"That would be capital, my dear. I don't suppose someone named The Blight lives on the tall side of the Arvensoar, hmm?" Valko removes his finger from the coin and sighs. Looks like they'll be making another trip to the slums.
Wilhem gives Valko a disapproving look as he pressures the lady, who seemed to him quite forthright and helpful. He is rather surprised therefore when she takes the coin and elaborates significantly on the disappearances. "That seems like an excellent offer. Might we be able to get that in writing, or perhaps a token of some sort that we can present if the need should arise? Any information on those who have disappeared and returned would be helpful as well. I take it they've been questioned?" While he hadn't been expecting a commission when they came in, the opportunity to be paid twice was not to be passed up, and having connections within the Arvensoar would always be useful.
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"This is effectively an unofficial bounty offer - as a result, none of the other Watch members would be able to help you, even if it was in writing. However, since you would be doing the city a great service, I will ensure you are paid. As an Officer of the Watch I'm able to pay out bounties when they are due. If I'm not here to speak with you when you return, just tell whoever's here you have an appointment with Kasedei, and they'll contact me."
"As for those who have been returned.. they have indeed been thoroughly questioned and we were unable to get anything useful out of them - and before you ask, I am unable to give you their names - they've been through enough hell as of late, and I doubt you'd be able to get any more information out of them than we were."
Kasedei, as she finishes speaking, takes the coin off of the counter, examines it, and then pockets it.
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Done with the Arvensoar, the group finally has another lead - a local denizen of the Underbridge known as ‘Fenster the Blight’. Picking up the other half of their group from The Dreaming Dryad, only to find a grumpy Radyx who was unable to procure any alcohol, the group makes their way down to the Underbridge, heading back the way they came, intending to pass The Old Fang. Their trip to the place takes roughly 35 minutes, at which they begin their slog into the Underbridge proper.
Here, they are presented with the worst the city has to offer - piles of grimy, dirty snow clog the paths, trash, filth and waste clogging the gutters, all while above them sits the city’s icon - the Irespan. The Underbridge, meanwhile, sits nearly pitch black for those without darkvision - few sources of lights are lit, as the city can’t keep any oil in the street-side lanterns from being stolen, nor do they really care - as a result, this part of the city is eerily dark, even compared to the rest of the city.
Al’cazar, one of the numerous people in the group unable to see in the dark, lights up a torch and roughly hands it to Renfeld, saying nothing more than a quick ”Be useful.” Renfeld, though not wanting to take orders from someone that isn’t his master, is too terrified of the Runescarred warrior to protest, and meekly does as he is told, holding the torch for the group.
Roughly twenty minutes later, after having trudged through paths slick with mud and snow, the group finally reaches the ‘abode’ of Fenster the Blight - an old, half-ruined sea-side warehouse that just happens to sit in a particularly bad stretch of the coast where tidal currents cause filth and refuse in abundance to wash ashore and collect in stinking, frozen clots, causing the area to smell horribly.
Outside the dilapidated warehouse, sitting next to the beaten up doors that mark the entrance, is an old sea chest with a broken lid and a tin platter sitting in front of it. A sign, sitting against the front of the chest, reads:
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(Failure)
Ferit keeps his eyes on the warehouse, looking to see if he can spot anyone watching their approach.
(+1 vs surprise)
Ferit motions the others close and whispers, "Oi kin 'ear four blokes in 'er. Sounds loik 'ems drinkin' an' 'avin a grand ole toime. Wot say we sally up and give 'em a bit of a frightful welcome, eh lads?" Ferit licks his lips and tusks in anticipation of violence and terror. He cracks the knuckles of his ape-like fists, giggling wickedly.
"While the stick has proved useful once today, it also caused us trouble once as well. We should at least try the carrot before angering them." Wilhem suggests wearily. "Does anyone have a 'gift' for him?"
"Oi 'ave!" Ferit replies, trundling over to fart in the tin platter.
With a look of pained reluctance, Hoosible lifts the wreath he's been tweaking off of his black felt tricorn. He looks over the way the flowers frame the dried birds feet -- still not quite the way he'd envisioned but so much better than earlier -- and sighs.
"I suppose we can offer him this." He says, clear he doesn't really want to part with it.
Radyx does his best to stifle a laugh. "I don't think that's the kind o' gift the types round these parts be interested in, Shorty. Fancy Pants, Elfie, one of you cough up a shiny or two ya get our host's attention."
Hoosible's relief is obvious as he puts the wreath back onto the brim of his hat. "Ahem. Wonderful. If he'll settle for some coins, all the better."
"Valko and myself have already paid bribes and costs for this mission. Perhaps we should all contribute to an expenses fund for our group. A platinum piece or 10 gold pieces each?" Wilhem suggests, looking at his companions. They were very free with suggestions of paying people off when it was someone else's money, and while there were certainly more important things than gold, it would be beyond foolish to expect to live in a city ruled by the Runelord of Greed without funds.
"Whoi in the 'Ells would we give this bloke that much scratch!? That's six feckin' month's rent in a decent inn. We kin just batter whatever we need out o' 'im. Worked in the tent before 'innnit?"
Radyx's expression goes blank when the whelp of a human dares talk back to him. His hands reflexively tighten into fists as he considers pummeling the insolent silver spoon right back out of his haunches. His rational thought keeps him in check as he knows that'd likely cost him his job or worse, as the Cypher's are paying good coin to keep this lot alive.
"Listen here, Fancy. Snotsickle's right, ya just don't throw that much coin around on a whim, especially in places like this. I'll go as good as one yeller shiny each, but any higher than that is askin for a serious tussle on our way out."
He then reaches into his coin purse and pulls out a single gold, but doesn't pitch it in until others do as well.
Wilhem sighs as Ferit and Radyx misunderstand. "I did not ask for contributions to give to Fenster, I asked for contributions to the group's expenses, one of which would be a small donation to him. Five gold should be enough for him, the rest would be kept jointly for any other bribes or costs we may encounter while working together, including any healing or other magical services, as well as mundane purchases."
"If we are to work together, then we must cooperate, and you must realize that not every situation can be resolved with threats and fists. We are junior members of the Cypherlodge, we do not have the authority yet to go throwing our weight around everywhere, as I should think that this morning's incident at the Arvensoar proves." Wilhem does a fair job of keeping hold of his emotions, but his tone grows a touch waspish towards the end.
This little whelp has no idea who he is messing with...
"And ya saw how quick it loosened ol' Zoggy's gums, didn't ya?"
Before saying anything that will end with him getting kicked out of his new job, or having to kill several of his new coworkers, he clenches his teeth and counts to three to give him a moment to let his temper simmer down before continuing.
"If ya want a group fund put together, fine by me. But doing it here is just plain ignorant. Save that kinda talk for later, and let's deal with the here and now, savvy?"
Radyx looks to Snots and rolls his eyes, then chunks the gold coin down into the chest.
"Oi don't jabber 'bout ifs and whenses, Oi lives in the moment. Iffin we've got a group buy ta make, we'll make it when we make it. An' this aint a bloody copper's tower, it's a rottin' hovel smells worse me arse'ole, full o' salty dogs wettin' dere gobs. If eight o' us cain't convince four of dem to come 'round ta our viewypoint, 'hen we moight as well just slit our own throats nae!"
Trying to get his mind off of killing Fancy Pants in various creative ways, Radys turns to take stock of the hovel they seek entrance to.
He says, to no one in particular, "A couple of us should circle round back, in case this guy gets flighty and tries to bolt out a back exit."
As Radyx’s coin clunks down onto the chest, he finds it incidentally falling off of it and down onto the tin platter, landing with a very audible ringing that just so happens to cause those inside to stop their laughter and get very quiet for a moment before one of them yells something.
A few moments after the yelling can be heard, loud, heavy footsteps can be heard coming towards the double doors to the warehouse. Before they are opened however, the group can hear a series of alarmingly wet coughs coming from just inside the building - after roughly a minute of this, the door opens and reveals one of the most pitiful, foul creatures the group has ever seen. Fenster, as it can be presumed, looks at the tin platter with his one ‘good’ eye, scoffs, shakes his head, and slams the door on the group before they have the chance to even say something to him.
Laughter can be heard momentarily after Fenster can be heard saying something, and the group is left outside in the cold, smelly coastline.
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----
"That son of a b~%~~!" Radyx mutters.
He reaches down and takes his coin, then forcefully jiggles the plate inside the chest. He looks to Charbonardent as he draws his axe and shield and says, "Don't let 'em close that damn door again!"
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"To be fair, if someone offered to hire out my information brokerage with a single coin, it would likely elicit a similar response." Valko sighs, rolling his eyes a bit. The brutes would likely not be satisfied until blood had been shed in some quantity. "Besides, if you plan to badger, bloody, and bruise he and his compatriots regardless of what sense, practicality, or common courtesy might dictate, why not pay him more now and just take it back later?"
Looking around, the young Ustlavian attempts to find a clean enough perch to sit. His "investigation" only produces a grimace and a resolve to remain upright and on his feet instead. "Here I thought we had been granted entry into the cyphermages. Someone neglected to mention the Magnimar Chapter would operate as The Hodunk Back-alley Slum Sweeping Chest Thumpers."
Charbonardent nods to Radyx and draws his large greatsword. Then, he whispers, "Maybe grab the scrawny runt, and I'll close the door to his friends."
Hoosible -- who'd missed what Fenster was saying -- gets a startled look when Charbonardent mentions grabbing the scrawny runt.
When he realizes he's not the one being discussed, the scrawny necromancer says, "Ahem. Valko and Willhem's plan might be worth considering. I can contribute a gold or two out of our recent advance if others are as well. Even if there are only four of them inside, it's reasonable to think that he might have more friends in this neighborhood than we do."
"Maybe, but not many friends are willing to risk their lives for each other, especially scum like this. And if we are supposed to be Cyphers, then it's damn well time they start showin' us the respect we're due! I dunno about y'all, but I'm sick and tired of people actin' all high 'n mighty at my expense!"
His anger coming to a boil, Radyx takes matters into his own hands and stomps over to the door and kicks the thing in. He then storms in, yelling, "ALRIGHT you little s&!@s, we wanted to do this nice like but now you are gonna have this little chat whether ya like it or not!"
__________
"That son of a b#@++!" Radyx mutters.
He reaches down and takes his coin, then forcefully jiggles the plate inside the chest. He looks to Charbonardent as he draws his axe and shield and says, "Don't let 'em close that damn door again!"
<< | | | >>
His anger coming to a boil, Radyx takes matters into his own hands and stomps over to the door and kicks the thing in. He then storms in, yelling,
With the double doors to the old warehouse now on the ground, the group can get a clearer picture of what’s going on inside - as well as their ‘host’.
Fenster is a wretched creature, more skin and bone than meat. His flesh is clammy and grey in places, one of his eyes is clouded over with a white film, and his clothing is caked with filth and human waste; his breathing is raspy, gurgling, and smells of bad meat - even now, he’s plagued by a wet cough. Despite this, he turns around, coughing, his remaining good eye wide open in surprise of the sheer audacity that someone would break into his abode.
Behind him, four of his lackeys - men equally as wretched as their boss, sit around a table playing cards, the area lit by only a weak, pathetic-looking candle. Like their boss, they too are surprised that someone would break into their place, but two of them are able to react quick enough to figure out what’s going on - and, despite their obvious sickness, they jump to the fight without hesitation, drawing their rusty daggers from their wrist sheaths and yelling as they do.
”Oye, bawse, lewks lik we gut oorseelfs sum lifleey wons dun we?!”
”Hue hue hue lees mek tha leel piggehs ”
______________________________________________________
Regardless, it is likely that anyone subjected to physical contact with these men would risk exposure to whatever diseases they're afflicted by.
Wilhem opens his mouth to continue his attempts to reason with Radyx and the odious Ferit, before deciding not to waste his time. He nods at Valko and Hoosible's support, but his silence is validated when their advice is likewise ignored and the former gladiator charges heedlessly forward.
Wilhem simply sighs, before beginning a short thassilonian chant, gesturing with his right hand as he raises it into the air. Finishing the spell four bright balls of light swell into existence around his hand, adding to the light of Renfeld's torch.
"Gralk, Orie. Circle the warehouse, make sure noone comes out who shouldn't. Harl, Misha, you're with me." he instructs his guards, and starts walking towards the nearest corner, leaving Gralk and Orie to brave the water side.
_________________________
Ferit hustles into the hovel, and whacks the Blight in his rotting face with a sap. "You'd fink a wretch like ewe would know wots good fer 'im!" the orc cackles gleefully. "THIS LIKKLE RAT'S MINE!" Ferit says, claiming the Blight.