Stepping up to the beleaguered Garvid, Yaziyah slaps him on the back. "Go get them, old man." She hopes that the tentacled monstrosity did not collapse the exit tunnel. she judges that the girls are well-positioned to stop any enemies coming from the other room, but she will keep an eye out for them all the same in case they run into trouble.
Pietro's warning galvanizes Talfryn into movement; back pedalling, he hurries away from the swirling tentacles of the monstrosities, almost tripping on the blood-sodden corpse of a wererat as he does so.
All around him is chaos. The shriek and shrill of the maddened rats, the cries and clangor of battle, the stench of coppery blood mixing with the maddening foulness of the effluvium; it's nearly overwhelming for one accustomed to the sedate serenity of his office, the contemplative life of a reclusive scholar, the safe existence of a theorist.
Lord Talfryn resists the urge to flee, though it grabs him by the throat. Instead, he digs out a scroll from its tube, and with shaking hands unfurls it, drawing strength from the sight of his own familiar scrawl; pointing his hand at the monstrosity blocking their exit, he intones the script, and with a final cry lets the power imbued within the paper flow through his essence and explode in a fiery bolt from his palm.
She'd tried to do things the civilized way. If they insisted on keeping it a fight...well, both a rat and a mouse could play at that game. Ducking low as Li's bolt catches the rising wererat, she lashes out with a sidehanded blow at her foe's knees, trying to go for the vulnerable joints there. But the surprise of so much happening at once throws off her aim, and her first swing misses by a mile; grunting frustratedly, she changes tack with the second blow and uppercuts, aiming for the creature's disease-ridden teeth.
"You f@@+ing idiot!..", shouts Garvid at Girrigz, then roars as Yazi's touch invigorates him. Flashes of mountainous Shoanti on smouldering battlefields, swinging massive weapons, and howling battlecries fill his mind for a moment. He grips his halberd, and stampedes between the rocks to unleash a mighty swing at the disgusting creature moving behind them. "I'll give you something to eat, you ugly bastard!", he howls, already raising the vicious halberd for a second swing. "Run! Run now!"
Pietro’s frigid bomb shatters against the otyugh’s slimy skin, coating it in a painfully chilling layer of rime. The creature gasps and chokes, shocked by the ice . Yazi approaches the rat-covered form of Garvid, reaching around the stonework to grant him the strength of ancestors. Talfryn’s inferno of flames now travels in the opposite direction from before, striking the otyugh directly and mingling with Pietro’s alchemical ice . Garvid breathes deeply, then rampages into the narrow tunnel opening, halberd swinging furiously. The creature attempts to slap him with one of its suctioned appendages, but it merely slaps off of his heavy armor . His halbard’s flat edge smacks the thing square in the face, cracking a bit of soft tissue. The creature screams and sobs then, staggering, crashes heavily down into the filthy sewer water .
To the east, Mouse struggles to land a solid blow against the wererat, who ducks and bobs to avoid her punches . Li, swallowing thickly at the site of the swarm of rats, draws her sap and moves in its direction .
The wererat before Mouse tries yet again to bite her tender flesh, but only catches her armor . Behind it, a simple wererat hisses furiously, mindlessly trying to make its way through the narrow space and attack. But she notices the second wererat begin to seize and tremble, its body seeming to shrink and fold in upon itself with sickening cracks and crunches. It assumes the form of a dire rat, that scurries away to the north, intentions unknown.
Meanwhile, the swarm of rats continues to flood the room. Chasing after Garvid as he runs for the otyugh, it reaches the stream of water and, after a moment’s hesitation, the whole mass of rats heads eastward, crawling over Pietro and Yazi as they continue to snap and claw . Luckily, the pair manage to stave off the nearly overwhelming feeling of nausea that threatens them.
Behind the swarm, two mere wererats emerge from the north. They scurry in strangely strategic positions around the periphery of the ongoing battle...
___________________________
Dire rat red: excellent health
Dire rat green: excellent health
Dire rat blue: excellent health
Wererat purple: quite a few wounds
Otyugh: unconscious
Rat swarm: excellent health
My rolls this round were made behind the “gm screen” in roll20.
As the great hulk of repulsive flesh that seems to be all maw and tentacles crashes to the ground, Talfryn lets out a convulsive sigh of relief, reeling back from the intensity of the spell he had just unleashed. Shaking out his hand as if he'd just touched something white hot, he tucks it under his armpit and reels around, gazing over what's left of the battle.
Seeing that Mouse is handling the bottlneck with a direrat and wererat scrabbling and trying to get at her, he bites his lower lip in furious thought, and then summons to mind a spell he hasn't cast in over fifteen years, an old favorite that used to amuse his visiting cousins during their late night soirees out on the lawn of their country estate.
Pointing a finger, he makes a crooked, shimmering gesture, and then croaks forth a word of power.
Immediately, the tunnel just beyond Mouse is filled with a nitid curtain of glimmering gold, each mote catching the light of the lanterns with fantastic irredescence as they cascade endlessly to the ground.
That done, he takes a step toward the cavern wall, putting one hand against its slick wall for balance.
, roars Garvid at the tentacled monster, as he turns around, eyes blazing in hatred. He steps to see a wererat appearing between the rocks, and swings his halberd in a wild, over-the-shoulder swing at the creature.
The blade misses the wererat's head by almost a whole foot, as it strikes the wall, sending chunks of rock, grime and moldy plaster flying in a flurry of sparks. "You got a deathwish, son?", he asks as he regains control of his weapon, leveling a massive fist at the wererat.
As Garvid goes rampaging after the tentacled... thing, Yaziyah finds herself exposed. Slinky clambers all over her, hissing and snapping at the rats in a paroxysm of fury, but as the furry mass engulfs both the woman and the weasel, it retreats cowardly into the folds of Yaziyah's cloak.
Noticing that Mouse is now holding off the ratty tide on her own, she steps back to cover the girl's back . For a few precious moments, she considers her options. The swarm is a problem, but she doesn't think she's fast enough to hit the scurrying mass of bodies. She could try to put them to sleep, but with the various spells and flasks flying about she has the feeling that their slumber would be very brief indeed. Instead, she focuses on one of the new arrivals.
Should she succeed, she points her victim out to the rest of the party, suggesting that they avoid harming it.... for now.
"No, no, no!"
Pietro's satisfaction at having taken out the tentacled monster was short lived indeed as he's overwhelmed by rats. The bites and scratches only makes things worse.
He steps out of the rats' way as much as possible and throws down a flask of liquid fire into their midst.
-----------
HP 28/35
AC 17, touch 12, flat-footed 15
10 +2(DEX) +3(studded leather)
Conditions: n/a
Melee (MW dagger): +4 = +3(base) +1(MW)
Melee Damage (MW dagger): 1d4, 19-20, x2
Ranged (bomb): +5 = +3(base) +2(dex)
Ranged Damage (bomb): 2d6+4 x2, 20'
alchemist fire or acid flask 1d6+4
6/10 bombs, 1/1 mutagen, Extracts...
Li begins to pummel every rat in sight with her sap. She also stomps on them with her feet when they get too close for comfort. The rogue's natural agility allows her to twist and contort herself to make the most of her blows as well as stay out of reach. She makes every effort to keep them at bay in order to avoid their pointy teeth and small claws.
While the others deal with the swarm of rodents, Mouse keeps her attention fixed on bottlenecking the far cavern. Once again she lashes out, working her silver-encased fist with surprising speed.
Talfryn’s conjuration floods the far chamber with a glittering cascade. The wererat before Mouse clutches its eyes, blinded, though the dire rat behind it seems impervious to the charm . Garvid’s blade clangs loudly and vibrates violently as he strikes the wall. Yazi turns her powerful gaze toward the dire rat that now threatens Pietro. Its eyes turn in different directions and glaze over before it tilts over, unconscious . Pietro’s alchemical admixture tumbles from his hand as he slips on a rat’s tail. It tumbles to the south where it shatters in an unoccupied space, though its flames latch onto Yazi and Talfryn . Li manages to hop out of its way entirely , though several of the rats also catch fire and scurry away into the damp darkness . Li twirls around in an unusual dance with her sap in hand as she furiously pounds at the rats . To the east, Mouse lands a ferocious double punch to the blinded wererat, sending it flipping backward as it lands skull-first in the filthy water .
The dire rat before Garvid, sensing the battle has been lost, tucks its tail beneath itself and scurries away back into the darkness from whence it emerged. As it runs it squeaks out some sort of warning, and the dire rat to the east also flees into the smoke-filled cavern.
The rat swarm continues to chitter mindlessly, but a few more blows from Li and the application of Garvid’s large boots scatters them to the wind.
The rush from battle begins to fade, your heartbeats thumping in your ears, as the blood of rats drips from your weapons and shoes, and the soft snoring of the remaining rat echoes through the chamber.
___________________________
Dire rat blue: excellent health, sleeping
fail
pass
fail
pass, no damage
fail, 5
pass, 2
pass, 2
"Ah. Ow. That.... is quite painful." Yaziyah winces in pain as the various alchemical burns and claw marks make themselves felt, resolving to avoid being between Pietro and his targets from now on. Or anywhere near Pietro, really. She gives the doctor a cool look as she pulls out the healing stick from her belt. "Garvid, or someone, would you mind tying up this... fellow? I would rather not inflict more killing at the moment." She looks down at the pooling water on the floor, now tinted a bright red, and sighs.
Now that the frantic moments have passed, she wanders around the cavern, poking with the toe of her boot at this or that pile of refuse and rubble.
Leaning into the ground, and furiously throwing a rock at the fleeing wererat, Garvid lets out a final roar, before bending over, breathing heavily. Wiping his brow with his cloak once more, smearing dirt and mud onto it, he stands bent in two for a few seconds, before slowly and carefully nodding at Yazi. "Abadar... I'm going to feel that in the morning...", he heaves, reaching behind his back and pulling out a set of manacles. "I can do you one better, young lady." , he sends a tired smirk, as he sloshes through the muck towards the wererat. "Could you... turn him around for me?... Hate... to... tie him all unprofessional like..."
Putting on the manacles with a trained motion, Garvid locates the nearest plot of relatively dry land, and lands with the sound of a kitchen cabinet falling down, and coughs out. "You think we're lucky enough for this to be Girrigz?", he asks, before shaking his head. "And does anyone have water? I might be willing to kill for some right now.", a cruel, exhausted smirk crawls onto his face. "Mouse, kid. Word of advice, don't fight in full plate unless you can avoid it. Try not to age as fine as me, too.", he chuckles.
As Garvid rolls the creature over to access its slender rat-limbs, an unexpected transformation occurs. The torso elongates as the spine seems to crackle and unfold in a nauseating way. The limbs extend and the very claws that garvid holds quickly stretch and curl into something resembling clawed fingers. The skull expands and the features with it, particularly the teeth, until the dog-sized dire rat now takes the shape of a man-sized wererat. And what's more, the thing is garbed in splendid armor and an exquisite mithril rapier! A couple of potion bottles are also strapped to his belt.
Garvid clasps the manacle just in time, as the wererat thrashes around violently, snapping unsuccessfully with its maw.
"Y-Y-you gods-damned, bleeding, b-b-b-utchering h-h-h-humans!!" he roars, pulling at the manacles with all his strength . "Y-y-you leave us with nothing, not even the s-s-safety of a filthy sewer!"
Pietro notices Yazi avoiding him and quickly pockets the flask he had in his hand.
"I'm sorry. The rats. The tail...."
He stops making excuses and apologizes again, "I'm sorry. I can heal you. I have the wand..."
His face turns a darker shade of red as Yazi is quicker than he is in healing.
A taciturn Pietro turns dour as the wererat is interrogated.
Talfryn pushes away from the wall as the battle comes to an end, still breathing stertorously as he does so. He spends a few moments glancing at side passages and the fallen monstrosity that blocks their exit, and then smiled stiffly as Yazi heals him, releasing a sigh of relief as she does so.
"Most kind, much obliged."
That taken care of, he steps up beside Pietro as he joined him in watching the interrogation, hands linked behind his broad back.
"Nothing to apologize for, my good doctor," he rumbles quietly. "I could barely tell friend from foe in this terrible lighting. Positively nightmarish. Hmph."
Prodding and muttering, Yaziyah makes a full circuit of the cavern they're in, steeling herself for the part that she knows must follow. At the wererat's outburst, she sighs and crouches next to him, sitting on her heels. She spends a few moments thinking on what to say. The creature is quite right, after all, but she has to try. "Yes. I am sorry. We came wanting to talk, but... I suppose reflexes took over. We should have expected you wanting to defend your l- ...territory." She takes a deep breath, sighs again."Look, I won't lie to you. Things are pretty bad out... up top, and people are getting really scared. And when that happens, they look for someone to blame. These days, they're blaming your kind. We are NOT here for that. We're here to..." She was going to say "help", but look what their help had done to his kind so far. "...to try and make things less bad. And if you know anything that might help us, any clue or idea or thought about this plague, we will set our attention on the real cause and leave you and yours alone."
As the wererat thrashes, straining against his restraints, Mouse watches with a sympathetic air, setting a hand on his shoulder to keep him down as gently as possible. I woulda fough' jus' so 'ard, if I'd got nicked 'afore... When Yazi finishes, she chimes in softly.
Look...'s Girrigz, 'm I righ'? M' name's Marial - but mos' folks call me Mouse. She tries to adopt a disarming smile at life's quip. Eries sent us - told us 'bout what 'appened t' y'r folk yesterday. I weren't 'appy t' 'ear it...ain't no folk should 'ave t' 'ave somethin' like that 'appen. But Eries said t' pass along tha' fightin' ain't gon' do no good - she's righ' worried 'bout you, seemed like. Everyone's all worked up righ' now wit' th' sickness, an' all revenge's gon' do's draw a spotligh' on y' tha' y' don' want. I know how y' feel...but it ain't worth it.
Garvid coughs, then stands up. Think I might just vomit. Every bone and muscle in his bones ache, as he slowly crawls towards Girrigz, and leans on his halberd. "Look, Girrigz...", he says, his quiet voice raspy. "We're not here to take your sewer, or anything away from you.", he sighs. "We came in here, looking to talk to you, you idiot! You damn mother sent us!", he grumbles. "I don't f#+&ing want your sewer, or your anything, all I want is for you to f+%~ing stop and think, and hopefully not to do anything f+@$ing stupid, so I can let you life wherever the f@%* you want, in peace!" He stops shouting, as he starts wheezing again, then takes a deep breath.
He leans forward, the look of stern annoyance on his face. "Like I said, before you decided to attack us, you absolute imbecile, we were hoping to talk to you. Coincidentally, while your people might get a few broken ribs and a wounded pride, they were alive. Shows how much you care, doesn't it?" He sighs once more, then turns the wererat around to stare him in the eyes, the guardsman's brown eyed gaze attempting to drill itself into Girrigz' face.
"So right now, there's a couple of ways around this. We let you go, help out those we can, and you tell us all we know. If you got any more useful information later, talk to Eries, and we'll even pay you for it." He grabs his shoulder, and closes forward to lean heavily into the wererat's face. "Or option two. You decide to take revenge on the city, get a mob started, and we both get to see Eries' place getting burned, and the city even more divided than before. If you hate me, imagine how much more you can hate whoever a%~*~~!'s responsible for riling up the people." He pushes away from Girrigz, then points to the manacles. "I'll remove those in about half a minute. Use it to sling insults or to think, it's up to you.", he says, leaning on a pointed out section of the wall.
"And, for the love of whoever it is you want, does someone have some damn water?"
Men, so loud and dramatic all the time. Yazi smirks and passes her waterskin to Garvid. "Thank you for those wise words, old man. I'm sure Girrigz here will see the light in just a moment." She gives both Garvid and the wererat a kindly smile to disarm the sarcasm in her words.
Girrigz wheezes and snarls, nearly foaming at the mouth. At Eries's name, he practically howls, as though a rat were capable of such a thing. "Eries! Sh-sh-she put ya up to this, that c-conniving, dec-c-c-ceitful s-s-sympathizer!"
When Garvid leans in toward his face, Eries snaps at him with his decayed, gray teeth, nearly seizing the guard by the nose. Nearly.
"Ya want me t-ta think? Whattya figure we been d-doin down here in the filth and tha dark all these y-years? What else we t'do b-but think about the ways y-your kind treat us?"
Girrigz spits at Mouse's shoes when she speaks, then turns a hateful, beady-eyed glare toward Yazi. "An' you, ya filthy h-h-horser! Should be ashamed, ya should! Like your kind ain't had the same. Like you won't get the same an..an worse!"
"Curse you. Curse all you! I hope the city burns! I'll fight you til my d-d-dying breath, and nothing that foolish w-woman says'll change us. We'll not be s-s-silenced.!"
He thrashes around in a futile attempt to break his bonds. "Well then, get on with it. K-k-kill me!"
Seeing that they're making no headway, Talfryn takes a deep breath and quietly releases two incantations. He whispers the arcane words, and only when he's finished casting does he steel himself for what's no doubt to be a very uncouth exchange.
He then coughs into his fist, composing himself, and then gently moves forward, parting the small knot of interrogators around the wererat so that he can stand before him.
"Good evening, Master Girrigz. I am Lord Talfryn Blackoak. This is a tragic turn of affairs, and you have my sincere condolences for how this has played out. But think: suffering. Oppression. It comes to one and all, and those who are standing one day shall be laid low the next. The Wheel of Fortune is prone to crush tomorrow those that it exalted yesterday, so that none of us should feel pride, or be boastful of past or hoped for future accomplishments."
He pauses for a beat, as if momentarily lost in through, both hands on the head of his walking stick, chin lowered to his chest. He could be delivering a homily in church. Then, as if awakening, he harumphs and gives himself a shake.
"What I mean to say is that it is mere bad luck that we are on opposing sides. There is no real reason why we cannot turn this situation to our mutual interest. We killed your warren in self-defense. I sincerely apologize, but your friends attacked us when we announced ourselves. There was no room for diplomacy. Yet we may still salvage the situation. Speak with us. Work with us. Earn your freedom, and the Wheel of Fortune may yet raise you to a position of towering power. Turn this crisis to your eventual advantage. All you need do is work with us now, and who knows what tomorrow may yet bring?"
Li watches the exchange between Girrigz and the others. Since their focus is on him, she also keeps an eye on the surroundings to make sure that they're not surprised by anything. She keeps to the shadows of the cavern to make sure she remains relatively unnoticed by the wererat leader and keeps her crossbow loaded with a silver bolt. She knows that they need to reason with him in order to get information but she has her doubts his demeanor would change. His anger towards humans seems very similar to the anger she had for Lamm. That doesn't just go away with a few nice words. When Garvid mentions freeing Girrigz from the manacles, Li grips her weapon ready to fire if needed.
As Talfryn speaks, his voice deepens and expands throughout the chamber, seeming to press and stretch the walls beyond themselves into spaces previously unrealized. His message is dire, and the severity of his tone is bolstered by the echoing boom of his voice as it he enthralls Girrigz within his spell . The wererat’s eyes fade from a glowering red to a soft brown.
Almost human.
”And what would ya have me do, w-wizard?” He hisses, still retaining his defenses as he eyes the others in the room warily. ”Look ‘round and see what you and yer f-f-friends did. My boys, they’s dead’n dyin’. Ya think your church and your clerics’s gonna n-nurse ‘em back to health? “ He laughs, a stuttering, wheezing laugh strikingly similar to that of Eries.
”Why are you here? More important, what do I stand to gain by helpin’ ya?”
fail
Yazi's lips twitch in a grimace as Talfryn charms the wererat effortlessly. "Ask him if he knows anything about the plague" she hisses at the wizard as she gets up again, bones creaking. One thing that Girrigz had said gives her an idea and she makes her rounds of the cavern once more, checking if any of the rats were still alive. She mutters to herself as she does so, "The churches, hah. But they're not the only ones who can help, oh no."
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Talfryn considers the wererat gravely, giving Yazi a slight nod as he hears her hiss.
"I am here to ascertain the truth behind the spread of the plague known as Blood Veil that is sweeping the streets above. Believe you me, my good Master Girrigz, I would rather be safely ensconced within my study puffing on a pipe of good Edgewater Leaf and reading the seventeenth volume of Illinder's Histories, but this plague needs immediate attention. What, perchance, do you know of it?"
Once that question has been answered to Talfryn's satisfaction, he moves on.
"Further, we have heard that a cult dedicated to Lamashtu may be involved with activities within the city. Have you heard aught of that? If so, can you direct us in such manner to where and how we may best engage with this cult, or learn more about it?"
Li leans over to Lord Talfryn and whispers, "Ya mebbe wanna be usin' more regular soundin' words so he be understandin' ya. Ya also may wanna offer him somethin' fer his information."
Mouse watches as Talfryn's spell takes hold of the unruly wererat. At Girrigz's final statement, Mouse begins fussing with the ties that hold the pouch at her waist to her belt; she'd spent nearly all she had on her new amulet, but what she had left was still a small fortune to those on society's edges. An' 'ow much's this changed me, that a purse like this seems like jus' nothin'? As subtly as possible, she passes the purse to Talfryn. Offer 'im this - I don' need wha's lef' in it. The leather pouch clinks softly as she hands it over, and a faint gleam comes from its contents as it passes under the torch light.
Li is correct, as Girrigz looks a bit lost, drowned in Talfryn's impressive vocabulary, but he nonetheless captures the jist.
"P-p-plague!" the rat spits. "Oh, bittersweet, en't it? T-tallfolk been lookin' forever a reason to ex-x-terminate tha rats. And now they find it--" He breaks off into a laughing wheeze. "--find it in a plague that's dr-droppin' 'em like flies! It's too much, t-too much!" He actually giggles, though his laughter collapses into a wracking sob. "You should rot. All of ya. But 'tweren't us. Had we been so clever..."
"And no g-g-gods ever seen fit to give me their bl-blessin, Lamashtu included! Don't know nothin' 'bout no c-cults!"
"Now come on, ch-ch-chap. Do ole Girrigz a k-kindness and let 'him go. He'll be real g-good, promise..."
Pietro was glad that the focus had been taken away from his bombs and placed on the wererat.
He listened to the interrogation and was glad that the old wizard was able to work his magic.
He didn't trust the wererat but kept his doubts to himself.
-------------
Oh, he's laughing it up, isn't he..., thinks Garvid, crossing his arms. Guess apples can fall quite a fair bit away from the tree, especially if they're rotting.
Not being in the mood for conversation, Garvid grumbles, still breathing heavily. "Tell you what, people. We drag him to Eries, and leave him with her. Not our business to sort out their personal dealings.", he proposes, staring at Girrigz with a mixture of disappointment and disgust. "I see no reason not to let you go now, frankly, but I'm not the one calling the shots here, buddy. And we'll all rot, sooner or later. I'd rather leave you be in here, and not bother coming back, believe it or not. If I do have to come back, though...", he says, patting the silvered blade of his halberd. "Use your f#!+ing head, is all I'm saying. And, believe me, the same goes for any angry mob going about threatening you or anyone else in this damn hellhole."
He looks at Yazi. "How many won't be walking away?", he asks. Hate having to kill people. As vile as those ones are.
Talfryn stares down at the wererat, a frown etched into his face, and then turns, one bushy eyebrow raised, as he listens to Garvid.
His only response to Garvid's line of reasoning in a curt nod.
About two thirds of the were and dire rats stabilize, and one or two even flutter their eyes. Several more have gone from this cruel world.
Li pipes up, "He be tellin' tha truth 'bout not knowin' any cults." She raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms at his last statement. "If'n we be lettin' him go, I be doubtin' there won't be bein' more trouble. Mebbe we should be tak'n him back ta tha Field Marshall an' be lettin' them sort it out. Not sure that takin' him ta his mum is goin' ta fix anythin'."
Yaziyah sits back on her heels as the last of her patients is pulled back from the brink of death. She wipes a hand over her face, pushing back into place errant strands of hair. Waving the stick around wasn't hard work, exactly, but the weight of the recent events was settling heavily on her. So much bloodshed, the rift between humans and wererats irreparably deepened, and for what? They didn't find out anything useful to help them fight the menace above their heads, nothing at all.
Sighing, she answers Garvid. "Less than I expected, in fact. About a third are beyond my or the spirits' help. The others..." She trails off, then rises to rummage in her pack. Pulling off five carefully wrapped packages, she strides into the adjacent chamber and sets them down by the fire. She twitches aside the wrappings on one, revealing sticks of dried meat and cheese, all wrapped in flatbread. Having a bit of food here will hopefully mean less need for upstairs raiding. The wererats needed to keep their heads down while the plague was alive.
Returning, she looks at Girrigz levelly. "We'll take you to your mother. I hope you will listen to what she has to say and that she can listen to you in turn. Then we will take you to the Field Marshal," she nods to Li to acknowledge her suggestion, "and plead with her to give you a nice, dry cell. For your own safety, and your... friends' here. Without you to rile them up, we can hope they will lay low and weather this storm. The less attention your kind attracts now, the better." She pauses, taking out the healing stick from her belt again and gazing at it thoughtfully. "I have done all I can for the others. For the rest," she pauses with a grimace, all too aware of how little worth her regrets had, "... I'm sorry." She turns away abruptly, shoving the stick back into her belt.
As Garvid and Li keep a blade and crossbow pointed at Girrigz’s head, the others explore the remainder of the chambers. To the east, several pieces of broken furniture, dried hay, and fragments of lumber burn in a small fire at the center of an open, ruggedly carved cavern. Short alcoves filled with filthy, oversized rats’ nests dot the walls, and the disgusting drip of polluted black condensation echoes through the chamber. A thick flow of sewage spreads across the western edge of the chamber, seeping from a crack in the western wall to another in the south.
In the southern tunnel, a thick grate of rusted iron hedges the eastern end of the sewer tunnel. From the human-sized crack in the northern wall seeps a steady flow of sewage, oozing into the greater flow of tainted water. A hulking pile of filth and debris partially blocks the stream of offal, forming a cart-sized clot in the eastern artery. It appears the otyugh was imprisoned here, and allowed to escape to the east in a defensive maneuver.
Back to the north, the scrapes and scratches of tiny claws cover the uneven walls of a crudely carved cave. Amid these marks, dozens of dark, fist-sized holes dot the stone like a rocky beehive. Hundreds of bones—of rats, horses, fish, and humans—lie scattered across the floor, and a cleft in the earthen wall leads off to the east.
Squeezing through the eastern wall, you find several crates, mismatched boxes, and poorly kept weapons stacked and scattered about a dingy stone chamber. Pinned to the side of one stack is a crudely sketched map of Korvosa. A large rat’s nest, strewn with moldy pillows, fills an elevated hollow in the south wall. Amid the rotted food, coils of moldy rope, and threadbare dark cloaks that fill most of the crates in this room, you find a cache of weapons: twenty-two daggers, twelve short swords, three light crossbows, sixty crossbow bolts, four chain shirts, twelve flasks of alchemical fire, and a masterfully crafted longsword with matching chainmail. There are also a collection of potions, and a dirty little pearl that looks like it could be polished up.
Lord Talfryn picks his way gingerly through this morass of sewage and filth, his distaste obvious, his reluctance to plunge into the darker corners and examine the depths of the rat's nests precluding him from being of much help.
Instead, he quickly returns to Girrigz's side, and using his magical leverage, begins to quietly converse with the wererat, seeking to learn, through a series of leading questions, the creature's story: what brought him down to these tunnels, what his hopes were for the future, what allies he had on the surface, and what acts of inequity had so embittered him.
This interrogation is softly, almost compassionately done, for Talfryn feels welling up within his aristocratic soul a tenderness for this squalid little creature and his filthy nest; he shudders to think that it and its fellows called this sewer logged hole a home, and vague thoughts of social betterment and the obligations of the nobility begin to percolate through his mind.
When the loot is brought to light, he examines it all with an academic interest, and then turns to Yaziyah when the dirty pearl is discussed. "My dear Ms. Tanja, you could make ample use of this delightful artifact, could you not? In which case I believe it is right and proper that you should acquire it for the betterment of our group."
Garvid grunts, as he stands next to Talfryn and Girrigz. As soon as the wizard is done with his questioning, he spits in the murky waters, and grabs Girrigz by his restrained hands, leveling his halberd on his shoulder. "Come on, a#*&&#%. Move it.", he says in a grumpy voice, as he pushes the wererat forward, escorting him with trained, yet brutal, professionalism.
"Nice work there, lordship.", Garvid mutters to Talfryn, shaking his head. "Hell... Mind-affecting magic is pure evil, isn't it.", he shares his thoughts. "It's one thing to kill a man, or curse him to writhe on the ground, but to be trapped to do something you'd never do... That's a whole new level..." Stooping so low... then again. It's not like we had other options. He shrugs at the wizard, giving a gentle kick to the struggling wererat.
"Eh. Not that I blame you. Just wondering where the line between us and those who muck up my city lies. It's getting damn blurry.", he sighs to himself, rubbing a tired gauntlet on his face. "Killing people who've been forced to the sewers, hiding people from authority... Some days it feel it'd all be helluva lot easier if I was some military type, following orders, and using my head as a helmet holder."
Pietro frowned at the discovery of weapons, "Is all of this for defense? It looks like they were getting ready for a war."
He neared his companions away from the wererat, "I really think that Cressida should be made aware of this find."
Girrigz, spellbound, recounts his tale to Talfryn.
He has always hated the sewers. Born a lycanthrope, he has spent his life as a wererat, feeling trapped beneath the boots of Korvosa’s people. He resents his mother’s desire to blend in with humanity, especially her chosen occupation to serve them. And so he fled their home, maintaining a home in the Vaults and severing all but the barest ties to Eries.
More than once, the rebellious wererat has sneaked up onto the streets to take out his hatred on beggars and other unsuspecting humans, seeing his predations as just revenge. Less than a year ago, he was struck with two silver crossbow bolts from a well-equipped Korvosan guard who came upon him savaging a dockside vagrant. Barely escaping with his life, Girrigz has since been a fiery and vocal member of the wererat community, urging his people to strike back against the weak humans above. The lack of reason and the cowardice of elder lycanthropes have long stifled his warmongering, but the attacks from those above coming in the days of the plague finally gave him the following he desired. Until tonight.
As the wererat talks, Garvid divests him of his mithral rapier and his chainmail. Girrigz is so absorbed in telling his tale to Talfryn he hardly seems to notice. Once complete, Girrigz sits quietly, sullenly, seemingly resolved to his immediate fate. He looks longingly as the weapons are collected, perhaps remembering his hopes and dreams of revolution, perchance thinking on the brothers and sisters he has lost.
The hike back through the sewers is long, perhaps because you are weary from battle, but uneventful. You emerge from the same drainage pipe you entered, the night lights of Old Korvosa casting their reflection on the dirty waters of The Narrows of St. Alika. Across The Narrows, the Great Tower stands sentinel and, beyond, the Acadamae sits perched near the apex of The Heights. The spires of Castle Korvosa loom beyond, you know, for although they are now cloaked in darkness, firelight spills out from numerous windows and beacons.
You wrap a cloak about Girrigz to help disguise him from onlookers. Blessedly, you are covered in darkness, and the streets are nearly empty. And there are much uglier persons about than wererats, anyway.
The Sticky Mermaid, despite normally being open late, is dark and silent. Perhaps Eries anticipated your return, or maybe the plague is keeping people indoors. Yet at your approach the soft pitter patter of feet is heard behind the door, about five locks are disengaged, and the door creaks upon. The hunched, squinted form of Eries stands in a night gown and cap, her candle’s glow suggesting the slightest red tint to her wrinkled eyes.
”G-G-Girrigz!” She nearly drops the candle in her excitement, pulling him into a hug and out of the street, glancing around nervously before waving you all inside the tavern.
”Foolish!...g-gotten yourself k-k-killed!...d-don’t know what to do with you…” Eries slaps Girrigz on the head and arms as she hisses at him, but it’s clear she doesn’t mean him any true harm, and it predominantly relieved to see him in one piece. ”...and ya n-need a bath. Smell like a s-s-sewer, ya do!”
Girrigz remains silent and docile, never even trying to fend off his mother’s wrath.
It suddenly dawns on some of you that Girrigz, a natural lycanthrope, could have shape-shifted into a dire rat and escaped his bonds at any point on the journey from his lair. Curious.
Mouse smiles as Eries and Girrigz are reunited...and then a sentence from one of Cal's books jumps into her memory, one she'd pored over as they prepared yesterday to square off against the lycanthropes. An the cursed blood be part o them from the birth, more control thus they have, and reshape their skins e'en at the moon's sliver, when the one cursed by bite have not the power but by the full moon's light...
Loath to interrupt the moment, she simply watches, feeling the unique ache of missing something she'd never had in the first place.
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Outside, Mouse turns to the others. He ain't run...an' he could'a, if what I read las' night's true. Could'a jus' changed into one o' them big rats an' made a break... Do we gotta take 'im t' th' Field Marshal? I know we gotta tell 'er 'bout what 'appened, but movin' 'im through th' city's 'alfway t' killin' 'im ourselves, 'f th' wrong crowd sees. Let 'im stay 'ere.
"Hmm. That... depends." Yaziyah raises a questioning eyebrow at Garvid. "You think his ma can keep an eye on him?" The Shoanti woman thinks for a moment, then shrugs. "Give him another chance? Why not. If we remove the weapons cache, even if he runs he would be less dangerous. And we know where to find him." Silently, she promises to pay more attention to the city's underbelly and see if anything could be done to improve the living conditions there.
Saying a short prayer to the spirits to guide her in this, she ducks back inside, addressing Girrigz and his mother. "Alright, kid. You're off the hook. Second chance." She gives him a serious look, trying to impress upon him the importance of her words. "I understand why you're angry, believe me, I do. But what you were doing - is not the way. You kill a few vagrants and beggars and suddenly get it into your head that humans are weak?" She snorts, trusting him to remember the fresh defeat at the hands of her friends. And of herself, to be entirely honest. "More importantly, there's a lot more of them then there's of u... you. So you need to find another way to live. I can't say I have suggestions, so you'll have to work for that one, but I do know one thing. Starting a revolution for the rights of the downtrodden, at a time like this? Very, very bad idea. At least... wait a while. Lay low. We'll have some supplies sent to you and your people so that you can at least live a little better. alright?"
Although he wasn't very happy with the idea of letting a known killer off the hook, Pietro at least took solace in the fact that the weapons were going to be turned over to the commander.
He turned to the others, "I guess we're going to see Cressida now? I could use a good meal. How about it? I think we earned it. Let's meet up at Diego's restaurant after we wash the stink of our bodies. My treat."
Pietro got his wits about him and realized what time it was. He quickly corrected himself, "Er... it's late, way late. How about we retire for the night and then see Cressida in the morning. Going to Diego's is still my treat but probably better tomorrow night."
Talfryn stands outside, at the back of the group, studying the streets and keeping a wary eye out for trouble. At least, that's what he tells himself he's doing. Instead, he actively mulls over the recent events, trying to come to terms with what he's seen and learned, and, perhaps more surprisingly, what he's felt.
Hands linked behind his back, muttering the beginning phrases of several incantations to himself under his breath, he waits for the wererat situation to resolve itself; even if no further clues were found to lead them on their hunt of the cause of the disease and the cult, at least they disbanded a potential revolution.
Still. The conditions in those sewers. Absolutely frightful. Is it any wonder that the wererat sought to murder and revolt? One can almost understand it. Yet the fault lies with... with whom, exactly? Girrigz for not finding a better means to prosperity? Surely. His mother for failing to raise him right? Of course. Society, for... failing to provide? To uplift? For not providing equal opportunity to all?
Talfryn scowls. Equal opportunity to all. A dreadful phrase, yelled by every tinpot revolutionary and firebrand. There was a cause and a reason behind the stratification of society. Each section had its responsibilities... did they not?
Tapping his foot, he hears Pietro's last suggestion and gives a gruff nod. "Very well. I shall meet with you all at your manse, and then join you in giving a report to the Marshall. Good evening, one and all."
And so saying, he limps away down the street, walking stick tapping the cobbles, head still bowed in thought.
Garvid puts a wide grin on his face as the realisation of Girrigz's desire to actually accompany them strikes him. You bastard., he thinks, shaking his head. "Yeah, Eries. Told you I'd be careful.", he chuckles. "And if someone's bothering you, let us know. We know a thing or two about problem solving.", he shares, nodding curtly at the wererat.
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Garvid stretches his aching limbs, as he grins at the doctor. "Well. Diego does have the best lemchum in this part of town. Incidentally, also the only lemchum this part of town.", he shares his opinion on the invitation, then starts giving a guide of all the food that could be found in Korvosa after dusk. "Honestly, the best place you can end a patrol in the winter is South Shore. You can pray when you survived, and Leftover's is just about closing, so everything's on sale. Once we actually had to roll Malinsky down the hill, cause the fat bastard was so tired, and so packed! Ha!", he reminisces, shaking his head.
I think goin' 'ome soun's like a plan righ' now - Cal's bath is soundin' mighty fine righ' now. For a few moments, Mouse's thoughts flounder in a sea of juniper-scented bubbles and steam; unfortunately, her nose doesn't currently have that luxury. An' I bet 'is folk could git together somethin' rib-stickin' f'r tonight, though I won' say no t' Pietro buyin' dinner tomorrow, after we stop by th' Field Marshal's. Or after we go back t' Racker's Alley - we still got that mess t' sort out. She tries not to dwell too long on the prospect of the mound of bodies - she'd be more than worried enough tomorrow, no doubt.
Before she leaves Li says to Girrigz, "I be knowin' that it may not be feelin' like it but ya be havin' people ta help ya if ya be needin' it. Provid'd ya not be tryin' ta tear Korvosa apart. There be 'nough people tryin' ta do that."
Once in the street, the rogue completely agreed with Mouse. "Cleanin' up at Cal's an' gettin' some food an' some sleep be soundin' real nice right now." Li yawns while she keeps talking, "We c'n talk with tha Field Marshall an' deal with Racker's Alley tomorrow."