Snake's eyes pop open and he instantly rises, working the kinks out as he does. "Rise and shine, bubs. Time to move."
"Only maybe.", Gristav said, straightening from a lotus seiza, his spellbook open in his lap. "Saul's valuable, or he'd be dead. So, how long between feedings? Do we lie in wait? Problem: We've little provisions, ourselves."
"Urrgh. It's still dark."
Braddon struggles to rise, stiffness through every bone.
"Sweet Callistria, the pain. My muscles ache... and I have a lot of muscles."
He shakes his head.
"Why don't we just kill Lil and Bojasc? We can ask him where she is. Not in that order, of course."
Phillip imperceptibly rouses, not budging from his uncomfortable repose in the door frame... but at least his eyes opening a sliver. To the talk of next steps he adds in a gravelly hoarse morning voice "Any gambit's got a time frame on it, and I'd be favouring one that puts us in a fastness rather than exposed." a thought of Ethel flashing across his mind causing a brief pause.
"I vote for the Goblin, and attempting to keep Saul's continued existence hidden if we can. We should find the Goblin open to our keys alone and can see to its catacombs being girded as well." turning to Saul to query "Does Bojasc know of your hidden vantage?" thinking that it could be a place for Saul to remain obscured.
"Alright then, the Goblin. I need to meet with Larur. How do we get Saul there? Back through the tunnels, on a path unknown, that mayn't exist, and racing the tide? Overland, through a city gate? We'd at least be counted. If I made my own way, a glove and some thread might help my shirt and sleeve and staff all sell Saul as myself. Suffering and slumped, but these red shoulders are distinctive, as I hope might the staff be. Bit of ruse and mummery. Could be good sport."
At this, Gristav sets aside his still-opened spellbook, and turns to root about in his backpack.
"And for me... if I climb hard, and ride hard when I make the road... avoid the ferry- I've a plan for that- ", he said, as if surprised, "I might at least warn Arnando he's a patient coming, or perhaps, get him to come to the Goblin?"
Holding now a spool of thread and a needle, Gris looks to Phillip, Saul, and then Tendal. "Surely, you've two pair of gloves, in all that glorious kit?"
"Does Bojasc know of your hidden vantage?"[/b] thinking that it could be a place for Saul to remain obscured.
"The catwalk? Aye, he knows about it," Saul nods ruefully.
"Urrgh. It's still dark."
Braddon struggles to rise, stiffness through every bone.
"Sweet Callistria, the pain. My muscles ache... and I have a lot of muscles."
He shakes his head.
"Why don't we just kill Lil and Bojasc? We can ask him where she is. Not in that order, of course."
Snake looks to Braddon, a dumbfounded look upon the tall man. "You didn't just say 'Kill Bojasc', did you? Now Lil? That one I get. But Bojasc? We can't even kill a handful of crabs and you think we can kill that walking behemoth? I'm thinking I should've let you sleep longer. Your mind's a bit addled this early in the morning." Turning to the others, "And the Goblin it is. The sooner the better."
He then turns his attention to Gristav, "No idea what you're carrying on about, bub, but I'm not waiting here. I'm heading back to the Goblin and there's no way I'm going back through those tunnels to get there. Not unless that's absolutely the only way. Now you do whatever you feel you must do. But as for me, once we're ready to move ... I say let's move."
"Of course Bojasc. We cornered his drunken ass in the Goblin last time. This time, we won't show any mercy. We'll kill him for what he did to Larur, and then he'll tell us where Lil is."
Braddon nods decisively, loses his balance, then places a hand against the wall to support himself.
"He won't stand a chance."
Tendal looks up from his studies briefly to glance at Braddon and Snake. "I never was able to take the measure of the man, so I would have to defer to your estimation of his skill and strength. I would rather that we err on the side of caution rather than hast however. Additionally, with Saul flown the coop, we can expect that Bojasc will come looking for him. And what better location to look than the Gold Goblin. Then we will have some small advantage on our own terrain of how the battle proceeds." Tendal says, then returns to his tome.
"His terrain more than ours, save perhaps Saul. Though we can _make_ it more ours. An untacked carpet on a stairs, pulled from top, or bottom. Ice might appear wherever there's water..." Gristav loosed a bluish bolt, in evidence and punctuation. "If we can deny him footing, and be ready to take advantage of it. Which brings me to Braddon. He'll need Arnando. Who goes to whom? Or is Shorafa a card in our hand, as well?"
"Assume we're watched, to some degree. I can rush out in the darkness, and get ahead of us, and then the same number of us can return as had left. I'd use the time to alert Arnando, because we have _no_ plan that does not make use of Braddon as bladesman."
"Any better plan?"
Unsure of any answer coming, Gristav also returned to his tome.
Beginning to rub some life back into his hands and stretching out his back Phillip cautions "The whore queen is a piece on the board... but not of our colour" choosing to stir metaphors with Gristav's. To the rest of the plan he offers a wordless passing acceptance.
A few more moments pause allow for cogitation to generate "I'll see what intel we can muster from the slip network as well. Time I passed words with Marce again in the least."
"I'll be fine. Within a week even."
Braddon thinks for a very long second.
"Still, why pass up a drink with Arnando?"
His grin returns briefly.
"We're not to have a week. Saul's pointed us to the Devil's Elbow. We'll need to restore and refit, and be at sea. We know a fast ship, or more to the point, a fast ship knows us."
"Is it fair to outline? We need to return to Riddleport, concealing Saul. Repair Braddon, resupply with knives, secure passage... or must it be a charter? Is there any usual traffic to this Elbow, or will our passage have to wait, or return en rendesvous?"
"While we are in Riddleport, we aren't _trying_ to report to our various benefactors, but if pressed, we've had sign of our quarry, we have, and hope to catch her at her next hop. We do. No lies, but no extra truths. And of course, such need not apply to the gifted."
"Saul, if we light out... are you to come with? Where will you be safe? Squirrelled in the Goblin, with a brace of cocked crossbows?"
"Safe?" Saul repeats with a shaky laugh. "Orik ran to Sandpoint, Is he safe there? There's no safety in Riddleport unless a man's beholden himself to one of the bosses; maybe not even then, if they get a better offer."
Gristav, awake less than an hour, levels a look filled with fatigue. "Riddleport is dangerous? First I'd heard. We've lost a grandmother and a friend, and have three different bosses all thinking they own different pieces of at least _some_ of us. We understand: It's dangerous."
"That's why I asked after your safety. Once."
"I'll stop."
Gristav packs his book into his bag, and gathers the thread and needle likewise. Rising to his feet, he takes up his staff.
"I'm ready.", he says to the room. "I'll be outside."
Phil makes ready his person, before joining Gristav upon the outer.
Braddon follows the others, gulping the cool ocean air as he emerges.
Tendal joined his companions outside in the dawn air. "The sea air is bracing this morning."
"The plan that Gristav has summarized for us...it may not be the best plan, there are far too many unknowns, but at least it is something that we can accomplish now."
"Let us be about our business then." he says, and he begins to make his way down the trail back toward Riddleport and the Gold Goblin.
Snake - ready and waiting - leaves out with the others. "Sounds good to me."
The party steps out into a damp, gray world. The intermittent clouds of the previous night have thickened into a low, leaden overcast emitting a steady warm drizzle. The tide has withdrawn further from the lighthouse; glancing to sea, the gray waves seem to merge with gray fog mere yards from shore. Given present visibility, it seems unlikely that any ships will be setting sail from Riddleport Harbor until the sky grows clearer.
Landward, the salt-scoured rock ascends steeply. In the daylight, the splashes of paint marking the winding path to the top of the ridge are clearly visible; but the stone underfoot is treacherously slippery, between the drizzle and the spray, and the party is thankful to have bypassed the challenge of climbing it in the dark at high tide.
Reaching the peak of the ridge, with all Riddleport spread out before them, the party can see that some disaster has befallen the city. The piers and boardwalk that once lined the shore are missing, and the harbor itself full of detritus. Where the waterfront taverns and warehouses of Wharf District had been is instead the wreckage of ships, pushed inland and crushed against the warehouses. The low land of Rotgut District is shimmering with seawater which has filled it like a bowl up to the base of the ridge, its buildings rising up out of the brine like the wrecks of the Boneyard.
"So that's what that dream meant.", Gristav says to himself.
"Saul, analysis? Can you tell from here, is the Goblin underwater? Or so close, the cellars would be?"
Bedraggled clothes tucked tight around him, Phillip's morning weary eyes survey the chaos of the waterfront... recalling a time spent in the rafters of a warehouse not long distant. Eyebrows drawing down he muses "Well... I'm guessing not many eyes will be looking for us with this distraction"
A bit taken aback at what looks like the destruction of Riddleport, "What in the Nine hells happened to this place? I wonder if anything's left; or anyone for that matter."
Tendal pauses for a moment, eyes narrowed, eyeing the destruction.
"We seem to have a quickly expanding horizon of problems gentlemen. It appears that Riddleport has been dealt a blow by some unknown calamity, if you look you will see that the docks are reduced to flinders and what appears to be the majority of the seaworthy vessels of Riddleport look to be trying out their sea-legs upon the cobblestones of the city."
"To be precise, we will have some difficulty procuring passage anywhere anytime soon. We may need to look farther afield for a vessel I believe, or get creative in our manner of procurement of said vessel."
"Additionally, thinking back to my historical treatises, that large population centers that undergo a disaster are ripe for unrest, looters, and lawlessness for a period until the local powers re-assert themselves or a new power center arises. Additionally, we should consider making haste to the city. If this occurred overnight, there may be people who need our blend of expertise to extract them bodily from mortal peril."
Liry... he thinks for a moment, a leaden weight in his stomach, before he refocuses his intellect.
Tendal turns around and peers back the way that they came, attempting to see if any damage is visible anywhere else on the coast or if its only localized to the city.
"Before we sally forth, can anyone else espy any other damage to the coastline, or is it only in the city?" he asks the group.
"Wow. Another wave must have come in like last time."
"The Gas Forges are underground... If the waters got that far.", Gristav wondered aloud.
"Mister Kane, you might find your gift put to considerable test. Consider whether you want it to be a secret, before it becomes a fame."
"We're no use, nor harm, to anyone here. Let us scheme at a walking pace?"
"Saul, analysis? Can you tell from here, is the Goblin underwater? Or so close, the cellars would be?"
Saul gives a low whistle as he looks down on the town. "Never seen two waves so close together," he murmurs. "Depends on how far up the river got flooded. Last time, you'll recall, we were high and dry, but this time looks bigger.... The tide could have come up in the tunnels as well. With any luck, Bojasc could have been caught down there and drowned like a rat," he ends on a cheerful thought.
You know that tsunamis are commonly caused by earthquakes or landslides on another coastline. If Devil's Elbow has a harbor, it could have been flooded as well -- or a grave disturbance there could be the source of the wave that struck Riddleport.
From the ridge, it appears that the damage is limited to the area around Riddleport Harbor. Windward District, high atop the western ridgeline, is safe, as Leeward appears to be back in its cul-de-sac. The mouth of the Velashu is scoured almost clean, with the exception of the stone tower that serves as the harbormaster's office, where Braddon rode out the last harbor wave. Cas Cazynsik's ship repair yard looks to have collapsed partially into the river, and while it's not in immediate view, the Publican House seems likely from its location to have fared ill as well. The Cyphergate stands where it has stood for thousands of years, unmoved.
The sight of the Cyphergate reminds Phillip of his short time spent there... his eye casts out to sea for any visible signs of variance from the norm. Replying to Saul he muses "Can't trust to luck, unless its of our making. But we should set to moving..."
"Yeah let's keep moving. We ain't accomplishing anything standing here. Curious as to what we might find anyway." The tall man then continues on toward the city.
The path down the inland side of the ridge is not quite as treacherous, as patches of soil clinging to the surface of the rock allow for some scrubby vegetation. At the bottom of the slope, seawater is past the party's ankles, and it appears they'll be wading through it knee-deep (waist-deep for Phillip) if they proceed directly through Rotgut. Alternatively, a roundabout way skirting the eastern ridge might end up being quicker and safer, as it will keep them in the shallows of the gargantuan makeshift tidal pool; from there, they could rejoin the main road in from the Boneyard Cut past the major flooding.
"We should keep to dry land when possible. There is no way to be certain that some sea creature...such as a reefclaw wasn't swept into the morass before us." Tendal suggests, eyeing the muck ahead with distaste.
"Additionally, I had a thought. We know that Scarlett is out on the Devil's Elbow. The Devil's Elbow is close enough that a disturbance on its underwater slopes, either arcane or mundane might be the instigating cause for this tsunami. Or it could be a simple coincidence."
Tendal glanced up as they paused, trying to discern any change in the black spot.
Perhaps it's the low overcast, but the black spot that has been visible in Riddleport's skies since the party's arrival isn't in evidence this morning.
"All the windvans turned, and pointed. To the East, or the Elbow? Was it there they meant? Was the wash a warning, of the same event, and the greater wave, to come? No, that's been days, and further than a wave could travel, so slowly as to take so long."
"So, this is _two_ events. And whatever is causing it, should be presumed, to be able, to do it again."
Mind focused on what lies ahead of them rather than speculating, Phillip agrees with Magnimar "Aye, lets steer clear of any land-squids"
Braddon nods in agreement.
"No land squids."
The party abandons the road, which is hidden somewhere beneath grimy saltwater anyway, and picks their way behind buildings, working their way around the swamp that Rotgut has become. The ridge is slick, wet, and uneven; several times a misplaced foot on the slippery rock results in a slide knee-deep into the water, but no lasting harm is done. A few times, the men catch a glimpse of people wading several blocks away, and once they spy a fishing line dangling hopefully from an upper window.
As they approach the Boneyard Cut, the ground has risen high enough that there are only large puddles to navigate around. Phil recognizes the neighborhood around the Ethel's former workplace, the unfortunate Betta's prim-but-poverty-stricken Ladies' Attire and Necessities, as they rejoin the road that separates Rotgut from Leeward districts.
Cagey as they walk, the lack of passersby both heightens and dulls Phillips internal risk radar... leading to the halfling remaining on edge. Though that could also be a reflection on his continued bedraggled raiment and a desire for a hot bath and fresh linens.
As to their forward path, Phillip muses "Skirt under the Arena's belly by the wharf? I'm not sure if it would have more or less chance of encountering passers by... but at the least we could spy the Wharf from closer vantage?"
Nodding, "Works for me."
"Aye. We've an interest, let's see what we see."
"Sure," Braddon agrees while looking wistfully northwards.
"South. We need to see if anything remains that we might seek passage on in the near future." Tendal affirms, then continues [b]"And I somehow feel that we are in more uncertain danger here than we were in the caverns."[b]
"South. We need to see if anything remains that we might seek passage on in the near future." Tendal affirms, then continues "And I somehow feel that we are in more uncertain danger here than we were in the caverns."
"Yes. But so are those who'd oppose us. I feel empowered; every second day, in this town, my powers redouble. The growing presence of Dame Fortune, and the favor of her handmaiden, 'Mis'."
The party passes the Gas Forges, which are shut up tightly, though a steady stream of filthy water bubbles up steadily from a pipe, presumably attached to a pump somewhere inside.
There is a great deal of activity between Zincher's Arena and the gladiators' dormitory to the north. Phil recognizes the large and muscular forms of some of his acquaintances in Zincher's stable so they keep well south with Saul in tow.
The ruins of the Wharf District are crawling with people, most of whom are entirely focused on whatever they're doing, mostly looting goods from the smashed ships and warehouses, save for a few unfortunate souls trying valiantly to keep their goods from being looted. Along the rough coastline where the wharves had been, now scraped clean, bodies lie in neat rows with squares of tarpaulin over them. A few people are walking the makeshift morgue, lifting the corners of tarps, looking for missing people; more are crowded at land's end, watching dories and rowboats and makeshift rafts paddling around the harbor, pulling more bodies from the water.
Shaking his head solemnly, "Well this is... bad. It's a wonder the whole town wasn't leveled."
Shaking his head solemnly, "Well this is... bad. It's a wonder the whole town wasn't leveled."
"If there's a third..."
Braddon wanders over to a tarpaulin and eyes a few of the corpses, his face grim.
"I hope Sam wasn't... or..." His voice trails off, covered by the sharp shouts and the gentle roar of the sea.
"I suppose I've had longer to think about it. And an entire night to mare. I've lost, we've all lost, perhaps. But we've all still folk we'd preserve. Sam's fine, Braddon, the college is well above the main town. Come, let us hide what we're trying to hide, and _then_, go see what we can see."
"Phil! Phil!" A Small figure pushes its way through the crowd toward the group. "Oh, thank Desna! I didn't know where you'd gone. I didn't know where you were when...."
Phillip allows his grim countenance to soften somewhat at the emergence of Ethel, the mask of cocky confidence settling upon him. Putting his arms wide he looks down, then up with a smirk "Aye, safe and in the flesh. Despite appearances we did not need to weather the surge's wroth." pausing a moment to look upon Ethel and read what emotions are writ large across them.
"How fared you? - shielded from the worst I hope?"