Ederion figures Areene's condition has to do with transmutation magic, as well as alchemical modifications. The alchemical portion has to do with creating randomized effects on the body, which grow rapidly.
Laria replies to Ederion about the shrine "Sure, we can send the Skritt. Do you want them there right away? Or later in the week, since they'll be busy with the Holding House."
Ederion knows that the resident scroll merchant is Crissali's Fine Tomes. She's an elven wizard who mainly sells supplies for arcane students, but her big ticket items are scrolls. Aster and Rexandi went to secure the scroll of teleport from her previously, and it didn't go very well. She reacted quite unfavourably at the mere suggestion of opposing the government.
All Aster can figure out about Areene's condition is: She could potentially have her deficiencies removed, but the surgery could very well kill her.
"I..." - Ederion looks at his notes again, then around at all the parallel conversations taking place, and simply shrugs - "I do not know. If they are busy, I guess we will see what to do next, when they are not" - he chuckles.
Laria asks the group "Shall we skip rumours and get straight to deciding exactly what we should do for the week? It sounds like this is a lot of information to take in."
"Give em 4 days. Learn what they can. Unless we think the timetable is tighter?" He looks to Setrona. "We will get your cousin out." He looks to Rexxus, "And the others if we can."
"Alright" Rexus nods. Setrona relaxes considerably. "Four days, so they'll wrap it up at the end of the 26th. If you're around in the evening on that day, we'll do a debriefing and probably you'll get to take action the next day."
Setrona says "I want to be there." Rexus disagrees, but Setrona says "He's my cousin, and I'm the best darts player in this damned city." Rexus replies simply with "We'll decide when the time comes, but I promise you'll be at the debriefing."
Laria says "Okay, so there's still the Rat Catchers somewhere in the sewers. There's Mialari, and whatever we want to do about her. Is there anything else we should be concerned about?"
Nisha mutters "Redroof is awful right now. There's so much fighting. People are missing, and there are Dottari and gangs everywhere."
Rexus says "I still want to find the Poison Pen of Kintargo before Thrune does. They could be a vital ally if we want to spread disinformation."
Vendalfek says "I wanna know if the Rose is still alive after the Thrashing Badger burned down. He was one of my favourite Milanites!"
Laria says "And I want some of you to move into the Lucky Bones so I can get some room down here. We can only organize so many things. I think two more and that's about it."
"The aboleth mutated her heavily, I think primarily with alchemy. Likely the use of its own flesh-transmuting slime in conjunction with other... ingredients. Her body is growing its own uncontrolled additions, warping as it goes, taking on forms encouraged by the additives that the aboleth put into the mixture."
Frowning, Rexandi gestures in the air as if massaging a ball of meat. "Her body's been induced to produce tentacles and eyeballs and other extraneous organs. We have to get her back to some kind of... body chemical equilibrium so that this stops. Fortunately just being out of the aboleth's alchemical clutches and back to eating normal food and breathing normal air will help."
"As for the existing problems... well... we could remove them, surgically. It would be very risky. The eye... would be lost completely, possibly some of the nerve that connects to the brain - it could permanently impair her brain, or even kill her. Same for other appendages. Crude, she would be badly disabled, but she would no longer have them. Actually repairing what was done would take... powerful magic. More than what I have. A potent healer might be able to use magic to regenerate her body, to make it return to its original form. Divine power would seek out the 'whole' elements and purge the tainted flesh. But that's far, far beyond my skills. I'm not sure I could even navigate the surgical part successfully."
"Ederion, I think you and Bazzle might have more luck with alchemical cures. Things designed to get her body back on track... to make it re-absorb the tainted parts, or try to re-assert its 'normal' growth."
"I think we should start working on claiming the Lucky Bones sooner rather than later. I also want to spend some energy on the Redroof district - if we can turn the unrest against the Dottari and the Chelish citizens' militia, that would be a big win," says Rexandi.
"Essentially, the aboleth gave her a horrible disease that makes her body grow tumors and masses, and it's quiescent now, but... it will cause her problems for the rest of her life. Repairing the damage is... not simple. Removing the bad parts risks killing her. Magic that can just fix her is far, far beyond our skills. Treatment may be an ongoing process as we try to remove rogue tumors and organs, while keeping her comfortable as best we can."
At the meeting, Aster rises slowly and moves to Derratata, giving him a low bow "Master Derratata, I know your people will be busy getting the information that we will need to properly attempt the mission at the prison, but I would be deeply grateful if you could spare some time to introduce me to your people." the Tien woman pauses, to allow her transformation to take effect. Aster now with soft fur, wide ears, wiggly nose, and swishing tail, still pear-shaped and with her club leg hidden in her skirts. She switches to the Skritt language, slower of course, but including nose, ears, and tail in the conversation as all ratfolk do "I know my family, if still around, has not been friends to the Skritt, but I am not my family. And I want to help. Please allow me to do so." she gives another deep bow and waits for his answer.
Areene looks worried about this news, but keeps a tight lip.
Meanwhile, Aster's transformation sends another wave of unease among the participants, including the Skritt Derratata.
The Skritt language is very difficult to understand, even by magical means. Skritt are able to refer to people, objects, and places without actually naming or describing them, which makes for very difficult conversations with non-native Skritt speakers. They incorporate their entire body into their language, which makes it difficult for those without the proper anatomy. Non-native Skrittish speakers describe it as having several different conversations at once, and that's just a 1on1 conversation.
Derratata is about the size of a Halfling, though significantly thinner. He's got black fur, which looks like if a white mouse rolled in charcoal. His front limbs nearly drag upon the floor, while his hind legs are fairly short and stubby. He wears several necklaces of beads, hammered down silver pieces, and pieces of glass.
Derratata gets low to the ground in a defensive position, bares his teeth, and snarls. In a "slow" voice he says and motions in Skrittish. Aster notices that he's actively using nouns to help her.
"We share a common goal, but that does not mean I trust you with my family. Do something for us without it being a benefit for you, and maybe we will trust you more. Do you have friends and family in the sewers, Aster? If not, kill the Rat Catchers, and maybe we'll trust you more. The Skritt King said they won't help or hinder you. Don't bother them. I'll give you a little advice. Be careful of Skritt traps down there. Snares, poison, caltrops, flooding."
Aster keeps her low bow to the little Skritt, even when he goes into his defensive position and snarls at her. Her eyes shut as the pain of being distrusted and rejected tear through her once again. Decades of hiding who she was came rolling back, making her want to run... again...
But Becca...
"I have a daughter, not mine by birth, but from the one person who has ever truly accepted me as Me without assuming that I was Them." her voice is measured and sore like how she walks (in Common this time). "She is not in the sewers but she is my reason to come out of the shadows and help instead of hide. It is for her benefit that I do everything."
She shifts back to being human Aster, before straightening. With a sad smile on her lips, she agrees to his terms "I will do all I can to stop these people from hurting yours."
By the way, Aster's gear value is 32246gp, with 9000 of that being the wand of water breathing, which she hasn't sold and is considering giving to the resistance for people smuggling.
So 23246 without that. If she was an actual 7th level character instead of a 6th, the average wealth of that level is 23500, so pretty darn close.
Oh wait... nevermind, to a degree, gear value doesn't include gold pieces. She has 3000 unspent in that, so she is ~3000 over level average.
Laria says to the group "Alright, I think we've got it all figured out. The Skritt will start investigating the Holding House, then the Shrine. We're going to recruit a team of loyal crafters, and we'll start moving some of our extra stuff into the Lucky Bones. Good stuff.
So, I don't know if you want to do some shopping or head into the sewers to deal with those Rat Catchers, but you'll find our new recruits in The Pits. It's a drinking hole attached to the university. Pick em up before you get busy, alright? Their names are Vandomir Jarvis, and Abbo Lyrio. Vandomir is a noble turned Milanite, and Abbo... well he's a beast of a man. Pretty hard to miss him."
You were each given a letter instructing you to arrive at The Pits in Villegre mid morning. It's a small tavern which is part of the university. Little more than a bar and two tables, The Pits gets quite crowded at night. It has wooden walls, but the floor is cobblestone. At the far end is a hearth that crackles with some new firewood.
Most patrons have cleared the room, apart from some gawkers. A large Chelish man with brass knuckles stands in front of Abbo, already with a black eye. His buddies, who count half a dozen, form a semi circle behind him. Each of them wears the red armband of the Chelish Citizens Group (CCG) overtop of their chain shirts. The man, who's been called Robald, spits on Abbo. "I'll beat you into the ground, buddy!" He yells as he throws a right. Abbo easily dodges it.
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Nay, mate, you aren't really my type. And you must certainly haven't paid me even a round of drinks, so let's not talk shop yet, huh? - says the brawler, as he then blinks to one of the man's buddies behind - Now, that fellow behind you seems a lot softer. I'd bet he moans like a little goat every time he meets a true man!
As short as Abbo was, he was considerably bulky. Yet, he was now absolutely unarmed, simply holding his mostly empty mug of cheap ale - and still keeping the bravado. His spirits were lifted when he saw the thugs trying to extort an old man into paying them some sort of protection coin; after all his years as an outlaw, Abbo had been trying to clean up his act and had a very low threshold of acceptance for bullies.
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Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city...
The Redroof district is the area with which she's most familiar, and she starts with the Redroof Market - a large open-air trading center where many of the lower classes of Redroof congregate for their day-to-day needs. The market is most famous for having clothing and leather merchants with a variety of styles from across Cheliax. Rexandi starts her day with a skewer that has cut chunks of melon on it so that she can meander through the market while nibbling at her sweet breakfast. She moves from merchant to merchant, looking at the various clothing styles and seeking something a bit different from her current rather threadbare assemblage - perhaps a dress in a bold color, maybe a new bodice or a different chemise. Always she keeps her head down and stays out of the way of the human shoppers - while Redroof is the lower-class district of Kintargo, racial boundaries still strike hard throughout the city. Occasionally a merchant tells her to leave, assuming that she's another penniless waif, until she shakes a jingling coin-purse at them - a risky move, as this also draws the attention of pickpockets, but life as a tiefling is nothing but calculated risks.
She finally purchases several pieces, both pragmatic (since she will be using her magic to take on many forms) and personal (since it's her first time having truly nice clothing for herself!). She even spends a few hours with a cobbler getting some new boots made.
The next leg of her trip is to Kelimber's Dry Goods and Supplies. It's a massive edifice, a store filled with all manner of foods, apparel, and tools, frequented both by households stocking their pantries and adventurers looking for rope, oil, and pitons. She has her bag of clothing in one hand as she sidles in and starts going through medical supplies, looking for alchemical remedies and specialty tools. Finally she approaches the proprietor, Maelcin Kelimber, for assistance - normally she would avoid such entanglements, but Maelcin has a reputation for being fair and outgoing, so she decides to chance it.
"Excuse me..." she says hesitantly.
Maercin's face splits into a broad grin. "Yes? Can I help you?" he says in a resonant voice. He has a wide face, a thick neck, and broad features, a decided contrast from many of the slender and angular Chelaxians. His brown hair is short and neat, and he sports a pair of striking mutton chops as well.
"Well... I..." Rexandi says weakly, then clears her throat. "I was looking for medical supplies? Bandages, tinctures, tools? I'm... helping with some folks who need treatment for some conditions..." She trails off quietly.
Maercin's grin turns to a frown and he says, "I'm not really an expert on medical supplies. Over there, you can find clean linen bandages, tinctures and tonics - look, you need to know what you need. I'm not a physician so I can't make recommendations."
Rexandi shrinks back. As expected, everyone hates the tiefling.
"Thank you," she manages to muster before she goes to dig through the medical supplies.
Eventually she returns to Maercin and clears her throat to get his attention.
"The um... the satchel of supplies? The enchanted one?" she asks hesitantly.
Maercin says, "Ah, I'm afraid that's very expensive. Beyond the means of a poor girl like yourself, I think."
"No, I can pay-" says Rexandi, bringing out her purse and shaking it. "Coins and trade bars."
Maercin frowns again and says, "Well... it was from one of the temples that was raided and shut down. It may have some... religious significance. I'm afraid I can't sell it to you. You should go, miss - you're not going to find what you're looking for here."
Dejected, Rexandi returns to the Ravens, feeling especially useless.
Aster was a prosperous merchant before abandoning it all to come back to the city of her birth so she could raise the daughter of her first and only true love. Her skills are a little rustiy. But she knows the forumlas: flatter, barter, reject, come back, like a dance of words and gestures. Some merchants hate it, some love it, so the first step is to gauge how they play the game.
In the end, she gets all she wants for a normal price, just quickly instead of cheaply, as she had hoped. Allowing her to arrive in time to meet her Bazzle and Rexi, and enter the Pits together.
"Oh good, a fight." says the Tien woman with jet black hair peppered with white, a product of her middling age. "That should keep all eyes on them while we pick up the new..." her dark almond-shaped eyes widen as she notices one of the fighters is a beast of a man, fitting Laria's description perfectly "... unless, of course, He is one of the fighers." she sighs, undoing her dark gray cloak. She moves toward an empty chair at her slow measured pace, smooths out her jade skirt over her heavy hips, before sitting with pained grace. The color of her clothes combined with the general shape of her brings to mind a tasty pear, though the heavy silver breastplate, wicked-looking morningstar, and steady shield on her back might discourage anyone from mentioning it.
"I guess we wait? Do either of you see the other one? Vandomir was his name, correct?"
The old man who Abbo is protecting is a Shoanti human. He's currently hiding behind the bar.
"Disgusting." The leader says, clearly repulsed. "You hear that, boys? This one's just called himself a f%%%ing jocker! You sick f&%~! I was gonna give you a fair fight, but not anymore. You can't fight us all at once!"
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Aster meets Chuko at the War Cage. Chuko is a Tengu who is clearly combat trained as he shows various weapons to Aster. His shop looks wonderful, with the arena style courtyard for sparing and weapon tests. Oddly, his stock seems to be a little light. Chuko plays all the merchant games to grab Aster's attention, but she sees through his ploys. He never lies or cuts corners, but he does make things dramatic.
Chuko is secretly stressed out when Aster first meets him. The purchase of several items does help him get excited, but the stress never truly leaves. Aster's experience in business gives her the hunch that Chuko is slowly clearing stock. It seems like he's shutting down.
Aster heads down to Redroof, where she enters the Devil's Threads. It's a large and elaborate shop, run by a Tiefling man called Hetamon Haace. While they talk about clothing and take measurements, Aster gets the sense that Hetamon is gently trying to steer the conversation towards politics.
Aster then makes a trip into Old Kintargo, so she can buy some mithral armour from resident Dwarf Olmer at his smithy. Olmer is a stubborn and crass old Dwarf, who rumours have it has been in this exact smithy since before Kintargo even existed. He recognizes Aster immediately, and thanks her for everything she did for Darrack, and all of Dwarfkind. He gives her the mithral breastplate, which he's been working on for over two years, at a 10% discount. It's the highest discount this penny-pinching old fart has ever given.
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Bazzle spends most of his time in the Devil's Threads along with Aster. He also walks with her to Olmer's Smithy for the ring of protection, and gets the same discount.
Bazzle wanders around Kintargo in the efforts to find a pair of Burglar's Bracers, which is strictly illegal. If he plays his cards right, he might be able to secure a pair from a Fence or fellow rogue.
Bazzle finds a pair, but the Fence he's dealing with is ruthless with the price. Not only is Bazzle paying for a blackmarket item, he's also paying a non-member fee.
A man who was sitting in the corner stands up. He looks like a mercenary due to sitting around wearing full-plate armour, but he looks refined as nobility. As he walks gently towards the scuffle, he says "There's seven of you, and only one of him. I'll half-ass my way through the fight to even the odds." He quietly whispers a prayer to some mysterious God or Goddess, then goes in for a punch. Surprisingly, his target, one of the guys in the back, barely manages to dodge. "Huh, so you've got some skill." The mercenary says.
The thugs split into two groups. The first group of 3 go over to the mercenary and try to trip him. He maintains his balance and punches one in the face. The second group of 4, including their leader, just swarm Abbo and throw punches. He dodges every one of them.
"Or not." The mercenary snarks.
Man, this was truly a bad idea. You should have stayed in your corner talking about knitting or whatever you usually do!
The brawler assumes a subtly strange position, holding the mug from an angle that wouldn't be expected. As he flips his arm in a left-pulling movement, he pushes the improvised weapon against the enemies in a blunt motion that tries to put them down without killing anyone.
Vandomir wasn't used to bar fights, but he wasn't opposed to them either. He moved towards the seemingly friendly brawler, and as he took a swing at the nearest enemy combatant...
Nonlethal
... he asked politely, "and your name good sir? I go by Vandomir myself."
Abbo slaps the leader across the face with the mug so hard that he immediately passes out before hitting his head on the table. He targets another one, who manages to take the first hit, but the mug comes down again on the top of his noggin, and all of a sudden he's fast asleep.
Vandomir strikes the enemy closest to him, but his punch is mitigated by the man's chain shirt.
The men look at Abbo in disbelief. "Forget the tincan, we take down the dwarf together. Trip him!" One of them yells. The brutes shifts their positions to swarm Abbo. In a surprising move, Abbo is caught off guard when a brute runs around him to flank. They strain with effort, but one of them kicks Abbo in the back of the knee, which helps the four bring him to the ground.
On the floor, Abbo evaluates his situation. He looks around, trying to think on a good strategy, and don't find much of an out. Yet, he knows he can't stay on the ground - and so he stands up, trying to avoid being hit as much as he limitedly can. As he does so, on the same movement he pretends to fall and feints against one of the opponents.
Damn, I shouldn't be drinking so much! - he says, then swings the mug against the enemy.
As he completes the action, he does a sidestep to stick back to back with Vandomir.
Abbo stands up suddenly, and although all four thugs try to beat him back down, he blocks each blow, including the one behind him. He spins around and wavers to the side, which completely fools the thug. The thug is about to take advantage of the opportunity, when Abbo reveals his fake out, and shoves the mug handle first into the man's forehead. That thug immediately passes out and slumps backwards over the bar.
Vandomir will use a Swift action to add +1 more enhancement to his armor, and thus his AC.
He keep himself back to back with Abbo and keeps working on the thugs in the crowd...
Nonlethal
Unfortunately for Vandomir, his divine punch simply hits the thug's armour, doing nothing. Each thug completely ignores Vandomir, the so dubbed 'Tincan'.
The three remaining thugs try to trip Abbo again, but Abbo sees it coming and smashes the thug upon the shoulder. There's an unhealthy crack, but the thug still stands. Abbo hunkers down and resists each attempt to trip him.
A Gnome, a Tiefling, and a lame older Human walk into the bar. The smell of sweat lingers over the normal cigar smoke. Four men are completely knocked out, while three try to team up on a short but beastly man armed with a clay mug. Another man, covered from head to toe in full-plate, is attempting to participate in the fight. Behind the bar is an older Shoanti man, cowering but curious enough to watch the fight.
"Oh good, a fight." says the Tien woman with jet black hair peppered with white, a product of her middling age. "That should keep all eyes on them while we pick up the new..." her dark almond-shaped eyes widen as she notices one of the fighters is a beast of a man, fitting Laria's description perfectly "... unless, of course, He is one of the fighters. And the other one in the armor?" she sighs, undoing her dark gray cloak. She moves toward an empty chair at her slow measured pace, smooths out her jade skirt over her heavy hips, before sitting with pained grace. The color of her clothes combined with the general shape of her brings to mind a tasty pear, though the heavy silver breastplate, wicked-looking morningstar, and steady shield on her back might discourage anyone from mentioning it.
"I guess we wait? Since it doesn't seem like they need help?" she asks the Rexi and Bazzle.
attempting to participate in the fight
The well armored man flailing about uselessly in the fight, is a middle aged Chelaxian, with dark hair, and a prominent widows peak. He carries both a bow, and a morningstar, though he has obviously decided not to use them in this instance. His plate mail armor is adorned with roses, and through the crowd, you can spy that he is wearing a tabard bearing a rose on a bloody cobblestone street.
"By the Everbloom, we shall not succumb to your attempts today," shouts the man over the din of bar combat. He also turns to Abbo and observes, "this manner of donnybrook seems to be your cup of tea!"
He keeps swinging away...
Nonlethal
A lean and nimble looking gnome. Crowned with a head of sunkist green hair short and swept back but curling up rakishly disheveled. His clothing is asymmetrical one leg and one sleeve are sky blue, while the other leg is brown and the other arm, his rapier arm is save a bracer and pauldron of tooled leather that matches the cuirass that he wears that has both black and accents in a checkered pattern. His boots do not match each other but fit the colors of the rest of his outfit. The overall look is that of a street performer, perhaps a juggler or acrobat or one dressed by children.
He looks up at Aster and shrugs, "Maybe." He looks around, "Who's taking bets?"
Oh, I don't know what you're talking about, good sir! - replies Abbo to Vandomir in an obviously friendly and cynic way. He then speaks back to the enemies - You guys are still here? Did we just find a guild of masochists? Well... Who am I to deny someone their more intimate desires?
With that said, he once again flurried the improvised weapon against the enemies - first targeting the one attacked by Vandomir, if still standing, then proceeding to whichever is further from the warpriest. In his core, he was thankful someone decided to stay by his side.
At this point, Abbo notices the three figures entering the bar. He could swear he heard that joke at some point. Initially he frowned - concerned if they were the local authorities, as he had his rodeos with them in the past and wasn't really looking forward to it again - but then he quickly got more curious, imagining if they were some sort of band of adventurers... Or maybe artists?
When Aster notices the short one's gaze has fallen on them, the older lame Tien woman gives him a warm smile and a 'hurry up and beat them up' gesture. "It doesn't look like you'll have enough time to place a bet." she tells her friend.
Vandomir puts as much force as he can into his next punch, which impacts one of the thugs in the kidney. The thug grits his teeth, but continues to fight... well not for long. It does take Abbo two strikes, but he hits so hard that the man lies unconscious in a pool of blood, most of which leeks out of his nose. Abbo's final punch is dodged.
The two remaining thugs are about to turn tail and run for it, when they see someone enter the building. Two someones, each wearing hooded robes from head to toe. The one in white robes bears the inverted pentagram of Asmodeus over his heart, and the red armband of the CCG on his left arm. Through two eye-slits he peers through his pointed hood. With what can only be imagined as a sneer, he says "You lot might be the worst crew I ever laid eyes on."
One of the thugs replies "I'm sorry sir, they're just too strong. We can't do anything."
"Hmmm, well they seem well equipped, save for the one with the mug. He should be at your level." Says the white robed man. He shifts his large midsection then palms the large mace at his side. His other arm bears a buckler that glows a faint blue. "Who are you two fine gents, and what did my crew do to make you enemies?" He pays no attention to the three who just came in and sat at one of the tables.
The other robed figure, who is in black, stands there poised for a fight. He's holding a loaded heavy crossbow in his hands, though it isn't pointed at anyone.
A lean and nimble looking gnome. Crowned with a head of sunkist green hair short and swept back but curling up rakishly disheveled. His clothing is asymmetrical one leg and one sleeve are sky blue, while the other leg is brown and the other arm, his rapier arm is save a bracer and pauldron of tooled leather that matches the cuirass that he wears that has both black and accents in a checkered pattern. His boots do not match each other but fit the colors of the rest of his outfit. The overall look is that of a street performer, perhaps a juggler or acrobat or one dressed by children.
He looks up at Aster and shrugs, "Maybe." He looks around, "Who's taking bets?"
The tiefling is also a woman, with indigo skin and curling horns that travel back over her head. She wears a long purple-and-black gown cinched with a leather girdle and a black choker with a red stone around her neck. She is slim and probably in her 20s. Draped over her shoulders is a brown traveler's cloak and over that a knitted loose-thread woolen shawl. To anyone close by she has a slightly pleasing scent of perfume. Her garb is not especially rich or upper-class, though.
She starts back slightly as she sees the fistfight in progress, then stands nervously next to the somewhat older woman and fidgets with the end of her shawl while she watches the rather one-sided bludgeoning.
Aster tries to catch either of their new member's eyes, allowing hers to widen considerably when she gets their attention accompanied then with a quick dash of her finger across her arm.
Abbo stops fighting, lowering his hands, and immediately replies in a much more peaceful tone.
Oh, I believe it was only a misunderstanding, sir. - he starts, tapping gently the man nearby as if cleaning his clothes - I was mostly drinking and minding my business here, when the merry band decide to spar with us a bit... I guess. My friend here was just doing the lawful thing by balancing the odds, as I was just here by myself.
He does a half-baked bow, before gesturing for the old Shoanti man to accompany them and leave.
We were already leaving. Apologies for the inconvenience, but I guess it pays for my spilled ale! Hah! - he completes, shaking his empty mug with a sad face, and ready to leave the place with the old lady by the door.
"Hmmm, well they seem well equipped, save for the one with the mug. He should be at your level." Says the white robed man. He shifts his large midsection then palms the large mace at his side. His other arm bears a buckler that glows a faint blue. "Who are you two fine gents, and what did my crew do to make you enemies?" He pays no attention to the three who just came in and sat at one of the tables.
Vandomir keeps a wary eye on the former combatants as he responds, "well, to be honest, I don't know what started it, but when I saw the lot of them lined up against just this fellow, I decided to help the underdog. Had I known how proficient he was at fisticuffs, I'd have realized he wasn't the outnumbered one. At this point, it is what it is. The custom in Kintargo is still to share a drink after a bar fight, is it not? Some of your fellows appear unable to partake, so maybe you lot can fill in for them?"
Vandomir pulls out some coins and gestures to the bartender to set up a round for the crowd.
"Perhaps at another time, and not here, of course." Says the white robbed man. "If you're interested in a drink, come visit my companions in the Prince's Parlor in Temple Hill. Our brothers and sons would be happy to meet you two."
As the group exits The Pits, the white robbed man holds out a hand to stop the older Shoanti man. "I have some business with you."
"That sounds great. Good day then."
Vandomir turns to Abbo, "well, that went well I thought. Are you injured?"
Abbo smiles, but pauses for a moment. He's a survivor in his core - and all his instincts are screaming for him to leave this place. Even the newcomers are telling him to leave this place. But Old Man Tuck comes to his mind. Abbo wants to be in a different road; he is a different person, especially since Tuck perished.
Somehow, he feels this man - who was already being bullied off some sort of protection money - might be a victim of the system and the circumstances, just like him. Well, maybe he's not; maybe this old man is just a scumbag that deserves it. But on the risk he's really just another innocent person being pushed around by the Thrune and their politics, Abbo couldn't just turn his back and leave.
My apologies, sir... But he was leaving with me. We had a lot to discuss ourselves. However, I can certainly escort him directly to Prince's Parlor as soon as we're finished in a couple hours. Do we have a deal? - the brawler lies to the point his eyes could even drop, yet he tries to use cunning in his favor, try to look trustworthy... And maybe save someone in the process.
The white robed man considers Abbo's words for a moment, then replies.
"It is noble of you to look after your fellow man, but you've misplaced your kindness with this primitive. For too long, Bainilus has allowed thieves, brigands, and heretics to fester in this great city, burdening the noble Chelaxian with supporting a failing system. With Barzillai Thrune as our new Lord-Mayor, we can now lift these burdens, create support for our fellow patriots, and keep them safe from the unwashed and immoral. So step aside, brother, we have only come to discourage this savage from its ways of life, not to kill. But if you insist, we will defend ourselves if provoked."
Aster's eyes frown deeply, though she keeps it from her mouth. She makes another quick, series of gestures.
..saying Distraction, get him Out...
Or at least that is what she's trying to say. As she gets up, she bemoans the sudden lack of entertainment and has a bit of tipsy moment of running into Mr. White Robes.
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Bazzle takes a few step toward the door, "Whoa!" The poor unfortunate gnome stumbles forward having tripped over a chair. Desperate to keep his balance the gnome throw his hands out wide. Disaster struck a few drinks and a hot bowl Gualt Onion Soup went flying toward the white robes of the obstinate man.
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