"Do we have Larur's address?" Orendel asks the others.
"I've never asked. We may have to go back to the Goblin and get it," Cherry says. She carefully folds Larur's cloak and puts it away.
You all are able to recall enough to remember the vague address to Larur's apartment, a small flat deeper into town. It strikes you that the walk is a long one, and it is one he would have to make every day for work.
The scene is as described above, the door wide open, and as you make your way inside, you see a few shady looking individuals digging through the belongings, looking through drawers, dumping the contents.
One takes notice of you.
"Piss off, we were here first." she croaks, a sandpaper feel to her voice.
"Were you?" says Cherry as she pulls out the ragged, bloodstained cloak. "Then you'll probably want this. Also belonged to the original owner, a friend of ours, now deceased. But hey, if you want to stay and take the murder rap, your choice."
Still bearing the armor signaling his former status as a Riddleport Gendarme, Silvio plays along with Cherry's bluff. "Accomplices to murder? I could get the Gendarmes over here quick to haul you all off quick. You wouldn't want that, would you? Now I suggest you empty out your pockets of anything you've tried to take and leave, now!" Silvio stares at the offenders, making sure they understand that this was no idle threat.
Opting to keep his peace and simply watch while leaning against the wall. Silvio might be in desperate need of relaxation but he is a scary little bugger.
Syeira sets about looking for signs of foul play while Cherry and Silvio work to clear out the looters, but trying to determine what's been misplaced on account of a struggle and what was caused by the looters' carelessness proves a futile endeavor.
"And before you leave," the witch says as if their cooperation is all but assured, "If you could tell us how you knew the owner wasn't home, then we won't have you tried for burglary. Sound fair?"
Orendel hefts his poleaxe. Cherry, Silvio and Syeira had done all the talking necessary...he just needed to stand there and look menacing.
The lanky man with mop of greasy straggling hair spits at you all.
"Coming in here, dropping a bloody cloak and threatening to frame us fer murder? And we're the criminals?" He chuckles drawing out two daggers.
However the bald man looks a little nervous about the numbers and Silvio's threats, and even though he pulls out his sword, he mutters aloud.
"Now, now. No need to be rash. We got a decent haul. No fault of our the door was busted down and we seized an opportunity. What say you move aside, we take our leave, and you can fight over the rest of the lot of you?"
Silvio starts looking around at the others with an incredulous face, as if the old man had offered the stupidest idea he'd ever heard. "Yeah, no. Maybe you didn't hear me. Drop our friend's things. Or die."
Silvio had given his warning, and yet the lawbreakers still wanted to keep their haul? He wasn't having it. Even if it was just a few coin, it was a matter of principle and the rule of law at this point. If anything, Silvio was itching to teach these guys a lesson.
Orendel lowers his poleaxe and glares at the thieves.
"You heard the man."
As the men draw their weapons, Syeira gives them both a blatantly dismissive look... from a safe distance behind Silvio and Orendel. "Are you sure you want to do this? Trust me; the odds are most certainly not in your favour."
Her green eyes gleam with mischief as she glares at the greasy-haired man. He seemed to be itching to put those daggers of his to use, but the witch does not intend to make it easy for him.
There's a tense moment as both groups stare daggers at each other, possible handling actual daggers. But eventually...
"Fine, don't need a broken arm this month. We'll leave the stuff if you let us leave."
The lanky man gives the bald one a hard look, clearly in disagreement, but the look he gets in return shuts him up. The crone is looking increasingly paranoid as she looks at all of you blocking the door.
"As a servant of Abadar, you have my word." Silvio steps aside, having solemnized his promise to let the thieves leave. Of course, he's keeping a watchful eye for shenanigans.
Still leaning against the wall and quietly observing. Putting his hand on the hilt of his rapier when the vultures draw their weapons. Tensing up but keeping his place.
Offering the men a wide smile, "Thank you both. This was a much better decision."
Orendel steps to the side and makes a grandiose gesture to the door, a $#@%-eating smirk on his face.
"Have a nice day!"
The thieves leave, assumedly, unaccosted.
Now that you have the run of the place, you begin your search of the area. For the most part, the place is in shambles. The drawers have been left open, the bed looks cracked in the frame as if a struggle had taken place, and not much in the way of valuables remain.
Syeira gives a second look around Larur's apartment, but, even with the place clear of looters, she isn't able to notice anything new that she hadn't seen the first time. "So, if we're to believe those upstanding folks, then the door was broken in by whoever attacked Larur. But was he attacked here? Anyone see any blood?"
Orendel takes Syeira's cue and looks for blood.
Frowning and starting to look around, "No clue at the moment."
Silvio also helps look around. He sees if it looks like Larur was in bed at the time he was abducted. He checks the doors and windows for evidence of how the door was broken into. He also looks for any signs of the type of weapons used, swords vs saps, maybe claw marks?
Orendell does indeed find blood. It starts near the closet, and drags slowly to the door before getting cut off completely.
Syeira and Dougal don't seem to find much, but notice a distinct lack of valuables in the room.
Dougal's examinations reveal that the door was busted in forcefully with a powerful blow the lock area. It seems there are several slashing and stab marks near the area of the closet, matching the inference that a fight probably took place here. Though, there does not appear to be any secret doors or stashes. It was as if someoen broke in, attacked Larur, and dragged out of his home.
Pardon me.
I mean his apartment.
Orendel looks to the door, then takes a seat on the bed and strokes his chin.
"So someone busted in while Larur was at the closet, then there was a struggle, and he was dragged out forcefully. Either the kidnapper's route took them by Smeed's or his coat was planted there to throw us off the scent. I don't get it. What are we missing here?!" he says, exasperated.
"Nobody robbed the place before - otherwise everything would've been tossed. That means whoever nabbed Larur did so because they wanted him specifically," Cherry says. She looks up a bit and thinks. "And it didn't seem to be Sneed. So someone wanted us to think that Sneed did in Larur, and they went to the trouble of kidnapping Larur to do it... but who? And why? Could it be another of Clegg Zincher's machinations?"
Silvio shakes his head, frustrated by the inability to find anything conclusive. "This is getting really bad. If we don't have a lead, who knows what'll happen to Larur. Let's grab anything left that's valuable or sentimental and get it back to the Goblin. Maybe Saul will have some ideas."
Syeira slowly moves about Larur's place, the fingers of one hand brushing over his personal effects, the slash marks around the closet, and finally over a bit of the dried blood that Orendel had found. All the while she clutches her Harrow Deck in the other hand. At the end of her silent circuit, the witch moves to the chest of drawers and lays out three cards, her expression darkening as each one is revealed.
The Midwife
The Survivor
The Crows
"Oh Larur..." Syeira hangs her head, contemplating the grim tidings that the cards have foretold of. As fickle as the Harrow has been of late, the witch cannot ignore the certainty she feels with this reading. Still, she decides against sharing the revelation with the others just yet. Best to hold onto hope until we know without a doubt. With a deep breath, Syeira gathers herself and says, "Yes, we should return to the Goblin. I don't think there's anything else to be done here."
"The crows," notes Silvio at the last card, peering over Syeira's shoulder. Silvio was no harrower, but still. "That does not seem like a good prospect for the future. It almost seems worse than seeing our familiar friend, the Fiend."
Syeira gives Silvio a long look up and down from over her shoulder, clearly surprised by how intuitive the once-skeptic is when it comes to interpreting the cards. With a soft shake of her head, she turns back and begins gathering her cards up, seeming as if she isn't going to comment on it. Then, finally, she grimly says, "It isn't. When The Crows appear, murder and sorrow are sure to follow."
"There is something else," she says after a brief quiet, turning to face the group. "Just as midwives help to bring new life into the world, The Midwife represents someone through which new information is brought to light. It makes me think that Larur was taken because he knew something that someone didn't want him sharing."
"I know I voiced my suspicions about it earlier, but I'll say it again. I think we should be well on our guard when we return to the Goblin. But at the same time, we can't let the others know we suspect anything. Not until we know for certain who we can trust, and who we can't." As she finishes, the look Syeira gives to Silvio, Cherry, Orendel and Dougal in turn is one that asks them to share their thoughts freely.
"Well, we are working for a barely-legitimate business edging on the side of criminal enterprise," muses Cherry. "So, yeah, we shouldn't necessarily expect everything to be on the up-and-up."
Continuing to search the room while listening to everyone speak. This is not a city of logic though. Bad things just sometimes happen. Thought this does not feel like that. Meeting the Harrowers eyes then shrugging, "In this city it is unwise to blindly trust anyone. Caution is never the wrong course."
Orendel glowers as he looks at the cards and folds his hands under his nose.
"Dammit, nothing else is presenting itself. I hate to have to interrogate our new staff so quickly after hiring them, but if that's what it takes, that's what it takes. I just hope we're not too late for Larur."
He gets up and gathers his weapons as he proceeds to leave with the group, letting the locals take the lead.
Back at the Goblin, the first thing to greet you as you relay the news and possible theories of Larur's dissapearence is a copper mug thrown violently against the floor, Saul Vancaskerkin red with anger.
"It's Clegg..." he seethes. "I know it is! He just won't leave me be!" He leans forward, placing his head in his hands as he rubs his temple.
"Gods...." he says, his voice croaking slightly. "What am I going to tell his family."
Saul doesn't look up, deep in thought.
"I need to ruminate on what you've told. If you have nothing else, please leave for the night. I-I need to think on this."
"With all due respect, boss, there'll be time for ruminating later. We have to act fast if we're going to get Larur back," Orendel says sternly.
"He's a comrade, and I won't abandon a comrade. Not again. Short of knocking right on Zincher's door, do you have any idea where he might have taken Larur?"
Flinching at the mug slamming into the ground, "I agree with Orendel, waiting is not wise."
"If this is a play by Zincher, remember the snake - while we were chasing around dealing with it, he was doing other stuff during the distraction. Well, now Larur's the snake. We're running around dealing with him. We need to keep our eyes peeled for the possibility of something else happening that we aren't watching for. Not that I'm saying we should give up on Larur - just stay alert and remember that something else may try to sneak under our view."
"If this is a play by Zincher, remember the snake - while we were chasing around dealing with it, he was doing other stuff during the distraction. Well, now Larur's the snake. We're running around dealing with him. We need to keep our eyes peeled for the possibility of something else happening that we aren't watching for. Not that I'm saying we should give up on Larur - just stay alert and remember that something else may try to sneak under our view."
"While I don't disagree, Cherry, I think your metaphor's reversed. Zincher made himself the distraction. While we were all focused on him and trying to figure out what he was doing here, his man was able to sneak in and deliver the snake. You're right, though: whoever took Larur may be trying to distract us with an obvious crisis to hide what they're really up to."
Saul ponders in his chair, his fingers tapping togther as he slowly pulls some thoughts together.
"Zincher isn't a merciful man, not as long as there's no profit in it for him. His territory is large too, too large to send you all running down random alleys and bursting into warehouses in hopes of getting lucky."
He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a few sheaths of papers They seem to have extravagant fillagree that seems to shimmer slightly of arcane energy.
"I'm going to pull a few favors, the last of my favors really. You all go to bed, I'll need you ready to act in the morning. If Larur's still alive...gods I hope he's still alive."
"You get the idea. C'mon, let's let Saul do his thing while we get some sleep."
Orendel frowns, but nods. When they return to their quarters, he kneels near the wall.
"Torag, Forge-Father and Glorious Strategist, hear your servant's plea. Watch over your wayward child, Larur. Protect him from whoever has taken him from us, and help guide our hands to bring him home safe and sound. So let it be."
He takes off his armor and works to clean it, working the rust spots out of its links, and then polishing his weapons.
"I hope you're right, Saul," says Silvio, unsure of what else to do. As a last ditch attempt, he tries to go through Larur's office / bar to see if there's anything more to see.
Cherry sighs at the thought of a night without closure. She shrugs off her armor and slings it over her shoulder. "I'm gonna drop this off. Orendel, you need a hand with your armor?"
Following the rest of the others back to their shared room. Looking over at Orendel with a frown and walking over to his bed. Tugging off his armor and dropping in on the ground next to his bed, kicking his boots off next to the armor, and leaning his weapons against his bed. Tossing himself into his bed and curling up with his back to the room.
Tucking his arms around himself and glaring at the wall. The Gods rarely interact to help mortals... Why give me these gifts Cayden? I know nothing of saving people like this. I am so out of my element.
Curling into a tighter ball. You are the God of Luck Cayden and I, we all, need a little bit of that right now.
Silvio decides to check out Larur's office before he takes to his rest. It's quiet. The gambling hall has only a couple patrons, and it punctuates Larur's absence all the more that he's not trying to shoo them out so he can head home for the night.
You don't find much. A few official papers that seem like management records. A couple of old books written in dwarvish, the bottle of alcohol you all shared is set up as decoration on one of the shelves. Taking it down, you can still smell the rich waft of the few drops that remain.
Nothing else really.
The rest bed down for the night, their various prayers and wishes in their minds drift off in their sleep like the sands of the beach as the tide washes in.
The mornign comes roughly, your bodies and minds still heavy with yesterday's events. Breakfast is prepared for you along with a few sheafs of paper.
Friends,
I have done my utmost to track Larur's whereabouts. I have contacted a few unsavory fellows from my past and, having been paid the right price, set to look upon the city. I regret to tell you that according to one, Larur was victim to a planned attack as he was carrying the payment to the moneylender Smeed.
Larur is no longer with us.
I have personally gone to confirm and will return shortly. Should you feel you must see this grisly sight, I will be at the docks where they will be dredging up his body.
-Saul
Cherry sits near Orendel and, as offered, tries to help him with the cleaning. "I'm sorry about giving you and Silvio the business earlier," she says as she works. "You're both stand-up guys. You didn't deserve that."
In the morning, Silvio takes up the paper with the note, and cannot believe what he's seeing. "What is this?"
He begins to read the note out loud, but starts to have trouble as he reaches the fateful words ". . . Larur is . . . Larur is no longer with us." After reading aloud the rest of the note, his head droops, as he drops the note back onto the table. "What the f+#+? Larur's here one day, and dead the next, just when he happens to be carrying payment to Smeed?"
Silvio considers how this could happen, and his thoughts go back to the harrower's warning. "Like Syeira said, smells like an inside job. Some rat that knew Larur had some real money on him, and sold him out. And now Larur's dead."