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Round 5, Init 14
Quill startles as his assassin is face to face with him. He starts to mouth a question...but then draws his dagger, taking a defensive stance.
"Why...why...did..." Quill draws his hopeknife, holding it inexpertly in his noodly arms. He swings defensively, sure that someone will be along soon to take this one alive.
to hit (defensive);
damage.
"Keep one alive!" Molly shouts as she comes out from under the table, unleashing the power of her Hex on the woman fighting Yelena.
Her most powerful magics expended, Vashta racks her mind for a spell that could help in the circumstances.
Ah, this one will do! she realizes.
Pulling a piece of lint from her pouch, she mutters a quick incantation over it and blows it toward the escaping attacker.
Again, she uses much of her time pulling out a weapon, this time, her last resort weapon...a shortbow. Fumbling with things, she gets out an arrow and takes a breath, letting her luck wash over her one more time.
Looking at her target, she steps back quickly, then winces as she draws and fires...
"You should stop now and explain yourself...or the others will catch up to you and do to you what they did to your friends..."
Deranged and blood-crazed, Storn spins on his foot. He stops for a moment, staring at Molly.
"Let me kill one more! That way the coward trying to flee can truly see what a mistake he made by not just dying properly to begin with."
He then clanks southwards and rushes out at the thug fighting Yelena, sword-first.
"Hah! Our enemies made a tactical error; living!"
"No!" Molly shouts. "Keep one alive for questioning! Control yourself!"
As Molly shouted, Storn rushed Yelena's foe, cleaving the woman's head in two. The backswing sent a spray of blood and brains across the room, splattering Yelena and several of the bystanders who were desperately pushing back against each other to get away from the fight.
The man at the door stared at Quill, the look on his face one of complete surprise. He was still staring when Mariana loosed her arrow. The bard stared in just as much surprise when the arrow struck home, and lodged itself in the man's throat. Blood bubbled from the wound as he collapsed, and the man made loud choking noises. The arrow had clearly torn open his trachea.
Looking around at the carnage, it is clear that the only surviving attacker - for the moment - is the blond man dying by the doorway.
Molly drops the crossbow, rushes over to the dying man and casts a quick spell on him. "Restrain him, but keep him alive! Dead men tell no tales."
Covered from head to toe in gore and with three dead enemies at his feet Storn looks delighted, although the expression quickly changes to annoyance as Molly tries to save some lives. "Look, if people wanted to live they wouldn't attack me," complains Storn as he heads over to the dying blond man. He sees Molly cast stabilize on him and shrugs.
"Good enough for me. All I can do is make him uncomfortable now. Anyone recognize these folk?"
Storn examines the bodies for some idea of who they are, and also if the blond man will ever speak again.
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Quill bends over the body of the last remaining assassin, listening for breath.
"Don't you die on me you Piddlespotter! WHY DID YOU STAB ME!" Quill yells in the man's unconscious face. "WHY DID YOU PIDDLESPOTTING @#$% STAB ME!!?"
Quill slaps the man, tears beginning to well in his elven eyes. If any pure elf had little of the purported elven calm, it was Quill.
He looks again at the man, then looks for the acolyte.
"I came in with an acolyte...where is he? Is he outside still?" Quill goes out to see if the acolyte is still around.
"Oy!" Molly snaps, catching Quill's hand before he can slap the prisoner again. "Don't flaming kill him when I'm just barely managing to keep him breathing!"
Molly will repeat the spell if necessary, but glares at Quill until he backs up and goes looking for the acolyte he mentioned. "Me, I don't know any of them," she replies to Storn's question, "but I'm new in town and people don't look that recognizable as puddles of gore. Someone should probably search the bodies for clues."
The acolyte with Quill stumbled in to the Ramblehouse and turned slightly green when he saw the carnage. Looking down at Quill slapping the choking man, he nearly bolted, but a look from Molly stayed him. "I will do what I can, of course. Did you want to restrain him before I heal his wounds and bring him back to consciousness?" Looking around, he spotted the blood on the others and said, "Oh by the Lady, some of you are quite injured yourselves. I can try to heal all of you, in addition to this man, but if you visit Sanctuary, someone there can likely provide the healing you need. We don't usually see this kind of violence in town, unless the orcs are attacking. Usually it's just brawling and the occasional stabbing."
Storn got a good grip on the man as the acolyte channeled Iomedae's power. Healing magics rushed into all of you, healing minor wounds completely and closing up the worst of the major wounds. Yelena got in the man's face and prepared to be threatening. She noticed a shortsword attached to the man's belt, and another of those strange cylinders that they were attacked with. She took these away before the man fully regained consciousness.
The blond man came to with a gasp, his torn throat closed over and the blood mostly stopped. He coughed and choked, then his eyes settled on the group staring at him. "Weren't nothing personal, you see. 'S just a job. I'll tell you what you want to know. Was just a job."
"Then start talking, and we'll mention that to the Guard 'stead of tying you hand and foot and letting Storn use you for a game of kick-the-ball," Molly says. "Who sent you? How many others are coming for us? Why were you sent?"
"Settle down, kid," Molly says. "I'll hug you later; right now we need this man to talk, so keep the questions clear and concise, yeah?"
Looking over to Quill, she smiles softly, then looks to the blond man as she lets her luck wash over her one last time and she speaks quietly to him.
"I would like very much for you to tell us what you know and I will speak kindly to the guard that you were doing what you thought was necessary to survive. I want you to tell us all you know about who hired you, about those white swords...if you know anything about them, and about the death in this inn last night. Do that, and I will do what I can to see you get leniency."
Vashta sighs in relief as the healing energies wash over her as she climbs out from under the table. She winces as the scabbed over stab wound -- not quite fully healed -- twinges as she tries to get a look at her blood-soaked clothing.
"And it will be just a job when we do the same to you, won't it?" she threatens.
The man was clearly not a Trunau native, since neither Yelena or Quill could recall ever having seen him before. He looked back and forth at all the conflicting voices before saying, "Look, some half-orc came to us in Freetown and offered a good sum if we were to come to Trunau and be an extra set of swords. Today, he comes to where we were and says he'll pay us extra to take out some people he didn't like. He gave us your descriptions, and told us to be quick about it. The gems in my pouch, we all got some just like 'em. It's not a bad sum to be killing some poor schlubs. He never said nothing about milita or...whatever you are." He stared at Storn as he said the last.
"I don't know anything about any white swords, and no clue about a murder last night. Trust me, if I'd killed someone yesterday, I wouldn't be caught hanging around here today. I saw Tiny Elf over there wandering alone and thought I'd make it good before we kicked off the brawl. I thought I had too. "
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Quill shakes his hand free of Molly, rubbing his wrist.
"He stabbed me! In the back! In the dark! I have the right to address him," Quill chaps back, his fright turning to anger. He reaches for his dagger again, but then thinks the better of driving it into the man's throat.
He spits on the man, his anger now completely overcoming his previous fear.
"You're nothing but a coward. A piddlespotting coward," Quill spits again on the bound man.
Turning away, he digs into the pockets of one of the assassins, reaching for the gems that one of them was paid with.
"This acolyte," Quill says, pointing to the Iomedaen, "saved me from dying in the streets. I appreciate his help. He shows the spirit of Trunau. And he has my gratitude." Quill thrusts the gems into the acolyte's hand.
"Thank you again."
Storn, spattered with blood and remarkably unharmed despite the carnage in the inn, leans in on the man and grins.
"Whatever I am? I'm bloody delighted to have met you. I needed a fight." Storn's enormous mailed fist grabs the man by the shirt.
"See that woman?!" he points at Molly. "She doesn't want me to kill you. I don't feel like listening. In fact, I'm going to pull your intestines out of each end and use you as a skipping rope unless you talk a little more. What does this half-orc look like?! DId he describe us exactly? All of us? No others?"
Storn then pauses and looks over his shoulder, his voice dropping to its normal growl.
"I hadn't even met half you lot until yesterday! What makes us so special to some half-orc in Freetown?"
The man looked at Storn and gulped audible. "Look, he just brought us here to be his heavies. Earlier today he shows up, talks about this group of meddlers, and described the six of you. He said most of you were staying at the Ramblehouse, and we'd likely find you here. Sometimes a crowd's the best time to off someone quickly and get out in the confusion. We didn't expect a fight...or we would've waited until night..." The man trailed off as he realized what he was saying.
The acolyte looked at the gems that Quill thrust into his hand and stammered..."It, it, it was my pleasure, and my duty. My thanks."
Storn nods.
"News travels fast. So - attacking me in the daylight was very foolish. You should be happy I killed three people before getting to you because I could use a nap."
Storn lets go of the man and looks over the group.
"So we're now unpopular. It also means what we're looking into is important to someone violent. Although it shames me I can go clean up if we want to think about what comes next."
"Quill, being tolerated is often the same as being unpopular. People who are liked are welcomed...not tolerated. Though, I have seen no indications that you were merely tolerated," Mariana takes a deep breath as she looks over the captive.
Mariana goes about securing the weapons of each of the attackers, then the pouches, putting them all in one bag before returning to the last living attacker.
"Had you seen the half-orc before? Did he give a name? Did he say why were meddlesome?"
"Nah, I ain't never seen him before. It was just a job, like I said. You know anything about Freedom Town, you know that ain't unusual. As for a name, he said to call him 'Boss'."
As you were finishing up with the man, a number of militia ran up, Kurst Grant in the lead. They clattered to a halt, looking at the carnage, and the lone survivor in your midst. "I was on my over to meet with you and see what you had learned when Brandon Sanderson ran past shouting about assassins in the Ramblehouse. What happened here?"
"One more question," Molly says to the assassin. "Well, two. Where did this 'Boss' hole up? Where was his hideout? And just what are these weird knives you and your lot used on us?"
Turning to Kurst, she smiles politely, "We were sitting having a lovely meal here with the proprietor and this lot," she pauses to wave about the room at the dead bodies, finally pointing at the man at her feet, "Decided that it would be good fun to try and gut us out of nowhere. They are saying they were hired to handle some 'meddlers', but at this point, most won't be taking any more jobs...and this one is all yours."
"No idea where he lives. We were in a cave outside Trunau for a few days. He always came to us. These things are called liquid blades. The Boss gave 'em to us. Unless you know what you're looking for, you don't realize they are weapons and they disappear in a few minutes. Pretty nifty...if you're into that sort of thing. So, what'dya say? A little leniency?"
"Yeah, right," Molly says, sighing.
The Witch gives a halfhearted salute to Kurst. "He was helpful enough once we had him down. Doesn't seem to've been lying..."
"... so you might wanna take that into account. He's just a working man doing a nasty, nasty job, looks like. Might be worth more to Trunau alive than swinging from a gibbet, know what I mean?"
"The blades...do they go back to liquid or do they simply dissipate? " there is pure excitement in her voice.
"Interesting," Vashta says, listening to the exchange, but staying out of the fray.
She casts a quick cantrip, to see if the blades are magic or merely alchemical.
As she concentrates, she casts a glance at Quill.
"And sometimes you become unpopular -- or even worse -- by doing the right thing. There's no great evil in not being the head of the caravan," she says, a hint of sadness in her voice.
"I wonder ... were we the only ones attacked? I fear Omast Frum may have met a similar fate as Rodrik did and we were clearly meant to."
Kurst looked over at Vashta. "I haven't heard of any other attacks or deaths. I'll have a patrol do a sweep and check that out."
As he speaks, Vashta is looking at the liquid blade, not seeing anything magical about it. Apparently they are a purely alchemical creation.
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"I fear Omast Frum may have met a similar fate as Rodrik did and we were clearly meant to."
Quill agrees with Vashta.
"Maybe we should go check on Omast now? Like right now? What if they stabbed him and he's lying in the street dying like I was? Let's go!"
Quill races out the door, barely waiting for the others. Instead of going home (he'll explain to Pop later), he goes directly to the barracks. He averts his eyes from the spot where he was stabbed and the resultant pooled blood there.
"That boy is going to get himself killed. He's like the hound that races after the coyote and then finds the pack. Scary that he's likely older than most of us put together. I suspect the Path has not much touched him yet. But we should probably follow to make sure there are no other coyotes out there waiting for him."
She looks around to make sure the others are accompanying her and then follows Quill.
Storn snarls once more at the fallen goon and stomps off after Vashta.
"Well that was fun. I wonder if there's a service where you can hire people to come kill you every day."
"I doubt they'd accept you as a customer," Molly snarks at Storn. "No one's that hard up for money - or if they are, it'd be uncharitable to make them actually march into the jaws of death instead of just spot them some small coins."
Looking at Yelena, the man sneered, "You're kidding, right? I somehow have to send a secret message saying six people are dead? I told you, he contacts us, not the other way around."
"So where was this cave you mentioned? And I want better directions than just 'outside of town'," Molly says.
"These guards won't do?" Vashta asks, pointing to Kurst. "And some of us want to talk to this drunk, or at least make sure he's alive, before we go to any caves. Quill's probably already there by now."
"Then it seems that we might need some disguises...or, I suppose we could just hide there with him in tow? I still wish to know about these liquid blades!" She says as she pulls out her notebook and begins taking notes once more, hoping to draw a quick map when it's described where this cave is.
Yelena took off after Quill, heading for the barracks where she knows she can find an off-duty patrol. She also knows that Omast Frum normally stays in the barracks, in one of the private rooms reserved for sergeants and above. Perhaps she can find him there, though she doubts it. Frum is more likely to be drinking himself into a stupor somewhere.
Questioning the prisoner further, you got the full details of the cave hideout, with the man's assurances that there was no one left there, nor were there any traps.
"Didn't you just suggest there could be more of them? Perhaps not going out by yourself would be smart?" Vashta observes tartly as she follows Yelena.
Vashta hurried after Yelena, both of them coming within sight of Quill after the first turn. The fletcher apparently did learn his lesson about rushing off on his own, as his eyes glanced left and right as he moved, looking for any other opportunists.
Arriving at the barracks, Quill waited until the other two caught up and let Yelena precede him through the door. This was her domain, after all. A quick set of commands sent four off-duty patrolmen headed for the Ramblehouse to provide Kurst with the backup he needed. Another quick series of questions provided the confirmation that Frum was not in the barracks, and no one had seen him the entire day.
At this point, darkness was beginning to fall, and the lamplighters were out, lifting burning brands into the cages of oil-soaked wood high up on iron-sheathed poles.