Pagrip sits down on the planks and runs a hand through his beard, pulling out the mud and guck. "I'm alive," he says. "And doing better than Caulder. Still.." He clutches his wounded leg. "That crocodile took a chunk out of me."
Ten's mind began to clear quickly, as the effects of the mutagen, and adrenaline, faded. Lamm was dead. Ten didn't really mean to kill the old man, even if he deserved it.
"I'm fine... and Caulder will be fine too, if you let me help him." Ten looked at Esmerelda, "Both you and Caulder can arrest me, once he's back on his feet."
As the alchemist forces the liquid into Caulder's mouth and down his throat, the cleric stirs a little in his unconsciousness. His lips move and he half-mutters some syllables deep in his throat, one of which might be the name "Kath." He turns his head and violently vomits up a torrent of salt water, then quiets again without regaining consciousness.
"He seems to be responding positively... one more should do it."
Caulder looked much better than before, but was still unconscious. Ten did not really want to offer up his last potion (and hoped that the dwarf didn't remember that he had two).
"I think that he'll survive being transported out of here. Maybe we should first have a look around Lamm's den for something else that might help him."
"Thank Abadar."
"Ten, we are not going to arrest you, unless you are poisoning Caulder with those magical elixirs of yours. Caulder will think of some law or something but as I see it you are a hero."
Esmerelda steps over Lamms body, and begins to look around in the small room. Over her shoulder she says "Pagrip, I thought dwarves were a hardy race. We will all be getting a healer shortly but first we must collect evidence of Lamm's current exploits. See what Lamm has in his pockets."
Esmerelda specifically does not search Lamm but concentrates on the rest of the room.
Esmerelda 2030
Caulder 2120
Ten 1770
Pagrip 1880
Welcome to level 2, Esmerelda and Caulder.
The level up will also cause Caulder's life total to rise sufficiently to wake up (the total wounds on him stays the same, but the total hp increases).
For hitpoints: you may choose half-hp (rounded down), or to let the GM roll your dice.
Caulder's eyes open with a sudden snap, his eyes staring at something impossibly far away, he takes a deep deep breath. And screams. Even with the benefit of healing tinctures, he experiences his leg as an exquisitely throbbing pain.
Esmerelda explores the foul-smelling room that seems to be a combination bedroom and study. A wooden bed with a lumpy mattress stands against the east wall, while a round table heaped with dirty plates, bread crusts, stained goblets, fruit rinds, and scuttling cockroaches sits nearby. At the foot of the bed sits a large strongbox, a slighty rusted lock securing its lid. A sagging dresser filled with moth-eaten clothes well past their glory days is in one corner—what appears to be a wooden hatbox surrounded by a small cloud of flies sits atop this dresser.
- masterwork dagger
- masterwork handcrossbow
- ring of keys
When the pain allows Caulder to form coherent words again, he growls through gritted teeth, "Nine Hells and infinite layers of the Abyss! Is my leg still there, or did it take it off?" He stares at the cobwebbed ceiling, afraid to look down at the rest of his body until he's heard the news.
"Oh, we're hardy all right," Pagrip says to Esmerelda, "but there's a difference between hardy and invincible. Some dwarves will try to make you think otherwise, but well...they're mostly full of hot air." He chuckles. "Don't tell them I told you that."
When Caulder awakens, Pagrip pulls himself to his feet and goes over to the cleric. "Oh, it took it right off. We had to find you another one, but I'm afraid Lamm's was all that was available. Hope you don't mind."
Caulder scowls up at the bearded face. "Is that what passes for humor in dwarven society?" he grits. "No wonder your folk have a reputation for dying bravely in battle; no one wants to survive long enough to endure a dwarven healer's bedside manner." He raises his head a few painful inches off the floor, reaching down with his hand to probe his leg cautiously as he peeks. Although the limb is tightly tourniqueted and lying in a pool of blood slowly dripping between the planks into the water, Tendrizu's careful tending and gift of potions have restored the mangled mess of flesh and bone into something resembling a human leg again. He lets his head fall back onto the wooden floor, letting out a breath of relief. "Lamm!" he suddenly remembers. "Did we get him?"
Esmerelda pokes her head out the room to look at the battered heros "Caulder! I thought you were being mauled again. Ten seems to have killed Lamm. He thinks we should arrest him now. Ten. Not Lamm. Lamm's dead. Oh and could you have a look at the dwarf after you have finished your lie down? He hasn't stopped complaining about how weak his kind really are."
Stooping over Lamm's body, Esmerelda gathers up his keys and tries them on the strongbox.
"Adabar smile on us today."
"Well, I just thought that-" Ten began, stopping half way when he realised that he was not about to get arrested. "Nevermind. At least Lamm won't be ruining lives anymore. And, Caulder, if you ever really need a leg replaced, I promise that I'd never use anything like Lamm's legs. The half-orc upstairs has far better looking parts."
Caulder spits out an oath at the news. "Damn it, distiller," he curses the man who just saved his life, "we were supposed to take him for trial. What is this but a former 'business associate' taking revenge? I thought we were clear on this!" His fingers fumble for his holy symbol. "Stay close, dwarf," he tells Pagrip.
Esmerelda finds that a pair of flies, probably from the swarm around the hatbox, keep bothering her. Still, she perseveres and after a bit of searching finds a ring in Lamm's set that works for the footlocker. When she opens it she finds a whole range of neatly packed items.
- narrow teak cigar case inlaid with tiny bits of jade worth 25 gp
- a 2-pound gold ingot worth 100 gp bearing the Cheliax coat of arms
- a miniature gold crown worth 350 gp
- a fist-sized scrimshaw carving of a kraken with garnets for eyes worth 200 gp
- a silver ring worth 150 gp bearing the inscription “For Emmah—the light in my nights”
- highly realistic and highly scandalous ivory figurine of two entwined succubi worth 450 gp
- a masterwork shuriken
- an adamantine arrowhead
- an abalone-shell holy symbol of Shelyn worth 300 gp
- a tiny glass tube containing a dose of oil of keen edge
- an obsidian wand of magic missile (23 charges)
- a crystalline vial (itself worth 50 gp) containing a dose of silversheen
- a bejeweled brooch with a broken clasp, depicts a pseudodragon and an imp coiled around each other in an almost yin-yang pattern
The bejeweled brooch is easily the most expensive part of Lamm's stash, probably around 1000 gp.
The bejeweled brooch actually belongs to Queen Ileosa; it had been stolen while en-route to a jeweler who had been contracted to fix the broken clasp.
"Abadar has blessed this excursion well. Hey, Pagrim, do you want to look around for Abadars blessings too?"
Esmerelda packs up the evidence found so far, then gingerly picks up the hatbox and takes it over to Caulder before opening it.
"Caulder, what do you make of this?"
The flies, a good two dozen or more, become annoyingly clingy settling and resettling on Esmerelda as she carries along the hatbox. The box is remarkably heavy, and by the way it rumples there must be something inside.
When the paladin reveals the content, a fresh waft of rot comes from the box - sickly sweet and sour. Fighting off the revulsion and stomach churning, she sees a head inside. A human head, staring up at her blankly. The face is more than just familiar. Esmerelda sees before her the head of Zellara.
"Ah. Poor Zellara. I did tell her to wait at the bank. So Caulder. Is this evidence enough?"
Esmerelda hands the box over to Caulder for a better inspection.
The sudden sight and smell turns Caulder's stomach. Turning his head, he brings up another gulletful of saltwater. "What's going on, Darkbane?" he demands. "We haven't been gone long enough ... and no one could have made it past us.... Who was the Harrower?"
"Ah. Poor Zellara. I did tell her to wait at the bank. So Caulder. Is this evidence enough?"
Esmerelda hands the box over to Caulder for a better inspection.
Caulder shoves the gruesome thing away sickly. "Evidence enough for what? A summary execution carried out by a Shiver distiller? Maybe in the wilderness, far from any lawful authority... maybe." He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Darkbane. I was unconscious when the killing blow went down. I can't testify for or against you. I can say we were being met with deadly force; I can speculate the rest of you were acting in self-defense...." He notices the empty potion vials on the floor next to him. "Whose were these?" he demands.
Zellara's head must've been severed more than 2 weeks ago; Lamm evidently made poor attempts to preserve it, and somewhat unsightly make-up decorates her face in a failed attempt to keep her looks more lifelike.
"Deadly force? The crocodile, Lamms pet, which he looked like he could control, almost ate you. And took a good chunk of the dwarf for desert. Deadly force is an understatement. Did Gobbleguts take a bit of your brain too? Caulder, follow my finger, look up."
"Maybe this has been a bit too much excitement for a clergyman. But you look like you will be just fine."
"Something about this head is bothering me though..."
"Caulder. This head was severed almost two weeks ago. That other harrower must have been an imposter."
Esmerelda can determine that Caulder's grievously wounded and will probably have a good limp for a few days; but is otherwise fine. His mind, at least, is not addled.
"Whose were these?" he demands.
"Those were mine. And you're welcome." Ten replied as he packed away his gear.
"That other harrower must have been an imposter."
"And that head? Maybe our informant was a twin. Or a ghost. Or a shared hallucination."
"Whose were these?" he demands."Those were mine. And you're welcome." Ten replied as he packed away his gear.
"I'm in your debt, citizen," Caulder returns grudgingly. He hates debt. "Rest assured, you will receive full payment in exchange for your generosity." He sweeps up the vials in his large hand, reminder of the payment he has to render, and tucks them away as he tries rising to a sitting position. Despite his caution, his injured leg slides across the planks slightly, and he sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth. "What else did you find, Darkbane? Bring it over here." He sorts through the contents of the footlocker. "With any luck, these are stolen goods. We can take them to the Guard and compare against theft reports." Using the stolid dwarf as a crutch, he rises to his feet; when he puts weight on his mangled leg, his face goes white, and he utters a strangled oath. Limping over to Lamm, he looks down at the corpse with a face twisted with disgust. "Your death was too easy, old man. Life at hard labor, if I'd had anything to do with it. Let's gather up what we can find. The head, too. Get back to street-level and send for the Guard. We'll have to face the music and hope for the best."
Pagrip stretches as Caudler's channelled energy washes over him. "Ah, much better. Thank you." He happily allows Caulder to use him as a crutch when the cleric gets up.
"Face the music, huh," he says with a sigh. "I'm not upset the guy's dead, but it really would have been helpful if we'd managed to take him alive. Still, couldn't be helped. Face the music, it will have to be. I've done that before. Rarely turns out well."
"Let's not forget Abadar's blessings you left in the cabinet upstairs, Caulder. Speaking of Abadar's blessings..."
Esmerelda places her left palm over Caulders mauled leg and closes her eyes in concentration.
"Hopefully that will ease the pain a bit."
To all the party members she adds "Let's do a last look around while we wait for the guard." Following her own suggestion, with a measure of disgust, she searches through Lamms' room dumping everything that can be moved onto the floor.
After tiding up after Lamm all those years ago, this is rather...liberating. Ironically more freeing than seeing Lamm die. Esmerelda pulls a face of disgust as she stares at Lamms body as if seeing it for the first time. He escaped justice again, but at least its over. She blinks away the sudden blurring of her vision and continues ransacking the small room.
"Right, yes... any amount you think its worth, Caulder," Ten responded. The real money does actually lie in medicine.
Ten walked over to Lamm's corpse. "I didn't really want him dead... I just- Look, none of us are equipped to bring in somebody alive unless they surrender. Greatswords and morningstars - what did you expect? Lamm wasn't giving up...
"I'll be waiting by the door, while you finish your search for evidence."
"The only thing I have found here is bitter-sweet satisfaction. Shall we be off then?"
The paladin's healing mends almost all of the torn flesh and muscle on Caulder's leg, although there is a deep ache in the bone that he suspects will be with him a while. When she removes her hand and goes back to continue her search, he grins wickedly at Pagrip. "See that? Good news for us, dwarf. Chicks dig scars. Can't keep her hands off me."
Ten walked over to Lamm's corpse. "I didn't really want him dead... I just- Look, none of us are equipped to bring in somebody alive unless they surrender. Greatswords and morningstars - what did you expect? Lamm wasn't giving up...
"Fists," Caulder responds bluntly, holding up his gauntlet. "And manacles," he adds, pulling a pair from his belt. "I'm equipped to bring people in alive. Or do you think we chase down petty thieves in the streets and crush their skulls?"
"That stuff in the locker is probably stuff he stole," Pagrip comments. "We should see if we can find a way to return it to its rightful owners." He waits for the looks of surprise on Caulder's and Esmerelda's faces.
"Yeah. All of it," Caulder remarks, as he stumps over and kicks the lid of the footlocker closed, with a look at the dwarf that says he hasn't forgotten the contraband tools he had used. "Reminds me: We ought to catalog what we've found, make sure none of it disappears along the way." He looks around at all they've found. "Not sure we can carry this out on those rotten planks, not unless we want to take another swim. It looks heavy," he says, indicating the locker."I might be able to throw the old man over my shoulder and carry him," he adds with a dubious glance down at his leg.
"I hope you don't mean to take the footlocker too? Surely just its contents will suffice. We can put that in a sack and I can guarantee is will weigh less than Lamm."
Esmerelda takes out a sack the word "EVEEDINSE" crudely stitched onto it and proceeds to pour the contents of the footlocker into the sack. She also takes care to add Lamms weapons into the sack as well.
She lifts it up and down, testing its weight "See? Light as a particularly heavy feather. We could even put the hatbox in. Though I don't want the head to roll out so that might not be such a good idea."
"Here, Ten." Esmerelda hands the hatbox to Ten. "Hold onto that until we get out. I have the evidence sack and Caulder has graciously offered to carry the body. We're all set then. Pagrip, lead the way and lets be away."
"We should store the evidence at the bank and go look for the imposter harrower. Anyone else have any other ideas?"
Caulder awkwardly hefts up the dead body of the old man, trying to avoid any extra pressure on his leg. Wrinkling his nose in disgust at the corpse's smell, he reminds Esmerelda, "There's other dead bodies upstairs and the whole building that needs a good search. We can't carry corpses through the streets all the way back to the Bank. If you want to take in the evidence we've found, I'll stay here and stand guard over the fishery and the remains: make sure no one tampers with any of the evidence. You can deliver the goods and send back a detachment of the Guard to take over. Then," he gives the hatbox an uneasy look, "we need to go back and find our Harrower friend ... whoever she is."
In spite of Caulder's well-meaning intentions, something happens that may very well disrupt the plans of the four. As they make their way from the boat to the fishery and then the street, it becomes clear that something has gone wrong. Terribly wrong. Large tracts of the city are in flame. The sound of steel on steel, moaning and crying - even occasional arcane detonations - Korvosa has succumb to some form of madness.
A wing of Sable Company griffons flies overhead at breakneck speed. Heading towards the grand castle. One of the mounts is badly wounded, thick splotches of blood splatter on the cobbles nearby; it is rapidly losing altitude. The ranger riding it is desperately trying to clear the saddle - but both him and the beast are crushed as the griffon crashes into a statue. The rest of the formation does not even break to check-up on their comrade, continuing onward on their desperate flight. A patrol of hellknights dash through a gap in the buildings, pursuing looters.
A voice cuts through the chaos, a Korvosan herald. His voice is frantic, but still commands the ears of those nearby: "The king is dead! Long live the queen!" In response ragged cries can be heard, "Hang the b%#*&!" and "The usurper whore must die!"
"The king...?" Caulder breathes uncomprehendingly, his eyes growing very wide for a moment. The chaos around him snaps him out of his fugue very quickly, however. "New plan," he says, opening the door of the fishery and dumping the dead Lamm inside, then riffling through the keys, both from the gnome and Lamm, looking for one that will fit the lock. "Leave all this here, and get the stolen goods back to the Bank as quickly as possible. Good news, distiller: Your murder of a crime lord just became a misdemeanor at best, if anyone even bothers to notice it at all. There are far greater crimes afoot today. Darkbane, go! Get the evidence and the others to the safety of the Bank! Don't wait for me; I'll only slow you down. Go!"
"What the hell?" Pagrip mutters. "The king? Dead? So everyone goes nuts?" He stands gaping for several seconds while Caulder yells orders. Then he shakes his head. "Nah, we have to travel across town to get to the bank. Through all this chaos. And if people are rising up against the monarchy, they'll be rising up against the bank too. We might be better off hiding out here until it passes. Otherwise, the fortune teller's place is much closer. Perhaps we should make for there. We can hide out in her place and find out what her game is at the same time."
Caulder turns cold eyes on Pagrip. "If people are rising up against the Bank, then my place is there, to defend it. Go where you want, dwarf, but I'm not going to hide while Korvosa descends into chaos."
"Hey, you were the one going on just a moment ago about getting people to safety. I was just trying to suggest a safer locale." Pagrip sighs. "Fine then. Let's go to the bank and get ourselves killed in a gloriously futile gesture."
Caulder considers the dwarf's words for a moment. "Darkbane, what do you think? Would it be safer to get the civilians back to Lancet Street or to the Bank? The Bank is safer once inside, but he could be right: The Bank could be the focus of some of these agitators' anger."
Esmerelda looks at the burning city with a mix of horror and determination
"I hope the children made it to safety before this madness broke out."
Realising Caulder was addressing her, she quickly recalls what was said.
"I agree with the dwarf. Until we have a better idea of what is happening, we should go back to the harrowers and see where to go from there. Though lugging a body around will attract undue attention. As much as I hate to admit it, we should leave Lamms' body here. While I do not intend to hide, neither do I intend to charge recklessly into a battle I know nothing about."
Pagrip looks stunned for a moment that he's actually being taken seriously. "Well then...um..." he stutters. "Let's do it! To the harrower's to plan!"
While holding the hatbox, under one arm, Ten added: "Lead the way, Pagrip. I bet that you may know a few safe routes through this mess."
Esmerelda asks multiple passers-by which streets are safe to travel and which they have seen fighting or blockages due to fallen buildings and other impediments. In this way the party can avoid blocked/dangerous areas and take the quieter streets/alleys.
"Asking for directions is always a good idea."
Looters and other opportunists pose a threat to the unwary. Ten tries his best to 'dissuade' any aggressors before they attempt to interfere with the party.
"Right! I know these streets like the back of my hand. This way!" Pagrip heads off towards the harrower's.
Caulder stumps along uselessly behind the group, barely keeping up and exerting himself to the fullest just to avoid stumbling and falling into the gutter. Should have gone back to the Bank on my own, he reflects. At least I'd be doing something.