Seething with rage, Lymas whirls around and slices viciously at Randall, but his strike goes wide.
The man who'd fled upstairs comes charging down them with anger in his eyes, and swings his club at the halfling that dared ensorcel him.
Jametor grabs his wand and touches Lymas with it.
Antal grimaces as the blow crushes bones and pulls loose his morningstar, swinging back in response to the brutal pain.
”What’d you do with the dwarf”, Njord demands as he hacks again.
"Larur. The man last seen bringing you your payment."
Randall considers his options.
Lymas crumples to the ground after Njord's attack, bloody and unanswering. Fíriel takes a deep breath and leans heavily against the wall, while the remaining thug swings his club again, this time ineffectually.
”You’re gunna be okay lass”, Njord says with a frown before spinning and heading back the other direction. ”Just hang on.”
He comes in alongside Antal and swipes with his sword.
Jametor spins around and fires an acid glob at the man attacking Antal.
The club-wielding thug grunts as the acid strikes him.
Antal tries to answer the wide swipe with a swing of his own.
Antal's strike produces another grunt. Randall hurries over from the other room and tries a stab of his own.
Fíriel moves around the wall and slashes carefully, but she's not quick enough and the clubman avoids her blade.
He retaliates by swinging his club at her in turn, but his blow doesn't land either.
The man takes the opportunity to swing his club. It seems just about to crash against the Ulfen's arm when it's deflected at the last moment by the mighty herbalist's magical shielding.
In a flanking position, Njord swipes at the sword-brandishing man.
Janetor sighs and flings another acid dart at the man.
The man goes down as the acid melts his ear to goo.
Njord gives the wizard a nod before wiping his sword clean and sheathing it.
”Har! That was a good scrap. Now spread out and look around. Let’s hope the dwarf’s still alive.”
”You alright lass?” the big ulfen asks as he begins tossing the place.
”Drink this”, he says while tossing a small vial her way. ”Apply it to the wound. It’ll sting like a b$##+ but it’ll keep it from getting infected.”
Jametor searches the two human lackeys for clues and other things. Also, he takes their weapons and puts them way away from the live one, especially.
Fíriel nods gratefully and does as she's told, turning delicately away from the bodies as she does so.
"Thank you. The one with the sword really put some muscle behind his strikes, didn't he?"
Searching the fallen, Jametor and Njord collect two sets of studded leather armor and two clubs from the men. The old moneylender is found to be carrying a potion of bull's strength, a vial of black adder venom, a set of +1 studded leather armor, a masterwork scimitar, a masterwork light crossbow (10 bolts), five Qadiran cigars worth 5gp each, and a garnet necklace worth 200 gold.
Njord huffs in disappointment and continues his search (going upstars eventually).
Jametor calls Swiftwing to him. He then directs the raven to search the house.
Swiftwing returns after a few minutes to report that she found Lymas' strongbox. The man seemed to live in a rather cluttered and dirty pigsty, but apart from his strongbox (which is locked, but which Randall and Fíriel manage to get open after a few minutes) there doesn't seem to be anything else of interest.
Randall will search, as well, focusing on finding hidden spaces, but only after ascertaining that Firiel is OK.
Randall doesn't find anything else.
Antal takes several slow deep breaths, as he smirks. "Sure was one crazy f*%*er, wasn't he?"
Njord packs up the valuables.
”No sign of the dwarf. You sure that was his cloak outside?” the big ulfen asks.
"Anyone have a way to wake this fool up?"
Fíriel shakes her head. "Is he even alive? That hit of yours would've done for most old men I know. I've never been in a fight like that... I've been in fights, but never one that put all my lesson retention to the test like that. And that man's... pet nearly bit your face off, it looked like."
[b]"Well, okay so he's not dead, that's good, we can get info out of him. Perhaps if we take him back to the Gold Goblin?]/b]
”I hit him hard alright. He probably has a few loose teeth but he’ll live. For now, we need answers”, the big ulfen says.
”For someone that’s never been in a fight before you handle yourself well. Har! She’s a keeper Randall!”
Njord lifts the man he knocked out by the shoulder and undoes the stopper on a small vial of greyish looking sand. He waves the salts by the man’s face, waiting for the pungent smell to do its work.
"Not unless we can get him there - I can't carry him - without anyone being the wiser. If one of Clegg's men spots us, we won't make it to the Goblin. Better to lock the doors, pull the curtains and sit tight, I think. Anyone have some rope? I'll check my pack."
The female halfling grins mischievously. "I didn't say I'd never been in a fight before... just not one quite like that."
The old man whimpers and turns his head from side to side, mumbling incoherently. Finally he opens his eyes, and immediately shrinks away (as much as a man who's nearly dead and being held prone can). "Stop! Leave me alone! Go away... don't hurt me anymore... I'll cancel Saul's debt, the whole thing, just leave me alive, please..." he whines.
"Well that works out for Saul, but Larur is our prime goal. So where is the dwarf."
"That's mighty generous of you, Lymas, and much appreciated. I'm sure you had the rates set high enough he was going to be paying the debt many times over, am I right?"
"Now, back to the discussion that was so rudely cut short when you collapsed. There was a man - a dwarf - wearing this bloody cloak on his way to make payment on the loan. We need to find him. The problem is, Lymas, is that we found this cloak - did I mention it's bloody - in the alley outside your establishment. Did the dwarf bring you the payment, Lymas?"
"I don't know what you're talking about... you just broke in here this morning and started killing and talking madness. I swear, just don't let this... don't let him hit me again. I'll forget the debt. I'll forget the whole thing..."
Lymas looks startled and afraid at Randall's tirade. "No! I don't know what you're talking about! Anybody could've put anybody's cloak in my alleyway! Don't get me wrong, I've seen Saul's dwarf before, but I swear I haven't seen him since the last payment!"
"Oh, this is bad, Lymas. You know what? Someone wants us to think you killed the dwarf so we will kill you. Who would want you dead, Lymas? Who have you angered so?"
The scruffy moneylender just closes his eyes and shakes his head, whimpering pleas and promises.
"As the smartest one in the room, I am pretty sure you've done something Clegg doesn't like. Is that it?"
Jametor looks at his companions.
"What? You know I am. I am also older than you in years."
Njord lets the whimpering Lymas slump to the ground.
"This man's a fool but he doesn't know anything about our dwarf. Let's get back to Saul. He needs to hear about this."