or a blanket.
"Our only crime was deserting the guard. We occupied this building legally, and many have had food on their table that wouldn't have had otherwise," Verik asserts. "I don't know where the rape charge comes from; I hope none of the men decided to be a law onto himself. But the severity pales a little in the case of attempted homicide - seriously? A morningstar to the face? What were you lot thinking?" He shrugs a little, "At least the lady has a sap."
"Damn right she does," Caulder mutters under his breath with a glare at Verik on Esmerelda's arm, but apart from that, he holds his tongue. His mission is to bring back the deserters, not argue with them.
"Let's not bicker. Do we have everything, Caulder? Then lets be off."
The cart team manages admirably, hauling their renegade freight along the Korvosan streets. After ten minutes, though, sweat rolls thickly from the strained.
Actually, Pagrip will help pull. He'll want to be in front where he can see.
Caulder sets himself behind the cart to push. Although he starts out gamely enough, his limp and the reinjury to his gimpy leg soon have him white-faced and grim as he struggles to keep up.
Ten will help pull.
"Pagrip, do you know from up front, we can probably pretend to not notice when Caulder collapses behind us."
"Who? Caulder? You mean he's still here?" Pagrip says with a laugh and takes an exaggerated look behind him. "Clearly we need to go faster."
Pagrip and Ten pull the cart as if they were born to it; a stoic firm resolution that gives testament to their hard life spend on the street. The cleric, on the other hand, suffers both from his wounded leg and the more cerebral life of a student of the divine - the huffing and puffing from behind the wagon is discreetly subdued.
Nonetheless, even Pagrip and Ten are glad when they find a reason to come to a stand still. Another wagon is blocking the road, the front wheel appears to be busted, leaving a Sable Company marine and a man in a beak mask look on a bit helplessly.
The beak mask marks the man as a doctor.
Caulder leans heavily against the back of the wagon, trying to take the weight off his bad leg. "You have a problem there, officer? Doctor?"
"Damn second rate equipment," the Sable Company officer seems irate. "Yes, yes we have a problem. Blasted spokes cracked out of the wheel."
Ten is no expert, but supposes that the cart isn't technically difficult to repair - even though it is an old and in a bit of general disrepair. The problem is that without specialized equipment, the two (the doctor and Sable Company marine) simply do not have enough man power to put the necessary leverage to the wagon. With some help the cart might be made serviceable enough for its current transport.
"If we want to stay on this route, we'll have to help them," Ten comments.
"This might be handy..."
"Verik, be a dear and help me lift this little wagon."
"oh. This is heavy. What's in here? A whole family of dwarves?"
In response to Esmerelda, the doctor pipes up. It's hard to tell much about him with the mask on his face, he's a bit short, and his voice carries a touch of haughty arrogance. "The queen herself ordered medical supplies to be brought to the north ward. She recognizes the plight of even the poorest citizen of Korvosa. The riots and disorder have created a lapse in sanitation, nothing big, but it is safest to stop any simmering epidemic before it can spread." He nods gravely, the beak-like nose of the mask wobbling up and down.
"Ha ha, family of dwarves," Pagrip says dryly. "Lifting, pushing, pulling this thing is only going to get so far before we all collapse from exhaustion. What's needed is a little more ease of movement." He bends over the wagon's wheels. "Doctor, officer, if you'll permit me a little bit of jiggery pokery." He begins to fiddle with the wagon.
.
In response to Esmerelda, the doctor pipes up. It's hard to tell much about him with the mask on his face, he's a bit short, and his voice carries a touch of haughty arrogance. "The queen herself ordered medical supplies to be brought to the north ward. She recognizes the plight of even the poorest citizen of Korvosa. The riots and disorder have created a lapse in sanitation, nothing big, but it is safest to stop any simmering epidemic before it can spread." He nods gravely, the beak-like nose of the mask wobbling up and down.
"Abadar reward her," Caulder nods with respect. "It is rare for a woman who has so recently suffered such a grievous loss to be able to turn outside herself and consider the needs of others, especially those so remote in condition from herself." He turns his attention back to the broken wagon. "Darkbane, your form's all wrong; you're going to hurt yourself. Feet shoulder-width apart! Keep your back straight, and lift with your legs!"
The combined strength of Esmerelda and Ten is sufficient to lift and hold the wagon long enough for Pagrip to bring the good ol' dwarven charm to bear on the wheel. In the end it is but a make-shift job; but the result even passes the stern muster of the doctor. The Sable Company ranger is just too keen to get the wagon moving again, "Excellent! Very good. Maybe I can get this blasted thing to the poor quarter before sunset. I doubt this thing will make another trip after that, but that's not my problem. Thank you, we'll not be in your way much longer. Now move you bloody stupid ox! You've had a thirty minute rest, there's no more excuses for you either! Go! Hyaa!"
Esmerelda decides to lend a hand pushing next to Caulder as she can clearly see he is taking strain. "Do you need to take a break, Caulder? I am sure a little extra weight on the cart won't make that much of a difference."
"I'm not a damned invalid!" Caulder snaps defensively. "And someone has to watch our philanthropist deserter," he adds in a more even tone. "If he makes a break for it and I'm the only one free to chase him, he wouldn't even have to run."