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Ilsa grasps Bashiel's arm and follows him out.
My...his arms are big...
She turns to the proprietor. "Keep the gold...sorry...we're not prudes or anything."
Yes, I am!
"But we'll have to come back another time!"
----
Once outside, she says "I'm not sure anyone in there is in a state to give us any more information. We at least know where he is. Let's try somewhere else."
"I guess the only thing we learned was that Devargo's at the aft of the warship. Oh, I guess Jarlax also seemed to think that we'd be able to talk to him if we wanted. Maybe its open to anyone with a good reason to go see him."
Bashiel takes a deep breath of the clean air outside. "I hope Varor, Quin and Kalem had better luck. I think they split off to the gambling hall?"
Here? Or am I missing something?
Quinlan heads to the "Twin Tigers", a pair of hut-like structures atop a barge. From within come sounds of raucous laughter and periodic roars of victory.
Inside of each of the structures on the main deck, tables are packed with
gamblers. Dice clatter, cards are dealt, wheels spin, and coins aplenty dance and jangle to the fickle whim of fate—knivesies is a particular favorite.One of the Eel's End enforcers is here near the entrance, keeping an eye for any fights or conflict.
** spoiler omitted **...
Knivesies:
Quinlan winds up talking with one of the more friendly of the gambling parlor's inhabitants, a Vudrani man wrapped in red silks. He introduces himself as Anpugit. "The owner? Ah. Who owns fate? We merely hope that Desna smiles upon us. But should you mean the master of this house, that would be me and my brother. I haven't seen you around before? What games interest you? Cards? Dice? A round of knivesies? Perhaps you'd like a drink before you start?"
"Well, Anpugit, it is indeed a pleasure to meet you! This is my first visit to Eel's End, so it's not surprising you haven't seen me before. NOw, I don't drink, nor am I much skilled at things like knivesies, but a quiet game of dice or cards or even betting on knivesies would suit me fine...This place is amazing... and not just the Twin Tigers... that there are so many connected establishments is a true testament, not only to someone's ambition and acumen, but to their vision as well. I am quite impressed. What can you tell me about this place, eh? How long has it been here? Who created this virtual palace of entertainment and vice? I would someday like to meet this fellow. I have business ambitions of my own, you know. Nothing to rival this of course, different interests and such. But perhaps I could learn from him how to implement them better. Now about that game of chance? What would you recommend for a beginner?"
The man smiles gamely, "Hmm. I'd be happy to tell you about this place as you enjoy one of our tables. Maybe even facilitate a meeting if you've the, uh, capital necessary to start a place like this. Looks like there is a game of knivesies over here. Make some room, lads."
A game of knivesies is about to begin. The contestants are a scarred halfling with arms like corded rope and a brute of a half-orc. Anpugit suggests you pick a contestant and make a wager.
Hoping the halfling's size will give him an advantage in dexterity, and if not, he will be betting on the underdog, which also pleases him, he places a small bet on the halfling.
Bets are placed and Quinn finds himself putting down five gold pieces for his wager. The competitors are tied together and have at it. The halfling darts forward but jinks to the side as the half-Orc swings a club-like fist at his head, dives between the half-orc's legs and grabs a fistful of coins. He's shoved them into his pouch by the time the half-Orc yanks the halfling back out with their lashed hands, raises him into the air, then slams him down into the table. The air is knocked out of the halfling and the coins jangle and rattle; a few nearly fall off the table but stop just short. Leering, the half-Orc leans over the halfling to begin collecting the coins on the other side of the table, when he suddenly stops, a look of pain in his face and a low, wheezing groan from his lips before blood begins to bubble. From beneath him, the halfling chortles...his hand still on the dagger he's buried in the half-orc's chest.
With a thud and a cheer, the match is over. Anpugit grins, "You picked well, though such a modest bet. Appropriate for knivesies, to be fair, but as I said... Lives may be cheap, but places like thus take coin to setup." As he talks, attendants are untying the halfling from the corpse, collect the pouches and coins, and divvy up the winnings.
"So, what is it you'd like to know about the King of Spiders?"
"Well that was short, but sweet... I had a feeling about that halfling. Anyway, as for the King of Spiders... I'd love to know how he set all this up? What was his vision when he started? Was it to make something this amazing or did he start small? If he got backers, how did he arrange that? Do you think he'd talk to me? I have so many questions!"
Back outside, Bashiel rubs a hand across his face, futilely trying to clear the haze that seems to have settled across his mind. Quietly, he responds to Ilsa "Yes lets, if they take a long time we'll start attracting attention just standing out here. And the gambling hall can't be as bad as the place we just left."
Can it?
"I do have an idea though. Wait just a moment. Maybe someone with less reason to sell us something would be more open to gossip."
Bashiel strides on over to a nearby guard, a bit away from the drug den. He puts on a hassled sounding voice and tries to look mildly disgruntled "Hey, I know you're just guarding here, but what do you think about that Jarlax guy over in the Dragon's Breath? Pushy, isn't he? I felt like if I let my guard down for even a moment he'd have me buying shiver cut four times with flour and not even noticing."
Anpugit seems a bit bored by Quinn's line of questioning but, nonetheless, is charmed by the young man so indulges a few questions. "Like most things in Korvosa, he took over what someone else abandoned. I think this all started with the warship, Eel's End, but he's cobbled together the rest of this over the years. I doubt any of them are properly seaworthy anymore, but safely moored to the docks in the shelter of the harbor... Look, lad, what's your name again? You seem like a nice kid. The King of Spiders, he ain't nice.
"Cold, ruthless... this is the legit side of the business but if you think that's all that's here, you've spent too long in the Dragon's Breath. Real story, the King built this place on the backs and blood of others; the Guard just hasn't ever managed to gather enough evidence to prove anything. But look, it works. Folks come here for a good time, and we give it to them. Occasionally, one or two fall drunkenly off the side and get eaten by a shark, sure, but that's just all part of the mise-en-scène." He grins and winks at Quinn.
"As for whether he'd talk to you, anyone can ask for an audience. You've just better have something interesting to say... or a lot of gold to give him. Otherwise... well, they call him the King of Spiders for a reason. That ship is crawling with them, and plenty of people who go in don't ever come back out."
The enforcer first eyes Bashiel and Ilsa with a contemptuous gaze that practically sends up warning flares, but Bashiel manages to deliver the line with enough panache that the man can't help but crack a smile. "Oh, no, he'll give you the real thing, but once you pass out, then we get to take our cut from whatever is still on you. Call it insurance. Got something left on you and we'll carry you over to sleep it off. Got nothing? Well... most folks float when we toss 'em overboard."
Bashiel's eye twitches at the effort of keeping up a facade in the face of this guard's shameless thievery. Instead, he breaks into a wide grin and a bark of laughter.
"HAH! Serves them right for not keeping their head where it belongs. And no shame in taking your share, no shame at all. I guess the big boss" Bashiel jerks a thumb at Eel's End "keeps the purse strings tight, doesn't he? I've had my share of times when my pay needed a little... supplementing, you could say."
Even if that was by working in the bakery as well as the Guard...
Bashiel does his best to lower the man's guard, taking a conciliatory tone, nodding along as if he understands what the fellow must be going through.
"What is it like working here anyway? Got much turnover? I might be looking for a job soon, and this kind of work is something you and I have the skills for." He flexes a muscle as he speaks.
Hm, lets see what kind of ship Devargo runs here. Maybe we can find someone who wants out, and will help us get the leverage we need against the King of Spiders.
"All good to know, thanks for the .. warning? advice? I think my own planned business venture might not be so entertaining to the public, but learning from someone who built this empire might be just what I need. I have to learn to be a bit ruthless to succeed, yes? Thank you so much Anpugit. You've been more than helpful and a bit cryptic at the same time. Another skill I probably lack.. You know... I should have bet more on knivesies! Be bold! Thanks again... " Quinlan wanders off to find his friends and tell them what he's learned... Time to request an audience with the King of Spiders maybe? If not now, then soon.
The enforcer just shakes his head at Bashiel. "'E only hires men he knows and we don't know ye. Now, get to spending some coin, find yourself a third at the House of Clouds or try your luck at the Twin Tigers."
Bashiel shakes his head "A real shame he's not hiring. Thanks for the tip." He makes a show of being disappointed before cheering up at Ilsa's suggestion and following her towards the Twin Tigers.
Once they've gained some distance on the guards, he whispers to Ilsa "Devargo's folks seem harder working and more loyal than the rowdy sort that usually works in places like these. I was hoping to learn something we could use against him when we finally talk, but its like investigating a stone wall."
"Yeah, lets go find the others. The way that this slice of hell seems to work so well is starting to creep me out."
The patrons and guards of Eel's End continue to move around you. To the south, the eponymous warship looms over the pier. Enforcers mill near the bow of the ship and the visitors here seem to take little notice; they are here to engage in their vices, not see the King of Spiders.
Bashiel approaches the Twin Tigers in time to meet Quin and the rest. He looks around to see if the group is being watched by the guards outside and then comes in close to talk with the others quietly.
"We got almost nothing at the Dragon's Breath. The guy who seemed to be running the place wasn't one to gossip. The patrons were hardly capable of conversation. And a guard we talked to once we left seems perfectly loyal to the big boss." Bashiel shakes his head in disbelief "I mentioned to Ilsa, but it doesn't feel right that this place works so well. Normally the low level thugs are always stepping out of line, making trouble. Or at the very least they're not happy about something."
"Ilsa, maybe I just don't look trustworthy enough to the people we talked to? Maybe you should have gone with Quin?" He looks self-consciously down at his armor, then back to the rest of the group.
"Well, here's what we did learn: he's usually at the aft of the warship Eel's End. Sounds like he has some kind of throne room there." Bashiel sighs and runs his hand through his hair "Yeah, almost nothing. Hope you three had better luck."
"He does give audiences, but the word is that you'd better have considerable gold or something really interesting to tell him, or you'll regret ever asking... Apparently the 'King of Spiders' name is well-suited, there are reputed to be masses of spiders on board at least his ship if not in the bowels of the others too. Maybe we should just go ask to see him... what harm could it do?"
"Oh, and these are apparently just his legitimate businesses, he's got fingers in lots of pies, not all of them legal, just no one's been able to pin anything on him, at least not enough for legal action or city guard intervention. I won 5 gold on a game of chance... shall we go before my reluctance to gamble more becomes cause for scrutiny?"
:
Varor nods his head. "And as bad as all of this is, I only just realized that I haven't seen Brin in a while."
"You're right, and he's not exactly the sort of fellow that gets easily lost in a crowd... I hope he's alright... maybe he went back to his shop? Or perhaps he got sidetracked in one of the Eel's End attractions? We didn't exactly set up a meeting place in case we got separated. Perhaps when we are done here, he will meet us all at Zellara's house?"
From chatting with other patrons of Eel's End and eavesdropping on conversations, Quinlan is able to pick up the following:
- The King is a tall, muscular human.
- His signature weapons are a pair of gauntlets that glisten with poison.
- During "audiences" with the King, he will frequently let some of the spiders that infest his throne room crawl over him.
- It is whispered he has the blood of fiends in him and can communicate with the spiders telepathically.
Bashiel looks dissatisfied at the information gathered so far "What we really need is leverage. Something the 'King' needs that we have... other than gold that is. Otherwise he's going to take one look at our gold and milk us for all we're worth."
"Maybe the only thing we can do is negotiate with this crime lord in good faith" Bashiel looks queasy at the suggestion. "Think you can tackle that Quin? I think you're the best with words here out of all of us."
"I can surely try, but the gold may help."
"I hate to think what he might want, Ilsa..." Bashiel grimaces, and then nods to Quin "I'm counting on you. Well, if we don't have other ideas, lets go pay him a visit."
The quartet of guards at the bow of the Eels End briefly interrogate you as to your business but ultimately allow you to advance. One of them mutters, "It's your funeral."
You climb a set of stairs to the aft castle and from there pass through a pair of doors into what was once the captain's cabin.
This large room has been converted into a throne room of sorts. The walls are thick with spider webs, in which scuttle dozens of spiders, some as large as a fist but most considerably smaller. These spiders seem content to stay in their webs and do not venture into the room itself, which is furnished with two sturdy oaken tables surrounded by chairs. Aft, a wooden stage supports a large leather chair covered with cobwebs and scampering spiders. A narrow door stands to port, hanging ajar and revealing a flight of stairs leading below. An iron birdcage hangs from the ceiling like a chandelier.
Sitting in the throne is a tall, muscular man with shaggy black hair and a fierce glare. He accents his black leather armor with a steel spidershaped shoulder baldric and a thick chain crisscrossing his chest, linked together in the shape of a spider. His signature weapons—gauntlets fixed with blades over the knuckles—glisten with poison. Now and then, spiders clamber over his skin, but he takes no notice.
Before the throne are six men and women seated at tables, enjoying a sumptuous meal and loud storytelling. The steel birdcage that hangs from the ceiling holds a house drake.
After a moment, the man on the throne raises a hand and the half-dozen folks at the tables fall silent. Passing his gaze over you, he says, "I don't recognize you, so you're not recruits. Who are you? What do you want with the King of Spiders?"
Bashiel eyes the occupants of the room, looking to see if any of the six men and women are armed or look to be fighters. He also makes a tally of how many guards there were on the way in, as well as how many guard this room.
We're in the belly of the beast, might as well know what we're up against if things go wrong.
"We have an offer for you, King of Spiders." He turns to Quin and whispers "Go ahead, I'll back you up."
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Ilsa, though she often does well with people, swallows hard and waits for Quinlan to do the talking. Everything seems to be pressing in upon her: darkness, a slithering something at the edge of her consciousness, and a feeling of dread.
"Greetings," she says to the King of Spiders, not feeling confident at all. She tries to size him up and see what their chances are of getting out alive.
Quin clears his throat his thoughts, then speaks up cautiously. "Good day, Sir... I am Quin, Quinlan Orisini actually, and I've come to speak with you on a matter most sensitive..." He glances over at the others in the room. "You've every right to be cautious holding an audience with folks you don't know, but in such a matter, I guess I need to know whether or not I have leave to speak openly about what may prove to be a very private matter."
"It seems a certain Chelaxian ambassador has been frequenting Eel's End of late. He has particular vices, not all of which would be to his credit if they were to become public knowledge. I was hoping perhaps we might barter for you to reveal said information to us to use as leverage against him in a political matter. This is to prevent Chelaxian influence to gain a stronger foothold in the city... Said foothold would be very bad for the city, including your enterprises as well. I think it would be to everyone's benefit to stop his plans. What say you?"
"Also, there is another matter which troubles me. I have heard that black robed cultists sometimes frequent your fine establishment. While I have no issue with their right to do so, these cultists have managed to acquire a child, the niece of a friend. We would like to find her and deliver her back to family and safety before something dire happens to her. I was hoping perhaps that you might know somewhat of where we could find them, or how we might make contact or track them down. Any information would help. I understand that nothing comes without a price, and if this information is worth something to us, then it should be worth something to you... Name your opening price, then, and let us talk."
Quinlan will wait until he's cleared the room of some, or all, of the men in the room to deVargo's satisfaction, or moved the discussion to a more private locale, then proceed:
"It seems a certain Chelaxian ambassador has been frequenting Eel's End of late. He has particular vices, not all of which would be to his credit if they were to become public knowledge. I was hoping perhaps we might barter for you to reveal said information to us to use as leverage against him in a political matter. This is to prevent Chelaxian influence to gain a stronger foothold in the city... Said foothold would be very bad for the city, including your enterprises as well. I think it would be to everyone's benefit to stop his plans. What say you?"
"Also, there is another matter which troubles me. I have heard that black robed cultists sometimes frequent your fine establishment. While I have no issue with their right to do so, these cultists have managed to acquire a child, the niece of a friend. We would like to find her and deliver her back to family and safety before something dire happens to her. I was hoping perhaps that you might know somewhat of where we could find them, or how we might make contact or track them down. Any information would help. I understand that nothing comes without a price, and if this information is worth something to us, then it should be worth something to you... Name your opening price, then, and let us talk."
Devargo barely acknowledges Ilsa's timid greeting. She isn't able to discern much beyond the obvious. He wears a suit of masterwork armor, possibly enchanted and a pair of masterwork spiked gauntlets. At his hip is a hand crossbow and various vials adorn his belt.
When Quinlan steps up, a cool and indifferent gaze rests on the tiefling and a gesture of his hand indicates he any anyone else who wishes to speak should step forward and do so, indicating an open space before the "throne". "If it is a matter of business, then you should speak your purpose before I lose my patience. These men and women know better than to go about town with loose lips."
So prompted, the investigator explains your interest in the ambassador and cultists. Devargo arches a black brow as Quinlan speaks.
"You weave some interesting tales, young Orisini. But even if I were to have knowledge of such things -- and I'm not saying I do -- it would be bad for business for me to comment on such matters. Eel's End is a success because we value our clients' anonymity, and your offer of recompense ignores the fact that we already profit from the existing arrangement. Your offer would have to be grand indeed."
Quinlan stammers a moment and struggles for further words...
"You've built an incredible empire here. Having done so, you've proved you're a businessman of great vision and acumen. I'm sure you can see the benefit of profiting twice over for the same service.. All we are asking is that you provide us proof of the ambassador's activities here at Eel's End. This proof will be used as leverage against his intentions in Korvosa. Keeping Chelish control out of the city should also be of benefit to you. I hear their taxes and restrictive policies are quite stringent. And of course, the fact that said proofs came from you need never be a part of that communication, so your reputation for discretion need not be tarnished in any way. I can offer you a grand sum for this proof... a thousand pieces of gold. What say you?"
Bashiel stops grinding his teeth. Negotiating and bargaining with Devargo is already getting on his nerves, even though its barely started.
"King of Spiders, as Quinlan said, providing us information about this ambassador is to your benefit. You have much more than most to lose from the spread of Cheliax's influence in this city. Regardless of what was offered to you now, the future imposition of the laws of Cheliax upon us here would serve to stifle your independence."
"Much like the pacts with the devils the Chelaxians serve, any agreements you have with this ambassador -- not saying that you do -- benefit the other party more than they do you. And much like the devils, they will likely come back to extract an unpleasant price in the future."
"Exactly. Nothing good comes from working with cultists. Their loyalty isn't to gold, or even to their own lives. Hard to do business with people like that, and they tend to make powerful enemies. Enemies which would find their foes very useful indeed."
The thugs and brigands having their meal swap their focus between the party and Devargo, curiosity evident on their faces as the discussion progresses. The slightest hint of a smile comes to the king's face as the left side of his lip twitches upward.
"Hmm... Yes, many bad and terrible things will befall the city if this or that happens. I can't tell you how often I've heard that. Yet, strangely enough, everyone has embarrassing little itches that need to be scratched and so places like Eel's End always survive. So, actually, I think we'd fare just fine under the rule of Cheliax; we already pay a heavy tax under the Crown." He lets that hang in the air for moment as a spider the size of a hand crawls over his shoulder, one of the legs stroking at Devargo's neck. He takes no notice.
He chuckles. "But yes, I know of the ambassador, I have the information you want. I keep it below in my quarters, but the truth is those letters have brought me plenty of income and, in their own way, are my protection from any diabolist excesses. If I give you those letters, I lose my leverage over the ambassador. So, I'm thinking.... fifteen-hundred gold."
When Ilsa admits that the cultists have taken someone of importance to her, Devargo seems to finally recognize her as someone of interest. It's unclear whether that's good or bad. The spider at his neck moves on.
"I might know something of these... 'cultists'. We can discuss it when we've concluded the first order of business."
As the crime lord spoke, Kalem noticed a change in his voice. Enough to tip him off to Devargo being irritated and agitated at the mention of the cultists. It wasn't a topic which made the man comfortable.
"Come now. Is fifteen hundred not a bit steep, especially when we will already be benefiting you by our actions? Cultists are bad for business. Especially as they are not clandestine enough for their own goods, and if they are not eliminated in short order, who knows how many more enemies will be coming down on them? And when those nests are uprooted, the purging tends to effect far more than what is good for business. I remember the last time that the guard got involved in taking down a cult, all of us tieflings in the city had to keep our heads down for weeks. While I might just be a street rat, I know that the men I ran for felt the pinch too. What say you to one thousand one hundred, seeing as how we will be helping each other?"
Ah. Now there's something.
"If you provide us the information we need, you will need no further leverage over the ambassador." Bashiel lets his statement hang in the air, letting Devargo consider the implications if he wants.
Varor notices the edge in Devargo's voice with the mention of cultists and decides to capitalize on this. however Kalem speaks out before he can.