"Pyrrha." Korihor interjects, following her outside. "Are we ever going to see you again? Only...if you leave us, it's unlikely. You wanted a reason why you're here?" Korihor struggles with the words. "I...don't like...elves. I think they are selfish. I think they are pompous. I think they are arrogant, and while educated, generally uninformed. And you are all of that wrapped up in a stinky cheese cloth of pissed off."
Korihor looks down at her empty glass, and a tear lands on her wrist. "But I'm a bloody mess. And I'm terrified. And I've never had anyone...anyone stand up for me. So why should you stay? Because I need you. I need to have someone show me how to walk with this...curse. And your friends need you. I'm not sure what for, but I'm sure you'll yell at them and remind them if they forget."
Pyrrha just shakes her head to herself in response to Korihor's offensive diplomacy as she leaves.
When Twist joins Pyrrha outside she shifts her weight to one foot and puts a hand on her thigh. Her eyes shoot between Twists, her demeanor is still cold and stormy. "I haven't thought about putting you out of your misery... not yet anyway. I wished you'd put us out of it though. All this, it isn't what it seems and more to it than I can say nonsense you're spouting is enough to drive anyone mad. You're lucky I'm already insane, because you're everything I saw in my sister moments before her betrayal dawned on me. I never killed her, but I dream about it, just as sure as slicing your scaly skin will haunt what nights I don't dream of her. I hope I don't have to, but I don't have a lot of faith in hope so I end up relying on my training, and my training says your being pressed hard." Pyrrha pauses a moment to look at Twists injuries from this morning. "Now, I've got some questions for you, and I'd appreciate your cooperation because if you think you're helping us, you'll have to trust that we're going to help you. It has to go both ways, do you follow me? Now, do you have any magical items or foci on you that you know of? Come we can talk as we go."
Ahto watches the conversation bounce back and forth between his companions, trying his best to follow everyone's line of thought. He almost missed the question thrown his direction about who hired him.
"Well....uh..." he stammers, looking in Twist's direction. Fortunately, the tiefling picked up the thread, leaving Ahto to listen and drink.
Eventually, the arguing becomes the noise of a bustling crowd, unclear and indistinct, until a phrase cuts through the murmur to his brain, Korihor: I'm still not having sex with you.
His brain quickly focuses on the conversation, and he gives as small sigh of relief as he realizes she isn't talking to him at the moment.
He settles back into his cup until he notices Pyrrha stand and move to the door. Where is she going, now? Not wanting to let on to the others that his thoughts have been occupied more with drink than with their dilemma, he stands, sighs, and says, "I'll go have a talk with her."
He moves to open the door. "Be right back, unless you find me in the street with a bolt through my throat," he says with a light chuckle.
****
As he steps outside he finds Pyrrha speaking with Twist in a tone he knows all too well. She's worked up. Gotta talk her down. Slowly.
We can talk as we go, she says to Twist.
He falls into step beside her, with Twist on her other side. "So, where are we headed, or is this a private party?" he says with a bawdy, suggestive tone.
"Even if I did know, it's not like I could tell you," Twist sighs, eyeing Ahto as he leaves the apartment as well. "I can't give anything solid, or substantial, or I... well, you know. I don't know how they did it, but evidently I'm to be kept quiet. They probably don't want me telling you about--" Twist catches himself, but just a moment too late. "--My lips are sealed. But I'm sure that Disicple was involved, this all started... sorry, you know the drill."
"You can't tell me if you have any magic items?"
"Sorry? Oh, I thought you meant--" Twist shakes his head, pulling an amulet out from beneath his tunic. "Just this, nothing else. It isn't really anything special, but it used to belong to my brother. I couldn't even tell you what it does. Good luck charm, something like that?" A closer inspection of the amulet reveals it to be both well-made and likely hand-crafted, and it does in fact sport the elven rune for 'luck' on its steel surface. "That's all I got, far as I know."
Pyrrha shakes her head and casts detect magic over Twist, taking the necessary time to identify auras and study any signs off magic. "Even the absence of aura will tell me something."
As Pyrrha takes a few moments to examine any and all magical auras surrounding Twist. Pyrrha can easily ascertain that there are some magical auras surrounding Twist; a weak aura focused on the amulet he pulled from beneath his tunic, and a very powerful aura surrounding the tiefling's entire person. The more powerful aura emanates far more powerfully, but doesn't seem in any way to be located on his person.
"Ahto, how're you? Here to join the party, eh?" Twist looks at Pyrrha as she examines the auras skeptically, and slowly turns to face the other brawler. "Pyrrha, are you sure this will tell you anything? Or at least, anything important?"
Pyrrha doesn't answer the fiend-blooded Twist immediately, though she does manage to cast a stern look his way, as she studies the large aura about Twist's person.
"It confirms you're not going to get stabbed. Not not be me and today anyway." Pyrrha says releasing her concentration of her spell
Looking to Ahto, "Let's go we've got to sell this stuff and then exchange a few words. Twist you go do your thing, we know where to find you tomorrow, but make sure you can be found there every night for a week or two. We'll be in touch."
Pyrrha sticks with her plan, she'll need the money for sure and the best way to do that is pawning off the spoils from the mercenary thugs that attacked everyone earlier in the day. She will try to make use of the least guarded areas to reach a merchant and sell her equipment, before returning to Aemon's to get on the same page with everyone else.
"That's the plan," Ahto replies to Twist. "It's a sorry hotspur that leaves his partner without someone to watch her back."
"Right," Ahto replies Pyrrha. "Let's get a move on, then."
Once out of earshot of Twist, he whispers, "got a fence in mind? I know a few places that might work."
"I was thinking Eight-Fingered Filcher or The Wet Walnut. Both of those merchants buy everything and don't like to ask questions. Who were you thinking?" Pyrrha says cracking a smirk as she thought back to her early days as a hotspur and her introductions to the two 'business' owners; though at the time they were both conducting business out of mostly vacant stalls as opposed to the respectable establishments they owned today.
Ahto gives a shrug. "Well, those are probably safer options than what I had in mind, but I was thinking of places where the goods would disappear fast." He rubs his chin, as he considers.
"There's a loose network locate up on the Precipice, that could give us some quick coin for the stuff, and there's also a few captains down at the Docks who would be happy to sell it off to the scaliwags out in the Shackles..."
Pyrrha's magical detection fails her, the aura too strong and complex for her to work out its finer functions. After a moment of examination, a pain slowly starts to wrack Pyrrha's skull, until she drops her magical detection of the aura. It disappears after a moment, but a small ache still remains towards the back of her head.
"I'll be around." Twist says, moving off down a side-street.
On the way back to Aemon's Pyrrha confides to Ahto, "Twist is under a poweful magical effect. I definitely don't trust him, because I'm certain he is being influenced by someone. We can choose to seek out this last discple, but I think the hidden players in this want us to do exactly that for good or for worse."
Pyrrha stops a moment in thought, "It stinks bad and reminds me of my sister, a lot. As much as I'm going to regret this, I think we should follow the path Twist laid out for us, but I think we should mislead him into thinking which way we're going. Tomorrow, I think we tell him we are looking for the dwarf and two humans that attempted to kidnap Kluts-butt with real intentions to seek out this last disciple and warm him."
"This Disciple-guy has been laying low for being such a big name in the streets. Any ideas on where we start looking for his hideout?"
Pyrrha clenches her jaw and shrugs. "Even though Aemon is technically somebody Twist introduced us to, he seems well connected; maybe he knows."
Pyrrha sighs and crosses her arms looking up at Ahto, "Your gut telling you anything? The longer I think about it the less certain I am of what we need to do. Add in the assassin to the old man and the racist chelaxian and its mind boggling how in-over-our-heads we seem." Pyrrha starts walking again after a moment of searching Ahto for an answer.
"To be honest, My guy tells me to treat the whole thing like a fight: go in with my guard up, test my opponent with a few jabs, wait for an opening, then level him with a spinning heel-kick to his face."
He looks at Pyrrha's expression, then adds:
"Metaphorically speaking."
"A lot of good that does when we don't know who or what we're fighting." Pyrrha shakes her head, "Let's hurry back. I'd like to get the painful experience of trying to discuss plans with a bunch of inebriates over with so I can starts thinking of how to get us out of this mess."
"You never know who you're fighting until you step into the circle," Ahto replies. "Heck, even then, you don't know until you taken a few of his best punches."
He keeps pace with her as they head back to the rendezvous point.
"Whoever it is, he's keeping his strength hidden. Either he's blown every copper he has on bully-boys, like these mooks, or more likely, he's sending them as a test; a jab, if you will. If our unseen enemy is strong, then everything that comes after us will get tougher and tougher each time we win."
He cracks his knuckles. "Eventually, we are going to be outnumbered and outmatched. The question is when. When does the enemy decide that he's ready to heel-kick us in the face?"
"Anyway, enough fighter's philosophy. I figure the Disciple's digs can't be too far from the Ascendent Court. That's where he needs to be seen to secure his power, and he wouldn't want to travel too far through the city to get there - unless he was using traveling magic or a secret passage through the sewers, or some such."
Pyrrha foretells Ahto's and her return with a knock on Aemon's door hoping everyone is still at least a sober enough to answer it. Upon being let in she raises a sack of coins and offers up a devilish smirk as she looks around the room. "So, Twist is as I think everyone suspected, under the influence of a powerful spell, powerful enough that when I studied the aura it gave me a headache. I couldn't determine the spell, but whomever put it there was quite powerful."
Pyrra tosses the sack down on one of the nice tables in Aemon's home as she continues, "Of course, now with this knowledge, I'm at a complete loss for what to do. Twist's lead to look into getting a hold of this Last Disciple's blind man could definitely be a trick but my curiosity screams to find out more at any cost. However, letting someone that wronged us, that dwarf and his buddies, get away with it is nagging me fiercely to settle the score. Ahto's opinion of it all is pit fighting nonsense that I can't make sense of, which is why I suppose I appreciate him as much as I do."
"I think several of you were in the mind to follow Twist's lead, has that changed or been discussed further since Ahto and I ran our errand?" Pyrrha finds her way back to her spot to lean against with crossed arms and that usual surly look on her face.
Korihor scowls at no one in particular. "I think his aura gave me a headache as well."
"We could see if Sixfingers wants to buy a horse..." Ahto says cryptically.
Korihor looks at Ahto with revulsion. "Ew. Kierana, sounds like he needs his...whatever it is you do with his penance...again."
At the quip, Kierana smirks. Dear, believe me: when he's in his devotions, there's more than just six fingers involved.
With a wink, she turns back to Pyrrha. I'm of a mind with you. Leaving those bastards to run gets beneath my skin, but we have little and less to go on for pursuing them, unless you have some source of information I don't. Perhaps being seen in Absalom again will draw them out; but otherwise, I see little other recourse than trusting Twist's information, limited though it may have been.
"Ahto isn't making a sexual innuedeo, he is talking about Sixfingers, he's an agent for thugs to very important people. Or at least passes for one. I didn't think he would still be in Absalom after his last incident, but he would definitely be worth a visit for more details about both our options."
I'd leap straight into the Rough Beast's prison itself if I thought it'd get us information about what the hell is going on. I'm in. Kierana rises from her chair; suddenly she leans over slightly and catches herself on Acharn's back, Acharn protesting with an annoyed buzz. Let's go; time's wasting.
I may feel sorry for Twist and not want to go behind his back but... Pyrrha's reasoning and planning is sound. Zeph nods to Pyrrah, "I'm in too, lead the way."
As the group moves from Aemon's apartment towards the Coins, you can all hear the rowdiness of the streets begin to creep up on you. Far from the 'majesty' expected near the Ascendant Court, merchants and their ilk line the streets pitching their wares in Absalom's business district. "Hey, hey miss!" one of them shouts to Pyrrha as she passes, "Need some magical protection? I got an amulet with your name on it! Only five thousand gold pieces! It's a steal!" He continues, but his own shouts are drowned out by the shouts of others, all held off the street proper by Absalom's standard guard. You can all spot pickpockets along the streets as well, but they steer clear of your group, clearly intimidated by the size. A few more offers of magic and riches later, you all find yourselves at the door to the Black Dragon Taphouse. The massive sculpture mounted above the door stares down at you, a painted carving of the beast in question.
As you push through the doors towards the backroom, a large half-orc snarls at you. "Hey, hold it. Back room's already been rented out, there's a private party meeting for lunch. Talk to Grint if you need a drink, otherwise get lost." He hooks his thumb towards the halfling at the bar, likely the Grint he's speaking of.
Korihor pulls the shawl she put over her head to hide her features down a little tighter, and whispers to the others. "Where is this...contact?"
"Hey, relax," Ahto says, standing face to face with the bouncer. "We're not here to crash the party, we just looking to sell a horse."
He gives the half-orc a relaxed smile. He stance is non-threatening, but on guard.
Korihor leans into Kierana, "A horse? What the hell is he talking about? We don't have a horse..."
Pyrrha places a hand on Korihor's shoulder and shakes her head, "Korihor, please. You need to learn when not to contribute. Ahto's got this."
"A horse, eh? They said a man with a fine stallion would be by later today. You all go ahead in, then." He steps aside, pushing the door just slightly ajar. He leans back against the wall again, nodding you all through. "Now, don't none of ya start any trouble, hear me? Horse or not, you cause trouble and I'll hafta haul ya outta there by the scruff o'yer neck." As you all pass through the doors, he leans down, talking more quietly. "Johnny's not in the best o'moods, so I'd watch where you tread, if you take my meaning." With that, the party moves into the backroom.
"What now? What'd you want, huh?" asks a gaunt human male, maybe late twenties, from behind a ramshackle desk. It's covered in papers and missives in all shapes and sizes, and a wicked looking knife lies just beyond his reach. As he picks up a stack of papers, all those unfamiliar with the man immediately realize why he goes by 'Sixfingers'; a long, vestigial digit hangs loosely off his right hand, just passed his pinky. "Seriously, the f*ck do you want? C'mon, spit it out." While he seems to be talking to the group, he hasn't raised his head to look at you.
"How's business, Johnny?" Ahto asks casually, but with an unmistakable undertone.
Korihor coughs, covering her mouth. She glances at Pyrrha, shrugs and whispers, "what?" just a little too loudly.
"It's f*ckin' awful, s'what it is. Had some blondie jackass stroll in 'ere, kickin' sh*t around and demand I 'elp find some f*ckin' girl." He tosses the first stack of papers down, rifling through his desk for something. "Didn't have any f*ckin' money, neither. Had 'is hand on his sword the whole time, like he was try'na f*ckin' threaten me! Wanted me to 'elp find some damned--" he stops mid-sentence, looking up at the party, finally, his eyes resting on Korihor. "--some damned, f*ckin' girl. You've made enemies, huh? What's he, jealous husband? Or you involved in somethin' criminal?"
Johnny straightens up in his seat, now fully paying attention to the party. "Right, nevermind. Where's the coin, then? You're here for business, and I'll be damned if I have 'nother customer tryin' strong-arm nothin' outta me."
Knowing he is out of his depth when it comes to such negotiations Zeph decides to stay stoic and silent. He keeps one ear on the conversation while he inspects the man they came to see and the room around them closely.
Kierana subtly steps in front of Korihor, her demeanor cool but forceful. Ah, so it's you we may have to thank for the friends we've made the past couple of days. Unfortunate - you seemed like such an upstanding gentleman. But my Lady does have a policy about letting such things go...and if your employer were to find out you're letting slip details of your work to every associate who walks through your door... She idly toys with the intricately carved wasp symbol hanging from her neck, then laughs.
But of course, you'd never do such a thing - send thugs out against a harmless woman? Certainly not! In fact, you being such a noble sort, I'd imagine you'd even go so far as to share more about her assailants. Merely business, of course - I'd never let such fine work go unpaid. She slips a gold coin onto the table and pushes it toward Johnny. Who was the man who hired you; what did he look like, who did he work for? What did they say would identify her? Did they mention why they wanted her?
"Ain't nobody f*ckin' hired me, lady. And I can't give what I don't have, understand? Didn't even know who this li'l beauty was til you all walked through my door. More importantly, I don't give sh*t to no one who comes in here try'na threaten me, 'cept a knife in the kidney. Which is damn near what e'got, if he hadn't skipped out when I got tired of 'im." He picks up the knife again, an unsubtle but not immediately threatening gesture. He eyes Kierana for a moment as she twists the wasp symbol around her neck, then nods almost imperceptibly. He picks up a smaller stack of papers, which you can clearly see is still freshly penned. "Somehow, I think you get what I mean."
"And yer right, didn't send the bastard nowhere. And I'd be happy to tell ya what I know about 'im, for a--" he looks at her incredulously as she slides the coin along the desk. "You're sh*ttin' me, right? You think I'm workin' for chump change or somethin'? That might work to get the guard off yer back here in the Coins, but I'm a businessman. Honest pay for uh... yeah." He shoots Kierana a wry smile, then slides the coin back to her. "Fifty, nothin' less. Blondie hasn't really ingratiated 'imself to me, but like I said. Business."
"Fifty weights?!" Korihor scoffs.
"Yeah, no. Fifty measures. Or do you want 'im to find you all by 'imself? Blondie might've been a sh*tsack, but he found ya once, right? That's not even my goin' rate, but like I said, I'm not a fan o'his. You either pony up, or you f*ck off." He leans forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on his desk. "You don't do many dealings down here, huh? Guess it's a jealous husband after all. What'd you do, leave him for ol' Crack-Jaw here?"
-----
As Zeph takes a look around the room, he immediately notices a number of odd knick-knacks and likely magical items on display on shelves and pedestals. Loose scraps of dossiers on members of the First Guard, or the run-of-the-mill guards in the Coins or private citizens lie around, mostly now incomplete. The dossiers include patrol routes or typical day-to-day movements, bank accounts, and relations among other things. However, one thing it takes Zeph a moment to notice is the blood. A small trail of blood leads from in front of Johnny's desk towards the door, then seemingly stops before it leaves the door. Not completely dried, the blood is still sticky and clings to the soles of Zeph's boots, likely not more than an hour old.
"He... Korihor hesitates, looking at the floor. "He kidnapped my daughter. He's holding her for ransom."
Ahto turns his head and whispers to Pyrrha.
"Not sure if he's tellin' the truth, but he didn't seem to be expecting us to show up here with her. We could pay him for the information, but I get the feeling he's not too happy with this 'blondie' guy, and would just as soon have us stick a knife in him for good measure. We could use that as a negotiation tool. If he really wants blondie done-in, he might give us the information for free, in exchange for us doing the wet-work."
"Yeah, and my momma got down and dirty with the God-Fiend," he snarks, shaking his head. "Yer full'a sh*t, girlie. And not in a good way. I sell information for a living, and yer comin' in here try'na lie to me? Bad choice. You got one more chance; fifty measures, on my desk, or walk. Unless you've got info t'sell, but you don't much look like the type."
Pyrrha whispers back to Ahto, "I'd feel more comfortable just talking him down on the price before just paying his fee. I'm not in the mood for agreeing to wet work a guy because he rested his hand on his sword hilt without any money. If we killed poor swordsmen with blonde hair, we might as well off our own poor selves"