Shang look at the note, sighs, grabs a red cloth wrapped around something that clinks, and sets the sign on the shop to closed. "Sorry," he explains to the patron waiting for him to open, "Bad shipment of scorpions. Not dried properly. Have to go get things to clean the store before they breed."
Always in such a rush, he thinks as he makes his way to the Hanged Brewer. It's not like things end, you know.
Walther sits at his desk, muttering to himself while reading the brief note. Quite terse this time Captain. I doubt that that's a good sign.
Rising from the creaking chair, Walther gathers up his staff and his crossbow before leaving the room as quickly as he can. After locking the extra deadbolts, he goes into the dress shop next door.
After waiting a moment for the bell to finish ringing and to listen to be sure he's not interrupting a customer, Walther calls out Mrs. Peri? It's Walther. I have to head out for a while; but I was expecting a package to arrive soon. Could you do me a favor and collect it if you see the fellow trying to deliver it?
Now where the devil is the Hanged Brewer?
\\
Walther eventually arrives at the rendezvous, but most likely after many of the others.
Tieszla arrives early and waits patiently to meet her new companions at the Hanged Brewer. Despite the forboding name and the rather gruesome pictogram of a chubby, tonsured man having his neck stretched near a stack of kegs on the clapboard out front of the establishment, the tavern is fairly clean and bright, the staff cheery and welcoming.
Fidgeting absently with her mug, Tieszla keeps an eye on the door. She rises to greet Captain Alandre when he enters only a couple of minutes after she has settled in. His punctuality bodes well, a sign of his personal discipline but also an indication that he respects the value of her time and the urgency of the matter at hand.
"Captain," she welcomes him, polite but curt, gesturing for him to pull up one of the many empty chairs at the table. Then she sits and resumes nursing the light ale before her.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Tieszla sets off at a brisk pace to meet her new companions at the location indicated in the brief note that summons her. As she walks, she tries to remember if she had ever frequented the Hanged Brewer. There is a vague recollection of a clapboard out front of a dingy looking-place picturing a chubby, tonsured man having his neck stretched near a stack of kegs but she doesn't think she's ever set foot inside. Taverns do not hold much attraction for her.
The message was: "We have work. Alandre asked for you personally. No time to brief or introduce you to the replacements. The Hanged Brewer in the Docks District. Now"Typical bureaucracy. Left alone for a week, then suddenly its an emergency. Still, the sooner I got there the sooner I could start working out what had happened and who these 'replacements' were.
I've been telling Shang, Walther and Ophelia that we have to stick closer together. Perhaps losing Dara was a coincidence, but Anastasia as well? They're picking us off. Makes me glad I've got something to watch me while I sleep.
I only got my homunculus yesterday, and this seemed like a good chance to try it out. Can't say I was keen on that strange oily... smell it's mind had when I talked to it, but it looked like it was going to be useful enough to make that worthwhile. I ordered it into the sky.
Grabbing my spear and coat I bolted. Good thing about living in the city as long as I have; I know a lot of shortcuts. As I jogged I occasionally peered down from the homunculus high in the sky, and realised just how useful it was going to be when I saw there was an overturned wagon in the alley I was going to cut through and could adjust my route.
Laznist puffs towards the Hanged Brewer
The Hanged Brewer is a broken down pub just as weathered as its patrons. Located in the Docks District, it sits close to the waterfront, and its promise of cheap ale and stories of the sea from its retired ship captain owner make it very popular among sailors docked in Korvosa.
On this morning, it's closed off by several members of the district's Watch, standing in fifteen feet intervals to keep rowdy onlookers who just want a drink from disturbing the gruesome scene in front of the tavern.
A man lies on the ground, his emaciated body covered in lacerations in varying levels of healed over, but nothing about the multiple sword wounds in his back have begun to recover. His blood has leaked out into a puddle around him, staining the tattered clothes of a sailor that once was.
Standing over it is a tired guardsman who was just short of ending his shift when the chaos took place, and between the gore he's been standing over for an hour and the exhaustion of a night spent breaking up drunken bar fights leave him weary.
As he spots you, he looks down to a piece of paper, then back up to you, and repeats this process a few times to confirm you're who he sent for. "Thanks for comin'," he says, taking a few steps toward you, glad to have a reprieve from standing over the body. "You wanna take a loot at it first and tell me what ya think? I want to know yer takes on it before I give ya the news."
When the messenger came for Ophelia, she was already up and preparing to open the shop once more. Well, technically, she was always up. But she liked to retire upstairs during the night and read her latest loan form the Collage. Besides, some folks found it unnerving that she newer slept - and that might be bad for business. But they never need maintenance or replacement either. They just eat rest and sleep - then all is well. Until it isn't. Then they die. That if anything should be unnerving!
But the letter, yes. Another chance to stumble upon Polo! And see the others. Laznist spoke of some scheme - some plan - to watch over himself. I wonder what .... She got dressed and pulled up the hood, locked the shop and left. And 'replacements'? I wonder who they are. These where the thoughts that whirred trough her mind as she hurriedly made her way to The Hanged Brewer. Truly a curious name. Some people display a fascinating fascination for their end...
//
Soon enough she arrives at the docks, and from there it was just a quick matter to locate the bar itself. She didn't really like the docks. Much like the Shingles, they were far too chaotic. And the scent of fish seemed to cling to everything. This was her main aversion - while the scent didn't affect her, she couldn't really tell if she was contaminated by it or not. Except by the disgusted looks of others as she moved back to the more civilized districts of the city. A good scrubbing for good measure then, when I get back! Safety is preferable to the off chance, after all.
Well at The Hanged Brewer Ophelia relies on inertia and quick steps to navigate the small crowd blocking the approach. She hands the letter to the officer and steps forward, her curious glass eyes fixed on the corpse. "It seems broken officer. Very broken." she stated in a hollow voice. Although she kind of suspected the guard had already noticed that. But better safe ... Circling around the corpse she continued, going for more useful facts this time. "The nature of his condition seems to have occurred during a prolonged period of time, due to the various age of the wounds and the malnourishment. But the end appears abrupt. I could guess - perhaps he escaped his tormentor and was struck down?"
Satisfied with her quick diagnosis, she looked around in the crowd. The others should be here somewhere too! Walter could certainly make a better assessment of this I think. And still, I wonder about these replacements... Upon spotting familiar faces her porcelain lips curled upwards into a small smile. With a little more warmth she chimed out a greeting.
Ophelia is 5'5” tall and, despite her average size, weights almost 300 lbs. A quick glance at her features explains why – she is made out of copper and steel instead of flesh and blood. Her joints and muscles are balls and gears and her tendons are taunt wires. At the centre of her being there is a large and complex clockwork that gives energy to her movements. Right between her shoulderblades there is a socket for a winding key. Most of her skin is ornate plates of copper while her face is an intricate porcelain mask. The magic animating her lets her twist and flex the rigid parts a little more then they should - allowing her to form faint expressions in her otherwise unmovable face. She has a habit of having the prestidigitation spell up to let her blush and to enhance the subtle movements.
All together she appears more like a work of art then something that should move, talk and think. As a precaution - and to afford some anonymity on the streets Opheila prefers to dress in high collars and long sleeves. Today she is wearing a cloak with the hood pulled up high, revealing only her porcelain features. The sound and chatter of the streets drowns out the faint whirring of gears and ticking that always accompany her, except to the keenest of ears.
"Ophelia! Good to see you're alive! Er, animate."
good going Laznist, what was that, three seconds?
"I mean, given Dara and Anastasia I've been worried about all alone in that shop. Good to see you're still ticking along" Laznist's words trail off with an abruptness that suggests he wishes he'd been able to stop talking two words ago.
Why do I keep putting my foot in my mouth?!?
Desperately changing tack he turns to the guard and hands over his letter. When the guard offers him a chance to look around he buries himself in work.
Okay to cast Detect Magic, then Detect Poison, then general perception roll (with Private Consultant)?
You detect that there is indeed poison in the dead man's body, but you fail to detect any lingering auras, or magic on him.
Poison - but not one I know. I'll have to wait for Shang.
Laznist's examination of the body reveals a few details. Though it was likely the sword wounds that did him in, many of the wounds were not inflicted by blades, but by picks. Rope marks on his wrists and ankles imply he spent some time tied up recently. He smells of bar and death. Older, mustier death than a new corpse could create.
Shang approached the group. "My good friends! How lovely it is to see you! And these two? Tidai hao pengyou!" He bows before them.
Shang definitely does not look like a local, although he still moves like one, navigating the streets with a practiced eye. His dress is not quite Varisian. He wears a simple linen tunic and trousers, and carries a heavy backpack filled with small compartments, glass vials, dried plants and insects, all manner of oddities. Or perhaps it's in how his heavy-lidded eyes and long slender, drooping white mustache make his Tien heritage clear. Perhaps it is how his scrawny body resembles that of an old man, but he keeps a spry springiness about him. But it is probably the fact that his skin is a watery blue, and his eyes a pupilless milky white.
Shang sets down his pack and goes straight into investigation of the body. Crouching before the corpse, he pulls forth a wicked, sharp, oddly-shaped knife, compares its edge to the wounds, shakes his head and puts the knife away. "Poison, you say?" he mentions to Laznist, he takes a closer look at the body and the details of the wounds.
"Shang! Good to see you!" Laznist claps the old man on the back " Yeah, poison. Here's what I've found so far...
These wounds here, here, and all these here seem to have been inflicted by Picks. These marks on the wrists and ankles? I think he spent a lot of time tied up recently. And there's a smell - can you smell it? Smells like death, old death."
"I haven't touched the body much; figured you'd be the one to examine the wounds properly."
Turning back to the newcomer he smiles crookedly
"Navia? Sorry Navia. I worry about the others - I don't know if you were told but we lost two members in suspicious circumstances over the last week. I keep worrying there's going to be a third."
"Call me Laznist." Laznist holds out a hand.
As he moves to hold out a hand it becomes obvious that while he is certainly tall and large boned most of his bulk seems to come from layers of hardened leather and thin mail sewn into the underside of his leather coat.
His face is shadowed under a broad brimmed hat. His smile seems slightly too wide, his teeth slightly too big. Strangely metallic tattoos mark his face lightly, but continue down his neck and re-emerge on his hands.
He carries a sort of staff with a forged sharpened stylized symbol on the end; obviously something designed to be used as a spear. He carries a backpack, and a triad of scroll cases hang off his belt where another man might carry a sword.
"It is good to see you too Laznist!" she happily chimes out. But there he go again, always so jumpy. Perhaps Dara and Anastasias disappearance are truly getting to him? Ophelia is content to wait and look over Laznists shoulder as he makes his examination.
When the blonde woman approaches Ophelia shifts her attention to her. She tilts her head slightly to the side and observes as Navia makes her introduction. "Pleasant to meet you Navia. I do believe your assessment of the situation is correct." Curios unblinking eyes peer out from the hood, seemingly tracing the blue swirls around the other womans skin. She glances at Laznist when he makes his introduction and then follows his suit, extending a hand. "Call me Ophelia." she chimes and blinks. And then again. I always forget those. Better do it twice to make up for lost blinks!
After the introductions are complete she once more turns to the corpse and the other, even more blue, newcomer. "It is nice to see you again too Shang." She pauses and observes the apothecary work and then glances back at Laznist. "I'm sorry, but I can't smell it. But going by your vivid description, I'm sure I shouldn't really be sorry about that." she states as matter of fact. "If I'm to hazard another guess - slave ship, place of the dead or a cult of Zon-Kuthon?"
You discover that the man has been poisoned Oil of Taggit, an ingested poison used to induce several hours of unconsciousness. There is more than one dose in his system.
Shang smears a drop of the sailor's blood on a horn plate and sniffs it. A little surprised, he sniffs it again. "Oil of Taggit. A lot of it. Curious. You see, Oil of Taggit has to be ingested, so he ate the poison, it wasn't put on the picks or blades. Second, all it does is knock you out. And it apparently took a lot of it to do so. So we're dealing with someone who was tied up for a long time, rendered unconscious, and then attacked with picks. Not even Kuthites would strike an unconscious victim with picks..."
Shang leans in close, lifting the eyelid of the sailor. "Are we sure he's dead?"
He is indeed very dead. Oil of Taggit doesn't let anyone sleep off out-the-other-end stab wounds.
"Can you determine the temporal relation between the wounds and the poisoning? Perhaps he was simply drugged for convenience and injured before or after ? I can hardly see the point of causing excessive damage to an unresponsive victim - surely a simple cut across the throat would be more efficient if death was the only purpose?" Ophelia kneels next to Shang, blurting out a series of question without pause or hesitation. She regarded the corpse with curiosity, but didn't touch it out of fear of disrupting the apothecary's work.
Shang wrinkles his nose. "He's dead. That smell... I ask if he's dead because it smells like he's been dead a long time. Yet that blood is fresh..."
Shang contemplates a moment and adds, "Watchman, is this how and where he was found? How did he end up here?"
The watchman sighs, and the expression on his face turns grave. "That's why I wanted ya to look at it before I told ya. The news ain't good and it'd color what ya see here."
He referred to a different piece of paper, this one with notes about what had happened, and what witnesses told him. "He was killed here. Happened in front of twelve people who were outside of the bar. He was runnin' down this street, bein' chased by... oh, gods... They say it was a pale dwarf woman with red hair. Her throat was cut clean an' there was blood all over her. That's why Alandre told me ta send for ya personally."
Rounding a slight bend, Tieszla arrives at the Hanged Brewer just as Shang questions the weary watchman. It is easy to tell who she is here to meet; a small congregation of individuals discussing a bloody and emaciated corpse, treated with deference by the city guard even as they traipse about the scene freely. She pauses briefly to verify her identity before making her way to her fellow investigators, eyes scanning the area, the body and her new companions.
The murder was manifestly brutal but does not appear to be a crime of passion, rather an endeavor that was ongoing by the looks of the wounds the victim has suffered. If this was the work of undead, it was no simple matter of a mindless shambling corpse at the mercy of a voracious appetite for the stuff of life. Tieszla has studied the monsters who seek to cheat death and rise as sentient exanimate through infernal or diabolical machination but she has no first hand experience with these beings. Blessedly, such evil is a rarity. Her pulse quickens at the thought of hunting an adversary that is such an affront to the natural order she strives to preserve.
Clearing her throat, the Inquisitor of Pharasma introduces herself, "Gentle tidings on behalf of the Church. I am Tieszla Paavo-Honefist, agent of Pharasma, investigator of the occult and all who seek to pervert the will of our most revered Shepherd of Souls ."
Standing roughly the same height as Shang, Tieszla is a slender bundle of wiry muscles. She wears a modest breastplate bearing the spiral markings of the church of Pharasma that are complimented by the large silver symbol hanging about her neck on a thick chain. Her blonde hair is kept short, her blue eyes shine with determination and purpose. On her back is sheathed what seems to be an unfeasibly large sword for her use but the grip is well worn indicating to a trained eye that it has seen many hours of use.
Follwing introductions, Tieszla fishes a stone out of one of her belt pouches and releases it. It flies up to adopts an orbit of her skull like a tiny moon and she surveys the scene with a critical eye, looking for any religious significance to the wounds, the positioning of the body and the cause of death, as well as any tracks or indication of where this fellow might have originated and where his killer might have fled.
Shang knits his brow. "Chased? He was running around? This man has enough Oil of Taggit in his system to fell a much larger beast. Hmm... Maybe he built up some kind of immunity..."
He turns to the newcomers. "You've heard what we've heard. So, what do you think? What's going on here? My name is Shang, incidentally."
The use of a pick piques your curiosity, as it's not the most conventional weapon to use for torture. As an agent of Pharasma, the evil gods of death are a particular interest to you, and so despite being fairly obscure, Zyphus, the God of accidental and meaningless death comes to mind nearly immediately. His symbol is a pick made from human bones.
You find bloodied footprints that begin a hundred feet down the road, where the already tender and sore feet of the now dead sailor began to bleed as they hit the rough cobblestone. His attacker, the alleged dwarf woman, stepped in some of the blood puddles, and then in the pool she left of her victim, and left a path that begins promising, but very quickly becomes a matter of tracing small drops of blood on the stone instead. Thankfully, your keen eyes are feeling particularly cooperative today, and you're able to spot them perfectly.
"Picks are the favoured weapons of those who pay homage to Zyphus. He is a rather obscure patron that seeks to infringe upon milady's influence by claiming some dominion over accidental and meaningless death." Tieszla scoffs at the notion of any death that is not accounted for in Pharasma's grand scheme and the natural order. "According to the evidence and the eyewitness accounts, this is murder so a connection to Zyphus seems odd. I think some research is in order; it may turn out to be irrelevant. In the meantime, it appears our murderess has left us a trail to follow."
Murder by pick and poison hardly seems accidental. Meaningless perhaps, but surely not accidental. Walther finally arrives at the scene, shuffling along the street.
However, the quiet look of perseverance - and the large darkwood crossbow on his back - suggest that this particular old man has no intention of accepting the slow decline of his twilight years. This is a man with a strong sense of purpose, and a mission in life.
Greetings all. Sorry I'm late; there are rather more taverns in the area than I had anticipated. Shang, Laznist, Ophelia, good to see you all. I take it that these two are our "replacements" as it was so roughly phrased? I am Walther; normally I would say it is a pleasure to meet you, but given the circumstances, I think it would be inappropriate.
Zyphus, you say? Odd
I could probably turn up a bit more information later with some research. That can wait though; have we determined this man's identity? Or generally investigated his belongings? Presumably Shang has already examined the body's injuries, but if I may?
to re-examine the body and to check his pockets and belongings.
We should have the body moved off the street so that we can conduct a more thorough examination later. He was killed right here? I wonder if there's anything to be learned in the surrounding area?
to examine the street around where the man was killed; looking for clues, or gawkers who act suspiciously.
I believe there was mention of witnesses? We should speak to them ourselves; perhaps one or more of them will have useful information. I'm most curious about this dwarf, who, if her throat was cut wide, should certainly not have been in any condition to murder anyone.
The watchman nods. "I'm just here to keep the peace right now, there's nothin' I'd rather do than move this mess somewhere else and pawn it off on ya. There's a couple people in the pub who've seen it and're tryin' ta drink it off, but most of 'em already went home ta sleep."
There are no onlookers to the grizzly scene, save for passersby who gawk at the gore or avert their gaze entirely and go about their morning routine.
"That is most curious indeed. I'm certain that dwarf had no businesses walking around. I would say, most certainly one of those non-dead." Ophelia exclaims. She offers her introduction to the inquisitor too, but cannot help but feel that the timing is good. I've heard they are well equipped to deal with such a threat!"
Sure enough, it seems as if the Inquisitor already found a lead! "Zyphus and picks - *hmm*. But this was certainly not accidental." Ophelia tries to recall if she read anything about this Zyphus. I think Walter will have a lead when he comes. But I can try.
Cults devoted to Zyphus tend to be smaller than those for other death gods, but their hands-off methods mean that they can usually look far less visible in large cities than other cults. Though they know that the deaths are not truly accidents, they believe that so long as they themselves are not responsible, they have successfully guided an accident, and that soul will be trapped into Zyphus's service anyway. Traps, as well as summoning or letting loose creatures onto captives are both common means of devoting a sacrifice.
Your examination of the wounds turns up little, and you can't tell how old they are.
Shang narrows his eyes. "Hmm... Drugged sailor, god of accidental death... If I wanted to kill a bunch of people accidentally, I'd..."
Shang grows silent. Abandoning the body, he stands. An odd, wide grin on his face tries to counteract the worry he faces. Quickly, as if he had suddenly sped up, he adds, "Well! Autopsy is over. Yes, good Watchman, please feel free to clean up this mess and return the district to good order, my good man, yes, very fine indeed. And oh! I do have gifts for the newcomers, and everyone here! Here you are."
He pulls out the red cloth, opens it up, and reveals a series of vials. He gives a vial with a red stopper each to Tieszla and Navia. "This is a simple healing potion, just in case." He then hands out to everyone a second vial, this one with a blue stopper. "Ophelia, can you drink? I wasn't sure. But these are distilled and concentrated ma huang. Very powerful stimulant. Take when you need to act and think fast, like before a fight. It might make you jittery and nervous for a bit, but you'll be fine."
You remember that Oil of Taggit is a common poison used to kidnap people. It only induces a few hours of unconsciousness at a time and isn't fatal, making it useful for both taking prisoners, and keeping them sedated. It is widespread enough that just about any person peddling in ingredients or poisons would sell either the herb to make it, or the oil itself.
Laznist listens carefully as his learned colleagues discuss religion and poison. When Shang offers it he takes the blue vial gratefully.
"I'm not a theologian, but I note our witness saw a dwarf. I don't mean to sound Racist, but the stereotypical dwarven weapon is a pick or an axe, right?"
"You think the woman might be one of the restless dead? I've been chased by dwarves and I've never had one catch up to me... although I suppose if I was tired and injured they might... might be good to ask witnesses how fast she - or it - was running."
"Whoever they were, if they kidnapped one guy and did this to him I've got the feeling there are more somewhere."
You aren't able to gather anything that clicks; judging by his clothes, he's a sailor from out of town.
Laznist speaks quietly
"He's a sailor, I think. Probably out of town. Might have been kidnapped when he came ashore for leave. Seems like sailors might not be missed that much, so they'd be good targets. We should probably see if anyone has been reported missing, maybe ask some ship captains if they know of him. "
"If that's true though, he might have been being held where he was kidnapped, in a tavern or something in the docks. We have a direction, which we had a distance."
Unless he's an officer, I doubt most ship's captains would realize that a missing crewman was kidnapped rather than just another ship jumper. I suppose that it's possible that someone somewhere in the city is wondering where he is though.
"The cult of Zyphus frequently kills by proxy - cheating fate with perilous traps, released monsters and other corner cases." Ophelia recites from memory. Hmm. There is something we are missing ... "As for the poison, I'm sure Shang could get some for his apothecary if truly needed. Sedatives have many legitimate uses - like relief of pain."
Shang seems to have some idea, but he wasn't telling. Atleast not right now. Instead she accepted the potion handed to her and held it high, observing the suns ray reflecting in the liquid. She quite liked the gift, but ... "No Shang, I cannot. It is an beautiful gift, but it will serve someone able to use it better." She smiles and holds out the bottle for Shang again. "Or I could hold on to it until someone else needs it. For emergency use."
Still - there is something we are missing! She looked around and found Laznist and Walter discussing sailors, dwarves and missing persons. Missing persons. Sailors. And dwarves. The victim was a missing sailor. And... She froze. The slayer is a missing dwarf! With a hollow and sorrowful voice, Ophelia called out like a chuchbell at a funeral. "We know a missing person. One that fits the description - a dwarf. A dwarf woman with red hair. A dwarf woman with red hair that went missing." She steps over to the watchmen once more, stepping in close with purpose and ominous fury. "I will need to speak with the witnesses. Now." she chimed once more. Dara - where have you gone ? Whom has taken your soul ?
There was of course always a sliver of hope left. Perhaps there was another red-haired dwarf. Perhaps this is what they call a dream - and I will wake up from my first sleep soon. Perhaps the stars themselves will fall from the sky in this very moment. Somehow, deep down in her cold, golden heart she knew that the odds weren't in their favour.
Navia and Walther recognize the the uniform as belonging to a low-ranking sailor on a Rahadoumi merchant ship. Finding out what ship he served on could be easily discovered by consulting the Harbourmaster for a list of ships currently docked in Korvosa to see if any of them fit the description, lest they've already set off for their next destination.
When Ophelia begins speaking, the guard hangs his head and sighs. "Ye figured out the problem," he says wearily. "We can't say fer sure.... Miss?" He regards the construct curiously, unsure what to address Ophelia as. He's clearly not the brightest of guards. "But come with me, and anyone else who wants ta talk ta them. They're in no shape ta come out here."
"What? Dara... " Laznist starts swearing, his hands grip his spear more tightly.