"I, for one, think if we are staying... fortify... if we are leaving, we should bring Knich home. For the dangerous tasks we have ahead, children would be better suited to be safe at home."
Von snaps his fingers and points to Marius with a smile, "Brilliant! That's it! These riots aren't down in da Vaults, eh? Let's bring the girl home and trade with Nahzir's people.." the elf turns to Nahzir, "That is if you think they'd have us and be interested."
Von then shrugs, "Best interest of the girl, get's us better equipped, rested, maybe find it to be an easy means ov travel in a time like this too. Hell, With Dov on the run there's an odd he stepped foot down there as well, maybe some clues.. " Von looks around at everyone, excited to move and looks to see how this idea fares. "Anything I'm missing?"
"Spelled out a point alright, wrote more on your face than his though."
"The patron god of old ladies' ghosts doesn't approve. Imagine my shock," Valamyr replies dryly, waving a dismissive hand at Von. He looks to the rest of the party for backup.
"Seems like a lot of overkill, to me. I think him being gone forever is message enough. A sick creep like that? I bet we could toss a stone anywhere in the city and hit two people who counted him as an enemy. Gaedren Lamm will never be seen again. Doubtful anyone will wonder why."
Valamyr frowns for a moment, a hint of confusion on his face. To an insightful person, the expression might indicate Garth's reply wasn't exactly the response he expected or hoped for. Valamyr turns away from the group, places Lamm's head back into a bloodstained sack, and begins rummaging through his pack as he responds.
"Garth, you're so right...on precisely one count. Lamm did have a long list of potential enemies: Competitors in the shiver trade, members of the Guard or the Order who got tired of looking the other way...any number of nobles, merchants, and nobodies he's robbed or swindled over the years...crocodile hunters..." Valamyr scavenges a scroll of parchment and an inkpen from within the confines of the pack and sets them before him on the floor.
"Honestly, one could think of 100 reasons to kill a man such as Lamm. This is precisely why the message must be clear and concise: 'Lamm hurt children, and he died for it. If you hurt children, you will die next.'"
"It's a message Korvosa needs to hear. We let Lamm prod, corrupt, and kill its most vulnerable for years. Places like that hellhole we pulled Knich out of operate in child trafficking with impunity in a supposed city of laws. A woman from that orphanage we took the boys to sold a child to a psychotic rapist. These things won't just magically stop if no one pushes back. If a little "overkill" is what it takes to shake up that status quo? So be it."
Valamyr rolls out the parchment before him and begins to write.
No more dead children.
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As the topic of returning Knich is discussed, Valamyr agrees that that should be our next stop, offering that leaving very late (like 1-2AM), when most of the city is asleep, would be his preference.
Nahzir observes the banter between Valamyr and Von and shakes his head as he quietly laughs to himself.
"Alright you two, no need to bicker. Regardless of what either of you believe, you both stuck your necks out to help me and Knich and neither of you had to, so that's what counts. If you ask me though, nothing beats the mix of a good plan and a bit of luck." he says in an attempt to ease the tension.
"As for our next move, I agree it would be best to get Knich home as soon as possible. Easier said than done given the state of things in the city, but I've made a promise to help you all after what you've done for my family and I certainly can't commit to that until I've seen her safely returned to my parents back home. Normally, I'd say making our way through the vaults would be the more dangerous way of getting there, given the gangs and thieves that frequent the underground. But seeing as the surface is in a state of chaos, perhaps that is the safest way. Could be that many of the lowlifes have seen this as an opportunity and made their way above ground to take part in the lawlessness, granting us a safer path."
"Put it up somewhere with lots of foot traffic--Midland, I think. With an accompanying notice. What do we think? Gets the point across, yes?"
"Funny you should mention Midland, seeing as that's where we will be headed. Our warren is beneath the markets there, so that will be as good a place as any to send the message."
"Brilliant! That's it! These riots aren't down in da Vaults, eh? Let's bring the girl home and trade with Nahzir's people.That is if you think they'd have us and be interested."
"My folks are always interested in a good trade. Not sure how business has been since I've left and we are a small community after all. However, even if we don't have enough coin on hand to make the deal, I believe I know just the man to talk to. And you will all be more than welcome there after what you've done."
"The patron god of old ladies' ghosts doesn't approve. Imagine my shock," Valamyr replies dryly, waving a dismissive hand at Von. He looks to the rest of the party for backup.
Von shows shock at Valamyr's insult and picks up Zellara's deck, "Old women?! She's barely f*%*ing 40! Talk to her yourself mate." Von flings a card off the top of the deck at Valamyr and it flutters into harmless contact with the man's skin.
"My folks are always interested in a good trade. Not sure how business has been since I've left and we are a small community after all. However, even if we don't have enough coin on hand to make the deal, I believe I know just the man to talk to. And you will all be more than welcome there after what you've done."
Von adjusts his coat and settles down as Nahzir chuckles amd speaks of his home in the Vaults. "Alright then. Seems to be the clear path to take, eh? Let's get underway at the late hour."
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You have been skeptical Von's supposed communications with Zellara's spirit. That is, however, until the card that the bumbling Elf flung at you sticks neatly into the collar of your shirt. As soon as the rigid card makes contact with the skin of your neck, a warm voice speaks silently in your ear much like the thrush that so often sits on your shoulder.
What must I do to make you believe in me? Must I appear before you as the severed head I am, open my eyes, and allow these words to pour fourth from my mouth in place of the maggots? I am real, Lord Valamyr. As real as all your selves.
The soft touch of a woman caresses your left cheek, though none stands before you.
My dear Valamyr, don't be so hard on the man, I beg you. He is a fool, I know... But a kind fool. He cares for this city, and he cares for me. It has been so long since I felt a touch like his... Please don't mistake his detachment as apathy. I see a great destiny before him - before all of you. I brought the five of you together because I could see your true selves, I knew that you had a great potential - greater together. You work for the same goal from different angles. Wear it like a crown, not a weight around your neck.
The card falls softly to the floor, and as soon as it began, the voice stops. When you look down for the Harrow card, it is gone.
Nahzir, you know better than most that there are many and more entrances to the vaults below Korvosa. Sewer grates, cellar doors, sink holes and underwater caverns all lead to your subterranean home. You can't go more than a few blocks in this city without passing over some sort of hidden entrance. You happen to know of an access point at the Hessim, Newby and Sage Paint Manufactory building just a couple blocks to the West.
"until the card that the bumbling Elf flung"
"He is a fool, I know... But a kind fool."
Von reshuffles the deck absent mindedly. "Oy, let's be off eh? I guess not to plan to return here as well. Never know in these times..."
The elf stowes the card deck, checks his pack, and then shoulders it ready to go. As the others prepare as well he opens the door and steps out for some fresh air and talks with Zellara.
Fidgeting with Zellara's Harrow deck, Von thinks to her as he scans the street. 'Not sure if we'll come back here again for awhile, or if it'll even be standing tomorrow. What do you want me to do with your remains? I think you should be able to do some sort of sendoff for your material essence.'
"Funny you should mention Midland, seeing as that's where we will be headed. Our warren is beneath the markets there, so that will be as good a place as any to send the message."
"Wonderful. Let us make for the sewers, then. I will emerge ever so briefly near the market to ensure the message is delivered, and from there we can head swiftly to your family."
"What sort of business is your family in, by the way? I don't think you've made mention of it."
"Old women?! She's barely f@@&ing 40! Talk to her yourself mate."
As the card brushes him and sticks in the shirt beneath his robe, Valamyr whirls about, eyes scanning the room high and low. He then stands still as a statue for a moment, head cocked, face blank, and eyes as wide as saucers. He reaches for his face, stumbling back a couple of steps into the wall. He brushes his hand frantically against his cheek, as if trying to rid himself of a bit of stray cobweb or an unexpected insect. Breathing heavily, he stares intently at nothing in particular for several more silent moments.
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Marius sits back, silently studying the exchanges and events unfolding before him. From mutilation, to card induced seizures, He stares in wonder. Looking down, his face awash with ugly and dwarven concentration, he says "Oh my no little stone, never saw anything like this in the monastery, but then again the monastery was nowhere near this interesting. (pause as the stone replies) Do you? I'll have to say hello to them next time I'm in the area. (pause as the stone replies) Did you? Oh wow I hear it's beautiful this time of year." A fleck of spittle flies from his clenched jaw here and there as the sound of feverishly intense stonework nearly drowns out the sound of him talking.
Letting out a long exasperated sigh, Garth wearily rests his face in his hands a moment, leaving it smeared with black soot. He blinks several times as he takes a deep breath before glancing to Nahzir, exhaustion on his face.
"I think you might want to lead the way sooner, rather than later." He remarks to the ratfolk as he looks around to the others. "At the rate things seem to be going, none of us will have any wits about us for much longer. If you all keep talking to things and having weird... moments, then you're going to get us all locked up with the nutters." Garth says to the rest of them with the shaking of his head.
"Let us keep it together long enough to get the girl home safe, at least. Shall we?"
After an extended rest at Zellara’s harrow shop, which some spent sleeping off their wounds and others spent crafting (or cremating a woman’s severed head), the heroes were ready to make moves.
Their first course of action was to bring Nahzir’s sister, Knich, home to her warren in the Vaults under Midland. As the heroes neared an entrance to the vaults, a drainage culvert behind a paint factory in Old Korvosa, they met a drunken, wounded, and defeated Sargeant Grau Soldado. Grau was a well-respected Sargeant of the Korvosan Guard, but recently succumbed to depression and hopelessness and fell into a bottle of grain alcohol that he would not have been able to climb out of without the heroes’ aid. During his drunken ramblings, Grau told the heroes that he had heard several rumors surrounding the King's death: that he was poisoned, that he was murdered by a Red Mantis assassin, and that he died of some aggressive disease. They talked sense into Grau and helped him to the Godsdive Temple where “Dregs” could heal the embarrased guard’s injured leg and pride, and help him past his chemical dependency issues.
The heroes then made their way into the Vaults and followed Nahzir’s lead through old sewer systems in complete darkness until they reached the ratfolk Warren. You were pleasantly surprised by the warm reception and overall coziness of the Warren, and took a back seat while Knich and Nahzir reunited with their concerned family. You were told that the Warren would welcome you as friends any time, and they were humbly in your debt. Sahlim, Nahzir’s father, was more than happy to trade with you and purchased all the valuables you had collected over the past couple days. Before leaving the Warren, the heroes visited a ratfolk cleric of Abadar for healing, and a seamstress who helped create new outfits that were more suitable for an audience with the Queen.
Next, the five travelled further through the sewers on their way to display Gaedren Lamm’s severed head and attached message at the Gold Market in Midland. However, their journey was interrupted by an enraged Otyugh that burst through the sewer wall and attacked the heroes in a failed attempt to defend his horde of rubbish. The foul creature was quickly dispatched and the five were on their way again.
In the pre-dawn morning when they reached the Gold Market, the heroes surfaced from the vaults and scouted the area, deciding that the fountain was a suitable place with high-visibility to display Gaedren’s head. Nahzir and Marius successfully snuck their way up to the fountain, climbed it, and hung the head without being detected. They then disappeared back into the vaults and made their way towards Castle Korvosa, emerging just a few blocks away.
At first, the castle guards were not keen on letting strangers into the castle in such perilous times, but once Valamyr showed them the Queen’s brooch they were willing to allow the heroes an audience with the Queen. They were escorted up the steps of the pyramid to the castle courtyard, where they met Sabina Merrin, the beautiful and dangerous personal bodyguard of Queen Ileosa. She introduced herself and spoke with them for a few moments, though clearly distracted. She told the heroes that King Eodred Arabasti II died of an aggressive form of leprosy and that his body would be burned to avoid contagion. Soon after, she then led the heroes into the throne room and formally introduced the heroes to the Queen.
Queen Ileosa Arabasti, a beautiful young woman with red hair and porcelain skin, dressed in black and burdened with grief by the passing of her husband, the king, was relieved and thankful to receive her precious brooch, for which she awarded the heroes a large sum of platinum. The queen then suggested the heroes help her in these trying times, and requested (as only a monarch can) that they go meet Cressida Kroft, Field Marshall of the Korvosan Guard, who is stationed at Citadel Volshyenek – very near where the heroes had displayed Gaedren Lamm’s head just hours before. The Queen provided the heroes an escort of four castle guards to ensure their safe travel through the city. Without lingering or offering the chance for questions or discussion, the Queen hastily retreated back into her personal quarters. The heroes were surprised by the almost rehearsed monologue given by the new Queen, but chalked up her brevity to grief and stress. Sabina assured them that if the heroes were able to help quell the chaos in the city, they would surely be allowed a more extended audience with Her Highness.
As the heroes travel the streets towards Midland, they see clearly that the city’s defenders (the Korvosan Guard, Sable Company, and Hellknights from the Order of the Nail) have largely restored order within the city – however, it is plain to tell that a thick tension still hangs and violent unrest may break without warning. On this particular walk, though, the group travels without any trouble. Together with their escort of four castle guards, the group nears the Gold Market, with Citadel Volshyenek just beyond.
-Did Valamyr attempt to purchase any magical scrolls or other items from the merchants in the Warren? If so, please specify.
-Did anyone else make any personal purchases with their coin while in the Warren? This can be retconned since the heroes spent hours at the Warren and could have purchased items with their coin.
-Any other unresolved business or items can be revisited in spoiler posts.
As you near the Gold Market, with Citadel Volshenyek just beyond, you see more than a dozen people gathered around the large fountain at the heart of the intersection. From the top of the fifteen foot tall fountain hangs a head, slung like a fish on a stringer. The skin is dry and blood-stained. A cloud of black flies swarm about, crawling in and out of the mouth and nose.
Some of the bystanders murmur as you pass. A middle-aged woman says ”Good riddance. My girls are a little safer.” A grungy young man with dark circles under his eyes worried ”S#++, where’m I gonna get m’shiver now…?” One of the guards that escorts you to the headquarters of the Korvosan Guard shakes his head. ”Vigilante murder is still murder. Must’ve been a real psycho to carve him up like that.”
A few minutes later you arrive at the Citadel, which overlooks the Jeggare Harbor. Two tired looking guards greet you at the front gate and quickly allow you inside. One of the four castle guards accompanies you. Through the large entrance hall is another large room with a table at the center. Here, a harried and tired-looking woman rises from her desk to greet you. This is Field Marshall Cressida Kroft. Cressida is an attractive, dark-haired woman dressed in red armor.
The castle guard greets her, then introduces you. "Field Marshal Kroft, these are the heroes you were told of." He motions to each of you and says ”Allow me to introduce Marius Stonebeard, Nahzir of the vault warren, Von Tri’omfi, Master of Fate, Garth Luvein, a local blacksmith, and Lord Valamyr of House Aldoran.” After your introduction, the guard nods to Cressida and the five of you. ”I will take my leave… Oh, and Field Marshal, there is a severed head hung from the fountain at Gold Market.”
The woman winces at the violence in her city. ”Very well, thank you. I shall have it removed immediately.” She then turns her attention to the five of you. ”Welcome, friends. Please, sit.” Cressida’s exhaustion is readily apparent, but she bears it well. She sighs deeply, then says ”Ah yes—you are the ones sent by Queen Ileosa. Greetings— my name is Cressida, and heroes of your caliber are exactly what Korvosa needs now. You’ve been on the streets. You know better than me how bad things are out there. It’s breaking my heart to see Korvosa tear herself apart like this. Every little bit of aid we can get from upstanding citizens like you helps. If you’re willing, I’d very much like to retain your services as agents of the Guard. I don’t need to say, of course, that you’ll be well compensated for these services.”
The Field Marshall does not assume the heroes’ compliance like the Queen had earlier, and so pauses to allow you to agree before assigning you a mission...
Von is quite pleased when he is finally introduced properly and gives a nod of his hat in-time with the "Master of Fate." He gives Valamyr a side-eye and thinks 'Suck on that old man,' knowing well how much pleasure the snub before the Queen had pleased him. The Elf couldn't wait to get out of these pathetic stripe-less pants.
"I don’t need to say, of course, that you’ll be well compensated for these services."
Von pipes in on the heals of the Field Marshal's words, "Oy, n'we'd neva doubt it love. But if ya'd hear me true, I'm a bit nervous about some of this talk. Of course I'd love to help the Queen and City, all m'heart, but I've just never fancied m'self a soldier or member ov tha guard. Intend to keep it that way as well." Von speaks with his hands more than usual, almost like he was doing some street magic show. "Now, I'm not familiar with tha details and responsibilities of n'Agent but, I think it's fair to say for us all, that an arrangement of bounties or grants would be more than reasonable. No need for inks and names or titles n'legal ties here, as you said our role as citizens is one of our real strengths, eh? Amiable voices on the streets, friend ov tha guard, you're bridge to tha people. 'Haps give us a pass with your men, a letter of your approval or such so we can rightfully go on our way in getting ya what you need done." Von trails off a bit as he tries to read how she's taking it all.
He nods to the guard slowly, "Aye, must have taken a real nutter of a man to do something like that... Or woman!" Garth corrects looking around. "No sense jumping to any kind of conclusions about it, eh?"
Garth offers a slight, but polite enough bow at his introduction, quickly turning to Von as the elf begins to speak, his eyes slowly widening as his mouth drops slightly agape as he takes in the words spoken. Garth shakes his head as Von finishes his spiel, quickly regaining his senses from his moment of awe. He levels out his arm, sternly pointing his finger at the witch.
"This man does not represent me!" He announces authoritatively while addressing the Field Marshall.
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As Marius is introduced he gives a proper monastic bow and forces a smile, feeling very vain in his fancy clothes as the city burns and crumbles around them. His smile quickly turns to wide eyed horror as Von applies generous portions of his "charm". As he takes a small step away from Von he says "The protection" he strokes his beard and traces the hammer of Torag with his index finger and thumb "of the city and its people is paramount. I for one would be interested to hear more of the defense strategy if possible before making a decision. Pending your permission Field Marshal" he bows again "I wonder if it would also be possible to discuss this with my comrades briefly as this is quite and opportunity and not something to be taken lightly.
Nahzir also bows upon his introduction to Field Marshall Cressida Kroft. He listens intently to her words as he strokes his whiskers and considers the opportunity that has been presented.
As Von begins to speak, Nahzir's ears stand up and eyes widen, looking back and forth between the elf and Cressida and waiting to to see how she will respond.
Agents of the Guard? I wonder how many of my kind have ever been considered for something like this. It could be quite the opportunity to garner some respect for the good ratfolk of this city who have been looked down upon my whole life. On the other hand, taking orders or having to answer to a superior? Not sure I like the sound of that...
"Indeed, my associate here does not speak for all of us." he says, gesturing towards Von. "However, as much as I'd like to help the good people of Korvosa, and take this as an honorable offer, I would like to inquire about the terms of any services we may be able to provide as so called "agents" of the Guard. Forgive my ignorance, as I've spent most of my life in the Vaults, but are we being recruited to join your ranks, or are we simply being called upon as citizens for help in a time of need? Regardless, I believe we may need to discuss such an opportunity with eachother before coming to a decision."
As his new friends all shudder at his words, Von gives them a confused look and shrugs at them.
'What did I say? The guard are a bunch of a~$+$*%s, just the other night they'd have harassed us to no end if we weren't so battered from Lamm's lair... I swear, 80 years under the heal of those pricks and they think they can just slap me on the back like a brother now? All under the bridge?'
"Said I'd love to help the Queen and City, mates. Not sure why your skin's crawling when a man negotiates and shows some simple self interest."
As he turns to the Field Marshal, "M'apologies though, and to you Field Marshal. It appears I misspoke when I said it was fair to say for us all. Would you mind further explaining tha role and meaning of n'Agent so we can quickly deliberate among ourselves?"
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When your hesitation becomes clear, she continues. ”Forgive me, I should have explained myself more clearly. I do not mean to ask you to join the guard, our recruits volunteer their service - but that is beside the point. You need not make any long term commitment, just help us in this dark hour. Agents, I called you, but there are many terms for the type of service I seek. My hope is to subcontract you, much like The Order of the Nail – though hopefully you can conduct yourselves far less forcefully.” She says that last bit with an exhausted smile. ”Mercenaries, if it suits you, though I prefer the term agents. Well paid agents, at that.” She produces a coin pouch and tosses it to the middle of the table. ”If you accept, consider this a down payment.”
A sudden and steely focus settles over the Field Marshall as she delivers the specifics of your quest. You can tell that the past couple days have deeply saddened the embattled leader. “Korvosa’s got enough troubles as it is without my own men losing their way and going rogue. As much as it pains me to admit, though, this has happened several times already. Many guards have deserted their posts, more concerned about friends and family than the city. I can understand this, yet not all of the deserters have family—some of them are simply using the riots as an excuse for personal gain. One such man is Verik Vancaskerkin. Worse than a lone deserter, he’s convinced a small group of fellow guards that Queen Ileosa is going to ruin the city. Whether she does or doesn’t isn’t the point—right now, we’ve got a city-wide crisis on our hands, and I need all of my guards working with me to see us through. A deserter is worse than a lost resource—it’s an infection." She spits out the word deserter like a sour sip of wine. "I can’t afford to pull any of my other patrols off duty to deal with Vancaskerkin, and I’d rather not expose any of them to him anyway, since I neither want Vancaskerkin to infect more guards with his talk of secession, nor do I want some overly patriotic guard killing Vancaskerkin outright and making a martyr of him. I need impartial, skilled talent. Like you.”
“Here’s what we know. Vancaskerkin and his men have holed up in an abandoned butcher’s shop up in Northgate—the place was called All the World’s Meat. I need you to put an end to his insurrection. Try to avoid killing any of the deserters if you can, but if you must, they brought it upon themselves when they threw in their lot with Vancaskerkin. I’d prefer it if you could capture Verik alive and return him to me for interrogation, but if he makes that impossible, I’ll accept his body as well. Finally, see if you can find out why he deserted—if there’s more to it than simple personal politics, I need to know immediately. Bring me Verik alive, and there’s another thousand gold in it for you. Dead, he’s only worth half that.”
”If you help the Guard, you’re welcome to stay in the barracks here. I know it’s not the most comfortable, but it’s safe. If you’d prefer to stay elsewhere, I can’t blame you.” Cressida takes a parchment and slides it across the table to you. ”I have another option, if it suits you. The owner of the Three Rings Tavern in Five Points owes the Guard a considerable debt. Take her this letter to Theandra Darklight, you’ll know her by the earrings, and tell her Field Marshal Kroft intends to collect.” Sensing the group’s discomfort with the idea of becoming the Guard’s debt collectors, that familiar smile returns. ”My goodness, you’re certainly guarded. That’s not a bad trait, I suppose. Don’t worry, there’s no need for a shake down. I’ve just requested she gives you two rooms, access to her cellar for a headquarters, and hot meals and strong drinks. On the house, of course.”
”I know you’re wary. To be honest, I am too. I don’t know you, and have no reason to trust you beyond desperation. But opportunity knocks, and I hope you hear it above the chaos. Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves. I must excuse myself to see the cleric, lest my exhaustion finally catch up with me. If you take the coins and note from the table, I will know you have accepted my offer, and I will expect your safe return with Vancaskerkin. If you leave them behind, well, then this is farewell and good luck.”
She stands, her armor weighing heavily on her body. As she turns to leave, she pauses. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she asks ”Lord Valamyr, a word in private?”
As the relationship is explained Von begins to nod in agreement, thought this time he keeps his mouth shut for the most part. "Thanks for your time and the offer Field Marshal."
Once Valamyr is speaking with Cressida in private, the Elf turns to the other three, "So, what da ya think now? I much like tha thought of being put up here in Midland. A bit more breathing room, with a new job that puts 25 Crowns up front ta boot.. Quite the relief this isn't some indoctrination attempt." Although sounding a bit paranoid, Von has a smile on his face and fingers through the coins in the pouch. After counting them he sinches the sack back up and puts it down where he found it, then picks up the note and reads it if it looks like it's written on simple loose paper.
As you knock on the door to the Godsdive Temple for the second time in two days, you realize it is now unlocked, As it should be.
Before your knuckles strike a third time, Dregs swings the door open with a large wooden pipe in hand and a cloud of smoke pouring from his mouth and nose. ”Hah-hah-hah-hah! Back so soon!? Got another quarrel in your chest? Well come in, then!” He swats Valamyr on the back and nods to the rest as you enter, eyeing the drunken soldier in your arms as you pass. ”What in the blazin’ fires of hell happened to you, lad? You smell like piss ‘n look worse! Hah-hah-hah!”
Grau, still drunk and barely conscious, mumbles ”World’s gone to piss ‘n I’ve been swimin’ in it.”
The chaos that had spilled from off the streets into the Godsdive Temple has passed like a dark cloud. Where earlier wounded men and women lay on benches around the fire, now a number of healthy, full-bellied patrons brought back from the brink of death by Dregs sit with bowls of soup and tankards of dark ale.
Speaking to Grau, the cleric gives a warm introduction. ”The name’s Daius Bregs, but you call me Dregs, alright? This here’s the Godsdive Temple, my little piece of Korvosa. Don’t be getting’ any ideas, though! I’ve got myself a temple, but Pious Daius I am not! Hah-hah-hah! And it looks to me like you’ve come to the right place, friend. A bowl of soup, some healin', and a tankard of ale should sort you right out! It’s always worked for me! Hah-hah-hah-hah-hah!”
”I’d give my left arm for’n ale or three,” Grau mumbles. He slumps down heavy on an empty bench one row back from the fire, wincing as his leg bends and bleeds.
Turning to his old friend, Dregs asks Valamyr ”What’n the Adventurer’s name happened to this poor lad? Looks like he’s been through the ringer.” He takes a large breath of smoke from his pipe while staring at the man from a few feet away. ”Guess we all have. City’s calmed down some, but you’d be a fool to think that’s the last of it.”
Before anyone can answer, Dreg’s puts a heavy, tobacco-stained hand on Marius’ shoulder. ”I’d like to ask your forgiveness for the way I acted, lad. Whole city had gone mad. People were dyin’ on my pews. Hadn’t had a smoke in an hour’s half.” He shakes his head with shame, takes a deep breath of smoke, a long drink of ale until the tankard is empty, then exhales the fire from his lungs. ”Bunch a' excuses, though. Face like that - I'm sure you don't need a cleric s$~@tin' on it. I owe you a drink and a story or two, when you’ve got the time.”
"The whole thing sounds a lot more reasonable than it could have. The terms sound agreeable enough to me..." Garth says looking amongst the others.
"For me the real point of discussion is: do we want to have the reputation as the hired muscle who gets sent to squash anyone deemed worthy of it? Regardless of how justified or deserved it likely is in this particular instance, I feel it has the potential to cast us in a less than positive light to many elements of the city."
"For me the real point of discussion is: do we want to have the reputation as the hired muscle who gets sent to squash anyone deemed worthy of it? Regardless of how justified or deserved it likely is in this particular instance, I feel it has the potential to cast us in a less than positive light to many elements of the city."
"Quite the fair read, Garth. Being the muscle is bout as bad as the bully them self. We're surprisingly well equipped though, with Valamyr's social graces and connections along with all of our unique skill sets.. " The Elf looks to the Ratfolk just remembering how truly odd that had been to witness him vanishing into thin air within the sewers. "I believe we could find the roads less taken most of the time."
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”I’d like to ask your forgiveness for the way I acted, lad. Whole city had gone mad. People were dyin’ on my pews. Hadn’t had a smoke in an hour’s half.”
"But of course you have my forgiveness Dregs, and hell, considering the things people have said to me, I thought you were trying to be nice" Marius cracks a smile and playfully nudges Dregs with his elbow. He then extends his hand, to be shaken, as a sign of peace.
"For me the real point of discussion is: do we want to have the reputation as the hired muscle who gets sent to squash anyone deemed worthy of it? Regardless of how justified or deserved it likely is in this particular instance, I feel it has the potential to cast us in a less than positive light to many elements of the city."
Marius looks around, still feeling extremely vain in his fancy clothes, his ugly face peppered with confusion and angst as his thoughts dwell on Dov. Images of all the horrible possibilities of what could be happening to Dov race though Marius' mind. He shuts his eyes, buries his face in his palms and slowly exhales as he raises his head. "The city continues to bleed and burn, and here we stand, in our fancy clothes, discussing... our... reputation." he says biting hard on his teeth, with such a low dwarven growl, you'd think the noise came from the heart of the mountain itself. "I know not who these people are and why you seek their reputation" he imagines old spinsters in the inn gossiping "But there is only one whos reputation I seek. Protector, Master of the Forge, The father of the Mountain. These guards betray their oath in the city's time of need and place their community at further risk. I can find nothing unjust about stopping them. Unless some one can convince me otherwise, or a better way we can help, I think we are wasting valuable time. The anger that began his statement quickly dissolves as this starts to sound more like a plea, a cry for help. ( For all that is good in the world Please Torag protect Dov until I can get there... Gods i hate these fancy clothes...CAAAANNN"T MMMMMOOOOOVE RIIIIIIGHT... By Torag's beard I wanna hit something so bad... I hope we leave this place soon...)
As the group leaves the confines of the palace, Valamyr is uncharactaristically quiet. Thrush resting upon his shoulder, he walks slowly, scarcely keeping pace with the others. He bares all the signs of a man deeply lost in thought.
18 years. 18 years of reliable intel, wise counsel, and loyal service, with a gaudy brooch to top it off...
{The insolence of it! The spoiled little whore pats us on the back, throws some coins in our face, and walks off without so much as acknowledging we've met. Ever have we warned you. This? This is what the end looks like. The end of us and the end of Our City.}
Neo vanishes in a fright, the King dies, and now she seeks to feed us to the riots, or worse...
{"Heroes" she called them, when she's never met a one. The flattery of a lovely royal tart is enough to sway most. Maybe even them. Who could blame them? How lovely her empty words sounded--remarkably well rehearsed. Moreso than even we would have expected from the ambitious little viper. But all in all an underwhelming effort...we'll not be so easily discarded.}
She'll not take me into her confidence. She made that clear enough.
{Our time in the palace is done, for now. But deep down we already knew that. We'll all be cast aside, one by one. First it was Neo, then the King, now us...who's next? Cressida? Endrin? The Arbiters? One by one, anyone with the faintest loyalty to Korvosan independence and the means to resist will slowly be replaced. Those that come in our wake will cry out for more Hellknights first, then for total submission to Cheliax. There is but one course of action. We must eliminate her before she eliminates us.}
Eliminate her? But of course! Why didn't I think of that? And after we've killed her, I'll fend off the vengeful hordes of Cheliax single-handedly. Then, after a nap, we'll ferry off to a land of supple breasts and free brandy to live out our days in peace. It is an awful idea! We--I can't do that. It is far too dangerous, even for me.
{Complaining will get us nowhere. We must eliminate her. We know it must be done.}
Of course it must be done! That doesn't make it any more doable. I'm in no position, and we--I haven't the allies to pull it off!
{Not yet. There is time. But we mustn't waste it.}
And what afterwards? When the inevitable power vacuum pits the nobles against each other, and all of them against the masses... When it reduces Korvosa to a burning stack of kindling, who protects the weak? Who do we sit atop the pyre to rule?
{We know.}
No. No we-- No I don't.
Valamyr remains completely silent as they pass by the scene around the fountain.
Here hangs the head of Gaedren Lamm, justly sentenced to death for the crimes of peodophila, rape, and murder.
Let his head serve as a warning to all who would do as he has done.
Gaedren Lamm's sins were known to many, yet for decades he was allowed to inflict untold harm and death upon the most vulnerable of your brothers and sisters. Many looked the other way as a war of cruelty was waged on helpless innocents.
No longer.
No longer will the plight of Korvosa's innocent young go unheeded.
No longer will those who do them harm be suffered to live.
The forgotten children have found their voice. Whomsoever should sin against them will surely come to hear it.
~The Voice of Korvosa~
As they enter the Citadel and approach Field Marshall Cressida, he offers her a faint smile and a shallow bow.
{It's time we find out if Cressida can still be relied upon.}
Remaining silent, Valamyr eyes her intently as she lays forth her request. He squints as she explains the situation with the deserters, as if trying to piece together a puzzle in his mind.
"”Lord Valamyr, a word in private?”
Valamyr breaks his silence at last. Placing a hand gently on her outstretched arm, he offers her another smile.
"You honor me, Field Marshall. Please, lead the way."
Leaving the room with the large table, Field Marshal Kroft leads you without a word to a small armory on the ground level of the citadel. Once you are both inside, she closes the solid oak door. The armory holds just enough shields, pikes, swords, and chest plates to arm two dozen Guards in an emergency. A larger, primary armory is two levels above and could outfit two hundred.
Cressida has carried herself with tireless strength around her Guards and the five of you, but once you are alone in the room she shuffles that heavy coil from her shoulders. The rugged and youthful woman suddenly shows the weight of all her 41 years – but her natural, raven-haired beauty does not fade.
Before you can say a word, the Field Marshal falls into your arms, her armor hard against your body, her head against your chest. She glances up and gives you a familiar look you were never able to place, a look she gave you when no one else would see, and you suddenly feel a fool. Had you been blind to it, or just avoiding the truth? It seems so obvious now, her look of trust and infatuation.
”Lord Valamyr, I… I thought I had lost you… First Neolandus disappears, then you... The only two people I knew I could trust, who loved this city as much as I did, gone overnight. I feared you were imprisoned, or worse. It’s so good to see you, Valamyr.”
When she realizes how forward her words and actions have been, Cressida pulls back and straightens herself. The change in demeanor is not well hidden, the overwhelmed woman still trembles with exhaustion and relief under her crimson armor.
Her tone changes and she begins to bombard you with concern. ”Where have you been? You could have let me known you were alive, at least! Did the Queen… What happened to you? And who are those people you are with? Do you know the whereabouts of the Seneschal? Forgive me, Lord Valamyr, it's just that the city needs you right now... I need you...” The words spill from her mouth so quickly that it seems she lost control of them. Then her mouth snaps shut and silence hangs in the air for a moment while she waits for your reply.
As Cressida falls into his arms, the thrush on Valamyr's shoulder is sent wildly fluttering to rest upon a rack of chainmail. Surprised, he awkwardly stiffens for a moment before finding the presence of mind to wrap a single arm around her.
”Lord Valamyr, I… I thought I had lost you… First Neolandus disappears, then you... The only two people I knew I could trust, who loved this city as much as I did, gone overnight. I feared you were imprisoned, or worse. It’s so good to see you, Valamyr.”
Her words remind him why he'd trusted her to begin with. Korvosa mattered to her; this wasn't just a job. The fact that she seemed to care so much about his own personal well being was unexpected and touching. They had always had a well-oiled working relationship. His trade was in intel, hers was locking up criminals. It was a natural fit. But this was a side of Cressida that was not familiar...and yet strangely not so unfamiliar.
When she looks up at him, he sees the trust in her eyes. Valamyr scarcely recognizes it. He has grown accustomed to the kind of trust that says "I probably won't poison you at the upcoming banquet." This is something wholly different.
Valamyr finds himself uncharacteristically losing focus. He becomes momentarily lost in the way she smells: of sword oil and boiled leather, and underneath it the faintest hint of lavender perfume.
Duty, grit, and grace.
As the Field Marshal pulls away and steps back, he fights an unexpected urge to hold on.
”Where have you been? You could have let me known you were alive, at least! Did the Queen… What happened to you? And who are those people you are with? Do you know the whereabouts of the Seneschal? Forgive me, Lord Valamyr, it's just that the city needs you right now... I need you...”
{No. We will not be distracted by this lilting--}
Valamyr casts the briefest of glances across the room at the thrush. You were wrong to doubt her.
{Our doubts have kept us alive. Remember that. We must put an end to this foolishness. At once!}
Strange. I...I don't want to.
"I...I am so very sorry, Field Marshal. You are right, of course. I should have made contact long before now, and you've every right to question why I didn't. The truth is I have been in great danger, as you so astutely surmised. I would have you know that, regardless of any other reasons, first and foremost in my thoughts was my desire to spare you that very same danger; to keep you far from any harm that might befall you due to our...association. My heart, Field Marshall...though its origins lie north, it now pumps with naught but Korvosan crimson. This knowledge...it is not a secret to those who think Our City's future belongs to eastern devils. My love of Korvosa as it has been...a vibrant, free, independent city... I fear that love has left a target on my back. And...Field Marshall..."
Valamyr steps towards Cressida, quickly closing the gap between them. As their gazes meet, he raises his hand and brushes a stray strand of hair from Cressida's brow back into place.
"Cressida," he refines in earnest, "It is a love I know you share. It's why I came to you in confidence all those years ago. It is why I'll always come to you. In a place where people so often find themselves mired in shades of grey, you have always been someone worthy of trust; someone whose motives are beyond doubt; a crimson beacon in the fog of royal lies and noble ambitions. I was foolish not to come to you earlier. But I am here now, as the hour grows late. I would confide in you once more. I...I want to answer all of your questions, as best as I can. But...perhaps...right here...right now..."
Valamyr's hand drifts from her hair down to her cheek and he slowly runs a finger across it.
{Have we gone mad?! Control ourselves!}
"...for this fleeting moment...all that really matters is that I need you as well."
As Valamyr wraps his arm around her waist and presses in to kiss her, two furious black eyes look on.
Twenty minutes pass before Valamyr returns, whistling, to the room where he left the four of you from his discussion with Field Marshal Kroft.
The thrush, avoiding his masters shoulder, has a thousand mile stare.
The current in-game time is 11:45AM.
As Valamyr returns Von nods to him with his arms crossed, "Well then, any additional news from your chat or are we all ready to decide on this matter?" The elf glances around the group. "I personally like the arrangement, should be able to calm this mayhem down with us on tha streets and in tha know. No signatures, no questions, no names. Just gold for tasks, the reputation and methods we chose are of our own."
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Marius, with a look on the doorstep of shock, rooted in him agreeing so quickly with an elf, nods his head in rapid confusion. "Yes" he says while again tracing the outline of Torag's hammer on his beard. As he so familiarly traces the shape with his thumb and index finger he continues "of our own... indeed". As getting out of this place and these clothes starts to become a more real possibility, you see the angst and frustration begin to wash out of the monk slowly. His speech still speckled with spittle from his clenched jaw. His beard, ever stone. His face, still likely remains as the ugliest dwarf you have ever seen. But now, a smile begins to break the dawn, on the horizon of this wondrous face.
"Probably best we take the job, for a multitude of reasons. I agree that the arrangements are about as ideal as we could hope for and the task seems well intentioned." Garth says, offering a shrug. "I could take or leave the offer to put us up at the Three Rings Tavern, personally. Food, drink, and bed is all well enough, but it could become cumbersome trying to come and go from such a busy and populated location. Just a thought, is all."
Von nods and picks up the coin and note, handing the paper to Valamyr and splitting the income eveningly. Seeing Marius' obvious discomfort, Von suggests "Let boogie then mates, change and acqurire anything we think we need. Might as well see to tha Butcher's shoppe right away, not much else for me ta do at least. Well, I suppose I could hustle some coin out there by tha fountain if you all got things you must spend tha day on.."
Both the Three Rings Tavern and your objective, All the World's Meat, are located past Midland up the banks of the Jegarre River in North Point.
The streets have calmed since the recent riots, thanks in large part to the full presence of the Sable Company, the Korvosan Guard, and the Order of the Nail Hellknights. In fact, there is scarcely a few blocks in the city without a patrol. Despite their presence, tension still hangs thick over the city and you get the uneasy feeling that the slightest disturbance will spring another uprising.
Signs of the recent unrest are all around - shops are closed, blood stains on the gravel and cobblestone streets, broken windows, empty stores, citizens being stopped and searched by patrols.
You can use Diplomacy to gather information about a specific topic or individual. To do this, you must spend at least 1d4 hours canvassing people at local taverns, markets, and gathering places. The DC of this check depends on the obscurity of the information sought, but for most commonly known facts or rumors it is 10. For obscure or secret knowledge, the DC might increase to 20 or higher. The GM might rule that some topics are simply unknown to common folk.
Retry? Yes. You can retry Diplomacy checks made to gather information.
"Feels like we're bloody occupied.. Never had a problem wit tha Sablemen personally, but the Guard and Nail lingering everywhere, feels ripe humid wit fear and unease. Betta hope this don't break." Von has a worried look on his face as he whispers to whoever will listen. "A good few days and they'll ease up, just you see. Keep tha incidents down and we'll find a'selves right nicely in tha good Queen's reign b'fore a fortnight." He looks around to see if anyone buys into his rambling, if so their naivety calms him a little.
"Spread out and put ears to the ground? Be surprised if we couldn't drum up a few whispers on this fella. Bloke is recruiting for damn's sake."
"I don't know if we need to split up to gather the information we need, but if they are holed up in the butcher shop like we were told, then we should at least put some eyes on it. We could probably learn a lot just by watching who comes and who goes... And for how long, where they've gone.. I think you see my point." Garth suggests in response to Von.
"I don't believe we were strictly given a time frame to complete the task, so if people have pressing matters, I may be able to help, or like our elf friend here, I can find ways to keep myself busy until we are ready to get started properly on the assignment." The gunslinger says, addressing the group with a slightly strange glance cast towards Von, looking a little uncertain as to whether or not he actually understood him.
"Well, I'm a regular at a shop near here, think I'll stop there before we're on our way ta North Point. It'd be good to check on somethings after the past few days." As Von settles his pack on his shoulders he nods to Garth. "Like that idea, I could easily step up in the street and case tha place for a day. Probably'll be tha best I could do, most don't like being interrogated by a fortune teller." he cracks a smile with the last part. "You'll find me there, anyone is free to follow."
Von sets out for the Creaky Hammock. Truth is, it's not a shop at all. The Creaky Hammock is an Inn and Tavern that Von uses to hustle coin with his loaded die and marked cards, a sliver of insight into the siddeways world Von has developed through a near century on the streets. All these bloody Nails, Von shudders as he walks the few blocks down, Bergrund Schmidt better be too busy with this s#!~ to bother me..
Von steps into the Tavern, his elvish eyes adjust uncannily well to the low light. He scans the room for Destin Smish, or if luck would have it Tasha. She's a good lass, love. No need to be jealous here. One of the flesh and one of the spirit, right? he thinks to Zellara who likely gets irritated. Hey hey, just a joke... But maybe you can possess her of something, huh? We never had anything. Always an accomplice who was out of reach, scrawny ghost-talkers aren't the most desired of Korvosa... but we'd have good laughs on the Shingles, you'll ov never seen a bellydancer wave a sword like this either.
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"Aye, I can't help but feel we are simply in the eye of the storm now." "How soon before the next wave breaks?" He thought to himself. In his minds eye, he can see the party on a spit of land surrounded by water. Around them, violent torrents thrash and tow. Through it all, he can just barely hear Dov calling to him through the rain and wind. As he grips the stone likeness of Dov tightly in one hand, he whispers quietly
"I'd agree gathering information is of great importance. I doubt this *cough* peace *cough* will last for long so whatever preparations we need to make, we should make fast.
He looks to Von "If you are headed to the shop, do you mind if I join you to try to gather a few more supplies? I doubt many places would be open with the city in this state, but fortune favors the prepared." he states, not knowing Von's intent or the legitimacy of generally any shop.
"Of course! Smish is a good man. Bit at odds whether tha Gold Market will be sellin today but if Smish don't refer us elsewhere I'd be glad to join ya the few more blocks down."
How did I never think of it! Marius is the perfect partner, his looks will make everyone so uncomfortable they'd be too distracted to notice my sleights of hand or false logics!
Valamyr fastens the highest button of his vest and flattens out a couple of wrinkles. As the Field Marashal dons her recently discarded armor, he walks up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist.
"I...I should return to my colleagues. The longer I tarry, the more questions they will ask. They have proven trustworthy thusfar, but I have not known them long and would not risk you or your honor to rumor."
He places a soft kiss on the nape of her neck and gently turns her around to face him.
"The burden you shoulder...trying to keep order in a city on the brink of chaos...it is more than any one person should be asked to carry. I want you to know...you are not alone. I will aid you as I can. This Vancaskerkin...we will return him to you. Alive if possible. You have my word on that."
"However, I feel I would be negligent not to warn you: however unproductive his desertion may be, I fear his assessment of our new Queen is not entirely without merit. I have spent time with her, and I fear her loyalties are...not aligned with ours. She smiles for the court, but whispers insults about our city and its people behind closed doors. Perhaps it's nothing. Perhaps Korvosa simply isn't cosmopolitan enough for the young woman's tastes...or perhaps..."
"You asked earlier about the Seneschal; in truth, I do not know where he is or why he left, but I fear it has something to do with Ileosa. He would not have run away and warned me from the castle as he did without good reason. He disappears like a ghost in the fog, the King swiftly dies, and a remarkably well-rehearsed Queen with blood ties to Cheliax takes the throne. I confide in you that I am...concerned, Cressida."
"It is imperative that I--that we find out what she's been up to, and what she's planning."
"Is there anything you can tell me that might be useful? Strange orders or deployments, requests for reinforcements from Cheliax, anything at all that could provide some window into her intentions? Oh and...has there been any word of a funeral for the King? Or, better yet...this might seem an odd question, but...you wouldn't happen to know where they're keeping his body, would you?"
From a city block away you can hear your destination as you approach - drunken sailors laughing, fighting, gambling, cursing.
Outside the Creaky Hammock a large rusted anchor hangs precariously on the stone wall near the main entrance. Inside, the familiar quarters are even louder than usual. At first glance, the crowd within is a typical size, around forty sailors, ship hands, and fishermen, each with a host of tankards and tin cups before them. However, you quickly notice the smell of food is strangely absent.
The establishment is well known among Korvosa’s middle and lower class for their deliciously fresh surf and turf selections for rock bottom prices, in addition to the decent ales, strong spirits, and rowdy good company. The sleeping quarters is where the inn derives its name – there are no beds here, only hammocks where drunken boatsmen sleep. When there are not enough hammocks, people sleep on the floors.
Behind the bar, Destin Smish, the establishment’s owner and most reliable patron, frantically serves the crowd and does his best to keep pace. In the few moments you watch him work, you see him serve four golden-gulps, the Creaky Hammock’s famous drink. Through the clear glass you see a goldfish drop into the harsh, clear liquid and swim in frantic circles as Destin says ”bottoms up before it’s belly up!” In a few short seconds all the liquid and the fish swimming in it are gulped down, then the empty glass is slammed upside down on the bar.
The sailors are quick to point out Marius’ ugly mug, but despite their harsh words none seem to recoil quite like the women and the snobs on the streets. ”Did someone forget to close your cage?” one sailor asks, then laughs hideously as he slaps you on the shoulder.
”Valamyr, this was foolish of me. I have to be more careful. If my soldiers found out… Rumors would spread, I would be ruined. I’ve spent years becoming who I am, and it could be undone in an instant. We must be more discreet from here on.”
When you agree to handle Vancaskerkin, a noticeable weight falls off her shoulders. ”I knew I could count on you. It’s so good to have you back… A friend I can trust.” She is about to change topics, but doubles back. ”Oh, and be careful about it. I hear he’s gathered quite a following. “Feeding the masses while their city burns,” or whatever. With all the praise, you’d think the traitor was Blackjack himself.”
A new look of worry purses her lips as you mention the Seneschal and the troubles with the Queen. ”I do hope Seneschal Kalepopolis is alright, we need him right now… With all that’s happened since the King’s death, I’ve not even had the chance to see the Queen, let alone speak to her. But I do agree, it’s all very suspicious.” She is quiet for a moment, thinking. ”I’ve heard they plan to burn the King - if they haven’t already - then honor him publically. Probably a funeral procession or something gawdy. Guards are saying he might be contagious or something, but what the hells do they know? Gossip worse than schoolgirls. We have to be careful to sift through the lies and misinformation.”
She finishes straightening her armor, swipes back her short hair, then tries to hurry you out. ”You need to get back out there.” She waits behind as you leave, then slips out of the armory and disappears upstairs.
Valamyr, Garth and Nahzir, is there anything in particular you do to gather information about the butcher shop or Vancaskerkin and his crew? Let me know how you proceed or kill time.
Entering the Creaky Hammock Von smiles at the large gathering of drunk sailors itching to give him their recent earnings. As the men heckle Marius leans in, "These are a good people here mate, they won't hide any ov tha ugly truths from ya and they'll accept anything they can make sport in drunken jest," he says privately over the rowdy noise.
With the approach of the man, Von tries to place his face.
"HA. HA. This guy here!" Von replies to the sailor quite sarcastically. "How goes the night mate? Where tha hells all the food in here?"
If things go well Von will continue and ask about the guards, "So clear me up on something, could ya? Do you know of any of this business landside? I've been hearing of guards running off in some mutiny with a Vancaskerkin or Vanblastersin or someone."
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From the moment the young dwarf entered this establishment, his perception of how he thought this would go down was shattered, but all too late, he realizes this was a terrible mistake...
”Did someone forget to close your cage?”
Marius replies to the Drunken Sailor "Aye, and YOU didn't leave me any water in me dish either. Make me come down here to get a drink, ya b@$t@rd."
Marius looks to Von "When you said "shop" I thought it would be more of a...well a shop... and less of what ever the hell is going on here." Something between terror and disgust overcomes his expression as he watches a man consume a murky drink, from a dirty glass, with a half dead fish in it. "Perhaps it would be best if I procure my wares, if available, and depart. Which of these upstanding Korvosians was the shopkeep? he asks Von in sarcastic disbelief.
Marius looks to Von "When you said "shop" I thought it would be more of a...well a shop... and less of what ever the hell is going on here. Perhaps it would be best if I procure my wares, if available, and depart. Which of these upstanding Korvosians was the shopkeep?
Von nods knowingly to Marius, as if he had expected this and dismissed it without communicating with the Dwarf. "Right, this is a, special, sort of shop. We'll be continuing on to the Gold Market in a moment. Destin Smish is the man behind the counter there."
After the drunk sailor responds to Von he'll move on and speak to Smish, flagging the man down like if he was a patron. "Hey, seen Tasha around?" Von will shout over the loud bar.
"Nothing has fallen off the dock recently has it? Any worthwhile purchases outa tha Lost'n'Found?"
"Know if the Market is still setting up today?"
After gathering information about the butcher shop and Vancaskerkin’s crew, the heroes learned that they had become beloved by the locals for giving away free meat each morning from the butchers show All the World’s Meats. They also learned the former guards had taken to calling themselves the Cow Hammer Boys and would do mercenary work if customers mentioned “the night’s special cuts.” They also noticed something more ominous: there appeared to be more meat going out from the butcher’s shop than livestock coming in…
The group devised a plan, then entered the shop and mentioned “the night’s special cuts” – but demanded to deal directly with Vancaskerkin. They were denied, and so placed a false hit on someone from East Shore. They paid their gold up front, then left. Later that night when the three Cow Hammer Boys left to fulfill their contract, the heroes entered the butcher’s shop through a back entrance.
Inside, they discovered the source of the extra meat: the Cow Hammer Boys had been supplementing their daily offerings with the meat of butchered humanoids – elves, humans, and other similarly fair-skinned beings.
In the pig pens, the heroes found a hidden chest full of coins and jewelry – likely taken from those marks that were ordered as “the night’s special cuts.”
Upstairs, they found another Cow Hammer Boy fast asleep on the ground, then punched him unconscious and bound him. In the next room, Verik Vancaskerkin sat unaware. The heroes burst into his chamber, cast an enchantment on him, and convinced the bandit Guard Sergeant that the Korvosan Guard was coming for him. The nervous ex-guard followed the heroes as they fled before the Cow Hammer Boys returned – leaving behind a beautiful dagger that was stuck in the table, several hand-written correspondences, and whatever other belongings Verik might have been keeping in his quarters.
The heroes led Verik through the streets, and directly into the open arms of the Korvosan Guard. While he was taken down to a prison cell, the group met with Field Marshal Cressida Kroft and were paid as promised.
With Verik Vancaskerkin in custody, the group has some options for their next move. They could question the prisoner, or return to All the World’s Meats and take care of the remaining Cow Hammer Boys and search their hideout for anything of importance. They can also return to Three Rings Tavern to rest (it’s late at night), or follow any other whims.
Standing outside Citadel Volshyenek, Von adjusts his fingerless gloves. "Make haste to the Meats, eh? Wrap this up quick and return that gear to the warrens?"
Appearing relatively pleased with himself and how the preceding events unfolded, Valamyr nods in Von's direction.
"Probably best the matter was resolved before daylight, out of sight of the locals. I fear I may be of little use, though; I expended a significant effort ensuring Vancaskerkin arrived unharmed. These men may be better left to the stylings of the Midnight Dwarf," Valamyr says with a smile, briefly glancing in Marius' direction.
"I expect they will be violent, though I will remind you all that before this week they were all law-abiding members of the Korvosan Guard, so far as we know. The bodies we found look bad, but we won't know the full truth of things unless they can be properly interrogated. I would relish the opportunity, if they can be taken alive." He pauses for a moment, before quickly adding "With your blessings, of course, Field Marshall."
Valamyr looks up at towards the citadel wall, where the thrush sits perched.
Get to All the World's Meats, quickly. See if you can reacquire Vancaskerkin's friends.
The thrush flies off to the north and into the night.
"It pains me slightly to say it, but yes the armor and the other gear shouldn't take priority over putting the proverbial bow on the otherwise completed assignment. Besides, unless someone has an argument to the contrary, if we move now we will be striking while the iron is hot and, I think, have the best odds for success." Garth says in concurrence along with a simple nod of agreement. "When we complete the mission and aren't confronted with more pressing matters we should return for the valuables, if they still remain."
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These men may be better left to the stylings of the Midnight Dwarf
The eyes of the dwarf snap wide as he strikes a pose and enters a brief martial routine as he squaks
"midnight monk will strikeNo canibal will be safe
The main course, justice" and flails about grinning like an idiot.
if we move now we will be striking while the iron is hot
The flailing abruptly stops as Marius says "How can I possibly deny such enchanting words. Off we go then lads."
"So you're staying back Valamyr?"[b] Von asks as he trots backwards setting out for the Meat's."