The Levee - Life and Death on the Streets of a Crooked City

Game Master Zesdead

Rigo glowers. "Not going to carry three bodies through town, unless you know which one we after."

Note, OOC we know which one is the right one, but nothing IC noted it.

The trapdoor is unlocked, indeed the hinge mechanism is ramshackle enough that it is remarkable that it is even holds closed at all... and, as Rigo suspected, opens up over the turbulent waters of the Lyme below. The waters are dark and there is only the soft light from the candles in the boudoir to illuminate them - yet even with this limited light, the occasional eel - or worse - can be seen breaching the surface... if Grace and her sister truly did murder this boy from the Capitol and then dispose of his body there will surely be nothing, other than the severed finger, left of him...

Aishe, who has been studying the mirrors calls out to the group whilst they explore elsewhere, "Hey... this is strange - this one is distorting my reflection... and I'll swear it was normal a moment ago. Some kind of parlour trick maybe?"

When Aishe says something about the mirror, Rigo swipes up something heavy off one of the shelves and slings it into the mirror as hard as he can.

He does the same with the other two mirrors, just to be sure.

Rigo's a simple soul, if something is acting weird, smash it.

I wonder how that will affect Aishe's 'exit.'

Moira, aghast, watches her companion smashing valuables even as she realizes the boy is definitely dead. "This sucks." she says, dispirited. "I think I'll go try to hire a closed cart... let me see if I can find one before you smash, mutilate, desecrate, or destroy anything or anyone else?"

"It's telling me to burn this place," Audria whispers after Rigo smashes the mirrors.

"Damn it Rigo! Say something next time?" Rubbing her face. Glancing at Audria, "Well tell it to shut up."

"Moira you shouldn't go alone."

Moira can't help but smile at Alexis' concern, despite all her very bad feelings. "Worried I won't be safe on the street alone, Mom? I think I'll be ok. But... hey, there, Audria, want to take a walk?"

I wonder how that will affect Aishe's 'exit.'

Oh, I shouldn't worry... your dastardly GM won't be deterred!!!

The large jar that Rigo throws smashes into the glass sending a spider's web of cracks running to the mirror's corners... Aishe grimaces at his feline friend, "Hey!!! There's no need for that... it's just a damned mirror!!!" He grimaces whilst he watches the other two mirrors are reduced to slivers of debris and reflections on the floor...

Disgusted, he turns to Moira, "Go and get a cart then... let's bring the Grasts their bounty"

Happy for Moira and anyone else to post a little piece getting yourselves a cart...

Rigo lived with a surly old dwarf for 4 years who was drunk most of the time and told him grisly stories about cursed relics, haunted ruins, and undead hunting. He doesn't exactly trust anything magical that he doesn't know what it does very well.

Rigo shrugs, and turns the mirror that was merely spiderwebbed so it's facing the floor, and stacks the other two on it. "Magic is magic, and magic is bad unless you know where it came from. For all you know, it suck you in and spit out evil twin who look like you." He stops, and narrows his eyes, sniffing at Aishe, to see if it's the same Aishe....

"Yes! Walk sounds good! Let's go for one—now!" Audria says as she turns to Moira with a deathshead's grin on her face.

Moira takes Audria's hand and says, "Be right back, dears!"

Once outside, she tries to spot a wagon or closed cart. After wandering through several twisted streets, she spots a rather garish vehicle akin to an Earthling Reading Wagon. The driver sits on the footboard, spitting tobacco onto the road, doing, apparently, nothing. She brightens, and asks the driver how much it would cost to rent it for the evening. When the surly owner says he'd never rent out his rig, Moira offers to buy it and his pony for... she rummages around... one hundred and fifteen shekels, cash!

The man scowls and hems and haws, and accepts.

Medium wagon: 75 gold. Pony: 30 gold. Ten gold: bonus for fanciness of wagon. She's planning to resell it quickly and take the loss, but maybe we need a wagon and pony? Might not fit on a chain ferry though. I guess we'll see.

Moira gives the gray pony a big hug around its neck, which seems to startle and perhaps injure the poor old beast. "What's his name?"

The man seems intent on scuttling away before the pony collapses. He calls over his shoulder, "Ironee. Proper names' Iron on account of his color, but I call him Ironee for familiarity's sake. Good pony, won't be disappointed with him. G'day!" He fades quickly into the nearest tavern...

Moira turns to Audria and says brightly, "You might have to buy me dinner tonight, I just spent all my gold! Let's go move some bodies! Ah, it's good to have a hearse of one's own! Giddeyup, Ironee!" And they plod back towards The Urchin...

A figure in the window watches from the Squealing Pig as Moira drives her newly acquired cart onto the pier. The horse she has paid so much gold for is increasingly unsteady on its hooves as the broad walkway out into the Lyme sways under the influence of the strong river currents here - yet it manages to make it as far as the steps leading below the main walkway and into Grace's hideout... and, were either Audria or Moira to notice the man watching from the dubious Cookhouse they would have seen him quickly draw the curtains and slip from view.

And so, it is late evening now - although Festival may well be a place that never truly sleeps - loading up the cart with Grace and her sister? and from there, up to Grast Hall?

Meanwhile, in a tavern not too far from the Urchin, a tobacco chewing fellow is regaling anyone who will listen the story as to how he just made the bargain of a century... and can afford to finally move from Toiltown into more genteel premises. But this is Castorhage, and folk would be well-advised to not brag about newly acquired fortunes lest they attract the wrong kind of attention... and Moira's cart owner will sadly end his night in an anonymous back alley with a knife in his back and his pockets emptied... yet another soul lost to the hunger of the Blight.

Blissfully unaware of the ripple effects of her actions, Moira reenters the Urchin and says "Hey everyone! I bought a really pretty cart and pony! Let's load up the bodies and anything that looks valuable."

She locates some clean-ish sheets and expertly winds the bodies of the ghouls into them. Now they are just somewhat stinky corpses, totally anonymous. Unless there's something else to do, I guess we'll head to Grast Hall once we've got the hearse loaded.

"I recommend walking alongside instead of in the cabin for this trip, my friends. It's none too pleasant back there. I'll scrub it out after, though."

Audria is more than happy to not ride in the wagon and leave the foul place behind. The sooner they left the better, actually.

The entire time that the group are transferring the corpses from the boudoir beneath the pier, up the steps and into the cart that Moira has obtained, they have the eerie feeling of being watched... stopping and looking around reveals nothing other than a suspicion that anyone watching is likely doing so from the darkened windows of the Squealing Pig. Nothing comes of it though, and soon enough Moira is driving her 'hearse' back along the pier to the relative 'dry land' of the island itself...

It is, from the bells that toll across the water, somewhere approaching midnight as the cart starts its inexorable climb away from the shoreline and towards the summit of the island - where Grast Hall, nestled amongst the houses and stores of the Seethe, sits just below the Great Fayre. The sounds and smells of the party island continue to assault the senses, exotic foodstuffs, mulled alcohols, sulphur and the smell of herbal narcotics hang heavily in the thick air... and always, for those so accustomed they no longer smell it, the stench of rat...

The cart, its cargo and the folk from Wicken are some halfway up the ascent when they are approached by a man looking around furtively, "Word to the wise... the Watch have set up a cordon just around the bend - say they're on the watch for some stolen goods and they're searching everything that comes through", he looks around again before continuing in conspiratorial tones, "It so happens I know a way past... just down this alleyway here. A shekel buys you a guide..."

Rigo huffs. "Need go empty bladder, talk with man." He steps into the alley, and as soon as the man turns to talk to the group, Rigo vanishes up the side of the building. He then goes roof to roof and checks out the story, to see if there's a cordon around the bend.

Stealth: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20

Moira whispers thanks to the man. "Thanks, stranger! I'm totally broke but maybe one of my companions will pony up a coin? Any idea what they're looking for?" She smiles at him, though the long day means that she's looking pretty tired. When Rigo vanishes, she gets a little nervous, too.

Ah, the scent of herbal narcotics... it would be lovely to be able to curl up in a cozy spot and relax a little...

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22 Do I trust that he is telling the truth and not running a scam.

Quietly watching the man speak and Moira quickly start chatting with him. gods she is so friendly.

Alexis, watching the man intently, soon sees him for what he is... a likely scam artist and probable thief. It doesn't take too long for Rigo, clambering easily across the ramshackle roofs of Festival, to confirm it... there is no sign of any cordon... nor any presence from the Office of the Watch.

...and by the time that Rigo has clambered back down to the wagon, the man - no doubt realising the game is up - has made a feeble excuse and disappeared into the crowds...

Rigo returns, and chuffs. "No one around bend. Let's go. He knew we have stuff in wagon no want seen, so obviously, he saw something. Not good. Let's get back to Circus." He grumbles. "Wagon stick out like sore thumb, and had to carry them openly to it. Would have been better to do what I suggested and dump rest through door." He says, referencing taking just the heads.

"...Let's get back to Circus."

So... just so I am clear on how to drive the narrative forwards (and because there's an interesting choice to be made) - are you still set on taking the bodies to Grast Hall; noting that it will be around midnight by the time you get there... or back to the pier and seeing the Grast patriarch in the morning? Totally up to you...

Glaring at the man and tapping Moira on the shoulder as the con man starts to backpedal, "Never take peoples words at face value."

Glancing over at Rigo, "We are bloody and loaded up a wagon. He saw an easy mark. Us carrying everything we took would have been more obvious."

All for waking them up at midnight. And did we take all the weird stuff. I thought we did since we have space for it. We might be able to buy a hand haversack!

I honestly forgot which was which. Re Circus vs Grast Hall

Also, I thought we got prestidigitated clean before we left

And yes, I thought we looted the place, sans the mirrors

Waiting on confirmation before I comment on the bloody thing, since I think we got cleaned.

"Didn't, went and checked for myself." Rigo huffs annoyedly. "Also, man smelt like rat. From now on, if I touch my ear with my tail while talking to someone, it mean they rat person." He demonstrates, his tail tapping the tip of his ear.

Always happy to clean off the party. We could establish that Moira keeping everyone clean (when in a private location) is a standard operating procedure? But I don't think anyone asked for cleaning. The wagon has all the bodies and the treasure. Heck, Moira probably would have insisted on bringing the ghoul pigs too! Though I forgot to specify that.

"Rigo, the bodies need to be treated with respect. Remember that the ghouls inhabiting these bodies were not the innocent people who grew up inhabiting these bodies. The acts of the ghouls do not negate that these are the remains of real people." Moira clears her throat after her speech. "Let's get on over to Grast Hall."

Alexis: we won't need a haversack! We have Ironee and his wagon now! ;)

Interesting thing about GURPS. Gear you buy with points is generally safe, unless you do something with it. The GM has to give you chance to recover gear that was bought with points and forcibly removed from your person. Gear bought with money, not so much. I wouldn't bet money on poor Ironee lasting long in this place.

Audria has half a mind to agree with Rigo, though it was less about being caught and more about efficiency. She wants out of the Blight, and preferably somewhere far away from the never to be sufficiently damned city. The longer she stays, the more agitated she feels, as if there was something just below the surface, like something she'd forgotten. It was ridiculous, of course. She'd never been to the Blight.

Hadn't she?

I think onwards to Grast Hall then... and yeah, no worries about you folks having cleaned yourselves up and having taken all of the notable treasures, accoutrements and ephemera from the ghoulish boudoir.

With the con artist having disappeared and with little further to travel along the raucous streets of Festival, the friends arrive at Grast Hall no more than a few minutes after the tolling of the midnight hour. Somewhat grandly appointed compared to its ramshackle neighbours, the ancestral home of the Grasts shows all of the signs of hosting yet another party - several horse drawn carriages wait on the street - the immaculate paint, polish and brass of these carriages presenting a stark contrast to the state of the cart, and horse, that Moira now owns - whilst braziers, positioned to illuminate the ostentatious architecture of the hall, burn brightly.

The grandiose double doors atop the steps into Grast Hall are closed and a pair of bewigged halflings, each dressed impeccably in the garb of a butler, stand in watch...

Interesting thing about GURPS. Gear you buy with points is generally safe, unless you do something with it. The GM has to give you chance to recover gear that was bought with points and forcibly removed from your person. Gear bought with money, not so much. I wouldn't bet money on poor Ironee lasting long in this place.

Oh... as if I was do such a terrible thing as to let poor old Ironee be stolen, die of some dreadful wasting disease, turn out to be a were-pony, spontaneously combust... or simply keel over at an inopportune time... :)

We specified the cleaning after the fight in the alley but not after this one. That's why I said that if we weren't bloody I wouldn't have said that. In all honesty this has been a long day for the poor unfortunate souls that make up our group so forgetting would not be out of character considering the circumstance. And can Ironee be a were-pony? That sounds like fun times!

Throwing up her hands in irritation. Looking back and forth between Moira and Rigo. Settling the overgrown cat since the other one might be insane, "You are not the only one who notices things Rigo. You are not the only one with baggage or the only one that can be right. And pick something else. Tapping your ear with your tail is obvious and kinda dumb."

Rigo turns around, facing Alexis. "Watch tongue human. Do not take your frustration out on me, for though art tall and make a good scratching post! As to it being 'dumb'. You are an idiot. When we are looking at someone, usually I am in front of everyone else. Which means you can see the tail behind my back, but the person we are facing usually cannot." He turns, to reveal the tail she couldn't see, as it was blocked by his bulk, is touching the base of his ear.

Then he moves to the opposite side of the wagon from the obnoxious human.

Nothing person OOC, I'm assuming all of them are on edge and tired

By now, having lingered at the front of Grast Hall with their cart so much of a contrast to the others here, the group seem to have attracted the attention of the halfling staff. With one of the 'butlers' remaining at the closed doors, the other - his hand clearly resting atop the pommel of a belt-slung blade - approaches Moira and her companions. Looking at the frail horse with some disdain and with a voice that isn't entirely welcoming, he asks, "You've been here a short while... can I assist you with something? You are lost maybe?"

Oh... as if I was do such a terrible thing as to let poor old Ironee be stolen, die of some dreadful wasting disease, turn out to be a were-pony, spontaneously combust... or simply keel over at an inopportune time... :)

I guess I won't invest in a curry comb just yet...

Moira awkwardly grins at the wigged butlers. "Despite our occasional squabbles, we're actually highly talented agents of House Grast. Marren hired us for a little job, he wouldn't happen to be awake, would he? If so, tell him Moira's got a wagon full of results for him to inspect at his convenience."

EDIT : Ninja'd by Moira, so wiping post

"Agents of Marren Grast you say? Well... we received no notice that he was expecting any callers this evening... but you are in luck, he is hosting an event for the Family tonight. If you wouldn't mind waiting for a few minutes more, I'll let him know that you are here... it's Moira you say?" bowing, almost imperceptibly, he leaves the group and, after consulting with his companion at the door, disappears into the building - the sound of music, no more elegant than at the previous night's event, pours out into the street whilst the door stands open...

It takes ten minutes, maybe a little more, before he returns - with a somewhat rosy-cheeked and sweating Marren Grast accompanying him. If anything, the wig that Marren is wearing tonight is even more ridiculously proportioned than last night's... "My friends... back so soon!!! What a treat... what a wonder!!! Tell me, the little task that I asked of you... it is done?"

Rigo just opens the door to the wagon. The three bodies are covered by a curtain, which he removes. He positions the heads so their faces can be seen. "Not sure which was which, there was a fourth who attacked us too, we found out she wasn't the one. So brought the other three. They didn't say who was who before they attacked, so not sure which one you want."

"Whoa!!!! Cool your heels my good fellow!!!" Marren quickly, and rather emotively, gestures that the curtains be placed back over the faces of the ghouls... looking around furtively and whistling with relief when he is satisfied that no one else saw the grisly cargo, "No need to go upsetting the good folk of the island... let them enjoy their evening untroubled by such unpleasantness as we have here".

And then, drawing the group close, Marren smiles, "A fine bit of work my friends, a fine bit of work... that will send a message to the Frynns that the Grasts will not be treated so insolently. Ahhhh, I'll admit it... I liked the look of you the moment I clapped eyes on you... 'capable', that's the word... 'capable'. I could use people such as you, how do you feel about working for me? Say five Pillasters a day to work down at young Ammos' Circus? A generous offer I hope you'll agree..."

His tone then turns conspiratorial, "And who knows? Maybe I'll have more jobs for you some time soon..."

Rigo shrugs. "I like animals..." He comments noncommittally, looking to the others to do the rest of the talking/negotiating.

Oh I can bicker in character and not really feel that way. Everyone does not get along at all times so yes nothing personal. But I am gonna point out in your first post you said the tip of his ear. Which is rather obvious to most people. And then you said the base of the ear. Also something obvious.

Glaring up at Rigo, "Yeah well quite threatening me then. Cause you would make a really nice blanket. And you touched different parts of your ear which is different parts of obvious. Oh am mighty leader please think of something for when we are surrounded."

Remaining silent the rest of the trip. Staying a mess of agitation are glares.

"Can I get back to you after I have slept. Business is a morning thing."

Earlier, while walking
Rigo grumbles. "Fine, I won't bother telling you when you are looking at something that does not match it's smell, human. Use your own nose."

In response to Rigo.

Glaring at Rigo, "If that means you stop talking to me like you own me than so be it."

Why do I feel like I have to hold this party together?

"Thank you, Mr. Marren! We will head down and see what Ammos has in store for us. I was wondering, though, if I could have a small advance? I spent my last shekel in the course of this... undertaking... Oh, and, is there a good place to burn bodies around here?"

Also I believe Mr. Mortara will be getting his hands on the mortomata weathervane? Or do we already have that?

Marren, maybe because he is rather drunk, maybe because he is rather ostentatious or just maybe because he likes Moira laughs, "An advance? Of course... I mean", he glances towards the shrouded cargo of the cart, "...for such favoured friends, it would be no problem - how does a handful of Shekels each sound? That'll be us all square for the next month though... unless something else becoming of your talents arises". The gregarious halfling stops for a moment before addressing Salom directly, "The Weather Vane... you enjoyed the curio I hope? An intriguing piece... and just think of the possibilities that it suggests... remind me one day, I would love to hear more about your construct - quite the feat... quite the feat!!!"

Yes... Salom already has the Morto-mata...

When Moira asks about disposal of the bodies, "Well there are the burning ghats on the mainland... downriver a little way - but I'm afraid that I must insist Grace and her 'sisters' are turned over to the Grasts. What good is a message if no-one hears it after all?" Marren smiles... a smile that is neither pleasant nor well meaning...

On the way to Grast Manor...

"Think maybe we can keep our voices down, or should I set you two on fire so you both make fine distractions while we get on with it?" The bite in Audria's voice had never been there in her time in Wicken. Something had changed since their flight from the Redemption. She doesn't cower, and it seems that the bickering between Rigo and Alexis had frayed her temper's leash.

"For what it's worth, I trust Rigo's sense of smell a lot more than mine. If he notices something, I'd rather him tell me."

Grast Manor...
Audri lets Moira speak. She didn't want to stay in this misbegotten rathole any longer than was necessary. A few sheckles might get her passage to somewhere she could start over, especially if she worked for her fare, though the kind of work they'd have her do in the worst case she didn't want to think about.

As much as she needed the money, she didn't want to work for Grast either. This time it was an undead murderess. Next time it might be an old lady who cared for stray puppies, kittens, and kids. It didn't seem like excess was anything beyond a word to Marren, if the way he seemed to throw himself into his parties was anything to go by. What would happen if he decided to take something that he wanted?

The question sent a chill down her back. The answers were not pleasant ones.

Moira's totally down to take Ironee and the wagon and start a new life somewhere far, far from the Blight if you want to, Audria! Actually, I think her stubbornness and curiosity might keep her around a little bit longer... but it's a nice thought. Also, I'm trying to decide what Moira's going to say to Marren. If someone wants to drag her away before she starts pontificating about how once a ghoul dies, it's just another innocent body that deserves respect, now might be the time...

Rigo nods. "Sure, where we drop?" He shakes his head toward the wagon. "We should drop and go, less see us here better." He says, and then once Marran tells them, and gives out rewards, he drags Moira and Audria away, by the scruff of the neck if need be.

Once they are a block or two away, he shudders. "I do not like working for wererats." He says very very quietly, barely above a whisper. "But it was not safe turn down the job, for now. We still have our small side excursion, but the best way to complete that is to make our selves useful until we can track our issue down. We should have more free time. I hesitate to suggest it, but it might be better if we do not travel as a group. We are too memorable." He nods at the construct, and then taps his own chest. "Humans can blend in easier, but not so much me or that." Again, his speech is low and barely loud enough to carry to the others. "I think we need to discuss privately when we get to hotel..." He taps his head, indicating the way they spoke privately before.

Visibly tense and silent after Audria threatens to burn her thoughout the walk and the conversation with Marren. Glancing up at Rigo but not meeting his eyes while speaking barely above a mumble, "Hotel then talking."

Glancing around but not at any of her traveling compaions, "Same one as before?"

Directed by 'Uncle Marren', the cart is unloaded of its grisly cargo away from prying eyes... the lackeys summoned from the manor house to perform the thankless task quietly go about their business and do not mention the other treasures stacked up within the wagon... and even had they done so, Marren Grast is far too merry to make any misplaced claim on the contents of the boudoir... indeed, so inebriated is he that when the group are finally out of sight, farewells and promises to be in touch made, and they look at the coin purse that Marren gave to Moira - they discover that in amongst the thirty shekels he offered as an advance, there are a couple of platinum royals as well (making a total of 30GP and 2PP... in other words, 50GP)

It is too late in the day to be dealing with Ammos Grast and trying to get lodgings at the Circus Macabre, even had one been so inclined, is far less preferable than maybe finding a tavern along the riverfront again - this time, one with stables...

And so... you folks can chill out - find yourselves a tavern (you can go back to the one that you stayed at the night before or make up a new place) and do whatever RP chatting / planning needs to happen...

And, as a reminder - your main purpose on Festival, as agreed with Eleanor Shank when she assisted you in your escape from the Redemption, remains locating the missing man with the swan tattoo - Uriah Agaric. You have had at least one lead... And, in the short term as part of your cover, Marren Grast expects you to report to Ammos Grast and to 'work' at the Circus Macabre... now, won't that be fun!!!

Someone prestidigitates the wagon

Once at the inn, and in a private room, Rigo looks around. "Should talk before bed?" He obviously taps his head, meaning privately.

Assuming that happens

We need to change the wagon, and it's trim. If we can trade the horse for a different color one, that would be even better. Circus doesn't open until the afternoon, so we have the morning free to do things. Selling what we got from the ghouls, searching for Agaric, telling the pigs you talked to before they are safe, assuming those weren't the undead pigs we found. A lot to do, but we can split up, safer if we aren't always in a group, since they are looking for us as a group. I'm no good for selling, they'll try to cheat me due to my size and being a Tabaxi, the village did the same thing to my parents. I can paint the wagon though, that's not hard. Or I can haul junk to the junk store, if you want, that's easy as well.

Salom comes bouncing by. "The mortomata! Fascinating. Stormy weather ahead, says he, but I suppose we knew that, didn't we? It appears there is no category for 'usurping an ghoulish girl of the night'."

Where? Salom mouths to Rigo. He really ought to practice that cat's language.

Rigo's post where he was talking such a long speech was assuming we found an inn for the night, and the telepathy spell got cast so we could all talk privately without being overheard, so no need to mouth?

Flinching at the voice hitting her mind but bypassing her ears. Sucking in a shaky breath and shrugging as her reply.

Moira's fingers tingle numbly from casting so many cantrips, but she's happy to see the wagon's interior fully cleaned. Ironee is installed (literally) among the other horses, and munches sleepily before drifting off to sleep.

Moira follows the group into the hotel room, again casting cantrips left and right--this time, Message.

"I think I'm gonna sleep in the wagon tonight. I'll be able to keep an eye on it and our loot. Tomorrow, let's paint it black. Then I'll have a couple errands of my own to run. I want to keep Ironee a little while longer, but I guess if I'm going to trade him, it'd better be soon... I'm getting really fond of the ol' guy."

Can't post much now, but Moira's going to retrieve and burn the final ghoul. I kind of want to do a long operatic post about her taking the corpse to the ghats by boat... nobody else need be involved. She's also going try to track down Grunwaldt and see if the GP from the guy we saved ever found its way to him--but mostly just to hang out with her friend a while.