Saul blows a low whistle and sits down at the news of his friend's demise.
"He's a tough old bird. Maybe he's not copped it. But if he has there's not likely to be a body or any claim to have done it. More likely ye cover that up."
He looks around at you, and seeing some blank stairs, continues.
"You don't go messing with Janderhoffs if you can help it. Their a close lot, and Larur was somehow kin to Forgemaster Trondheim. His killers won't be too proud, I'll bet."
"If he's dead."
"The girl I mean is Samaritha. The bar wench. She still hasn't shown up, either."
"She was also a liar, and potentially a plant" says Trystan to no one in particular. He walks upstairs to Saul's office, picks up the bracers from the very first night of the goblin, snaps them onto his wrists and comes back down.
"Come on 'Grim. Just enough time to run home and wash the blood off."
When you get back to your room, there's a note under the door.
"Captain Hosk and the Foamrunner will 'raise the gate' tomorrow, or the next day at the latest." It's signed by Luther.
From Reese:
If anyone has an idea what we should do next,I am game. Should we hang out and open the bar or track down the thugs in charge and hope we win? I feel like I've wandered into the twilight zone, and that is saying a lot for me.
From Lia:
"So, Saul, how do you want to play this? It is your business after all. We have the accounts book. Maybe it can be useful? How much of a set back is it to lose the payment money?" Lia paces around while she talks. She is agitated because she knows the family we're messing with and is uneasy.
As to Trystan's offer to be money keeper, "I don't mind, that is, if you trust me?"
"Let's open the Goblin, be ready for anything and worry about Samaritha tomorrow."
As an afterthought, "I managed to put my sword in Smeed before I had to let him go. I wouldn't mind running him on through with it tomorrow."
Brenin, if you're up for inventory management, I'll take a best stab at putting together an initial spoils list on the OOC thread tonight. Folks can post things I missed or things they have to add to the party loot pile from there.
At Lia's question, Saul takes the ledger and flips through it. He finds the contract he signed, rips it out of the book, takes a lit lamp off the table in the bar, and walks over to the fireplace.
"This is the first thing we do," he says, as he lights the page and tosses it onto the grate.
"The rest of this represents alot of money owed. Thing is, Boss Croat's money has always backed up Smeed's loans. Zincher's encroached on Croat's space, and potentially cost him alot of money." He pats the book again meaningfully.
"That's my initial read on this. Of course the other possibility is that Zincher's convinced Croat of the need to take us out of business. That's an ugly possibility. The truth is probably somewhere in-between."
"The loss of the cash hurts us, but we were already shouldering that loss when we paid down our debt. If we could recover that money - and find and rescue Larur - that would set us up very well. It could fund another tournament, or maybe opening up the Octahedron."
"I've got it Trystan. Be careful out there. We don't seem to be very popular in this town."
Trystan & Isegrim cannot help but feel exposed as they walk back to the goblin. The long afternoon shadows along the waterfront conceal Varisian cutthroats and half-orc sell-swords. The shadow in the sky hangs low and baleful against the reclining sun casting a purple hue on the rooftops.
In the casino, there's chaos in the cashier's office. Saul can't stop getting in the cashier's way - trying to overdo Larur's job. They're still arguing when the doors are opened... to no one.
Not a single customer shows up for opening. This is not the first time this has happened, and it's actually a blessing as it allows the cashiers to wrap up their row.
But after the first two hours pass and there's still no customers, Saul starts to get ansty. Staring at each other across the hall is no way to pass an evening.
"Guess the word's out that us'n Zincher came to blows, eh?" Saul calls from the center of the gaming floor. "Folks are too scared of Clegg Zincher to come down to the gaming hall?"
Hans calls out from his stool by the front door, "Ain't a single ship in the harbor right now, boss. Ain't no gold in town at all, I'm guessing."
"Well, since we have some time on our hands..." Lia explains to the others that Gars was her half-brother and his death may have repercussions for all of us. "I'm sorry that you'll be targets. My family sucks the sweat off a hog's, well, you get the picture." With a smile to Trystan, "Present family excluded, of course."
If it seems appropriate, maybe I could go out on the town and see what's what. Find out where everyone is and see what they're saying.
BTW, how's your dad doing, Andrew?
Saul cannot stand silence, not when he's nervous and relatively sober.
"What kind of repercussions, honey? Seems to me like they've blooded us first, then tried to finish you off in an ambush... along with all your closest friends..." he stops talking, tapping his chin in thought.
"So being that we're talking about your kin, we have three choices as I see it. One is that you report the hit in the street to the gendarmes. Think of it like a doubling-down on the influence payment. They're prestige increases because of your investment, which can pay off in certain circumstances."
"We can just take the hit. Conduct a private investigation of Larur's disappearance, continue to open our doors at opening time and defending this turf. The money will come back after tonight, watch and see."
"Or you hit back. The security of this place is very much tied to the name your little band has already made for itself on the street. Showing offense sometimes runs off a bully."
"Sometimes, not so much..." he sighs, waving his stump.
"How much of your 'family' is left, and where are they? Bring them to heel and you probably will find Larur, and our money."
Trystan and Isegrim walk in, looking concerned but slightly better for the wear, just as Hans speaks.
"Ain't a single ship in the harbor right now, boss. Ain't no gold in town at all, I'm guessing."
"That is about to change. You ready to claim your fire-whiskey Saul? The balance of power around here is due for a shift. We need to play this right."
If it seems appropriate, maybe I could go out on the town and see what's what. Find out where everyone is and see what they're saying.
"I think that is a great idea Sis, but Brenin is going with you. Try not ditch him in the first five minutes."
"It's costing us to be open right now Saul. Let's lock up early, and discuss our next play. Lia, Brenin, get out, sniff around but make it back by the witching hour eh? We need the information, but we need rest more."
"Let's do it." To Lia, "How many more step brothers do you have by the way...and do they know it was my sword that killed Gars? Just curious?"
As we head outside, Brenin takes a moment to examine the blot. Maybe the sky is a little clearer with Gars and a couple of his friends dead. How many evil people in this town have to be killed before the sky clears up? He checks his sword in the hilt and wonders if he's up to the task.
Also, I'm a little lost as to what is happening near the port. Are trade ships being held at bay by a naval force? Is tomorrow night a blockade break? My knowledge of Riddleport is not complete enough to catch the full significance. Maybe Saul could fill us in?
Also filling out my new character sheet and need type, check penalty, spell failure and weight for the bracers of armor +1
Other answers to follow...
You had three half brothers. Gars was your father's first son and Balston was his second. Trystan is obviously the third half-sibling, through your mother. Your father's name is Beltias.
The other thug whose been inseparable from your father for a long time now is 'Doc' Brandy. This dude specializes in altering peoples' appearances to hide them from justice (or whatever). He also questions folks when Beltias wants answers.
Trystan's quick search of the place yields nothing unusual. Most of the rest of the house staff that lives in the place are just as spooked as Trystan - probably more so, in inverse proportion to their personal capabilities. In other words, you have help when it comes to checking and locking doors and windows and generally looking for out-of-place items.
It's also alot easier to do with no pesky customers in the way. You find nothing of note.
Saul perks up at mention of the fire-whiskey.
"What do you know, my friend? Is the Foamrunner in? No, can't be if Hans says the port's clean."
I imagine they could be worn right along with all kinds of other armor without restriction, except that the bonus doesn't stack.
So leather armor and these bracers do NOT equal +3 in protection? I guess I don't understand "stacking".
Isegrim has been unnaturally pensive ever since he was brought back to consciousness. He had never been that close to death before, and it brought to mind his sister's death at his own hands. The old guilt resurfaced...even more so than usual since Isegrim feels he failed Trystan as well. He finally pulls himself together and a calm facade returns...belying his seething need to his something hard with his sword in retribution.
Regarding stacking, bonuses that stack are actually exceptions, not the rule. Generally speaking, penalties stack and bonuses do not. The core describes this nicely on pg. 11 under the definition of 'Bonus'.
I haven't paid alot of attention to character choices, etc, so I didn't notice that you were already wearing armor (though it certainly makes sense for a cleric). In fact, most clerics are tanks - walking around in heavy armor and carrying big heavy shields. Trystan is a refreshing change of pace on that score - but if you're going to maintain your current load-out, we need to find creative ways of increasing your AC so you don't end up on your back (like, in a bad way) in every fight. If your dex is decent, dodge is an option next level? Maybe fighting defensively more often and staying clear of melee whenever possible?
Lia steps out into the evening with Brenin. "Let's find some friends, shall we?"
With Brenin's brooding presence watching her back, Lia's able to make contact with a man in a local tavern called The Spotted Wench who peddles in mostly-reliable rumors.
There's no information specifically on Larur to be had, though most of the town's tongues are wagging about a series of hits and counter-hits between Zincher and Saul, who's perceived as an emerging player. Zincher's alliance with Lia's father, who styles himself the 'Splithog Pauper', is threatened by Beltias's lack of ability to rub out Saul's new strength (that's you).
He's running his gang from the top floor of St. Casperian's Hope, a destitute mission to the goddess Saranrae located in the Rotgut district. St Casperian's was once a respectable religious institution in Riddleport, but has slipped into its current state of poverty after the death of it's founder. Stewardship of the mission has fallen to a daft old man named Father Padrick. The good father is rumored to pass most of his days in the bottom of a bottle, effectively ceding control to Beltias of what has become little more than a flophouse and thieves guild.
Some extra questioning (and drinks) yields a little additional information on the Foamrunner and its cargo. Word on the street is that Zincher intends to possess the shipment of whiskey. He has supposedly already been in contact with the ship, which has been standing off the coast for some days now.
All told the information costs the group 5 gp in bribes and drinks. For another 5 gp, Lia's informant will send word when he hears the whiskey deal is going down.
"You and your family are not so close I'm guessing?" I try to get this out as politely as possible. "What if this all comes down to a direct confrontation with your father, where do you stand? For that matter, where do we stand? Or are we already there?"
Brenin's head is beginning to ache from the politics/charades of this smelly town. What this place could really use is a flood of epic proportions, to the tune of about 50' above normal sea level. In fact, he may start appealing to Gozreh for this very thing. Might even start building a raft on the roof of the Goblin just in case.
Lia tries not to visibly flinch as Brenin questions her. "Let's just say that my father believes women are only good for two things. I grew up knowing I was going to earn money for him one way, or another." She blows out a breath and continues. "When it comes to a confrontation,and it will, I welcome it." A smile creeps over Lia's face as she pictures a knife in her father's back. She's been waiting for this for years...
"So, shall we warn the others that we've all bit off a bit more than we bargained for? What about you? You don't look like you came to town for trouble. Aren't you getting itchy for some plant-life? Animals? I don't know, whatever lives, you know, out there?" Lia feels like an idiot by the end of this, but she isn't a traveler and hasn't a clue what lies outside the city.
"I came to town looking for clues about the blot. And yes, the more I'm here, the more I'd rather be out there. I don't know how you live this kind of life every day. I'm in way over my head." Brenin absently touches the figurine at his neck. "Have you ever built a boat? Ahhh...nevermind. Forget I asked."
Well guys, I need to sleep, a massage would be great too. Trystan, slide me an ale, make that two. Isegrim looks like he could use one. Hey big guy, don't feel to bad, we all made it through alive and really no worse then usual. When Lia and Bren get back maybe they will have some names and we can go rough them up or maybe we will all be to drunk to care by then. Anyone up for some whisky shots.
Lia and Brenin make it back to the Goblin without incident and share the information learned. It's now an hour or so shy of midnight and the streets outside the casino are quiet and mostly deserted.
Trystan is exhausted, very sore and a bit demoralized but the wheels upstairs are starting to turn again.
"So Zincher wants all of the Foamrunner's whiskey for himself. He also knows it is the one thing we can't offer to our customers, verified it personally. He struck me as a shrewd business man first and foremost." He picks up the shot Rees just poured, hits it and set it back down tapping the rim for a refill.
"The business with Beltias is far from over and we can't let him catch us with our guard down again, but the window to seize this other opportunity is narrow."
"Saul, you have a bigger stake in this, and it's your past coming back to haunt us. We've bled for what? A stake in a failing casino with a fresh coat of varnish? A price on our heads? I say no. I say tomorrow we turn this whole situation around. We take what everyone else wants. Force them to deal with us at the same table."
"Lia, your contact has served his purpose. To wait for his message could be a trap. We need to be in place before it comes."
"We need more hands and a drawn wagon for tomorrow night, Saul. You have to be palming one more Ace up there aren't you old boy?"
"Sure, I can lay hands on a wagon. That's no issue, whatsoever. But more workers? Hans, Beyar and Bojask are the dependable hands we have. We can try to pull dockhands, but..." he spreads his hands and presents the empty gaming floor to you, "good luck finding folks who are going to stick with you if it comes to a confrontation with Zincher."
"Fill us in Trystan. What's the plan?"
"We gamble that our competition is too busy to bother with the Goblin tomorrow night. We take Hans, Beyar and Bojask with us to the docks late tomorrow afternoon. We dress as workers with wide brimmed hats. Hide our weapons in the wagon. Pick a good spot to watch the harbor, where other wagons wait for ships. When the Foamrunner comes in, we ease our way down to it. We know Zincher will have men waiting for the boat. We close as much distance as possible, then strike with surprise. We try not to kill anyone. We take the fire-whiskey onboard and hide it off-site. Then bring a few casks to the bar and start selling it immediately, unabashedly."
"That is unless anyone has a better angle. It has been a very long day."
Tryst takes his second shot. Nods in thanks to Rees, and turns to Isegrim. "What say you my brother from another mother?"
Saul looks you over, then raises a shot in salute, a lopsided grin on his face.
"That means we stay closed tomorrow night."
"Listen, you young'uns know Zincher's a hit-back kind of guy. He's the one that started this thing - no doubt about it. But he is going to put coin on your heads and expect his caps to hit you. Keeping quarters halfway to Rotgut and going back and forth between there and here seems dangerous to me."
"Your business," he says, waving his hands toward Trystan, "I understand the need to keep solidarity with your brothers and such. Come to think of it, any of them need a job?"
"I don't like accepting Larur for dead, and I don't fancy sending word of it to the Gas Forges either. And I'm still not sold on Trystan's theory on the blonde. She was polite, and a hard worker while she was here, and I think she would have quit, and come to collect the wages we agreed on."
"But I agree that given what you know, the boldest move is the one you propose. That's actually the move that is most likely to garner some respect from Zincher and Croat, if you can back it up."
"When we next open our doors it can be with a tournament of some sort with a theme that goes with the whiskey."
"Maybe you are right about the wizard-girl Saul. We will keep an ear out for news of her."
Tryst tips his mug to the party, "Sleep well my friends, tomorrow, finally, we strike first."
He prays to Cayden upon waking and asks for him to watch over his rag-tag family tonight. Grabs his few possessions from his flat and packs them in a duffel. He stops by to tell his landlady that he is vacating, and pays her an extra weeks rent in good faith. He makes his way to the Publician's House for breakfast.
"We need a neutral site to store the casks Luther, for which I want the House to share in the spoils. The Goblin is about to become the target of almost every crime-boss in this sorted town. We have a chance to be a force against them. To swing the scales of power back toward something just. We could use extra hands tonight, and will need them in the days to come. I trust my brothers more than any hireling. Perhaps a few of our strongest want to be a part of this?"
Trystan's plan is crazy, but hey, it's a plan!
Luther agrees to be your neutral site, though the Goblin does have that underground level that's also relatively secure. He scratches his black beer and continues wiping down glasses at the Publican House main bar as the two of you talk.
"Trystan, you know this town. Cayden's fortune smiles on those who fight for good, but crime-bosses very literally run this town. Our way has always been to fight the subtle fight - really it's the only way to survive in a place like this. This house will always offer shelter to you and yours. Healing, shelter - even funds. But we cannot declare war on the lot of them."
"That said, individuals in this house act as agents of their god, not of the church." He snorts this last word. "We can start keeping a closer watch on the perimeter of the Goblin, and give warning if something is up. The Goblin is an extension of the Publican House with you behind the bar, and I don't think there's a boss in this town that wants an individual fight with the brothers of the mug."
"And my advice and help starts now. I heard this morning that the Foamrunner is headed in now, that Hosk has struck a deal with Zincher to buy the whole cargo and cut Saul out, and that the deal is going down at Carver's fishing piers, down in Rotgut. If that info is right, you better get down there soon or there may be no cargo to seize."
Brenin is a little lost in the details. Lots of names to digest in only a couple of days, but he understands the need to strike the enemy when the time is right and he's up to the challenge.
"If tonight it is, then let's get ready. This whiskey better be as good as everyone is making it out to be, because I'm going to drink my share if we pull this off."