So maybe we split? Half take the 'gentle'man asleep, half the collard doves?
Meet up to raid a basement?
I don't know lady...
she eyes up the woman, rubbing the back of her ear in an absurdly vulpine manner.
I have rules about splitting the party...
Yeah like she was going to let this one and her fella go and steal all the gems before she can get her mits on them...
She thinks a minute before saying,
The aforementioned Gentleman is the real danger to us. How about we erm... remove him from this city... and life... and then we are free to go about our business with no interference.
She hesitates.
I could also go first as a scout, I tend to go... unnoticed.
Not normally one for working together, but little Fox here is right. We should take the old man together, then the rest of the house is ours for the... Reallocating. I vote we move in, start with the old man, then work down to the basement.
Ya picked the right time for it. Bastard’s a heavy sleeper, wager you’ll hear the snores soon as you’re in there. I’ll clear off for a bit, maybe take meself over to the pub...yeh, that’ll do. The Silver Banshee, few streets away, follow the signs for “Red’s,” - it’s the building right opposite that weird art gallery. I’d appreciate a report on what’s in the basement...and I wouldn’t say no to a cut of those tiles me solvents gonna help get loose.
He winks.
Not that you’re obliged to share of course. Cut and run if you want, the satisfaction of knowing what’s happened’ll be more than enough for me.
One last mostly respectful bow and Garth strides off into the winding streets, a final nonchlant wave of his hand the last you see of him before he disappears behind a building.
Rini shoots the big fur ball a glare.
Well thanks for letting the cat out of the bag Whiskers...
She nods at Garth who scarpers.
Well I guess its time to show you my parlour trick. Lets get sneaking.
Rini transforms into a fox, and slips silently through the door.
Rini goes inside.
The door is indeed unlocked, swinging easily open even with a small foxes weight against it, not a creak to be heard.
Inside Rini is met with a polished stone floor lit by what appears to be a magical ball of light on the ceiling. A metal staircase extends upwards on the left whilst dead ahead and on the right lie 2 closed wooden doors.
Oh, and Garth was not kidding about the snoring, the thundering sounds of someone vigorously sawing wood are echoing down from high above.
Interspersed within the snores are much softer sounds, quiet traces of odd breathing patterns, like whoever was making them couldn't quite breath properly.
From the door on the right comes the slightly rank scent of processed fur...and sweat...and...other...things...ew.
Also - though Rini cannot be sure of this due to the hallway already being well lit - there seems to be a barely perceptible blue glow flickering under the door dead ahead.
With nod to Garth and a theatrical flourish of his cloak, The Claw follows the little Fox inside...
Feel free to open up What Does the Fox See.
Also:
Oh, and the left hand wall? Just before the stairs up? There’s a faint outline of something that looks very much like a safe has been installed and then wallpapered over.
...and show no signs of having been disturbed.
Not him...not them...please...please...I'm up here...help me...
But this ghostly female voice does not come from the same place as that oh so very quiet crying...no...it comes from somewhere upstairs. Oh, and it does not sound like the speaker has any kind of trouble breathing.
I suppose good sir we should follow Karva nods at Galayen and saunter through the threshold
Galayen inclines his head and enters the house
As everyone's inside, everyone can see the spoiler for the Claw.
Seeing Karva and Galayen follow, The Claw beckons them over and gestures ahead (assuming Rini is within earshot of a muffled voice):
Blue light under the door ahead, doesn't look natural. Badly-hidden wall safe, something to crack after the old man upstairs. Also, voices. Faint. Very faint. Breathers upstairs are pained, crying down where the light's coming from. Lots to do, but old man needs to die first. Happy to do the deed. Not the first. Likely not the last.
Slinking in the shadows as much as possible, Rini sneaks around the edge of the wall, making as little noise as her little fox feet will allow. She can not express with her mouth that she agrees with the Big Cat, but she hopes the group catches the general idea that she is heading for the staircase. She moves cautiously, making little sound, and constantly prepared to leap out of the way, if an unseen assailant were to make an attack.
Not that there is much at all to see. The floor looks like a badly built and badly maintained hospital ward. A single open room takes up most of the space, the floor made up of badly placed wood. To the right as Rini ascends she can see a wrought iron spiral staircase leading up to the next floor - from which issues the oh so lovely snores. And ahead...well ahead she can see 6 straw mattresses on the floor, 20 pegs attached seemingly randomly to the walls, 14 of which have a strange leather and iron band hanging from them...
And upon those mattresses are 6 people, 2 human men, 3 human women and one elf woman. Each and every one of them is lain rigidly on their back, blank eyes open and staring into nothingness, Rini could swear that they're blinking in unison. They wear nothing but drab looking rags...and one of the 6 missing bands from the wall, each wrapped very tightly around each of their necks - it is this that causes the odd breathing Rini heard.
In fox form Rini is naturally stealthy...but she gets the odd impression that one could scream directly into the ear of each of these people and see no reaction.
Each person looks to be in ill health at best, whilst none are starving they are all clearly far too thin, the skin under the collars is red and raw - they obviously cannot be easily removed - and the hands of all of them show fresh cuts and bruises, the nails chapped and torn.
And the smell...
Bad would be an understatement. Dried on sweat, stale urine and blood... hit like a piledriver to the face. Almost as bad is the overwhelming scent of heavy perfume billowing down from the next floor up.
And through your discoveries...the snoring continues unabated.
Not that there is much at all to see. The floor looks like a badly built and badly maintained hospital ward. A single open room takes up most of the space, the floor made up of badly placed wood. To the right as The Dreaded Obsidian Claw ascends he can see a wrought iron spiral staircase leading up to the next floor - from which issues the oh so lovely snores. And ahead...well ahead he can see 6 straw mattresses on the floor, 20 pegs attached seemingly randomly to the walls, 14 of which have a strange leather and iron band hanging from them...
And upon those mattresses are 6 people, 2 human men, 3 human women and one elf woman. Each and every one of them is lain rigidly on their back, blank eyes open and staring into nothingness, The Claw could swear that they're blinking in unison. They wear nothing but drab looking rags...and one of the 6 missing bands from the wall, each wrapped very tightly around each of their necks - it is this that causes the odd breathing The Claw heard.
The Dreaded Obsidian Claw is no stranger to stealth...but he gets the odd impression that one could scream directly into the ear of each of these people and see no reaction.
Each person looks to be in ill health at best, whilst none are starving they are all clearly far too thin, the skin under the collars is red and raw - they obviously cannot be easily removed - and the hands of all of them show fresh cuts and bruises, the nails chapped and torn.
And the quiet voice is back...a tad more legible this time, he's getting closer to the source...
Sorry...so...so...sorry...couldn't stop him...tried so hard...trapped me like this...I can't...please...I think...I think I'm in...in the...the...lockbox...upstairs...
The voice is definitely female...it sounds upper class, if desperate and regretful...but now a new tone enters. Where before there was only a whispered plea for aid - now there is anger, tinged with fierce hope.
He...I...kill him...that's why...you came...yes? The ring...it's the one on...left hand...save...Robert, Alan...Mary...Eve...Holly...Saya...save...me...
Not that there is much at all to see. The floor looks like a badly built and badly maintained hospital ward. A single open room takes up most of the space, the floor made up of badly placed wood. To the right as Karva ascends she can see a wrought iron spiral staircase leading up to the next floor - from which issues the oh so lovely snores. And ahead...well ahead she can see 6 straw mattresses on the floor, 20 pegs attached seemingly randomly to the walls, 14 of which have a strange leather and iron band hanging from them...
And upon those mattresses are 6 people, 2 human men, 3 human women and one elf woman. Each and every one of them is lain rigidly on their back, blank eyes open and staring into nothingness, Karva could swear that they're blinking in unison. They wear nothing but drab looking rags...and one of the 6 missing bands from the wall, each wrapped very tightly around each of their necks - their breathing harsh and forced.
Karva isn't too bothered about stealth...but she gets the odd impression that one could scream directly into the ear of each of these people and see no reaction.
Each person looks to be in ill health at best, whilst none are starving they are all clearly far too thin, the skin under the collars is red and raw - they obviously cannot be easily removed - and the hands of all of them show fresh cuts and bruises, the nails chapped and torn.
And their minds...urgh...it's enough to make one sick. Karva may not be able to read minds...yet...but she's sensitive enough to see the stranglehold these collars have on a persons psyche. Almost everything that makes a person...well...a person has been ruthlessly crushed, shredded, pulped and chained to...she's not sure. But whatever it is, it's upstairs...
Oh, and something is talking to the Dreaded Obsidian Claw inside his head. He probably hears it like whispers. Just noticed that. Fun times.
Not that there is much at all to see. The floor looks like a badly built and badly maintained hospital ward. A single open room takes up most of the space, the floor made up of badly placed wood. To the right as Galayen ascends he can see a wrought iron spiral staircase leading up to the next floor - from which issues the oh so lovely snores. And ahead...well ahead he can see 6 straw mattresses on the floor, 20 pegs attached seemingly randomly to the walls, 14 of which have a strange leather and iron band hanging from them...
And upon those mattresses are 6 people, 2 human men, 3 human women and one elf woman. Each and every one of them is lain rigidly on their back, blank eyes open and staring into nothingness, Galayen could swear that they're blinking in unison. They wear nothing but drab looking rags...and one of the 6 missing bands from the wall, each wrapped very tightly around each of their necks - it is this that causes the odd breathing he heard.
Stealth is...not a great strong suit...but he gets the odd impression that one could scream directly into the ear of each of these people and see no reaction.
Each person looks to be in ill health at best, whilst none are starving they are all clearly far too thin, the skin under the collars is red and raw - they obviously cannot be easily removed - and the hands of all of them show fresh cuts and bruises, the nails chapped and torn.
And though the room is filthy now...Galayen can tell it has been worse. More specifically...there was blood spilt here. A LOT of blood. More than 6 people could provide and remain living...at least in one sitting...
A telling scar on the wrists of the slaves speaks its own tale...
But...this blood never touched the floorboards. It was in the room, the air is heady with the all too familiar scent, but it never stained the wood. It...went somewhere else...almost as if flowing down a drain. But there is nothing in the room that would facilitate such a thing. Weird.
...
Or maybe not so weird...up above, concentrated into something barely the size of his fist, literal gallons of blood...these peoples blood. It honestly feels similar to when his Blood Reservoir is full. Just way...way bigger. And all of it sitting just a few feet higher up.
The Claw hugs the darknesss to the left side of the stairs as he starts to ascend, instinctively keeping Rini in his shadow, and aiming to keep Karva and Galayen in his periphery. This house bode ill, and while The Claw wasn't one to shy away from the pursuit of justice, he was happier chasing villains across rooftops. The lack of room to manoeuvre, combined with ample places to spring an ambush, had his hackles up. Dagger gripped tight, he crested the landing and froze in horror.
Rini pauses in her step and stares aghast. She feels immediately overwhelmed by the stench and has to fight the sudden urge to wretch. She sits back on her haunches instinctively and paws at her face, as if wiping her nose may take away the smell. And the taste. She swallows hard, once, twice, three times, forcing back her gag reflex. She shakes her head and stands again, making eye contact with the Claw. She can not speak, her bones won't allow it, buts she hopes he understands her none the less.
We will come back this way. She vows.
She moves towards the next staircase.
Time to make their master pay.
Karva tilts her head in thought, there's a sensation tickling at her, suggesting she needs to realise something but she can't quite work out what.
Leaning towards 'the claw' she gives the air around him a good tasting and narrows her eyes.
She mutters to herself (as if in her own thoughts) more of that later, but first the tether must be dealt with, nothing may be done just yet for these poor few. The ratio of spaces, bodies and collars is perplexing too
Knowing those on this level will cause no stir and judging by the noise from above neither will anyone hear her, karva heads to the next staircase heading up higher in the building.
Upon cresting the stairs, Galayen focuses his eyes upon the scene and studies the phenomenon in more detail, it felt familiar but not quite.....
Shaking himself from his brief reverie he notices the small creature and the big cat moving towards the other stair case.
They can take care of the killing Galayen thought to himself
I should find out what could cause such a... Bloody phenomenon....
With a ghost of a smile playing about his lips Galayen followed the rest of the party upstairs.
The room upstairs absolutely reeks of various perfumes, the cloying scent just about enough to mask the horribleness rising from below. A dim light on the ceiling softly illuminates a gigantic pile of pillows, a mishmash of filigree and silk in an anachronistic mess of colour. The walls themselves are painted a deep hue of gold, casting a burnished tinge over everything in the room.
To the side of the pile stands a small but ornate table, sitting on it is a solid-looking lockbox, resting against that is some sort of slender stick - likely a wand. All around them stand several oversized wine glasses, a few empty bottles scattered across the floor giving an idea as to their recent use. Curiously, a couple of the glasses remain full, a trail of wine drops leading from the table to the pile.
Further back still, pressed against the wall, stands a writing desk and chair. A single gold-embossed book sits upon it, next to an ink and feather pen.
Half on top and half buried within the pile of pillows is a man.
A snoring, dead to the world, very fat, man. Wearing a stained silk robe, a ring on each hand and what looks to be a mummified hand on a golden chain around his neck.
As you enter the room he snorts and halfway rolls over, revealing what he was lying atop of...the coiled body of a whip. Covered in brownish stains....
Here...I’m in here...everything is so...heavy...help...
The hells is going on in this place?
Without hesitation, the Claw crosses to the pile of pillows in two great strides. His dagger, a shard of mirror fashioned into a cruel blade,slices deep into the sagging flesh of the old man's neck. Strong, gloved hands hold the man's head back to better allow the blood to gush from the deep wound.
Sweet dreams you bastard. Death is too good for you.
Damage roll for Glass Dagger
6*3 = 18 damage.
His eyes fly open at the cut, a gasping sound that might have been an attempt at words rattles out of his mangled throat. His gaze flies from surprise and horror, to accusation, to fear...and then time runs out at roughly the same time the blood does. Arterial spray drenching the Dreaded Obsidian Claws gloves and spattering against his mask, a deep crimson stain of murder.
A monster slumps to the ground, quite dead.
A click, and the ring on his right hand opens like a miniature shackle, falling to the...formally clean floorboards. Gleaming and open in a pool of blood.
A vague outline of a person, a tall and thin woman, wearing some sort of dress, swims into your vision, dipping into a deep curtsy. She stands on the floor, but the pillows and blood pass through her as though she were not there. She stands, faint facial features barely visible.
I believe introductions might be in order. My name is Robin Gefallow, I have the supreme misfortune of having been that bastards daughter. When I objected to how he was treating our people he had his goons force some variety of wicked poison down my throat...the next thing I know we're in the prime City, my real family trapped in accursed bondage and I'm...as you see me now.
Her silhouette gestures to itself, but even as it does so more colour is swimming into place, fine details slowly affirming themselves. She does not seem to notice.
I'm bound to...something in that lockbox. He drowned me in blood to keep me quiet, else I'd have screamed him to madness long ago.
The "dress" she was wearing proves to be that in name only, thick, practical brown fabric covered in numerous pockets, grease stains and oil. Sharp brown eyes come back into focus atop her face as she points straight down.
But my REAL body is somewhere downstairs. I assume the basement since it's the only room I couldn't reach from up here.
Naturally we'll need to make sure everybody is safe first, the collars should have released when he went to whatever hell awaits him so I doubt they'll wake up soon. But they certainly deserve better than waking up on some filthy mattresses in that room.
She frowns, you can see that now.
Truth be told I'd really like to get down to the basement as soon as possible. Intangibility has its own little benefits of course - but nothing quite compares to a body of ones own. As is I have to focus damnably hard just to do something like this...
She lifts what is now revealed to be a heavy looking hobnailed boot and brings it crashing down on the floor.
There is a very faint ripple in the blood, a teetering pillow falls from its precarious perch.
The effort appears to exhaust her, what was almost solid washes out to transparency.
You...*gasp*...you see why I'd quite like my body back? I don't know what he's been doing with the poor thing in my absence but it cannot possibly have been good.
She fades out of view again, seemingly drawn towards that lockbox on the table.
As far as I'm aware I'm still the rightful heiress, it would have been a great headache for him to have me declared dead after all. Save my family and get my body back and you'll have my assistance in whatever future plans you may have, feel free to help yourselves to those ridiculously gaudy things on the roof as well. Far better to see them gone.
As the Dreaded Obsidian Claw stares into space there is a faint ripple in the pool of blood in front of him, as if an invisible feather had floated down into it. A precariously balanced pillow wobbles off the top of the pile as well.
Rini watches the scene in a detached manner. She is only sorry that she is not the one to strike the fatal blow. Sliding back into her native form , with he ease one would slip on a pair of well worn slippers, she calls out to the group.
There is something odd about this place. she says gesturing around to the lock box. Beyond the obvious. Like a weird smell... of... She shrugs I'm not sure. But I don't like it. It's coming from here. She gestures again. ...and I smelled it downstairs.
Part of her is anxiously intrigued, the other wants to flee the gruesome murder scene before they are found.
It’s a very slow process,,,but the blood on the floor is moving. Not soaking into the floor like it should be. Instead it is oh so slowing flowing towards that small table. On which stands the lockbox, wand and wine glasses, as if pulled there by a weak magnet.
The Claw tries to keep a level voice. Still looking straight ahead:
M'lady, believe me when I say I'm with you on fixing... All of this,
He gestures around the freshly berry-red room
but first...
He turns to the rest of the party.
Can anyone else see the floaty lady stamping in the blood puddle? Or is that just me?
She kicks at the corpse in disdain. Her foot passes straight through his head.
Bugger.
Rini turns to look at the spot which the Claw is staring. She is obviously not seeing what he is, because all there is, is an open space, and a pool of blood...
Hold up, blood that is moving of its own accord. She readies herself, fingers reaching towards her weapon.
I have a bad feeling about this...
The Claw obligingly digs an armoured boot into the gut of the dead old man.
She marches over to the table. Her face turns ugly, a calloused fist rises into the air.
Uh...he filled the damn thing with so much of their blood. Never enough to kill, not at once...but damn well enough to hurt. All while whimpering that it was for our own good, that I’d understand some day...
There are tears now, creeping down and off of her face before ghosting into the aether.
She tenses.
I wish I could just...just...SMASH THIS F#@@ING THING!!
As she screams the fist comes swinging down at the side of the heavy looking lockbox, as if she wished to smash it off of the table. As expected her hand and arm pass right through the metal...
But not something inside it. A loud metallic clang rings out as something hard impacts the inside of the lockbox with enough force to send it flying off of the wooden surface, landing rather loudly on the floor several feet away with the distinctive rattle of coins and valuables.
Shocked, she raises her hand up to her face, staring at the scrapped skin and beginnings of a bruise in disbelief.
What the...
Oh. And everybody else very clearly heard the scream.
The sound of a woman screaming in rage tears through the air for no more than a second, at the same time a loud metallic clang sounds from inside the lockbox and it flies several feet across the room. Landing with the distinctive clatter of coins and valuables. The scream cutting off like a knife the instant the lockbox flew.