With a groan, Kalem got to his feet. He took one last deep breath before deciding to head back inside. He felt ashamed of what he had just done. He had let himself go, as his hatred for Lamm was so intense that all he could think about was hurting him. Of killing him. It was the familiar taste of rage which had always haunted him. It was the darkness in his soul, reflected on his skin and in his eyes, that made him hate himself so.
Trying, and likely failing to mask his unease, Kalem re-entered the building. Without making eye contact with anyone he retrieved his blood and ichor covered hammer.
Quinlan follows Bashiel to the room and watches from the doorway while he searches, wincing when he looks into the box... watching the look on Bashiel's face intently. "What is it?" Whether Bashiel answers definitively or not, he'll follow up with... "Anything I can do to help?"
Varor considers the offer, and can't bring himself to outright deny him . Gaedren old and not long for this world. He'll do damage, but how much damage can he still do? He decides to put off this question for now. Lisa is in clear need of help,You said you don't know anything about her niece Briget right? If you know anything then talk and I assure you I'll keep you in one piece, little lamb, Varor finishes with his own secret message.
As Kalem enters the room Varor smiles a little seeing that he has appeared to have calm down.
Quinlan winces when he spots what's in the box, and then gets an odd questioning look on his face as he realizes the implications of what he's seeing... two weeks? that's impossible... unless..
With a shudder, Bashiel closes the hatbox. He turns around to face Ilsa and Quinlan as the tiefling enters the room. A mixture of disgust and confusion are clear on his face.
Bashiel delivers the news in a halting voice as his brain struggles to process the implications of the grisly sight. "You don't have to worry about that box Ilsa, it was... unrelated to your niece. But some clue to Briget's location might be written in this ledger." He passes the ledger on to Ilsa. "Looks like it was encoded in some way. I have no skill in decoding it."
Bashiel steps out of Lamm's room somewhat dazed. He spots Quinlan's questioning expression and raises the question that's going through his mind. "You saw, right? But if that head is what it looks like... who sent us here, Quinlan?"
More questions for Lamm then... if in his madness he's able to answer them.
Gaedren sits in apparent deliberation as he weighs Varor's words, for once holding his tongue as he weighs his options.
Finally away from that horror show, he sits Tom down and takes out a water pouch handing it to his son. "Drink up Tom, I have some food for you too. Things will be different now."
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Ilsa stands as if in a trance. It is difficult to tell if she is even awake.
After perhaps thirty seconds, she blinks and gasps, as if everything suddenly sinks in.
"She...isn't dead, then?" she murmurs.
Upon hearing there is a ledger that might help, she walks over and looks through. Having kept a book in her shop, perhaps she can make something of it.
"I say that if we will be here for awhile we go get the person upstairs." Brin struggles to get Lamm up. and then trys to take him upstairs. shrugging to the others "unless anyone has a better idea?"
Quinlan will look over Ilsa's shoulder as she examines the ledger, trying to make sense of it.
treasures include:
* a narrow teak cigar case inlaid with tiny bits of jade (worth
25 gp,)
* a 2-pound gold ingot bearing the Cheliax coat of arms (worth 100
gp)
* 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 bearing the inscription “For Emmah—the light in my nights” (worth 150 gp)
* a highly realistic and highly scandalous ivory figurine of two entwined succubi (worth 450 gp)
* a masterwork shuriken
* an adamantine arrowhead
* a masterwork dagger with a strange blade shaped almost like a key bearing the inscription: “For an inspiration of a father” (worth 750 gp)
* an abalone-shell holy symbol of Shelyn (worth 300 gp)
* a 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 Harrow deck
* a bejeweled brooch with a broken clasp
A cursory examination of the Harrow deck reveals it to be identical to the deck used by Zellara to the last detail; not only the designs and art, but the fading and signs of wear.
Further, even to an untrained eye, the brooch is obviously the most valuable object in the entire collection. The circular gold brooch depicts a house drake and an imp coiled around each other in an almost yin-yang pattern. The pseudodragon’s eye is an amethyst, while the imp’s eye is an emerald.
Gaedren cocks his head to the side, still looking at Varor while he considers the priest's words but listening to Bashiel, Quinlan and Ilsa. "Sent you?," he murmurs half to himself. And then something clicks as his eyes lock back onto Varor's. "Of course. You're too peculiar a lot to team up naturally. Someone sent ye. But t'wasn't her, I promise you that."
His eyes flitter about the group, then settle on switching between Varor and Bashiel. Despite all that's happened to him, no matter how mad he may be, the man's mind is still calculating. "A lawman and a priest... You both swear on your honor you'll let me live, I'll tell you what I know of the addict's niece. Can't promise y'll like the news, mind ye, but I'll tell you."
[dice=Gaedren's bluff to pass message]1d20+15
Kalem's ears perked at this. After all of this were they really going to let Lamm go free? He felt...deflated. As if the fire had burnt out of him and all that was left was smoldering ash. But still, he wanted to know what they would do and didn't want them to make him leave the room while they decided.
Bashiel stares for a moment at Lamm, anger and confusion ebbing at the man's sudden change of heart, only to be replaced by a weary stubbornness.
He still thinks there'll be freedom or safety offered after what he's done! Mad doesn't begin to cover it.
He doesn't respond to Lamm's words, instead giving Brin a nod "I'll help you bring him up. Gregor and Tom went up that way though, so lets try to keep away from the two of them so as to not disturb the boy." Bashiel heaves the bound man up. "Those of you still here, there's a locker in Lamm's room. Might be some more leads. Kalem you took a key off of him, right? It could be that one."
He checks Lamm's bindings to ensure that they're still tight and then lifts him off the floor.
Too light for the weight of his sins.
An ancestor, he doesn't remember which, follows with a comment, ~You finally think some sense, boy. Peer into him and you'll see how heavy that weight lies. ~
At that, Bashiel utters a short prayer.
"մի հոգին ընկած ծնեց իմ առջեւս, թող մեծ մէկը դատել իր արժանի"
Kalem nods, and goes to do as Bashiel said. He spared one last glance back, fighting the knot in his stomach. Would the lawman trade Lamm's freedom for information while he was gone? He prayed that the man wouldn't. Against his gut, he did as he was told and hoped for the best.
Varor considers this and thanks on what to say. he knows he is not anywhere near the liar that Gaedren is and chooses his words very carefully, "I swear by the church of the Dawnflower that I will not allow any of my companions to bring you to any harm outside of the law," He finishes.
You're smart Gaedren, smarter than me, that's why I took you under my wing. Surely you recognize the situation you're in now, so what will you do?
Gaedren seems convinced by Varor's oath, at least enough that he doesn't curse him. As he's lifted to his feet by Brin and Bashiel, his bones creak and he winces in pain as one of his wounds opens up. But, seemingly confident that a way out of this has presented itself, he looks at Ilsa with a smile. What on someone else might be gentle and kind is, on him, a grim perversion, twisted into cruel mockery.
"I don't know if she was your niece and I don't care, but we did take in a girl a little while ago, but not to work the nobs' pockets. Someone needed... 'subjects' for testing. Specifically, Varisians. She fit the bill. So, we took her, they showed up with some gold, and we sent her off with them."[b] He's watching Ilsa closely, studying her faith, smirking at any reaction whatsoever.
[b]"Had her here less than a night, they were eager to get her. The shiver addiction was a problem, but then they said it was an opportunity." He shrugs in a casual dismissive mess designed to cut with its callousness. "Anyway, she's gone. Not here, anyway, and no, I don't know where they took her, but whatever they had in mind..." He leaves the fate dangling, but the leering, gap-toothed and diseased grin says it all.
His words from earlier echo in memory. You'll wish I'd fed her to Gobblegut. It would have been a mercy.
Quinlan, his desires in regards to Lamm clearly stated already, ie: just kill the fellow and be done with it, take the key and opens the locker. While he is interested in it all, it's not his to claim. Though he does examine a few items out of piqued interest.
The harrow deck, he picks up slowly and cautiously his hands running over the backs and the the fronts of the cards... he puts that in his pocket and closes the locker. Then he walks back to rejoin the others, find out what the final decision is regarding Lamm.
Brin leaves with Bashiel and Lamm to head upstairs. On the way there Brin stops at the entrance to the ship. Brin says "One second Basheil I need to catch my breath. Fat men don't do much exercise." While he rests and captures his breath.
As Brin stops, a cat-sized thing of...cooked dough, like a gingerbread man, hops out of Brin's pocket and ambles down the planks. It stops next to Bashiel, looks up at the guardsman, waves, and continues walking before stopping and poking him in the back of the shin. It's completely harmless but very bizarre.
Bashiel stops and heaves Lamm over his shoulders. "Its not a problem Brin. I can take him up alone if need be."
Bashiel blinks a couple of times at the strange little golem of dough. Uh... huh. Some other weird thing. I should be thankful its not another severed head... I'm too tired for more crazy things this evening.
"Brin, your little golem is getting lost. You might want to grab him before he wanders off." He gives a quizzical glance towards Brin.
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Ilsa listens to Gaedren's sneering story about her niece. Her impassive mask remains, but the apprehensive shop girl has had enough.
She raises her sap and wallops the evil man over the head with it.
"You have no soul!" she exclaims. "You better tell me who these people are or where I can find them, or I'm going to pummel you with this until you lose consciousness. When you wake up, I'll do it again!" she says, raising the sap again.
Quinlan makes no move to stop Ilsa, in fact he's smiling slightly and there's a light in his eyes. Finally!
As Lisas sap comes down Varors open hand swings out and slept it away before it can even touch Gaedren, "Lisa! I just vowed that I would allow none of us to bring harm to him outside of the law! Act and such reckless abandon again and I will respond as appropriate! Calm down and think about what he said, He has no idea where they are and it doesn't sound like he even question who they were or what they wanted with your niece in the first place. I'll help you find her, I promise you that, but I will not stand by and let you mindlessly attack him no matter how despicable he is," he finishes standing between Lisa and Gaedren.
Quinlan sighs as Varor stops Ilsa after she whacks Lamm only once. "Let her vent, she's not gonna kill him with a sap, but she might make him hurt a little... After what he's done to all of us, he deserves that at least." He shrugs, as if in the long run it's not terribly important to him, but there's a tenseness in his manner that belies that.
Gaedren spits more blood onto the floor then licks a tooth dangling in its socket. As Varor steps between them, Gaedren's laugh is more of a cough. "Its alright, little snipe." He uses a term he'd used for Varor when the elf first came into his orbit. He winks at Ilsa; his smile bloody. "I said you wouldn't like the news. You may have beaten me, but that doesn't mean I'm not right. But, yes, I know a little more."
He sighs heavily, dragging it out, before he finally tells the last of it. "Urgathoan cultists have your niece. I don't know why they thought I could help, but they did, and I found them what they wanted. A Varisian child. They came here. They picked her up here. They paid me here. I don't know where they are. Where ever cultists are, doing cultists' things."
He looks defiantly at Bashiel and the back of Varor. "Now get me out of here before these curs kill me. Time for me to face your justice, no?"
Gregor holds Tom closer as he hears the commotion down stairs. "Don't worry about anything, we'll be out of here soon. I just want to make sure they all get out, they all wanted to help save you." He rocks his son.
After quietly sobbing for some time, it seems as if Tom falls asleep in his dad's arms. Aside from the marks from the rope and manacles, he seems physically unharmed. But even in his exhaustion, his sleep is fitful and restless.
Bashiel holds Lamm fairly steady as Ilsa delivers the first blow of her beating, but tenses up to try to pull him away if she goes too far out of control.
She deserves her chance to take out her anger on him... to sell a child to Urgathoa's foul lot is... beyond anything I could have imagined.
After Varor intervenes, Bashiel pulls Lamm clear of Ilsa's swinging.
He leans close to Lamm's ear and in a low voice, he says "If someone once told me that there was a man out there doing all of the evil you've done Lamm, I would have called her mad. There are men in the jails guilty of crimes of passion, simple hatred or revenge. But yours... yours are a concerted effort to bring suffering to the weakest and youngest, seemingly more to satisfy your twisted desires than to make what meager profit you manage to squeeze out of the streets."
"Yes. You will face justice." His steady gaze on Lamm seems to glow with hatred for the man.
Bashiel nods at Brin and resumes dragging Lamm to the boat and back to the upper floors. As they go, he looks towards Ilsa and gives her a strained smile "Even if this rat here doesn't know where these cultists are, the Guard will likely be aware of any Urgathoan activity in the city. We'll track her down."
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Ilsa does gain some satisfaction from striking the man, but does not continue trying to knock him around once Varor stops her.
"He says he will get right out...how can we make sure that doesn't happen?" she asks Bashiel with resignation.
"And how can we find this cult? I need help! It was hard enough to find this lead, but how am I ever going to find my niece if we don't know where this cult is?"
Brin helps Bashiel with Lamm "this bastard deserves what he gets..." after a few moments helping Brin calls for a rest if possible. "Whew, This is a lot of work ." Brin makes sure that lamm is bleeding through his several wounds if necessary he will also wipe blood off him to ditch in the water. after looking around for the fin. "By the way everyone that's Cookie don't mind him. He is a showboat." cookie continues his destraction. when the fin gets close enough I will make Lamm appear to panic or fight dropping him in the water.
"Oh Nooooo! Lamm, The gods are sooo Cruel......"
Gaedren yelps in surprise as his lower-body suddenly slips into the water. Bashiel may be holding on to Gaedren's arms (or a rope tied to his upper body?), but it seems the plankway was more slippery than anticipated.
The water surges and roils as the lurking predator -- accustomed to being fed here by droppings from the fishery -- lunges to its latest meal. Easily eight feet long, the shark has jagged markings and a mottled hide.
Triangular teeth with serrated edges latch onto Gaedren's torso and, as the head whips from side to side, begin to savage the old man's flesh. Gaedren briefly screams in terror and panic, but as the black water blooms even darker, his screams quickly go silent and his body limp.
Bashiel still manages to hold on to the upper-half of the old bastard, but the shark has a firm grip on him, too.
Brin reaches for Lamm, "Nooooo gods noooo!, Can anyone swim?" and Brin grabs cookie before Cookie commits suicide by jumping in the sharks mouth. "Cookie! I cant lose you also, bud."
Brin watches silently as Lamm hopefully is killed. Your a bastard Gadrean, your can rot with all the others you killed..... Brin feels no remorse for this. The body in his room and the killing of children is more than enough for Brin to take this into his own hands and not leaving it up to a jury to decide.
Quinlan hears the death scream and the yelling and rushes to the underpier where he sees the blood-churned waters and the remains of Lamm in Bashiel's grip. He looks on fairly impassively. No great loss there... I'm glad he won't have a chance to weasel out of another charge. Whatever happened here, it's for the best.
"Well, that seems to have been settled. Perhaps just best to let the shark have the rest of him. I guess we won't be bringing him in for whatever justice the city might have dealt out. Shall we search the rest of the fishery and make sure there are no more captive children or Lamm associates to deal with?"
Kalem runs after Quinlan. He too watches as Lamm dies, and nods approvingly. He didn't really care what led to the man's death, he was just glad that he got to witness it.
"Well said. Let's loot the place. There might be records of his dealings. Clues as to who is in this cult and where to find them. It's just too bad that someone else is probably just going to replace the bastard."