Headsman helps get the unconscious guards down the stair, perhaps a little more roughly than necessary.
"See, this is what's wrong with this city? The guards are as rotten as the people they're support to be protecting us from."
"Put them in the cart and we move them back."
Machaera nods in agreement as she helps load up the cart. “Shows what really matters to people, doesn’t it? Oh, they could do a better job up there –”
She gestures vaguely in the direction of the castle. “– but the root of the problem is what people take for granted here on the ground.”
She decides not to go into schemes for evaluating the fitness of potential recruits to the Guard and for diversifying its ranks: no one wants the opinion of a know-it-all transient alien. Instead, she continues quietly, “It’s cold comfort, I know, but at least we stopped these bastards, and even they didn’t think they could get away with it under the Guard’s auspices.”
"That's what we're here for Headsman. We're the checks that do the balancing."
"Yes my friend we are here to make sure you don't end up like them." Yanis motions towards the wagon of tied up ex guards
'Why do you think folk like me and Albatross dress up like birds, or bears, or slugs, or whatever?' The Merlin pats Headsman on the shoulder, flashes the youth a smile, and then takes to the roofs to cover the cart's progress.
"Hah. That's a good one. Yeah, folk like you two birds and Blackjack are doing the right thing."
Headsman carelessly dumps the last thug onto the cart.
"So, we really carrying these guys back, or should we just let What's-Her-Name know they gotta come pick 'em up here?"
Machaera politely stifles a yawn but stretches languorously, discreetly, as her adrenaline rush peters out and the lateness of the hour catches up. “Since we’ve got them all neatly wrapped up with a bow, we might as well deliver them. I’m headed that way anyway to get to my rooms, but if you just want to head back to the Court, that should be fine.”
All the guards are nicely dumped into the cart, including a continually cursing Baldrago and the dead guard. Yanis' donkey stands placidly, chewing on grass still growing near the fenced area of the pens.
"Well lets head back then?" Yanis leads the donkey and cart of bodies back to the guard house
The group heads back to the guard house. Nothing happens on the way back.
The Merlin motions to Io along the way back. 'I need to go see an old man about a war story.' he whispers when she draws near.
With that, he breaks off towards Radnaick's Rifles. Once there, he slips inside and begins his transformation into...
Spelbar Chunt exits the alleyway next to a Midlands gunsmith's. Unknown to most to be the secret lair of The Black Merlin, defender of the city. The old man walks with a spryness not typical for one of his age and wear.
He makes his way Northwest at a steady clip. The old man spots a procession of adventurers transporting a cart and steers towards them. As he draws near, his gait changes drastically, taking on a pained limp and he gulps air deeply as he moves.
'Scum, taking up my ride.' Spelbar raps the side of the cart with the flat of his sword.
"We can just put you on top if you would like, it almost looks like we are gathering the dead from a plague. Someone call out for the dead." Yanis smiles at his own bad joke.
"Heh." Headsman chuckles, putting his grudge against Baldrago at the back of his mind for the moment. "That certainly wouldn't attract any attention."
"Might keep people away" Yanis responds.
'Might make the panic tearing the city apart worse Spelbar shurgs and continues limping along.
Hearing the conversation, Machaera drops back from where she’s walking in front to chime in, “More of a night cart, honestly, with this cargo.”
She glares down superciliously at the bound thugs, making sure they’re not starting to stir or working at the ropes holding them. “You might want to wait until we get a chance to wash it down properly before hitching a ride. But it’s good to see you, Mr. Chunt.”
The corners of the elf mage’s mouth twitch upwards ever-so-slightly in a grin of half-recognition. She’s still not absolutely sure she knows which persona goes with which masked man, or if they even share them. If she had a partner in stopping crime, it would be the sort of thing that would amuse her. Rather like sharing spellbooks, I imagine. Personalities as toolkits. What an odd idea…
The group heads back to the guard house. Nothing happens on the way back.
Whether the Cow Hammer Boys are more like corpses or night earth, Machaera is grateful for the streets’ quiet under curfew: it makes her just that little bit less jumpy on the way back to the Guard’s citadel.
Still, she’s glad she has papers authorizing her nocturnal activities as the group approaches the guardpost outside the gate. The men on duty look about as happy as she feels towards the end of a long night watch, their eyes grim with determination in the silent dark, ready for trouble. She greets them carefully from a distance, her soft voice carrying easily in the late night.
“Special agents of the Crown,” she announces smoothly, “delivering the deserter Verik Vancaskerkin and accomplices to justice, with our compliments to Field Marshal Kroft.” At this rate, we’ll need to find a name for when we all work together. Making the whole round of introductions every time will get ridiculous. Unless the Guard hires a nomenclator.
Yanis leads his donkey up to the hitching post, tying the donkey off and giving it a feed bag.
"Do we have to carry them in or is there mage who can magic them up there? One is dead the rest are alive or well should be." Yanis starts to unload the men from the cart.
The guards nod to Machaera and the group, motioning them in to the post. One of them says "We'll be out to carry them in. Cressida is off duty at present, but her adjutant will be more them happy to give you your reward and perhaps more work. Thanks for retrieving these scum.
Guards assemble and remove Vancaskerin and his Cow Hammer boys to the lockup or the graveyard as needed.
“We might as well make our report now. They’re dangerous men,” Machaera says. She nods at Baldrago, now blissfully silent for a moment as he realizes just how much trouble he’s in. “That brand’s no riddle. Whoever processes the prisoners before they go into their cells should ask him – and the others, when they come round – about Parns’ game. As for Vancaskerkin, well, the Marshal has special plans for him.”
"Thank your assisting, What is this other work you have available for us?" Yanis asks
The old mercenary continues to huff and puff, his mood not improved by the time the group has reached the Citadel. He gives the guards a weary nod as he tries to catch his breath. He lags behind the main group, favoring his limping leg.
'Think I'm going to have to ride the cart back. Must be rain coming.' He says to the doctor when they've assembeled before the adjutant.
The guards lead you back into the Citadel, as the renegade guardsmen go to meet their fate. Standing in Cressida's office is a handsome older gentlemen, wearing a black vest over a white undershirt, with black dueling pants that end in soft black boots. At his right hip is a well made (and well used) rapier. His deep green eyes gaze at you, evaluating your steps and movement.
He speaks in a deep, resonanting baritone "Ah, I see the Albatross and the Black Merlin have gathered more birds for their flock. And who are the two lovely swans that have accompanied the purveyors of justice?"
Spelbar turns a sharp eye to the man at the mention of his alter ego. Clever or lucky, if a man this far removed from Midland can see through my disguises I'll need to abandon them. Spelbar tries to gauge the older man's intentions.
"Birds no, plague doctor yes." Yanis pats his mask. "They did it this way to prevent the spread of plague to those doctoring in the field, I can place incense in the nose to cover the smells." Yanis drones on a bit more.
"Whom may you be ser?"
Headsman leans silentl at the back of the room, not particularly interested in the goings on. A few less thugs for street kids to worry about was enough for him.
Before she can stop herself, Machaera checks behind her to see if either of the named pair has reappeared in masked guise. Last time she checked, one of them was posing as that old veteran, but both of them were disturbingly adept at changing faces and coming and going without a trace.
Something odd is definitely going on, though, because there’s Spelbar, and… Realizing her mistake, Machaera quickly adjusts her gesture into a coy craning – er, swanning – of her neck, pretending to misunderstand the stranger. Obviously finding no other swan-like candidates, she quips, “It appears he has us at a disadvantage, Miss Dorean. And we without our feathered cloaks!”
“We were expecting the Field Marshal’s adjutant, not a gentleman ornithologist, however discerning his eye,” she continues, hoping to draw the man out. Machaera can’t quite place him, though that’s hardly surprising, as a stranger to Korvosa. To make matters worse, she’s terrible at these sorts of games, but she’ll play along: it’s much more civilized than rounding up cannibals, and she’ll take flattery when she can get it.
The gentlemen replies to Yanis:"A raven amongst the birds of prey then, good doctor?" He then makes a sweeping bow to the group and says,"My name is Vencarlo Orsini, of the Orsini Fencing Acadamy. I aid Cressida in various extra-legal affairs the Guard wishes to keep under wraps. You have done well in bringing in Vancaskerkin and his lot, and I congratulate you for your efforts. Would you need any refreshment after your long battle, or healing from fighting the guard? A good host never lets his guests suffer from lack of the essentials.
Orsini, huh?
Headsman thinks back, wondering if any of the Court have mentioned that name before.
The guards lead you back into the Citadel, as the renegade guardsmen go to meet their fate. Standing in Cressida's office is a handsome older gentlemen, wearing a black vest over a white undershirt, with black dueling pants that end in soft black boots. At his right hip is a well made (and well used) rapier. His deep green eyes gaze at you, evaluating your steps and movement.
He speaks in a deep, resonanting baritone "Ah, I see the Albatross and the Black Merlin have gathered more birds for their flock. And who are the two lovely swans that have accompanied the purveyors of justice?"
Machaera gives a slight mischievous smirk at Orsini’s introduction. She doesn’t blame the Field Marshal for keeping her options open – after all, flexibility is probably the main rule of elven modes of governance – but the idea of unofficial agents contrasts amusingly with most Korvosans’ obsession with orderliness.
“Machaera Selanna, of the Tower of Stars,” she returns, dipping into a curtsey, awkwardly aware of the streak of dried blood running down her side from Vancaskerkin’s lucky shot. More importantly, though, she wonders about how dangerously well-informed the fencing master seems to be, having worked out the possibilities of who Spelbar could be. She continues, “Thank you, but I think I’m well, at least. The good doctor is very adept at his work, and everyone was very quick on their feet: the operation proceeded quite according to plan. The men on duty at the gate, though, suggested that the Marshal might have other matters about which to speak to us…”
"A drink perhaps would be nice other than that as Machaera here has said we do not seem to be suffering any other way." Yanis takes a drink if it is offered to him
Vencarlo says "Welcome, Machaera. Try this sherry, Yanis, it's a local brand grown from the vineyards nearby and seasoned with cinnamon. Vencarlo takes a drink from his glass, squares his shoulders, and sets to business.
"After your successful defeat of Lamn and Vancaskerkin, Cressida and
I found out about a potential disruption in our trade with Cheliax. The problem is a man called Darvayne Gios Amprei, an ambassador from Cheliax. His disdain for Korvosa is well documented, though he makes no restraint in his efforts to enjoy our bounty. Even before our troubles from the death of the king, he was going to recommend an embargo be placed on us. However, I have learned that Ambassador Amprei is here to undermine Korvosa and make it his own, by causing the economy to drop and buy up large parts of the city at cheap prices. Obviously, we can't let that happen."
Vencarlo shifts his tone and says, "However, I have found out the Ambassador's foibles and double dealings have a cost. Ambassador Amprei likes to visit the Eel's End, a den of vice run by Devargo Barvasi, better known as the King of Spiders. He pays his vice taxes so the guard can't take any action, but he has underground contacts everywhere. So here is what I propose: You birds of prey swoop down on Eeel's End, contact Devargo and get whatever information on the Ambassador's illicit dealings, and then bring them back to me. Cressida and I can use that information and cut off the Ambassador's plan to make us all paupers under his thumb. I'll give you some gold to bribe him, but if things get violent, no one will miss Devargo. Also, here is your reward for defeating Vancaskerkin. 750 gp, I believe it was?
Spelbar keeps his eyes sharply locked on the man as he speaks. Studying not only the man, but his words.
“It was, thank you,” Machaera says, taking a moment to read the room before continuing. Even so, it’s clear that the new mission amuses her, at least in part. “So we turn the tables on an arrogant infernal toady and embarrass him instead? La! How amusing! Only – when you say 'vice,' just what should we expect?”
Machaera’s seen a lot even in her young day, but even she has her limits, especially after a night dealing with cannibals already. She also can’t help but think, though she keeps it to herself for the moment, that what Orsini’s describing sounds an awful lot like blackmail.
Vencarlo turns to Machaera and says "Devargo runs various vices out of his gathering area. Drugs like shiver, opium and pesh, prostitutes of various races and sexes, and gambling carry on night and day. He also collects secrets on important people, and sells them to the highest bidder."
"He's called the King of Spiders because he can supposedly command them to do his bidding. As I am sure you are aware, shiver is gained from the venom of dream spiders imported from the Mwangi Expanse. It's become a popular drug ever since it was introduced into Korovsa and the greater settled area of Varisia. Nasty stuff. I believe Lamn also sold it."
Vencarlo turns to Machaera and says "Devargo runs various vices out of his gathering area. Drugs like shiver, opium and pesh, prostitutes of various races and sexes, and gambling carry on night and day. He also collects secrets on important people, and sells them to the highest bidder."
"He's called the King of Spiders because he can supposedly command them to do his bidding. As I am sure you are aware, shiver is gained from the venom of dream spiders imported from the Mwangi Expanse. It's become a popular drug ever since it was introduced into Korovsa and the greater settled area of Varisia. Nasty stuff. I believe Lamn also sold it."
Machaera nods, “We recovered some to have it destroyed.”
She doesn’t move all that much, but she seems to straighten up a bit as her tone becomes more serious, even terse. “As long as we don’t need to worry about rumours of people being forced into fighting pits or other forms of slavery. There’s only so much that one can turn a blind eye to. But we’ll try to be discreet.”
Yuelral, guide me. This is not a calculation for mortals, she prays inwardly, trying not to think about the calculus of whether or not they should be planning to put the King of Spiders down permanently, the harm he’s doing now as opposed to what might happen if he’s removed, leaving addicts and prostitutes to be shuffled around between other felons. Her glance flickers across the room to make sure she’s not cutting off the others’ input.
"Are we talking about addicts who follow this man willingly who may flee when an armed group shows up or loyal retainers who will fight to the death for this man?" Yanis asks
Vencarlo says "Welcome, Machaera. Try this sherry, Yanis, it's a local brand grown from the vineyards nearby and seasoned with cinnamon. Vencarlo takes a drink from his glass, squares his shoulders, and sets to business.
"After your successful defeat of Lamn and Vancaskerkin, Cressida and
I found out about a potential disruption in our trade with Cheliax. The problem is a man called Darvayne Gios Amprei, an ambassador from Cheliax. His disdain for Korvosa is well documented, though he makes no restraint in his efforts to enjoy our bounty. Even before our troubles from the death of the king, he was going to recommend an embargo be placed on us. However, I have learned that Ambassador Amprei is here to undermine Korvosa and make it his own, by causing the economy to drop and buy up large parts of the city at cheap prices. Obviously, we can't let that happen."Vencarlo shifts his tone and says, "However, I have found out the Ambassador's foibles and double dealings have a cost. Ambassador Amprei likes to visit the Eel's End, a den of vice run by Devargo Barvasi, better known as the King of Spiders. He pays his vice taxes so the guard can't take any action, but he has underground contacts everywhere. So here is what I propose: You birds of prey swoop down on Eeel's End, contact Devargo and get whatever information on the Ambassador's illicit dealings, and then bring them back to me. Cressida and I can use that information and cut off the Ambassador's plan to make us all paupers under his thumb. I'll give you some gold to bribe him, but if things get violent, no one will miss Devargo. Also, here is your reward for defeating Vancaskerkin. 750 gp, I believe it was?
Vencarlo...
Ambassador Amprei...
Devargo Barvasi... Eel's End... a shady place. That's on Wave Street...
Vencarlo replies "No, the addicts are fairly docile rather then loyal. He maintains a moderate number of toughs to keep order, but no one of consequence."
.
"So only body guards we have to worry about then. This might be another good place to help out with if we can take some more drugs off the street." Yanis ponders out loud