Jakob opens his eyes and lays still for a moment before he remembers where he is, and what is going on. He slips out of bed and sees the elf still asleep, and gathers his things as quietly as possible before going downstairs.
Marissel wakes, bringing his hand from under his pillow, the gun pointing at the now empty room. He sits, face tense for a minute before the previous night dawns on him. He quickly gets up, gathering his gear and heads downstairs.
Karri wakes to the typical play noises of a pseudo-dragon. At least this is normal. Cook them. Burn them. Sear their flesh, make them scream. Quiet.
She gets out of bed and makes her morning ritual, focusing on each and every action to the exclusion of all else. She uses a needle to punch a hole in her forearm when she loses focus. Come, girl, you know the price for failure. Do it right! Once she is done, she makes her way downstairs not sure what to expect.
The smell of cooked chicken wafts up the stairs.
You see Zellara, busily serving up bowls of what appears to be some sort of soup. Four places at the table have been set already. A large iron pot is set in the fireplace, with a fire burning in the hearth.
Looking behind the stairs, you see a well-used countertop with food stains fading into the wood. A pantry with boxes filled with some vegetables, fruits and some sorts of dried meat sits open next to the counter.
Demitri takes a whiff of the delicious meal before him. "Many thanks, Madam." He takes a seat and prays to Iomadae in silence for a few minutes.
Marissel takes a bowl with a quiet nod. He sits in one of the open chairs and tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes with little success. He sets to eating the soup, and a smile spreads across his face.
Jakob smiles at Zellara and nods his thanks, sitting and grabbing a spoon. He will wait in respectful silence until Demitri finishes praying before tucking into the food with gusto.
Ortik awakens to the welcome smell of cooking meat, and a grin breaks out upon his face. He didn't change out of his clothes before heading to bed - that's a good way to get your things stolen on the streets - and heads downstairs wearing the same garments he had on the night before. "They say revenge is a dish best served cold," Ortik says, taking one of the bowls from Madame Zellara with a tip of his hat. "Chicken soup, much less so. This smells wonderful." He sits down, tearing off a hunk of bread to sop up the liquid.
"So, after breakfast, we begin?"
Faerie fire subbed out for speak with animals.
Zellara gives you all a bright smile as she finishes setting the table and you begin chowing down.
"I think it'd be as good a time as any to start. You ought to have at least one warm meal in your bellies before you hunt Gaedren down."
She looks over your group. She appears to be taking a headcount.
"...three...four...five. Who's--" She chuckles. "Is Ms. Lyla still in bed? I'd have thought she'd be the first out of bed for chicken soup."
Lyla snores loudly upstairs.
"Nope, consummate slacker that girl is. I'll go get her." Demitri puts the spoon down and walks back upstairs to the room. "Time to wake up." He says to the halfling as though he had done this thousands of times before.
"Mbrlmbrbfub Morning, chief!", the girl exclaims, jumping from her bed while rubbing her eyes. She raises her nose in the air and smells the meal downstairs. "Wow! Looks like Ma'm Z's got some nice breakfast cooking!" She rushes past Demitri and takes the stairs to the lower floor, shouting back to him "C'mon, lazybones, the early bird gets the worm!"
Upon reaching the living room, Lyla takes a seat and grabs a bowl of soup, slurping it voracisouly before greeting the rest of the group. She cleans her mouth with the back of her hand and says "Hope you all had a good night's sleep, 'cause today is day! So... when do we start?"
Marissel looks at Ortik, eyebrows raised, I guess that depends on you. When can you recruit those rats to scout it out for us?
Demitri just shakes his head silently with a slight smile as he follows Lyla back down to the table.
"Just as soon as I finish my breakfast, I'd say," Ortik replies, sliding over to make room for Lyla at the table. "And as soon as the little one here is ready as well. She's got her part to play, as do we all."
Marissel finishes his meal quickly. He stands, giving the seat to someone else, and moving over to stand near the door as he waits for the others.
As you approach the door, you hear the sounds of a wagon passing by.
There is no breeze coming under the door.
Looking out the front window, you can see a wagon pass by. It appears to be loaded down with dead fish.
"That is a bad omen, but it will not stop us."
With warm meals in your bellies, Zellara bids you a fond farewell as you step into the street.
There is a chill in the air, but without even half the bite of last night. The sun shines in the sky, and it appears the city is beginning to wake up. The fish-bearing wagon trundles off down the street... seemingly in the direction of the fishery on your city map.
A couple of shadows pass over your heads. Looking up, you see a pair of hippogriffs bearing soldiers in fine black chainmail.
Demitri eyes the wagon carefully. "Perhaps it is more than a bad omen.." He muses out loud.
Ortik wrinkles his nose slightly as he takes a whiff of the passing fishmonger's cart. "Whoof, that's powerful, even by my standards," He loosens his coat slightly as he finds the wind has lost some of its teeth. "Might be an omen at that, Demitri. Though usually the sun has to shine directly upon the fish cart for it to be relevant. That's just what I was taught, though." He shrugs, and doesn't give the cart or its driver much greater significance than that.
"Omen or no, we've a job to do. Let's get to it." He begins moving in the direction of Lamm's hideout, keeping his eyes peeled for sentries the closer he gets.
Jakob falls into step behind Ortik, holding back before they turn onto Gaedren's street, to let the halfling and the rats do their scouting. Before Ortik calls the animals, he leans close.
"Please, if the rats can tell you where the children are, that would be a great help."
The fish wagon meanders through the streets of Korvosa, evidently not in any real hurry. Soon, the fishery comes into view.
The fishery itself is a sorry sight. While there aren't any holes in the building (at least, that you can see), the docks around the place are clearly in dire need of repair. The walls of the fishery have rotting planks in several places, and docked behind it is a sorry excuse for a sailing ship, its decks badly weather-beaten and decaying. Hell, the poor thing doesn't even have sails.
The wagon pulls up to the loading dock on the north side of the fishery. The driver hollers a greeting, and soon the loading bay doors swing open. Several children dressed in little more than pauper's rags approach the wagon, led by a bald, tattooed, clean-shaven gnome in dark leathers, carrying a wicked-looking kukri. His gait is rather awkward, a byproduct of his bowlegged stance.
He turns to the children behind him. "Right, you know the drill! Get those fish unloaded double-time, a'fore I sic Bloo on your sorry arses!" The gnome barks. He snaps his fingers and points to the wagon. The children immediately get to work unloading the fish, fear evident in their eyes.
The driver hops off the wagon and approaches the gnome. They start talking.
It's Hookshanks Gruller. He's a cruel, pitiless wretch of a gnome who greatly enjoys bullying human children, but he doesn't discriminate. He bullies children of every race equally. 'Hookshanks' isn't his real name, but it sounds better than 'Crookshanks', what kids used to call him because of his awkward waddling.
The name 'Bloo', however, escapes you. You don't remember a 'Bloo' ever being mentioned during your childhood under Lamm's wing...
Ortik watches the exchange between the cart's driver and the gnome for a moment. "Something smells fishier than the fish here. Or does anyone think this is a bit too legit for Lamm?" He looks to his compatriots, judging their reactions. "Food for thought. Time to get started. If you need help, Goggles, just give a shout." Ortik wanders about as though drunk, looking for dockside animals to interrogate.
Your entrance, staggering about as you are, draws a few stares from the children, but not long enough to really distract them from their work.
The gnome glances over. He rolls his eyes, and barks at the kids again. "What, ye've never seen a drunk dwarf before? Quit slackin'!"
He turns back to the driver, not paying you any more attention.
That was foolish of him. By ignoring you, he allows you to get a good read on the building. You can hear more activity inside the fishery... it sounds like a lot of kids are inside, as well as more of Lamm's henchmen.
A small, mangy, grey-furred rat scuttles next to you, carrying a piece of... fish meat? At least, that's what it looks like.
It stops before you, looking up. It appears to be wondering if you're after its snack.
"Could just be his cover." Demitri looks to see if Nadia is amongst the children.
You don't see Nadia among the children offloading fish.
Then again, from your position, you can't see much of anything.
"It's hard to see anything from here. I hope Ortik finds something useful."
Lyla looks up to the skies as the Sable Company Marine flies by, and acidly comments "Don't count on guys to help. Guess they got bigger—and less smelly—fish to catch... never lifted a finger against Lamm, those tidy riding boyscouts!" She trods along after the group and stops cold upon recognizing the gnome bossing the kids around.
"Crookshanks!", Lyla mutters gritting her teeth. "Yeah, that's Lamm's doing, alright! No doubt 'bout it."
She goes around the street to approach the fishery from behind, and waits until Ortik stumbles on Hookshanks hoping to use the ditraction to approach the building without being noticed.
Jakob watches from a safe distance. When he sees the children come out to unload the wagon, he clenches his teeth, and seems to grow even larger as he breathes deep, his fists clutching the haft of his hammer tightly.
The conversation between Hookshanks and the driver turns a bit heated. The two of them enter the fishery through the loading bay doors, and appear to have missed you entirely.
You're currently hidden on the east side of the fishery, on the section of pier that hasn't yet rotted away. The boarded-over window in front of you opens into what appears to be a bunkroom. Two sets of bunk beds flank the window.
Through the window, you can see a sour-faced blond man in expensive clothes that appear to be two decades out of style arguing with a grey-haired, badly-scarred half-orc. The half-orc bears several nasty puckered scars on his face and is missing his left eye.
"--another one?! You sodding, lop-brained imbecile! How many times do I have to tell you--USE A BROOM, NOT A BATTLEAXE!"
"'Ey... me not use battleaxe! Me use flail!"
"MY POINT STILL STANDS! Children aren't nearly as sturdy as orcs--the little bastards can barely put in a good work week as they are! You knocking them around because one of them mouthed off to you is a brilliant way to get the guards after us!"
"But--"
"No 'buts', you giggling, monocular moron! If I catch you swatting children with anything larger than a bloody breadbox, I'll have Gaedren feed you to the devilfish!"
You definitely recognize the well-dressed man: Yargin Balko. Gaedren's advisor, accountant, and fence for over a decade. He's a bitter man, and likely still just as fond of acid now as he was while you were living under his heel. He never got the hang of alchemy like you did--about the only alchemical brew he could concoct was a weak acid: strong enough to burn, but not kill. He's fond of using it on orphans who talk back to him.
Fishery Map updated. Please let me know if you'd like me to change the position of your tokens.
Karri lurks in the middle distance with Jakob, waiting for the action to start.
Ortik suppresses a smile as the gnome underestimates him, and stoops as he sees the rat stop in front of him. "I'm not after your catch, mate," he says, pulling out the moss the spell required, tearing off bits of it and stuffing them into his ears and mouth. "I just want to ask a few questions about the big folk in there. What's in the place with the fish? How many of the big folk? Have you sniffed out any ways in big enough for someone like me?"
The rat is surprised by your fluency with its language.
"Squeak-squeak-chitter. Chitter-chitter-squeak. Squeakity-squeak squeak!"
"Squeak. Squeaky."
The rat looks back at its meal.
"Squeak. Chitter-chatter."
Marissel stands, barely holding himself back as he waits for those who are scouting to finish.
"Squeak squeaker squeak squeakum."
"Here, I'll trade you."
Ortik kneels down near the rat, pulling one of the rolls from last night out of his pocket. He offers it to the rodent in exchange for the bit of fish. He wraps the fish in a bit of cloth and sticks it in his pocket. He wanders around the side of the fishery to see if he notes any else of interest, then returns to the group.
"We've got eight baddies in there," he says, unlimbering his weaponry. "And two animals of some sort. One 'not-so-furry,' which might be a dog with the mange or something, and one 'big-and-scaly.' Not sure about that one, so watch out for it. The place is crawling with children, so mind your fire."
Lyla watches through the window as Lamm's men argue. Ach, Yargin. If he's here, Lamm can't be far... but who's he talking to? Whoa—no way! Giggles? Wow. Lamm's really scraping the bottom of the barrel. She crouches under the window and keeps moving around the fishery, towards the boat in the back, looking for other cracks, keyholes or windows to peep through.
The rat gleefully accepts your offering of a roll.
"Squeaky-squeak! Squeaky-squeak!"
As you investigate the front of the fishery, the children finish unloading the fish wagon and begin carrying its cargo inside. You do notice that one of the children--long brown hair, blue eyes, missing one of her front teeth--bears a resemblance to Jakob. She spares you only the slightest of terrified glances before entering the fishery through the loading bay doors.
Walking back, you can see in through the window nearest the loading bay doors on the fishery's west side. In the room beyond, to the east, a large wooden trough holds a hideous mound of half-rancid fish, seaweed, and brine. Filthy seawater and fish blood stain the floor around this trough. A pair of wooden chutes lead from this trough through holes in the northern wall into a larger room to the east. To the west, a desk and chair sit in one corner while a tall cabinet sits in the other.
At least a dozen children can be seen using pitchforks to feed fish into the chutes. The tattooed, bowlegged gnome and the wagon driver are at the desk. The gnome gives the driver a pouch of silvers, the driver tips his hat and turns to leave through the loading bay doors.
"WELL?! IS ANYTHING I'M SAYING GETTING THROUGH TO YOU?!" Is the last thing you hear before you move on. Yargin appears to be on a roll... so much so that there's no way he could've noticed you.
Continuing along the pier, you can tell that the walkway really isn't safe, if the sheer number of barnacle-pilings holding the supports together are any indication. You're reasonably certain that if anyone else was on this pier with you, it'd have collapsed into the harbor.
You pass by a door leading onto the pier. Just past the door, you find another window.
Through the window, you can tell that the floor of the room beyond is slick with seawater, bits of seaweed, and fish blood. Wooden catwalks to the north and south allow access to the western part of the fishery, while the floor here is only five feet above the river below. An open bay to the south allows direct access to the sloppy, muddy water, while to the northwest stands an immense ten-foot-tall wooden vat, its sides caked and waterproofed with tar. Inside is a foul-looking mixture of chum, seawater, and who knows what else. To the east are stacked many barrels and crates, each marked in paint with a fish. Nearly two dozen small hammocks hang from under the catwalks, each with its own ratty blanket and pillow. It appears to be the main working floor of the fishery.
You can see a pair of guards clad in studded leather carrying steel longswords supervising five children. Two of them appear to be stirring the contents of the vat with long oar-like sticks, two of them appear to be hauling harbor water up from the hole in the floor, and the remaining one appears to be waiting for something to come down the chutes emptying into the vat. She isn't kept waiting--a load of fish comes tumbling down into the vat.
You notice that one of the children hauling water up from the harbor bears a striking resemblance to Demitri.
Curious... there's no sign of a shiver lab anywhere. You're starting to have a feeling as to why Gaedren's acting desperate.
Ok, seen enough. Lyla turns around to regroup with the others, but just as she starts walking, the wooden board under her feet bends with a loud squeak. She stops cold, waiting to see if she has been noticed. Lyla prepares to slide into the water and hide beneath the dock at the first sign of movement from Yargin and Giggles.
Judging from the odor coming from the vat, you'd surmise that the vat's contents are a mixture of seawater, seaweed, fish, and a weak acid. The acid appears to be breaking down the fish into some sort of slurry.
The creaking of the pier is quite loud... but Yargin's yelling is louder.
"GOOD! Now, what are you going to do about it?!"
"...about what?"
There's a silence.
"Oh, Asmodeus preserve me... I forgot you really are this dense. ABOUT THE DEAD BOY IN MY OFFICE! And DON'T say 'oh, just throw him into the vat! Nobody'll notice!'"
You're reasonably certain nobody heard you.
Marissel liberates an axe from his belt, absently twisting the haft, the other hand resting dangerously on the butt of his gun.
Once she steps out of the decaying deck, Lyla quickly walks back to the group's meeting spot to tell what she has seen. She arrives just in time to hear Ortik's account of the conversation with his rodent friend.
"Eight baddies? Is that including the animals? Anyway, I know a few of them. Let's see: the gnome with the crooked legs is Hookshanks Gruller, an annoying little bastard who enjoys bullying little kids. He mentioned someone named 'Bloo'... never heard of that one, but from what I seen, Lamm's new henchmen are bottom shelf. 'Bloo'... sounds like a dog's name", she digresses. "Then there's Yargin Balko, acid loving prick and Lamm's right hand. If he's here, there's a good chance his boss is, too. I saw Yargin yelling at Giggles... that one's a piece of work. He's new, too. Half-orc, thick as brick, violent as hell. He's a loose cannon who can't follow orders - which means Lamm is really desperate to get people to do his work. Then, there are two guards or something... they keep an eye on the kids inside. So that makes six of them, not counting the big man himself." She pauses and looks at the group to see if everyone is following her quick report.
"There's one other thing. No sign of a shiver lab. That's, like, Lamm's main income. If he's dry, it could explain why he's been so reckless lately... but they are still cooking something in the back of the fishyard, in the undocking area. There's a huge vat filled with some kind of acidic slurry... and hold your breakfast, 'cause here's the really gross part: I think they might be using it to dispose of bodies." She frowns in disgust and lets the news sink in. Lyla then looks at Demitri to calm him down. "Don't freak out just yet, chief. I think I saw your little girl in there. Well, at least she looked like you. She's doing alright—for now." She takes a deep breath before concluding.
"So, how you wanna do this? Mind you, the docks are completely rotten, I doubt any of you heavy fellas could take one step there without bringing the whole thing down."
Jakob listens to the reports of the scouts carefully, clenching his teeth when Lyla mentions disposing bodies. He glowers at the walls as though his eyes had the power to break them down.
"My baby girl." Demitri says with a faint glimmer of hope. "First thing is, we need to get those kids out, all of them. We can't let them get caught in the crossfire. If you're right about the docks, then we have to get through the front door, which'll alert everyone inside so we need to be prepared for a long fight."
Marissel nods. I think we should try to keep it quiet as long as we can, he briefly brandished the axe in his hand so I will start with these. Do we know if the warehouse is one great room? Two? Or many?
"One other thing," Ortik says to the group when he returns. "I think I saw your sister here. She's here. We're getting her out today, big guy." He reaches out his hand to lay it upon the taller man's shoulder in support, but the disparity in height makes him reconsider, settling on patting him on his bicep.
Ortik blanches when he hears Lyla describe what Lamm's been doing with the dead children, and removes the bit of "fish" from his pocket. "The rat said the fish tasted icky. That's depraved, even for Lamm!" He drops the bit of meat, visibly disgusted and wipes his hand upon his fur tunic. "I've changed my mind. They all die. Nobody deserves that fate. I agree with you, Demitri - in through the front, and we kill everyone that tries to prevent us from freeing these children. It's a few rooms, so we might attract attention pretty quickly. I've never done anything like this - anyone have experience in raiding a shiver lab that lacks a lab?"
Jakob gives a nod to the dwarf and his lip twitches in what looks like an attempt at a smile.
"I'll cover any doors the guards are likely to come through," he says, through clenched teeth. "When Hannah and the other children are safe, we kill Lamm and whoever he's got working with him."
Karri offers to deal with the guards. "Maybe Ortik and I can get the guards off to a bad morning? What if we went back over there, with Ortik still feigning drunkeness, and me a witness to his 'theft' of some of Lamm's property. With any luck we can get even more of the guards out front and taken out en mass. I have a trick up my sleeve...Yes! Pull me out! Push them down. I will give you the power! that should work. When the conversation starts, Demitri, can you still play the part of a concerned, if off duty guardsman? Ask what is going on. When their attention is on you...Burn them all!! I can strike them down."
As she speaks, she pushes a sleeve back to reveal her left forearm. With a gesture one of her scars comes to life, puling itself off of her skin and becoming a small scorpion. The scorpion scuttles up her arm and tucks itself into her cowl.
She finishes by saying, [b]"Unless you would prefer something less... complex" She gives a half hearted smile.