Moving closer to Audria since she invited it while watching the other inhabitants of the 'pit'. She belongs here even less than I do.
So much for appearing ordinary.
Salom's instincts to survive, revived at the notion of escape, fight against him as he peers into the hatch and the crowded water below. But he has had a great deal of practice ignoring what is good for him, and so he forces the feelings aside and hops unceremoniously into the abyss.
The fall through the darkness stretches into the fullness of moments. Uriah Agaric, Eleanor's voice whispers from the gloom. He had felt the heat in her hand, heard the need in her voice, a familiar song--he knew what it meant. So, she is searching for someone, too...
The shock of the cold water strikes like a boot to the stomach. That's the third one today, mind. He climbs to his feet, gasping and spitting. Was that a fish wriggling against his leg? He hopes it was a fish.
He steadies himself on Aishe's shoulder and glances around the gloom, trying not to make eye contact, instead searching for a profile fitting a rat.
"Wonderful, she's at it again," he remarks flatly to Aishe as Moira begins to spirit the crowd. "I wonder if she knows the story of the goose that sang too loudly, and ended up on the dinner table." The idea of roasted bird makes his mouth water and his stomach twist, and he wishes he had not said it.
"Stay close," he whispers toward the others. "We are strangers in this land, and have not yet learned her customs."
The majority of the souls in this dread place are human, indeed there is little more than a handful of other races here - three of whom, sat apart from the others on one of the 'dry' flotsam islands, are halfling... and most of the folk - especially those not upon the islands, barely registering the arrival of the group, have fallen to sickness and / or despair.
- it doesn't take the naturally sharpened scent of the 'Beast of Wicken' to determine that Ammos Grast is likely one of the halflings on the flotsam island... but even to those without the natural senses of the hunter, the smell of rat - overpowering since arriving on the 'Redemption' - is dreadful down here in the hold...
Assessing the situation, with Moira already attempting to from some kind of agreement or relationship with the prisoners - somewhat unsuccessfully, it is clear that there is a rudimentary hierarchy here... the strong have taken their place upon the high points above the bilge water whilst those who cannot fend for themselves are left to their inevitable fate. A figure, floating face down in the water near to where the group entered the hold, tells of the likely life expectancy down here...
In the dim light and wading through the waters towards the new arrivals, a man with a terribly scarred face pushes past the floating corpse... looking back towards three other men on one of the islands, he talks with a similar accent to 'Gryme', "Seems you folks are new arrivals down 'ere... now me and my brothers, see - this is our place, we can make sure you get fed and 'ave somewhere proper to get yer head down... or, if you ain't the cooperating types, we can stay down here in the waters with the rest o' the muck". Standing tall, although not as tall as Rigo, his voice is cruel, "So... What can you offer? What've you brought down 'ere? Me an' the boys, we need payment".
"Glad to meet you." Aishe begins slowly, not sure what he's going to say until he says it.
"As you can see, we're as poor as you, and in bad shape besides. But perhaps we have one or two things we might offer a group such as yours. We're not without resources." he gestures to the oversized cat hulking over the assembly.
"We'd like to work with you, we really would. What sort of thing are you looking for?" he asks innocently.
Rigo huffs. "Bring life. This is best present you can hope for from me. Do not interfere with me, I will continue to give this present for the foreseeable future. Interfere with me, and I will no longer give this present." Rigo rumbles, then moves to move around the man. "I have no argument with you, nor any love either. I would prefer to continue giving life to you." He then walks over toward the halflings, his nostrils still flaring. If he passes any rats on the overhead beams, he will grab one, to see if any of the halflings react.
Audria stays close to Alexis, eyes darting around the hold of the ship. She didn't want to imagine what they'd want of her, and her shivering sent small ripples from her legs.
"Brothers?" Salom's dark eyes dart from face to face. "Yes, I see the family resemblance." He gestures toward his fellows from Wicken. "And we, our merry band, brothers and sisters as well. Even the feline, there. Half-sibling, as it were. As to payment, well, a promissory note, verbal, will need suffice, unless you've parchment and quill at hand?."
"Come along, all," he sing-songs, sloshing along near Rigo who, at least, seems to have a plan. He hopes.
Curling an arm around Audria before answering, "We have our minds and are still in good health," looking down at the body floating in the water with a bored glance, "comparably. You keep us that way and well. Like he" Waving a hand at Rigo "said, everything is easy for all of us."
Let’s see if any of these jerks knows their spellcraft…
Moira roots around in the water, looking for a pebble or stick or something. She ends up pulling out a bone, maybe chicken leg bone, maybe a metatarsal or something (she shivers at the thought). But it’ll do. First, she tears a strip of cloth from her prison garb. Then, she heads to Audria and Alexis and asks them to huddle in for a second to block the sight and sound of her casting,
“Come close, girls, and talk loudly while I get this lil’ trick ready.”
After casting Light, she quickly wraps the now-luminous bone in the scrap of sackcloth.
Then, Moira sloshes closer to the island, and speaks quietly to the “brother” who appears to be acting as spokesman for the group.
“May I speak to you in magical privacy?”
Without waiting for a reply, she connects a Message spell to him. Then she continues,
"As you see, I have several little magic tricks that might be of interest to you and your brothers. For instance, this is the Bone of Light, which burns like a torch at my command.”
She hands him the wrapped bone, showing him its glow by lifting a corner of the sackcloth.
“You’re free to take it and light your way by its eldritch glow, but know that it reverts to darkness every ten minutes unless I tend to it. I can also clean your clothes and bodies (a pressing necessity, I fear), flavor your food, and warm your drinks. If you have wounded, I can even heal one of them. In return for all this, and for keeping the cat from doing anything rash, I ask for your favor for myself and my companions, and your assistance keeping my casting discreetly veiled from the multitude. We need food, a dry space, and perhaps some information.”
She hasn't dropped her winning smile and easygoing manner.
The scarred man, a look of distaste upon his face as the waters ripple around his waist, watches incredulously as Rigo wades right past him. He is about to make some self-important observation about Aishe having little to offer in return for the protection of 'the brothers' when Moira, improvising spectacularly, fashions something genuinely useful down here in the darkness... light. Grabbing the bone greedily, he sneers "That'll do... you stay on our side, do what we say an'..." There is a moment of thinly veiled menace, "I don't tell some of the other folks down 'ere that you're a witch". Backing away, his 'treasure' glowing gently in his palm, he smiles at Moira - blackened teeth doing little for his looks...
Rigo, heading towards the second of the islands, is watched with some curiosity by the halflings. Of the three here, two are visibly subservient to the one sat at the highest point. Moving to place themselves between Rigo and the island, it seems that they are placing themselves in harm's way... before, with a laugh, the swarthy and dark-haired halfling calls down, "Let him come... it has been a while since we have had new company down here. I relish fresh conversation to bide the time before I must take my leave of this place".
Standing, although with his lack of height he fails to make much of a physical impression, he calls down to Rigo, "Approach!!! You're a Tabaxi, right? I have heard of your kind here in Castorhage... yet I never thought to see one. Tell me", his smile is obnoxiously self-assured, "what brings you to this cesspit?"
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"Same thing that brought you here, desire for sun and fun." The tabixi dead pans. "This nice place you have, lots of water, on the river, no pesky tourists. Yes, Tabaxi, runt of litter unfortunately." He continues, deadpan, his eyes flickering slightly as the new lightsource make them glow in the dark, leering orange orbs that seem to float in the darkness.
"Looking for halfling, Aye Moss Grass't." He mangles the name, not used to speaking other peoples names. "Was told could help."
Aishe watches as the large creature tramples all over his carefully chosen words with his own actions. He does what he wants when he wants that's for sure. Probably best to just avoid him I guess. He shrugs, hoping it works out for the best.
He follows along behind, listening to the conversation, wondering if this is the guy they're supposed to befriend. He doesn't look like a rat. he catches himself looking for a tail and meets the man's eyes instead, watching.
(just generally paying attention and looking for obvious lies and the like)
Audria sticks close to Alexis, too terrified to let herself be caught alone in this place.
Moira sits jauntily cross-legged on the edge of the floating island, and calls over her friends who are still in the water. "Come on then, m'dears, the water's foul. Come and sit."
Meanwhile, she tries to figure out what to ask the locals. "Hey, there, plankmates, any of you ever been to Festival? What's the word on the street about that place?"
She scans the crowd on her island but doesn't see anyone who looks particularly rattish--or halflingish. Maybe Rigo and Aishe are having better luck over on their island...
Grinning at the trick with the light, Freaking mages are awesome! Even soaked in dead people water this is the most normal Alexis has felt since getting thrown in that cell, really the most normal since fleeing Oppara. The desperate were the kind of people she knew. Though it had been nice never having to think about it. I suppose the gutter is just where I belong.
Watching Rigo move is fascinating. He is so different than that fox woman I saw.
Tugging Audria along with her so they can join Moria while mumbling, "She's right. Come on, this will all be a horrible memory soon."
Moving to sit down so that Audria is between Moria and her, "Any sort of distraction sounds like a good thing."
Salom smiles despite himself. Moira's charm seems to be contagious, though he secretly wonders if the line about witchcraft might not be far off the mark--the kind of optimism she exudes reeks of dark origins.
He listens to Rigo spar with the halfling and, for once, keeps his mouth shut. He's not a complete idiot.
The folk on Moira's island of detritus, the scarred man and his brothers alongside three other men of increasingly belligerent demeanour, look prepared to quarrel with the inappropriately cheerful woman... but nudged by the scarred man, who shakes his head in warning, they leave her be. When she calls over to her friends though, things become a little more heated, "Hey miss... there ain't no more room 'ere on dry land... you, we'll put up with - but we ain't 'aving no more of yer friends parking themselves on our space". Emphasising the point, they spread themselves around on the 'island' such that there is little physical space left on the loosely bound pile of crates, boards and planks.
The question about Festival draws a quizzical look from the largest of the brothers, and the seed of a conversation, "Festival ain't nothing more than a sideshow for the Family to scam, steal, extort and blackmail... damned rats got that place sewn up good n' proper they 'ave. Why yer asking anyways? There ain't no way outta this place other than the gallows... all you folks got left is trying to make the time pass as pleasant as yer can".
Meanwhile, at the far side of the hold upon the second of the islands, the halfling laughs at Rigo's proclamation - a full belly laugh that is less to do with genuine amusement and more to do with posturing, "You? You've come to help me? ...or did I read that wrong? You think I can help you? Whatever, you've come to the right person at least", bowing extravagantly, "Ammos Grast at your service... for the short time I'll be here at least".
- there is nothing visibly rat-like about Ammos Grast... certainly nothing as obvious as a tail or suchlike.
Rigo nods, and his voice drops to a dull rumbling instead of a clear growling full voiced sound like ti was before. "Was said to help you, then kill you. Not sure I trust the person who wanted me to kill you. Don't trust anyone around here. Was told you were evil. Could be you are evil, could be the person who freed me to kill you is evil. Not know enough to know either way... yet. Figure I help you escape tonight, figure it out later. If evil, can kill you then, if not, can go home, and both free. Either way, out of here, and both have better chance of surviving, either way. Take those too, some of them need to die, not sure which ones yet. Some more guilty than others." He flicks his tail toward the others who'd come down into the hold with him. "So, we have deal? Help each other escape, figure out who dies later?"
Regarding the seed of conversation planted on Moira’s Island of Detritus, her appetite for information jockeys with her desire to get the kids out of the soup. Always bad with impulse control, she’s going to try to pull off both at once. At least for Audria. She talks to the scarred one and his brothers:
“Well that’s exactly what I’m trying to do—to make the time pass as pleasantly as I can. I love songs and stories best, and want to hear about the big world outside before I leave it behind. I’ve always heard Festival is fun, is it really so awful and rat-infested? You tell me a tale and I’ll sing you one back—Audria here’s a heck of a singer herself, got a voice like a bell. We know all the songs of the countryside, about dashing criminals and heroic murderers…” Moira’s clearly trying to flatter her fellow islanders, but there’s truth to this, what with the country’s ever-expanding repertoire of murder ballads and gallows dirges… “songs of the ol’ hearth and home, even satires of the nobility and the bigwigs. I’ve heard there are funny songs from Castorhage, ones about Lord Paladin Thornrage, you know any of them? Maybe I can get Audria up on the island for a song?”
She keeps fishing for info, trying to loosen the lips of the doomed brethren...
Aishe listens to Rigo's banter with Ammos. Not the approach I'd have tried. he thinks. Still...
He watches intently to see how the rat-man reacts.
As eyes turn to her, Audria freezes as still as stone, at least until you see the water rippling around her legs. Her eyes are as wide and round as saucers as she looks at the men on the island.
Raising an eyebrow but waiting to see what the man has to say about more singing. So long as Audria gets out of this nasty water.
Salom is worried. This feels too easy, finding Ammos Grast. Surely fate would not have smiled on them so. There's going to be a catch, he thinks, and waits silently, shivering in the filthy, chill water.
Ammos looks to Rigo with a look increasing incredulousness upon his face, "Wait... wait... wait... slow down now. I think you must have got the wrong Ammos Grast my friend... you see, I'm just biding time until my folks sort out my release", his smile is laced with disdain now, "You want me to leave with you... and then you get to decide whether to murder me? Or murder whoever it is that sent you?"
Sitting down now that he is convinced Rigo is not someone that he wishes to do business with, "No... no... no... that doesn't sound like a deal at all. An' who exactly is it that sent you here? Are you delusional?" Laughing at his own supposition, Ammos tells his halfling companions to get themselves back on the island, "I'm afraid to say, we are unlikely to be doing business with our tabaxi friend after all!!!"
At the other end of the hold, the brothers suggest that Moira keep her singing to herself, "See them folks?", one of the men points upwards towards the metal walkway ten feet above the filthy water of the hold... and at the disinterested guards stationed at either end, "You anger them an' its a quick one-way trip to the gallows for you. Seen that only two days past, some fellow went stark raving mad... lost it, he did... singing songs against the Office of the Watch, against the clergy, against the Royal Family - the whole lot. Needless to say, they dragged him out of the slop faster than you can say 'Revolution' and ten minutes later, the tell tale sound of something splashing overboard". The brother holds a finger over his lips, So... no singing, if you know what's good for you".
- the walls of the hold aren't totally smooth... in fact, climbing out wouldn't be so hard if the grates (one at either end of the hold and one leading into the caged walkway pointed out to Moira) weren't chained and padlocked shut...
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Aishe, in his stinky glory, steps forward from behind Rigo. "Don't mind him. He's a warrior, and he's been hit in the head once too often perhaps, but his heart is in the right place."
He gets real close, and lowers his voice, "We have indeed been sent to rescue you from this pit - not to kill you. If we'd been sent to kill you, he'd have done it already." he levels a look at Rigo.
"That one has killing on the brain - it's been a long time down here and it's getting to all of us. Why, he threatened to kill me earlier this evening for no crime other than my current residence. Well, not here but my last home..."
"But I'm wandering around the topic when what you want is clear speech and understanding. We're leaving at midnight, and we'd like to bring you with us. Do you want to join us out of here, or wait to see if your family loves you enough to pay for your release in some unknown future?"
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"I don't know what lady, whoever it was that let us go. She said a lot of things that didn't make any sense." He glares at Aishe, feeling out of his depth, and wanting to just smash the smug human who probably helped lynch his parents.
However, sensing that the halfling is a coward, he huffs and lets the human do the speaking. That's about all they were good for anyway, talking. The old dwarf had said so every day. Humans good for nothing except boring you to sleep with jabber.
And there it is. It couldn't have been wise to disclose murderous intent, but he couldn't hold it against Rigo. They hardly had time to crack open a plan into the skillet, much less hatch one.
And there he goes again with the food analogies. His hunger must really be getting to him.
But Aishe is quick on the uptake, bless him. "A bodyguard," Salom explains with a half glance at Rigo. "A necessary precaution on a mission such as ours."
But who would have sent us, Aishe? Surely not the Grast family, as we are yet strangers to them and must convince this horrible little man to take us under his wing, or paw, or whatever.
"We are creatures of rare talent, you see," he explains, "and have heard impressive details of the power and cunning of the Grasts. As fate would have it, we are in sudden, urgent need of new employ, and would offer our skills to you and your kin. But first, we must get you and us off of this pleasure barge."
At the other end of the hold, the brothers suggest that Moira keep her singing to herself, "See them folks?", one of the men points upwards towards the metal walkway ten feet above the filthy water of the hold... and at the disinterested guards stationed at either end, "You anger them an' its a quick one-way trip to the gallows for you. Seen that only two days past, some fellow went stark raving mad... lost it, he did... singing songs against the Office of the Watch, against the clergy, against the Royal Family - the whole lot. Needless to say, they dragged him out of the slop faster than you can say 'Revolution' and ten minutes later, the tell tale sound of something splashing overboard". The brother holds a finger over his lips, So... no singing, if you know what's good for you".
“Well, that’s just rotten. First they throw us in a nasty hole full of dead people water that makes my hands all pruney, and now you tell me that they don’t allow music. But thanks kindly for the warning. Hey, just out of curiosity, you all have had time to make rules and procedures down here, and to call each other brothers—how have you been avoiding the gallows? Are y’all really brothers, like, came out of the same mother? Were you together on the outside? What are ya in for, anyways? Any chance anyone would come to bust you fine folks out of this place?”
While Moira’s impulse is to try to invite the entire island along for the breakout, she restrains her desire to reveal the whole plan to the ruffians she’s met in the hold (take note, fair Rigo). Instead, she offers something more circuitous:
“Look, I know I’m doomed, but ya gotta dream of escape up until the moment the rope gets uncomfortably tight. So play along with me. If I managed to bust out of this tuneless joint, is there anyone on the outside I could bring a message to?”
Ammos Grast's nose almost visibly turns upwards as Aishe, quite sodden with muck from his less than elegant landing in the hold, steps forwards... but intrigued, he does at least listen to this other version of the plan. So self-assured is he, sat upon his own floating kingdom in the filthy hold of the Redemption, that he cannot help but laugh out loud when Aishe suggests that Rigo is a few ha'pennies short of a pillaster, "I knew it... I said, didn't I?", he nudges his halfling companions, "I said he weren't right in the 'ead... I could tell jus' by looking at 'im... look at his eyes, all out of focus and cloudy they are".
In an over-exaggerated flourish, he slaps his thighs at the humour of it all... and then, adopting a low, conspiratorial tone that matches Aishe's, "So? You're getting out of here tonight? And you've been sent to get me out? I knew it!!! I knew it!!! Who was it who sent you here? If it weren't my father then maybe it was Dandelion... I knew she was sweet on me".
Even in the dim light, and it is very gloomy down here in the dank, it is possible to see that Ammos has got rather flushed with excitement. Getting a hold of himself, he speaks quietly once more, "Midnight tonight... very well. Until then, you folks don't come around here, I don't want to be associated with that one", the halfling pointedly looks at Rigo before turning to Salom's rather ineloquent offer of work, "Alright mister... let's not get too far ahead of ourselves shall we? You get me out of this latrine of a prison and back home without me having to smack your tabaxi... then maybe we talk".
At the far end of the boat, things are going a little better as Moira starts to realise the gravity of the situation... and just how at the mercy of the bored guards above them, everyone in the hold is. Addressing the question about parentage first, the oldest looking of the 'brothers' speaks, "You don't talk funny about my mother... right? An' yeah, much as it matters right now, we are brothers... the Sharkley boys - the name meant something in parts of East Ending. 'Til a son of a swyne shopped us in... rounded us up, the Watch did. Knew where we'd be and, quicker than you like, they had us guilty of stealing a hog an' moved us over here to the Redemption". The man coughs, "cept there ain't no redemption... just the gallows, just the gallows".
"Look miss, ain't no-one leaving here but tell you what, you get outta here, then you go an' tell my dear mother that we is sorry fer getting caught... an' hopefully she can forgive us. An' you go and find that pig Smidgeon... we knows it was 'im what grassed us up... find 'im and stick 'im in the ribs.".
Huffing and casting her gaze around the pit to find a passable area to get as out of he dead people water as possible. I really don't wanna carry the girl.
Rigo suppresses a growl, all humans, and apparently halflings also, did was talk and talk and talk about things that weren't real. Nothing made sense, and he was getting angry fast. But for now, he held his tongue... and his claws.. mostly. They kept sliding out of his paws, but at least most couldnt' see them. Humph, heart in right place, head broken. Maybe need check if murderer's heart is in right place, just have to take the ribs out of the way to see. He thinks dowerly.
"You don't talk funny about my mother... right? An' yeah, much as it matters right now, we are brothers... the Sharkley boys - the name meant something in parts of East Ending. 'Til a son of a swyne shopped us in... rounded us up, the Watch did. Knew where we'd be and, quicker than you like, they had us guilty of stealing a hog an' moved us over here to the Redemption". The man coughs, "cept there ain't no redemption... just the gallows, just the gallows".
"Look miss, ain't no-one leaving here but tell you what, you get outta here, then you go an' tell my dear mother that we is sorry fer getting caught... an' hopefully she can forgive us. An' you go and find that pig Smidgeon... we knows it was 'im what grassed us up... find 'im and stick 'im in the ribs."....
“No offense intended, I just couldn’t quite believe that one woman could have so many strapping young men to her credit. She must be quite the lady. I hate to think of her losing so many fine sons. If by some chance I get out of here, I’ll visit her, I swear, and I’ll see about this Smidgeon too.” Moira processes the many pigs referenced in the story, the only detail that seems somehow out of place. She bites her lip. So many men to die for the theft of a hog.
They’re just boys, really. Just boys that want their mother. Gods know I want mine.
Moira weighs trying to add them to the escape, but remembers two things—first, that the jollyboat didn’t sound exactly expansive in size, and second, that Eleanor wanted the Wickenfolk in part because they were so anonymous, and a local might blow up the plan. Also, third, she shouldn’t be making these sorts of calls without discussion with her Wicken friends. But maybe, just maybe, they could smuggle out one of these Sharkleys. Just someone to keep that poor woman from losing her entire family in one go.
Professionally speaking, I could do a pretty good piece of business mourning them, especially with one along to introduce me…
She quickly squelches that rather unworthy thought. But it happened and I report it here as full disclosure. Then she looks at all the other people in the murky darkness, those that the Sharkleys have kept off the island.
Might make rather more sense to save one of them. Maybe someone influential or more deserving down there. Gods I hate trying to decide these things. Am I just as bad as the hangman if I choose to save one and not another? And what if I can’t save any of them, or what if the one I picked got me killed?
Noticing that Alexis is looking pretty desperate, and wanting to both canvass the hold a bit and consult with Aishe and the others, Moira asks the Sharkleys for a favor. “Hey, Sharkleys, my good boys, I need to go check on my people. Do a trio of lost girls a favor, and let those two hold my spot while I’m gone? They’d both fit in the same space I take up. ‘Specially since they aren’t gonna let each other go, by the looks of it.” It’s true—Moira’s sturdy build means she’s considerably wider in footprint (buttprint?) than the slender Alexis and the still young Audria. If the Sharkleys allow it, Moira will tell the girls not to be scared and introduce them to the Sharkleys.
Either way, she slips into the water and starts working her way toward the other island, talking to the many people standing around in the muck. She talks softly with them, asking for their stories, much as she did the Sharkleys. When she finds her other Wicken friends, she reports basically all of the above, including any results of her search for a worthy soul in Hell.
In an over-exaggerated flourish, he slaps his thighs at the humour of it all... and then, adopting a low, conspiratorial tone that matches Aishe's, "So? You're getting out of here tonight? And you've been sent to get me out? I knew it!!! I knew it!!! Who was it who sent you here? If it weren't my father then maybe it was Dandelion... I knew she was sweet on me".
Aishe merely smiles and adds, "I'm pretty sure the party responsible for getting you out doesn't want you to know who it is. A mystery benefactor if you will." he smiles, pleased he doesn't have to lie.
He turns to look Rigo and gestures for him to join him back in the water - away from their mark. When they get away, he quickly whispers, "I am dearly sorry for what I said back there - it is not my intention to disrespect any part of you. But it was necessary to get in this guys good graces. Again, I'm sorry, but it was the only way out. Thanks for going along - you can take it out on me when we get out of here, but for now I need to rest until we leave or I won't have the strength to do so!"
Assuming the better-wall areas are fully taken up with people, he looks to Salom and Rigo, "Weill one of you sit in the water with me? If we sit back to back, we can lean in on each other a bit and get some rest without drowning."
If one of them agrees, he leans back a little and closes his eyes, trying to get what rest he can in this god-foresaken place before midnight.
Rigo follows along with Aishe, listens without saying a word.
When asked to sit in the water, Rigo instead grabs Aishe by the back of the neck, and then walks him over to the wall. Still holding him, he sinks his claws into the wall, and climbs up the side of the ship, his claws sinking into the wood like it was butter.
He then stuffs Aishe onto a support brace. "Sleep there, will take it out on you later." He growls, before moving a few feet over to the side and hooking himself over a cross brace, quite out of reach of the other occupants of the hold.
Salom grins. That was a relief. He's about to reply to Aishe that he doubts he'd be able to sleep sitting in the water when Rigo nabs the man like a cat would clutch a kitten. "I, er--" he stutters as they slosh away through the water.
He sighs, turning to locate his fellows and inform them of the conversation with Ammos. He spots Moira splashing her way through the crowd. Alarmed, he heads toward her, but then sees Alexis and Audria. "My dear," he offers to the young girl as he splashes close. "Perhaps you'd be more comfortable on my shoulders. You'd also have a better view of the exits, and of the activities of that little man we are to befriend. Be a dear and climb on, and keep your eyes peeled like a good little lamb, hmm?"
If she allows, Salom pulls Audria up and onto his shoulders.
He then stuffs Aishe onto a support brace. "Sleep there, will take it out on you later." He growls, before moving a few feet over to the side and hooking himself over a cross brace, quite out of reach of the other occupants of the hold.
"You're a good man." Aishe smiles at the great cat. He seems about to say something else, but decides not to push his luck. He closes his eyes, and tries to rest.
Their introduction to Ammos Grast achieved, and an agreement to flee when the time comes made, Rigo, Aishe and Salom are rather summarily dismissed. Grast huddling close to his two halfling compatriots and whispering conspiratorially, seems to have little interest in the welfare of his would-be rescuers as he waves them away.
The question now arises as to what happens in the intervening hours between now, and it is probably less than an hour since the bells of noon heralded their brush with death, and the tolling of midnight. Exhaustion, a lack of food and a need to maintain a low profile - for surely the group have made far more of an impression in the hold than your typical prisoner dumped here awaiting the end - combine to make the only sensible choice - rest, sleep if they can and keep their heads down...
...something that Moira, giving her place on the Sharkley's island to Alexis, finds immediately impossible. Slipping into the foul waters from his place towards the back of the 'island' where Moira had perched herself, a tall man with a leering smile approaches her, "Psssst.... psssst... over here, I got some Salted Meat I can share - been saving it I have, I just want a quick word... gotta couple of questions".
Moira's trying to find people to talk to, so she's totally willing to talk to this guy. Sense Motive isn't her strong point. Neither is keeping her head down. She answers his query softly,
"Hello, stranger. You a Sharkley? I'd take a bite to eat, but I don't know if I'll be able to help you with your questions. Go ahead, though."
The salted meat, retrieved from a bundle of parchment tied around the man's neck, would at any other time be dismissed as close to inedible... but here, where the food is scarce and barely fit for swine, it is something to be relished. Breaking off a strip, and moving away from where they can be overheard, the man passes Moira some meat and continues, in hushed tones, "Sharkley? Oh no... no, I'm afraid a man's got to make friends with whoever he can down in this place - in another world, I'd have crossed the street rather than be associated with low-life pig thieves like them".
Extending a hand in greeting, he continues, "The name's Greel miss... and a man down here don't have much to do other than watch and listen. See, I saw you folks all hoods and bindings being taken to the Aft chamber... and there ain't no-one who's come back from that walk, if you know what I mean, not in the entire time I been here. Something's diff'rent about you lot... and then I hear you singing about getting out of here to ol' Spiv Sharkley... you folks really thinking about getting out of here?"
Letting Audria go with Salom. Oh good, I don't have to do that. Walking up to take Moira's seat on the island. Offering a crooked grin, "My thanks. Been a long time sense I have been somewhere even close to this. Almost as nasty as the sewer tunnels back home."
Until she can no longer keep her eyes open Alexis sits there quietly watching. Feeling sleep clawing into her mind This place is so more dangerous than Oppara. but fighting it. Biting the inside of her cheek until she tastes blood. Digging her nails into her arms, leaving little crescents when the pain in her mouth ceases. I will sleep when the others are awake.
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Moira smiles at Greel and tries to balance her natural candor with necessary caution.
"Good to meet you, Mr. Greel. I'm Moira Keening. Of course I'm trying to escape, I don't want to die in this hole. I don't understand why we're here in prison in the first place or why we've been sent back from the gallows--a malfunction in the system of some kind. But better to take stock of the situation than just drown ourselves in the muck or lie around waiting to be killed, right? We haven't had a chance to get to know the Hold just yet. Tell me what you've seen. Who were you on the outside? Any high-profile prisoners in here? Any of them innocent sweethearts with sad stories? And thanks for this!"
Moira looks eagerly at her grimy, salty, dry, disgusting little hunk of meat. "Hang on, cover me for a second." Leaning in to Greel as if she was lighting a cigarette in the wind (and with the same air of concentration), she casts Prestidigitation on the meat to flavor it like her favorite curried beef. Then she tears a couple smaller bites off of her already-tiny scrap, handing a bite back to Greel, keeping one for herself, and pocketing a nibble for Audria or Salom. "Let that flavor sink in for a second, Mr. Greel. That's my ma's curry, close as I can spell it. And then, tell me everything."
Audria isn't the heaviest by any stretch, even when she'd been eating well. Now, after weeks of eating whatever scraps the guards saw fit to give her, she's barely ninety pounds. She doesn't really object to being put on Salom's shoulders, though she does look a little guilty as he hefts her up. The alternative was trying to sleep sitting up with water up to her neck. It's not long before fatigue overtakes the fear and worry, and she falls into a fitful sleep.
Greel, chewing slowly and savouring the tastes that Moira has magicked onto the scraps of food, isn't the slightest bit quizzical at the woman's assertion that she is, in some way, innocent of whatever crime brought her to the Redemption. And again, even though Moira repeatedly deflects the questioning, he persists, "You folks... if you do find a way out, you bring me with you... I can help you disappear on the outside. If we can get over to the Jumble then I know people who can help us".
...making his way back to the 'island', Greel winks at Moira, "Don't forget... I can help you folks... I'll be no bother".
Finally left alone, Moira can rejoin her companions. Attempting to sleep, even though the cold within the hold is tarting to creep into the captives’ bones, the villagefolk pass the first few hours of their temporary incarceration. After the excitement of six new prisoners has subsided, rather quickly all told, the mood in the dark becomes increasingly sullen. The passing of time is told by the muffled tolling of bells from somewhere beyond the hull of the Redemption and by the hourly changing of guards up on the walkway above the prison… monotony sets in…
Interrupted sharply at what must be around six o’clock, when a guard drags two large pails along the walkway above the hold. The two halflings accompanying Grast alongside three of the Sharkley boys clamber down from their makeshift islands and move to beneath the walkway where one of the other guards, a savage looking pike to hand, is unlocking a grate. As the first of the pails is lowered n a rope, some of the most desperate looking captives - those who had been forced to sit in the water rather than being perched on the marginal luxury of ‘dry land’ - start to wade through the filth towards what could be a meal. Their approach is non-committal, almost speculative, and it is easy to see why as the largest of the Sharkley brothers looms over a particularly stooped shade of a man.
Shouting that this is ”My food… for me and my brothers!!! You don’t get none of this!!!”, he physically picks up the emaciated man and throws him some five or six feet back into the deepest waters of the hold. As one, the desperates skulk back into the darkness, the sound of cruel laughter echoing around the hold of the vessel from above…
"Everyone food." Rigo growls, and drops to the water from his perch. "Form line, everyone get some." He eyes the Sharlkey brother. "I am not human, it is not cannibalism for me to eat you, so suggest you share food with all. I could live a long time off meat from you." He looks around the hold, and points to where a line should start.
During the lull between action, Moira will have discreetly told each party member everything she's learned from and about the Sharkleys and Greel. She's told everyone that she thinks we should bust Greel out of jail, since a friend in town could be useful, and we're all about to be outlaws regardless of our past status. I figure M. would ask for a vote--if in your next post, you could "Yea" or "Nay" rescuing Greel, that'd be great. If "Yea," Moira's first draft plan (feel free to comment or revise) is to have him follow us close behind, hopefully into the boat itself, and trust that the Canker and general stress/chaos of the escape will keep our accomplices from suspecting that we have an extra hand on board. Then he'll proceed to the Jumble after setting up a rendezvous point with us, and we'll meet him there as soon as we can (something like, we'll be at landmark X at time Y on a Monday or Friday and whistling the Blustering Reel, at which point Greel, who will go to the landmark on each day, will emerge and assist us). Moira will completely understand if the party votes "Nay" because even she's not sure this is a good idea. But she'll explain that she's pissed off enough at the jail that busting someone out would be a little payback. At least she's no longer planning to save a Sharkley.
...
Speaking of Sharkleys, when Rigo threatens the bros, Moira calls out to them,
"Don't trifle with the cat, Sharkleys! He's quite serious and I'd hate to see friends fighting over scraps. Can't we just share out the food? If we're all going to die, at least let's be decent on the way out, right?"
She approaches the Sharkleys and begs them quietly,
"C'mon, brothers! Just this once--I'll talk to the cat before breakfast and will make sure he understands who runs the hold. But tonight, let's have a little holiday and share out the grub."
Rigo mostly ignores Moira's request to break people out, but doesn't say no either. Instead, he shrugs. "Depend on why in. Some people deserve be here." He says gruffly, then climbs back up on the wall to cat nap.