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Nachts pauses, sighs melodramatically then begins wrapping the chain around his arm anew. "I will be ... DEALING ... with you later, pagan. I have a ship ... to ... VISIT, and a ... body to INSPECT."
Having secured his chain around his arm, he then approaches the body on the counter and checks to see if it is still alive.
Kafar is drugged and unconscious and cannot be awakened unless someone casts remove poison or gives him at least 10 points of magical healing.
Nefti says "Ok. I can take everyone here to a safe place if you want to go to the ship."
A tri-masted galleon, the Prancing Prince appears to be in good condition and floats lazily against its mooring along a wide, crate- and barrel-filled dock. No one appears to be aboard her, however, and the standard watch typically found at the gangplank of a docked ship is nowhere to be seen. Atop her bowsprit is a gaudily painted wooden man that appears to be the exact likeness of the Grand Prince of Taldor, Stavian III, hands on his hips, a huge smile across his face, and his legs bent as though he were dancing a jig.
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Nachts cocks his head as he takes the man's vitals. "He is in no ... IMMEDIATE DANGER. He will keep .. for the time being. I will ...see to him as soon as we ... deal with .. the rest. And free ... the hostages ... of course."
He turns towards the boy. "Take them to your safe place ... boy. You will ... of course ... tell us where that is. And we will ... MEET you there later."
Nachts looks at the worshiper of Erastil, his left eyebrow raised as his grin widens. "I am .. NOT ... sure I can ... be ... quiet. Unless I am ... to go without armor. Is that your ... wish?
Zykon sees nothing else out of the ordinary.
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I'm not spilling resources on Aspis, but unless my apprentice has a weak heart, she can take care of Kafar. What say you, Neryssis?
...Odd indeed. Let's keep our armors on, maybe we can convince them with words before we use force... If there is anyone aboard, that is.
The doctor takes out a pill case, picks up a red pill and swallows it.
Anyhow, it doesn't look manned right now. We ought to investigate.
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"Call it what you will doctor, but I would like to see him alive. Even a snake has use to the Society. I believe Nachts has the right of it though, waiting until after our business is concluded before spending resources on scum is a wise choice."
This isn't right... no guards? Not for a vessel of this size. Even empty this ship is worth quite a sum of gold...
"Do they know anything about us or the boy? I agree that a peaceful approach should be tried first, but I am worried that these lowlives might either try to enslave us too or even be able to identify us."
With an absence of guards or anyone else above deck, that only leaves belowdeck where they might be.
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Nachts curtsies, a gleam in his eyes as his demented grin stretches even further. Slowly, he approaches the docked ship, his puppet-with-it's-strings-cut walk throwing odd shadows as he readies his weapon. "The Midnight Lord ... clamors for you Luscilia ... ISMACCO. Come! Come and ... be ... claimed!". Slowly he climbs on board, deliberately scanning his surroundings.
The party climbs onto the deck to see that the deck was recently scrubbed clean and still shows remnants of soap bubbles and puddles of water. It is otherwise deserted and completely dark. There is two doors and a set of stairs. Through one of the doors they find the captain's quarters. These finely appointed quarters contain a desk, a chair, a bed, and some chests, all of which have been screwed to the deck. A single lit lamp rests on the deck and illuminates the room completely.
Through the other door reveals the supply storage.
Going down the stairs and everyone sees the ballistae deck. Six large ballistae are housed here, screwed to the deck and mounted on rails so they can be pushed through the swinging doors on the side of the hull and fired at nearby ships. There is no ammunition present for these weapons, however, and the deck is empty. The southwest corner of the room contains an open trap door that’s a 7-foot drop down to the Lower Deck. There are also two rooms on this level. One door has the first mate's quarters. These finely appointed quarters contain a table, some chairs, bookshelf, and a few barrels, all of which have been screwed to the deck. A stack of papers on the table is from the ship’s former life as a slave ship for Qadira and contain manifests and records of deliveries throughout the Inner Sea. This room is dusty and dirty and doesn’t appear to have been used recently. The other room is the quarters for the rest of the crew. These simple quarters contain
several recently slept-in beds and the dark lantern on the
floor is hot to the touch, as if it were recently lit.
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Zykon moves to the shadows as he moves along with the group making mental notes of the various things he's observing but not mentioning them aloud for concern it will give away his concealment using the bulkheads, mast, stairs, and other means to interrupt his line of sight as he moves.
Before the party is able to make it down the stairs all the way, two slavers pop out and stop Nachts.
First Round
Rathor
Nachts
Nerissys
Slavers
Dr. Nimblefingers
Zykon
Alistair
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Two men move out of the shadows from where they hid, barring the Pathfinder's path. Nachts cocks his head to the side and moves off the stairs, seemingly unconcerned with the possibility of getting hurt, humming a tune with his raspy voice.
He then turns around, and the humming grows as he finally spins the glaive overhead and thrusts into the man's unprotected gut.
Shortly after the slaver hit Nachts, he gets skewered by the glaive and falls over.
First Round
Rathor
Nachts
Nerissys
Slavers
Dr. Nimblefingers
Zykon
Alistair
The last remaining slaver takes a 5 ft step and lets loose a flurry of fists at Nachts.
First Round
Dr. Nimblefingers
Zykon
Alistair
Second Round
Rathor
Nachts
Nerissys
Slaver
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Nachts looks into the slaver's eyes as they roll over in his head and the man falls unconscious, his lifeblood pumping slowly out. "Disappointing..." he begins sibilantly before a well placed punch to the back of the head jars him out of he contemplation. He whips around to look upon his last opponent, sweeping the glaive full circle around him. "Well done ... FLESH!" he barks out as he grabs the haft towards it's end and spears it towards the man's face.
The last slaver falls down to another of Nachts' attacks.
Looking around, the lower deck is obviously where cargo would ordinarily be stored for passage, but aside from several empty barrels and a few broken crates, this room is empty of cargo. In place of the cargo is about a dozen slaves instead. On the bodies of the slavers, 4 potions, one wayfinder with a C inscribed on it, and a key ring.