There was a reason a bullet cartridge was more expensive than buying a full bar a round of whiskey - the time and effort required to build it to work took a while, and even with black powder becoming more prominent in this day and age, metal cartridges were still something that could only be crafted by hand, not made in a factory. The rimfire cap in particular needed a pretty steady hand to ensure you didn't have it blow up in your face.
In the end, she managed to make five cartridges. Silver was soft, but it wasn't lead. Wasting any more time to make more was foolish - she figured the others must be tired of waiting for the gunslinger by now. Loading the revolver with four silver bullets and two regular ones, she kept one in reserve just in case, getting dressed and making sure she looked like she usually did - like a boy - in the mirror before heading out, locking the door behind her and rallying the others.
Once they'd gathered at the bar, Sam glanced at them, hiding a desire to palm her forehead. "...okay. So did no one other than me listen when Keith said that using non-silver weapons on a wererat was like like trying to hammer a nail with a fish?" She asks, noting that neither Kisako nor Cyean had seemed to get one.
Considering the time, Sam doubted that there were any shops still open that would cater to their burning desire to have a weapon that would murder a lycanthrope. That made things difficult. "Well, whatever. I've got my bullets, Oswin's coated his blade, so you two should just support us best you can."
Once everyone was ready, Sam started heading towards Blackchapel, towards the abbey Keith mentioned Slim Jesse was lurking around. Hopefully it would be a short hunt for the posse.
"I do not have enough funds to randomly spend on a weapon that would cost me more than the job itself pays. As for Oswin's coating, I did not know about such things." Cyean says flatly.
"...let me try to explain something to you, Cyean." Sam speaks up to him, glancing up at the taller half-elf. "There are more reasons to take a job than monetary gain. I made some silver bullets that will probably cost just as much as the share of the payment. But this is more about building up a reliable reputation right now. For that, we need to invest a bit into the tools that'll make us reliable. Once you do a few jobs like that, we'll get offers for higher paying ones."
Sam tapped her temple, readjusting her scarf. "It's not as if you won't need a silver weapon in the future, either. You've got to plan ahead a bit further than just thinking about what's happening right now. Investing like that will do you a world of good. What are you going to do in a situation where your swords don't work as they are? Better to have something and not need it than need it and not have it," She finishes lecturing, around the point they cross over into the Blackchapel district.
"For you that may be true, I do not wish to gain a reputation right now. You can if you wish, what I need is funds. So do not lecture me as if that was what I was here for. Lets just get the job done." He looks about when they stopped wondering why the wererat was doing this, was it greed or something else.
You leave Purgatorio, crossing back into the Cathedral district. The celebration mentioned in the papers is in full swing, so you end up squeezing past well-dressed bystanders in order to get to the Blackchapel gate. You look up to the night sky, the stars obscured by the lights of the city and further obfuscated by fireworks and flying machines dropping confetti onto the crowd. A voice comes over a loudspeaker but you can hardly make it out amidst the merriment and raucous cheers.
You make it to the gate without any further difficulty, finding Blackchapel much more quiet than the Cathedral District. A few novices from the abbey walk the streets, speaking in hushed whispers about the celebration. You find the abbey instantly, it is the largest building in this district, rivaling the largest of the wizard academies in all the world. Though it is still dwarfed by the majesty of the cathedral itself, it is an awe-inspiring sight. Spires claw up to the sky and several belfries accent the abbey, another grand monument to Asmodeus.
The tavern is only a short distance from the abbey, a small, concentrated affair. You see several neophytes hanging around the area, reading scrolls and partaking in evening leisure.
Walking through the festivities of the Cathedral, the gunslinger hoped that there would be time enough tomorrow to enjoy them. The Blackchapel district was at least quieter, allowing them to focus on the task at hand.
"All right, based on the description, keep an eye out for a guy with a gold nose ring," Sam commented to the others. "For now, we ought to gather some information - somebody around here might know something about where he's hiding."
Cyean heads out to try to find some information as well. He goes to anyone that seems to not be to well off knowing that they tend to know where to go and not go in a city like this.
Cyean quickly finds a juicy piece of information. Slim Jesse had been seen around the north end of the district in a flophouse called Ye Olden Ones. Apparently, he is a vocal protester of Asmodean rule and usually protests outside the Cathedral daily, but he hasn't recently. Few people have seen him over the last week and he's been looking haggard and frightened.
"Well, I guess you are more useful than being a stiff with a big sword," Sam comments to Cyean when they regroup to swap info. The gunslinger hadn't been her best, it seemed - she supposed that boyish looks made it hard for people to take her seriously. There was something off about the information, though. Why a wererat would be protesting Asmodean rule, or why he'd kill a couple of tourists. It was a nagging concern, but she pushed it to the back of her mind for right now.
"Let's head to this flop house and check it out. Remember, look for the gold nose ring." She reminds them, before heading for the Ye Olden Ones.
Cyean nods in agreement, finding his questions earlier to himself to be a bit stronger now, with the information that he found out. "This is starting to seem a bit odd to me, anyone else?"
"...or whether they were tourists. Customs officials do not have to speak truths, and it is not as if we are in a position to turn down an employment."
These words are the first anyone has heard Kisako speak in several hours, and even he is shocked by their loquacious-ness. For awhile, he had just been following Sam and Oswin around, eager to get a few weeks' living wage and happy to have something to do for the first time in a long, long time.
It felt good to be given an order. But this wasn't his home. He wasn't a subject. He, perhaps, even had a say in what happened.
You arrive at Ye Olden Ones. It is a disastrous wreck of a building and you wonder why anyone would willing live here. The sign proclaiming the establishment sits to the side of the door, its letters faded and worn. Knocking on the door, a small panel opens in the middle. A pair of rheumy eyes look back at you.
"Whaddya want? We don't want no trouble here."
"Trouble? Well, that entirely depends," Sam speaks up, adjusting her scarf and looking up at the eyes through the door. "We're looking for Slim Jesse. Just him, and nobody else. So if you wouldn't mind letting us in and taking a look around for him, we can be as civil as you'd like us to be."
She peers a bit, seeing if she can't detect the glint of something gold off of the nose between those eyes.
"Jesse ain't here," the man behind the door says, his eyes pressed to where you can't see anything else. He coughs violently for a moment.
As lies went, Sam had seen better bluffing from a twitchy gnome at the cards table. The gunslinger rested on hand on the revolver strapped to her hip, trying once more to be civil.
"See, that's funny. I've heard around that this is the place he's holed himself up in. I wouldn't want to have come all this way for nothing, not when I could be enjoying the festivities instead. So I'll ask again, mind letting us in to confirm whether he's here or not?"
"Alright, alright," the man says, opening the door. "He's busy right now, but he's upstairs. Last door on the right."
The doorman looks as if he had been a heavy abuser of drugs. The lobby of the flophouse looks about as inviting as the exterior. Old paintings of the "old" gods adorn the walls along with various religious relics that look like they had been looted from some old temples. The man coughs again , taking a step away from the group.
"Much obliged," Sam cheerfully replies, gesturing to the rest of the posse as they enter. The doorman looked like he was a snort of pixie dust away from keeling over dead. The biggest surprise for the gunslinger was the religious relics decorating the interior. She paused at one depicting Desna, giving a tiny prayer for a bit of luck in the future, before continuing up to Slim Jesse's room.
"Mouths shut, ears open," She whispered back to the others, walking upstairs and doing her best to stay quiet as they approached the last door on the right, attempting to listen and see if she can't hear what the wererat is up to.
Kisako offers to stay downstairs to watch the door. The strange relics are curious to him and he thinks it'd be a good learning opportunity.
Cyean follows along with the rest of the group, looking as non threaten as possible as they go to the room they were told.
You ascend the stairs when you hear some loud arguing coming from the door that Slim Jesse is supposedly behind.
"It wasn't supposed to be this way..."
"This is a different age, Jesse. You've done me wrong."
"But...but!"
"Quiet. Smell that? Yeah, they're here for you."
The hallway falls silent.
"Aw, balls," Sam muttered, wondering who the second voice was - she did agree that this whole job had a fishy scent to it, but she wasn't going to flub her first mission just on a gut feeling. The gunslinger drew her revolver, spinning the cylinder to a silver slug.
"Oswin, kick in the door," She directs the barbarian - no need to be stealthy about this any more.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Kisako meanders about the small room depicting the religious icons. He stops at the alter to Iomedae, looking between the blazing longsword and his own Shizuru - icon around his neck.
There was a resemblance there. He wonders how there could be two faiths, so far apart, and yet so similar.
Then he hears the crash of flesh and armor on wood. His hand goes to his sword's hilt, and his other hand strays to his back, where his shield is.
Kisako is glad to have his lamellar on, this time. He wasn't prepared to take a beating like he had earlier.
The wooden door splinters and breaks in half as Oswin gives it a solid kick. Jesse's room is a frightening affair. Only a bed of straw occupies the left wall and a small altar sits in front of a half-opened window. On the walls, floor and ceiling, the words Forgotten, but not gone are repeatedly carved. On the small altar there is a picture of Father Skinsaw, the god, Norgorber. Jesse is huddled next to this small altar, clutching a short sword to his body. He is thin and haggard. Long, greasy brown hair frames his face and he sports an unkempt beard, covered in spittle and gods know what else. You see a shining gold nose ring behind his hair.
"No, you go away! You can't have me," Jesse screams.
Sam glanced in, a little surprised - where had the other voice gone? She was sure she had heard two people in there. Slim Jesse looked a bit crazy, though - considering who he worshiped, that could be a given.
"Don't drop your guard, there was somebody else in here..." The gunslinger informs them, looking around for any clues.
Sam looks around and find no evidence of another person being here. Jesse continues to cower before the gunslinger, rocking back and forth.
"He came to me and he said that you would be my punishment," the man sobs, mucus and tears running down his face.
Now Sam was feeling awfully suspicious about this whole job - it would have been much more plain if the guy had come at them with his sword, but that and the disappearing voice...there were just a few questions she felt needed answering before she could commit to killing him or not.
"All right, I'll bite - who said we were your punishment? And what are you being punished for?" She asks him, keeping her gun in hand as she takes a look out the window, seeing if somebody climbed out or not.
The window isn't open far enough for a person to climb out. A quick check confirms that the window is stuck.
"Father Skinsaw...he came to me because I killed Sarenrae's missionaries," Jesse says, making a loud 'snurk' as he does so. "He said I had done it all wrong and I had to be punished. He made sure I was seen when I did it."
"...You're telling us that Norgorber appeared to you directly and told you that you sucked at being an assassin so he was going to send people to murder you," Sam paraphrased, obviously skeptical about this. She glanced over at the others, motioning Cyean and Oswin into a huddle.
"So, this guy is obviously insane. Putting him out of his misery would probably be doing him a service. Plus he confessed to the murders, so...all in favor of putting one in his brain?" Sam asked them, raising her own hand in favor.
"It might not be Norgorber himself might just be someone using the name or pretending to be Norgorber. Which in of itself is a bit of a problem if people are going around pretending to be gods or using their names for some reason. So there is that, though he is guilty so not like we can let him go." Is Cyean's answer to what Sam said.
Jesse picks up on Oswin's hesitation. "Yes, this was all his plan. Why don't we forget about this and go our separate ways? There's the festival, it might be more fun than dealing with me. Here, here..."
He takes off the nose ring and offers it to you, dripping snot and all. "Take this to Keith, I know he wants it and I'll leave the city. He won't be any wiser."
"Hey, look, as I see it, we've got two options: let him go and take his nose ring as proof that we did the job with all the risks that entails, or finish it as we agreed to do." She shrugs her shoulders at them. "So, it's a vote. Kill him or let him go. I say..." She pauses, leaning in to whisper so the wererat won't overhear.
With barely a clank, Kisako appears in the doorway. With a severe look at Sam, he chastises her. "You are suggesting executing an opponent who has surrendered? You dishonor yourselves. A person's life should not be up for a vote."
Crossing to the sniveling wererat, Kisako holds his hand out for the wererat's weapon. "Please, your weapon. I will not treat with you while you are armed."
If he hands over the weapon, Kisako carefully hands the weapon, hilt-first, to Oswin. "Please hold this." he says.
Then he turns to the wererat. With as disarming smile as he can muster and his hands very deliberately not on his sword's hilt, he asks, "So, Jesse. Why did you kill those people? And what is this thing that is not forgotten?"
Seeing a way out, Jesse hands his sword to Kisako. "Yes, your friend's right. We can solve this without violence. I surrender, I surrender...I didn't mean to kill them. Father Skinsaw needed an offering, but, for some reason, he steered those missionaries toward me."
He salivates more and crawls along the floor, tracing his finger along the carved words. "The gods, they have been forgotten, crushed by Asmodeus and his power. But they are not gone, no. They wait for their faithful to come back, to rise against the Lord of Devils."
"So either he is completely out of his mind or we just got caught up in some cult business that, sounds like it does not like the way things are being done. So I still say we have to take him in but first, I think we might want to find out a little more about this." Cyean says to the group thinking to himself, what if this is has something to do with recent events.
"...Wow, you guys are new to freelance work, aren't you?" Sam speaks up, looking at Cyean and Kisako. She keeps her gun trained on Jesse for the moment, sighing to herself. "We aren't the authorities. It's not our job to turn him in - we don't get paid for that. We get paid for taking his nasty nose ring back to our employer, and the debate here is do we honor the job as given or break that contract and risks our necks letting a crazy murderer go free."
"This ain't whatever backwater country or kingdom the two of you came from. Sorry if you don't like the options, but I'm sure if you try to take him in, he'll fight us and we'll just have to shoot him anyways. All he has to look forward to is the executioner's block. So, you want to let him live, walk away. You think he deserves a quick and painless death, I'll shoot him in the head. Now, who's voting and who's abstaining? You've already got mine."
"Don't listen to the..." Jesse pauses and sniffs. "Woman?! Hmm, hmm, yes...her heart is as cold as her bullets. Save your souls and let me live. You would do the devils' work if you didn't."
He looks at Cyean and Kisako miserably.
The disheveled man glares at Oswin. "I wasn't talking to you...slave..."
He curls into a ball, his gaze darting to each of you.
"Never freelanced before in my life. So this is how it is done? Kill him or take the nose ring? I say let him go, unless his mouth gets him into trouble." Is Cyean's answer, still thinking on what is going on with this wererat.