Amira simply grins before running up the side of the building and vanishing over the edge, running along the opposite roof to Cassandra to keep the others in their sights.
Tolenn frowns, but nods at the other's observation, "It would seem the Dolly is to face some sort of punishment. Unfortunate, that often the less able to protect themselves find themselves the target of the unprincipled. "
She looks down the alley down which the girls disappeared, then sighs, and watches Cassandra and Amira hit the rooftops with just a little touch of envy.
"Come, let's continue..."
"Right."
After a few more minutes of making way through the streets of Old Korvosa looking for activity, a man steps out of a buildings with broken shutters and splintered door. Armed with a in his hand sword and wearing leather armor a bit too big for him, he starts and gasps when he sees Wednesday and Tolenn, but his face returns to his determined countenance and he strides out to the street. He doesn't look like he's heading for a confrontation with the two experienced warriors, but given his look, he's definitely heading for a fight somewhere.
"Kid probably going to some stupid turf war." Wednesday mumbles.
"No one's making new stuff, probably. They're just pulling the old stuff of corpses." Cass says as she points down to the boy. "I think we need to have a chat with him."
Cassandra leaps off the rooftop, throwing her grapple as she does, and swings down in front of the man in the too big armor.
"Whatcha doin'?"
"Gyah!" the young man blurts out, stumbling onto his back in surprise, as Cassandra swings down in front of him. "Who?!? What?!?" he stammers at first. Feeling a bit threatened, he sits up and raises the sword in front of him, pointing it at Cassandra. His movements are fairly novice since any respectable swordsman can tell he won't be able to defend himself very well sitting on his ass even if he is holding a sword in front of himself.
Cassandra can't help but giggle.
"Even if you hit me with that, mate, my friends behind you would break your arms."
She ignores the sword and happily coils the rope attached to her grappling hook.
"We're new here and we need to know the territory. What are the factions and who is in charge of each one?"
Leaping and swinging her way to the ground, Amira, while not quite as graceful as her partner, lands behind the young man with the silence of a ghost.
"She's right you know. And I'd only with your arms." she says from behind him, idly twirling her starknife.
"Poor bastard." Wednesday mumbles while giving the knocked down man a pitying stare.
The young man nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Amira's voice. He scrambles to his feet and dodges to the side, none too gracefully, and the leather cap slides down over his eyes. He turns so that both Amira and Cassandra are in his view. With one hand, he holds the sword while he adjusts the cap out of his vision with the other.
"Factions?!? What factions? There aren't any factions. There's just the Emperor!" he says with obvious distaste.
"Does this self professed 'Emperor' have a name? Or a palace for that matter?" Amira asks arching an eyebrow.
"Pilts is his name, I think. I don't know a last name. His "palace" is nothing more than some tenements his gang has taken over. And now he lords it over the rest of us, taking our food, taking our money, and leaving us with nothing. Leaving us to die." Angry tears start to leak out of the corners of the young man's eyes as he rants against the Emperor of Old Korvosa.
"And now we have a name. Ring any bells?" Wednesday starts musing before asking the crime fighting duo.
As they walked Tolenn could not help but be distracted by the ghosts of her memories of her time one these same streets.
When the man came out, she watched, an amused tilt to her head as Amira and Cass scared him.
But, when his angry tears begin to make their way down his dirty cheeks, she steps forward, "Be at ease. It would seem this 'Emperor' Pilts has taken over since the quarantine...do none opposed him?", she asks gently, still looking about.
A thought comes to her mind, along with a smile, "Tell me...Does Bert Runkle still run his shop over yonder?" she asks, pointing down a nearby street, "Does he still sell the sweet and buy the stolen?"
"A baker fence?" Wednesday silently mouths incredulously while looking back and forth between the others.
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"A baker fence?" Wednesday silently mouths incredulously while looking back and forth between the others.
"No, his shop got burned out by the Emperor's men a few days ago. At least he didn't get dragged away." the young man says bitterly.
"There's nobody stopping the Emperor. The guard's pulled out, the Gray Maidens don't care. If we want to stop him, it's on us! It's on us..." his voice trails off, his face grim.
"You might have more help than you think." Amira says grimly. "It sounds like this Emperor's due for a bit of a reckoning. Is that where you were headed? The tenements he hold power in?"
"Yes, I am! I will revenge my family on him or any of his thugs while I can still wield this sword!" the young man declares, his voice full of emotion. "He murdered my parents, sisters, and brother because they wouldn't turn over the last of their food to him. I wasn't home. Pilts's men didn't know about me, but they'll know of me now!"
"Right, no they won't. " Tolenn says firmly, "You can barely hold that sword....no the thumb goes here," she says, grabbing his arm and repositioning his thumb, "... it looks like you've received no training at all....
Immediately, the sword ceases to meander as much through the air, but is still very unsteady.
[b]"Look at me." Tolenn says, turning the young man's face towards her, "This Pilt will pay for his predation on the poor people trapped here...your family included. He will account for his actions to us, not you. You'll just end up getting yourself killed."
"Now then, where might I find dear old Bert? " she asks, looking back at her friends, "He'll definately have some information on the 'Emperor' for us."
"Yeah, in your shape you might be able to take one or two down, but you'll definitely be killed before you can get to the F&#%o in charge. So just ask yourself, what's more important? Getting revenge for your family? Or a slim chance at being able to avenge them personally?" Wednesday calmly adds.
"They wouldn't want you to die alongside them. I guarantee you, with their dying breaths, their only solace was that you weren't there. That you escaped that fate. Don't take that away from them." Amira says in a quiet intense tone. One that usually preceded violence.
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Cassandra's lost interest. Sad. Sad. People dead. She begins looking around, making sure the "Emperor" doesn't have men playing spy.
Noticing Cass' attention on the surrounding area, Amira scans the nearby shadows and alleys for any observers as well.
Under the barrage of somewhat more sensible argument, the young man relents with a sigh. "Then you're here to put the "Emperor" to rights? I suppose you are better equipped to deal with that than me. I want to see it, though. I want to see Pilts get what he deserves!" He wipes the tears of rage and grief from his face.
"I can take you to Bert's. Last I saw, he was trying to clear the space around his oven. I think he means to get back into business."
And true, enough, the young man takes you around a few corners and to a gutted bakery. The stone exteriors wall of the ground floor still stand, but scorched with the recent fire. The upper floor has been largely destroyed, as has the part of the Shingles that ran along its rooftop. A few men are pulling burned timbers and debris from the shop space where the great brick oven still stands, having been able to withstand the heat of the fire. It looks like the wood of the place must have burned up fairly thoroughly and surrounding buildings bear significant scorching from the heat.
Bert Runkle stands in his shop working the area closest to the oven. He looks a bit worse for wear, a bandage about his forehead and a black eye. And it looks as if his nose has been broken since Tollenn saw him last.
Never having met this Bert fellow Wednesday simply strode alongside Tolenn and waited for her to call out to him, though it was probably a safe bet that he was the one not doing any work at the moment.
Tolenn walks up, taking her helm off as she does so, her shock of red hair and scarred cheek plainly visible, "I hope that oven's still working, Bert, else Korvosa will be the poorer without your famous sticky buns! "
Bert squints for a second then calls out, "Well, I'll be damned! Is that a red-headed, sticky-faced, ragtag, little street urchin that I see?" a big smile broadening across his face. "I've got no sweets for you today, Tolly. But you are a sight for sore eyes. As you may have noticed, I find myself in a bit of a pickle." He gestures offhandedly to the debris around him. "But we'll be up in operation soon if I can get enough flour and salt smuggled through," he winks.
"But surely you didn't come all this way for my sticky buns. They're good, damn good, but not enough to risk being shot at by some colorless broads with crossbows."
"Now I want a sticky bun." Cassandra complains. She begins investigating the ruins, looking to see if there's magic on the "Emperor's" payroll.
"Tolly?" Wednesday asks with a smirk.
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Tolenn smiles hearing her old nick-name being used by Bert. She turn and gives Wednesday a look, "What was that....Wendy?" she asks pertly, but with a smile.
Turning back to Bert, she tsk-tsks, "What did they do to your handsome face, Bert?" she says, moving up and gently turning his bruised face from side to side.
"Let me help with that..." she murmurs, holding his head still between her two hands, softly intreating Sarenrae to aid her...
That done, she releases Bert's head and looks at her old friend, "To answer your question, Bert, we're saving Korvosa one little bit at a time. We've faced the Grey Maidens before and hold them in little regards. This 'Emperor'...what can you tell us of him?"
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"It's a lovely nickname." he replies while smiling.
"Now I want a sticky bun." Cassandra complains. She begins investigating the ruins, looking to see if there's magic on the "Emperor's" payroll.
[dice=K (arcana)]1d20+15
"Remind me to swing by that bakery in the shingles just before sunrise." Amira whispers with a smile, observing Tolenn's more relaxed manner in her element.
Scanning about, Cassandra can sense no sign of significant magic - none active (other than yourselves) and no residual in the rubble. if magic had a hand in the torching Bert's bakery, any residual impression has faded.
Bert's eyebrows rise at Tolenn's question and he puts a finger to his lips. "Not out here. It's too public. These men are OK, but there may be other ears about. Let's go where we can talk in private. You too, Tesh," he indicates the young man who led you to the bakery. He steps carefully over some debris and out to the streets where he leads all who follow a few doors down the block to another house that is still intact.
Once inside, he closes the door, slides the bolt and then peeks out a window's shutter, scanning for surveillance before continuing. "Things are bad here. I don't think anybody expected Pilts Swastel to be much of a gang lord, but he seems to think of this all as theater or something. Everything's a big, damn spectacle. Quite a few opponents have been burned out of their homes, some publicly executed with that mad device he got from Galt years ago. That's why I'm keeping my head down rather than lose it. The Arkonas have just been holed up in their palace for the most part. The only reaction I've seen from them was when Orisini's fencing school got the torch last night. They didn't burn his house though, so either Glorio's men chased Pilts's men off or he's still alive to defend it. I hope the latter is true. Vencarlo's a good friend to the neighborhood." He shrugs. I don't know why the Arkonas are putting up with any challenge at all from Pilts, unless they got hit really hard by the blood veil. That'd be too bad too. They sent lot of business my way, in normal times."
Tolenn nods in commiseration as Bert explains the situation, "Perhaps, Pilts has support from the Queen's people, we've found them responsible for the blood veil, keeping this part of town under thumb with someone like Pilts wouldn't be beyond them. This device you speak of...public executions?"
"A Final Blade? They're gulliotines that trap your soul, are you sure he has one?" Wednesday states with some concern.
Bert shrugs at Wednesday's question. "If it's magic, I don't know it. It's horribly efficient through. I've seen executions by the headsman's axe before and they're brutal enough. But there's something so much more disturbing about it being done by the drop of the guillotine's blade. It's fast, I'll give it that, and dramatic which is, I suppose, why our mad emperor loves it so. He's executed a score or so people just in the last week and a half."
"Damn, this f~@*er really does think he's some emperor."
"Yeah, I'd heard rumors about it. Meant to look into it before the Blood Veil happened. Pilts had it commissions based on stories out of Gault. Nasty piece of work that looks like a demon's mouth. It was made and shipped here from Kingtaro, over in Cheliax." Amira answers.
"Pretentious little prick." Wednedsay grumbles. The more he learned about this "Emperor" the more he felt like gouging the man's eyes out with his thumbs.
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"Looks like he needs to be taught an important lesson.....empires crumble."
"He's got a lot of followers looking for any favor he drops, so have a care how you approach him. I don't doubt you are a match for quite a few in a straight-up fight. But even you might be overwhelmed by his numbers. Plenty of his followers are just your run-of-the-mill scum, but some were once neighbors fallen on desperate times, I'm sure," Bert sighs. "Still, I think things would be better with him gone, if you can manage it."
"The ones that seem like it, will get a chance to stand down." Amira replies.
"If they get a chance."
"Hmmm, an evil device...a wonder the Queen doesn't come and confiscate it for her own use..." Tolenn muses, then catches Bill's next comment, "Those in need often seek those in power, for protection and the necessaries of life..." she says, then sighing, "Bill, where is this 'Emperor' holed up? Is there ways we can approach unseen...perhaps the sewers ?"
"He's taken over some tenements on Silk Street in the Old Dock neighborhood. Most of the block burned in the first riots and the remaining buildings were abandoned. Pilts and his cronies moved in. It's a mess," Bert explains.
"As far as the sewers go, they've never been particularly good this side of the strait and they're less safe now. We've been blocking up the entrances over here because the city's otyughs are loose and agitated. But if you're willing to give it a go, I suppose we could clear an entrance for you."
"Eh, Otyughs aren't so bad, as long as you don't get inbetween them and their food. Or try to talk to them face to face." Wednesday thinks aloud.
"Here we go again." Amira mutters. "It's the best approach for you two to remain unseen." she says to Wednesday and Tolenn