"I doubt it was the Inheritor's strength." Looking at the things misshaped head she says, "More like Lamashtu." Then, Karri turns away, unimpressed with the dead creature. Karri stops, then apologizes. "That was unfair of me." But oh, so true, Fleshling "Are you seriously hurt?"
Nalun looks over at Lyla in astonishment Impressive for a short thing... he says after a moment with a grin on his face.
We need to hurry, whatever this thing was, it was also just as damn loud.
The only item of value on 'Cabbagehead' is his studded leather armour, which is in surprisingly good condition considering it was on the wrong end of one of Lyla's bombs.
...and even more surprising is the fact that, on closer inspection, it turns out that 'Cabbagehead' isn't dead. He's close to it, but appears to be in shock from the blast.
The party hears a soft, frightened voice from deeper in the tunnel.
"H-hello?! Is someone out there? Help!"
"Just a few broken ribs. Ortik, can you stabilize him?" Demitri will walk towards the voice. "Who are you? Are you alright?"
Lyla winks at Nalun. "Well, you know what they say about small packages, slim." She rushes to check on Cabbagehead and, upon noticing that he still breathes, hurries to perform first aid. "That's cool, I'm on it, Ortik. People, grab some rope in case he wakes up. I think he should be out for a few hours, but, you know, just in case."
While applying some bandages to Cabbagehead, she notices the quality of his armor. After she finishes patching the creature up, she leans back and comments "Hey, this is some magic armor here, anyone care to try it on?", she asks, sarting to remove Cabbagehead's leather armor.
"Why should we let him?"
Lyla looks back over her shoulder puzzled by Karri's question. "What do you mean?"
"hmmm? What did I say?"
Lyla is able to stabilize 'Cabbagehead' without much difficulty.
The tunnel you venture down branches off to the north and south--the voice pleading for help is coming from a reeking cavern to the south.
This foul-smelling cavern is bordered on three sides by ten-foot-deep pits. It is from these pits that the rancid smell of excrement and decay fills the air—each pit contains a few heaps of moldy straw, a wooden trough of filthy water, a few rotting body parts, and a couple still living prisoners.
Peeking into one of the pits, you can see the source of the voice--a ragged-looking lady clad in a tattered cerulean uniform. Her brown hair is stringy and disheveled. Next to her is a surly-looking man with blonde hair, clad in an identical cerulean uniform.
The lady's eyes widen as she sees Demitri. "Oh, thank heavens--please! Help us!"
"Someone, bring rope! We have captives to get out of here. Are you alright?"
"Some of us are." The cerulean-clad lady says, her face brightening. "We're dirty, tired and hungry, but otherwise..."
"Oh, speak for yourself." A high-pitched male voice says from the southernmost pit. "I've caught myself a dreadful cold from these confounded tunnels! I say, good sir? Could you perhaps make haste with the rope?"
"We are working on it. How did they capture you?"
The lady opens her mouth to speak again, but is cut off by the blonde man beside her. "Here's a better question--is that important right now?"
"The derro got us." Says a rough contralto voice from the western pit. "At least, that's my story. Don't know about the rest of them."
"The more we know about what is going on here, the better."
Lyla finishes tying Cabbagehead up and jumps back to her feet to answer Demitri's call for help—prefereably by taking him some of Ortik's rope. She looks to the dwarf and says "Geez, we're gonna need to buy more of that soon... c'mon, let's help him out." The girl walks up to the holding pits and leans over next to Demitri. "So, what's going on h—hey, isn't that the goldsmith? Tiora, is it?"
She remembers her earlier visit to Bluetide Gold Concerns, and wonders if Tiora will regonize her and Ortik in adventuring clothes. She also remembers that the goldsmith is rumoured to have ties with the local thieve's guild, and how Ortik hinted that her odd greeting the first time they met had something to do with it. She immediately starts to wonder if the Cerulean Society has anything to do with the derros. Looking over her shoulder, Lyla waves at Ortik asking him to throw down a rope, and then leans over again to ask "So, Tiora, how did you get here? Seen any 'clothes of blue' lately?"
"If you've got Cabbagehead, Lyla, then I'll leave you to him. It sounds like Demitri has found captives, and they'll need my healing more than this soul." He heads down the passageway and looks down into the pit at the captives. He can't help but raise an eyebrow at the brilliant blue uniforms that a pair of the captives wear. A call echoes in the back of his mind, one he doesn't dare vocalize.
Two by two...hands of blue...
He clears his throat, and begins fishing rope from his pack. "The ladies seem like they need the most aid, might as well start with them. We'll be with you all shortly." He takes a second glance at the guardsman. "Although you could use a bit of help yourself, friend." He hands the rope off to Demitri and uses the magic wand to cure several of the injuries he's suffered.
Nalun stands guard, eyes wary for a trap.
"Much appreciated, friend." Demitri says lowering the rope to the captives.
The monocled man and his cellmate are, respectively, Hunnigan Bartlett and his valet Rossfield. Mr. Bartlett owns a magical curiosity shop in the South Shore district of Korvosa--it's not the most popular shop there, but it maintains a devoted clientele. Rossfield has the bearing of an old soldier--if you had to guess, you'd say he's an ex-guardsman or Sable Company man.
The prisoners gratefully accept the party's assistance in getting out of their prison pits. The two women in particular seem especially grateful.
Tiora freezes as Lyla asks her question. "Um... uh, well... you could say that, I guess..." She trails off and stares at her feet, her cheeks turning red from embarrassment.
"Oh, who am I kidding? Yes, I have." She motions to her tattered uniform. "I was trying to get accepted into the Society, and it failed spectacularly. See, we were trying to rob--"
"Tiora, if you say one more word about this, I'm gonna be forced to deck you out of principle." Her blond companion glares at her.
"Nash, shut UP!" She fires back, giving him an indignant look.
"Who did you say you were again? What Society?"
Tiora looks back at Demitri. "The Cerulean Society. The only licensed thieving guild in Korvosa. I was a prospective trainee." Her blonde companion, Nash, rolls his eyes.
"And Nash and I work as goldsmiths for our day jobs, incidentally. Your friends know me--we did some business some time ago."
"That's all well and good. But how did you get here?"
"Nobody is decking anybody," Ortik says. "Not while I've got the wand of fixing broken bones and whatnot." He looks to the two bickering captives. "Listen, I'm not interested in what you may have or mayn't have done. I just want to know how you encountered the derro, and anything you might have heard while you were down here." He begins healing them, starting with Tiora.
Am I correct in assuming that there's six captives, DM? I'll be marking off a charge of the wand for each of them.
"That's all well and good. But how did you get here?"
The question makes Tiora sigh and Nash fold his arms and huff.
"See, to officially gain membership into the Cerulean Society, I had to successfully plan and execute a break-and-enter job with a supervising ranking member." Tiora scratches her head. "I picked a house in the Heights--didn't think it was going to be a difficult job."
"Tiora--" Nash tries to cut her off.
"Shut up, Nash. For all we know, they left us for dead." It's clear Tiora will have none of it. "Anyway, the owner caught us and incapacitated us with his magic--all he did was touch the two of us, and it left us paralyzed."
"He gloated like the prick that he was, and shocked us into unconsciousness. I came to first, being dragged through the streets in the dead of night by a bunch of giggling derro."
"Do you know who the owner was? His name at least?"
Tiora pales. "...I only met him once before the job--he was a customer. His name's Rolth." She shivers. "He was an Acadamae student, but he got expelled... apparently, he was caught butchering vagrants and small animals for golem parts."
"What?" The monocled man nearly drops his monocle in surprise. His valet says nothing, but his eyes narrow slightly.
"Yeah... from what the Society was able to learn, the Acadamae didn't want to cause a scene and press charges, so they quietly kicked him out and tried to forget the whole affair." Tiora shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.
While Demitri, Ortik & Lyla are conversing with the others, the two women approach Karri & Nalun. "Listen--not that we're not grateful that you freed us, but we don't have time to stand around if the derros' boss comes back. Do you have a way to get us out of here?"
We're on a job. Exit is back that way. Nalun says with a toss of his head.
"And now he's perfecting his trade. Oh goodie, we get to deal with a psycho."
"You do everyday. And that's not counting me." Karri offers a wan smile at her probably ill seeming joke. "No worries, though. Psyhcos are easier to kill."
Tiora shakes her head. "I doubt it, in Rolth's case--it takes someone really nasty to get kicked out of a magic academy that teaches students the basics of devil summoning and binding. Rolth's dangerous and smart."
Nash sighs and speaks up, his tone resigned. "We weren't able to accomplish much, but I did overhear some things about the derro here--specifically, the one that calls himself 'Vreeg'." He begins pacing. "Apparently, this Vreeg is Rolth's apprentice, and he's almost as dangerous as his master--he's fond of summoning lots of undead to support himself in a fight. He's no slouch with spellcasting either--he's fond of flying out of reach of melee combatants and raining hell down on them from a distance."
Nalun looks at his bow Two can rain hell.... lets get a move on while we have some advantage of surprise.
"Yes. Let's go."
A dry chuckle slips from Karri. "Hell? Oh, do tell more." She is embarrassed but doesn't turn away. In fact her eyes take on a distant cast as she focuses inward to push back the Legion. You're looking forward to this aren't you? Kasdaye answers, Not I! But there are some in here that think you are wasting your talents while not enslaved to better master. Shall I silence them? I will need some of your essence... Karri's fist clench unconsciously as she declines the offer. Never!
"Thanks." The brunette says as she and her blonde companion depart the room.
The monocled man & his valet start leaving as well. "Please, allow me to thank you again for saving my life. If you ever find yourselves in South Shore, stop by Bartlett's Bountiful Arcana--I'll make it worth your while!"
"I think we'll be well from here. I imagine the ladies can just follow the route you took here." His valet speaks up, offering a curt bow.
Once the other two groups have left, Tiora speaks up again. "One more thing--I overheard some of the derro panicking about one of their golems. Apparently, it stole a 'painted arm' or something like that and went berserk. They boarded it up in the pantry until they can do something about it."
"Of course it did." Karri looks askance at the news but resigns herself to watching the gentlemen fight a golem. How could I possibly affect it, anyway?
Demitri sighs. "Yep. I was hoping to stay out of the pantry." Once all the prisoners are gone, he will head towards the pantry.
Lyla approaches Karri and Demitri to share her opinion. "I say we deal first with the creepy dude pulling the strings and stitching the seams, I figure the golem is not going anywhere, right? Let's keep it locked in the pantry and we'll come back for him later, no need to waste our energies on that before shutting these guys down."
She then turns to the rescued victims. "Now, you guys be careful going back. Don't enter Zeke's chamber—that would be the waste disposal room. And you two"—she points to Nash and Tiona—"I'd stay clear of the Cerulean Society if I were you, and in case you're in any danger, come to us... or you can talk to Marshall Kroft, too. Tell her we sent you."
She prepares to head out of the room. "C'mon folks, we got a runaway derro to catch, and I'm sure he went crying to mommy", she says before entering the secret passage through which the derro alchemist fled.
"That seems like a good plan. Let's go kill the necromancer."
Nalun barks a sharp laugh at Karri's statement If only it were as easily done...
"That is a better plan."
Ortik nods as Lyla explains her plan. "That'd be a sour keg of ale to crack open, best do it when we're at our freshest. The necromancer is our first priority."
Tiora and her companion say nothing, nodding in gratitude as they follow the other prisoners out.
-------------------
Lyla and the rest of the party emerge from the crawl tunnel in the alchemy lab into a library of sorts. Two wide, freestanding bookshelves stand in this room, the shelves filled with row upon row of tomes and scrolls.
There is a crude wooden door hanging ajar in the east wall of the room, and it appears to lead deeper into the warrens. The derro who escaped from the party is nowhere to be found in the room.
Nalun nods the group forward, his bow at the ready. He knows that the derro is lurking there somewhere, along with a necromancer and his monstrosity. Just another day in the life of an adventurer he guesses...
I'll cover if you go first Demitri
"Alright." Demitri says moving through the open doorway.
The tunnel beyond the door leads into a large room.
The nauseating mixture of decay and strange chemicals fills the air of this large room. Glinting saws, pliers, long stitching needles, and other surgical equipment are organized on shelves and benches along the walls. A sturdy wooden table in the center of the room supports a large humanoid shape—a thing stitched together from a patchwork of dozens of different bodies. The thing would stand nearly seven feet tall if it rose.
Sitting atop the amalgamation of corpse parts is a head that's strangely small compared to the rest of the thing's frame. It has brown hair, and a distinctive scar on its left cheek.
The sound of someone talking can be heard from down the tunnel in the west half of the room...
Demitri will wave everyone over before walking into the room.
Nalun stalks forward, bow at the ready, he listens for movement.
"yes?"
Ortik approaches Demitri, keeping one wary eye upon the collection of corpse bits that lies stitched together on the table. "Is that what I think it is, friend?"
"Yes." Demitri nods.