"They sent me ta help yehs. That, and ter make sure you don't throw the rulebook out the windo'," Grommuk replies to Durriken. Just then, his "usual" arrives. It's a double shot of some kind of brown liquor over crushed ice. "Missy" sets it next to him on the table, with the kind of smile you reserve for a favorite grandpa. "They got a couple of apprentice mages workin' full time behind the bar. Ye can get ice, or any kind of drink freshly chilled. Bourbon on the rocks beats piss warm bourbon any day, ne?"
He takes a long swig of the whiskey, followed by another puff of his pipe. "So, Dow here says you lot ran into an Otyugh too. Same night I reckon, the night the king died?"
Iozif raises an eyebrow at Corso's extravagant profession of love for the field marshal. Excitable fellow, isn't he? Shrugging, he nods in agreement to with Gyllan, "A healer, though I prefer the title doctor-in-training, is indeed what I am. Being hired 'help' in a time like this seems like a good way to wind up needing to be sewn back together. I need patients on which to practice said medicine and, thus, the whole thing works out rather well for all parties." Iozif seems oblivious to any discomfort as he continues, "A pint does sound refreshing after today's excitement."
Iozif drags Soldado (willingly or not) into the tavern, sticking him firmly in the middle of the group to prevent him wandering off the bar. When 'Missy' takes orders, Iozif politely asks, "For myself, a stout of some sort should suffice. For my patient here," He pauses to gesture to the disheveled guardsman, "Only water, if you would. Much obliged, miss" As the others talk, Iozif sips at his drink and listens with some interest to their tales.
Gyllan ponders Ulgrim's question a moment, then replies, "I'm Korvosan, born and bred, and I wanted to do something for the city in all the madness that's gripped her. So I guess that means I care. But I can't say I've any great love for the queen, and the guard hasn't always treated me well - though they're more or less decent. No offense, eh?"
He smiles appreciatively at Durriken's description of him as a fighter, saying, "Yeah, growing up on these streets - I mean, I've got a home, but my da wasn't around much, and ma's gone - I had to learn a thing or two. But I never expected to fight that nasty beast from the sewers, same as the kind Ulgrim talked about."
Gyllan calls for a pint of amber ale, and smacks his lips contentedly when he tastes how cold it is, saying, "That's a nice touch they do here, glad you brought us here, Ulgrim."
He takes a long pull on the pint, then asks Iozif, "So who's your friend? I can't tell if you're happy to see him or not."
Taking a pull from his pint to buy a moment to think, Iozif responds, "My friend, Grau, is a watch sergeant up in North Point. He'd been 'troubled' by some problems with a girl and was missing from his beat today. Given his inebriated state yesterday, I was worried the blasted fool had drunk himself into a stupor in a gutter. Still, with all the chaos I'm glad he's alright." Iozif casts a bemused glance at the sergeant before saying, "I'm still not sure what precisely happened with his lady love. Maybe he'd be so kind as to elaborate on the subect."
Starting to sober up a bit, Grau looks at you morosely. "The King is dead, man. The King...dead....And now the Queen is ruling the City. That b!&!* of a Queen. Bad enough that, but SHE's there also. She's right there with the Queen, man, right there. Every day and every night, you can bet on that!"
A tear trickles out of his eye, streams down his cheek and plops on the table.
"After Orsini and I had that fight, I thought she'd come around, but who knew she'd end up in Castle Korvosa. Who in the Nine Hells could've seen that coming?"
So perhaps, he's more lucid, but still isn't making a helluva a lot of sense.
Durriken is more interested in his ale than whatever Grau has to say.
Iozif listens closely to Grau's tale, trying to make sense of it. Yes, the king is dead and the queen rules. I see little enough difference there. But who is this she he's talking about? His love? And Orsini?
Shrugging, Iozif takes another swig of his stout and says, "I'm sure your friend will be fine, Grau, even if she is in the Castle. If you sober up a bit, you can probably talk to her and resolve this spat." Iozif awkwardly pats the man on his back in an attempt to be comforting. "Drink down that water, unless you want to wake with your head feeling like it's splitting."
Looking at his other newfound companions, Iozif smiles thinly and says quietly, "Does the name Orsini mean anything to any of you? I've not kept my ear to the ground, so it means little to me."
Gyllan hesitates a moment as he processes what Grau has said, thinking back to the man's use of a rapier in the fight with the thugs. He then asks, in voice filled with equal parts alarm and wonder, "Wait, what did you say? You fought Orsini?"
In response to Iozif's question, he says, "The only Orsini I know of in Korvosa is Vencarlo Orsini. He's a fencing master, and a famous one at that. I heard he got injured in some quarrel or another - if I recall right, folks say say it was a lover's spat, so she must have been a hell of a girl. Anyway, he's mostly retired, I thought, since his injury."
Turning back to Soldado, Gyllan asks, "That wasn't you that injured him, over this SHE you're talking about. Who is she?"
Ulgrim listens to the others talking trying to get a feel for the group. So far they seem pretty amateur, but nice enough. Obviously they aren't completely incompetent. He saw that in the mob fight.
As the conversation continues, Gyllan draws from his belt pouch the jewelry they recovered from the butcher shop. He studies it a moment, keeping his hands below the level of the table so as not to attract attention, trying to estimate the value of their haul. Being no expert on these matters, he passes the items around to his companions, asking them to be discreet about it, but give an idea what they think the pieces are worth.
Surprised to learn about his friend's prowess, Iozif gives the man another solid look, but now with a doctor's eye. Heavy muscle and a slim fencer's form. I knew he was good but with a sword, but this is surprising. Iozif guffaws, amused by Corso's bravado and subsequent nervousness. "I'm afraid the queen isn't terribly popular, if you haven't noticed, Corso. I'd be careful about saying as much as all that outside lest you find yourself with a few too many 'duels' on your hand." Iozif chuckles amicably before turning back to Grau, "I'm curious now too. Who is the woman who's so captured your heart that her mere absence turns you to drink."
When Gyllan passes around the trinkets, Iozif gives them a casual once over before shrugging and murmuring his estimation.
Durriken takes a look at the jewelry, then passes it back. He has a small inkling of the value, which he mumbles to Gyllan, but he hopes the others can pinpoint it.
"It does seem the whole of the populace is against her."
Grau is more sober by the minute, his piercing green eyes losing their glazed quality, and turning more of a bloodshot red. The looseness of his muscle tone replaced with hard packets of leanness.
"In truth I was a student of the great master. I learned much from him, not that I get much chance to display it. But I was nothing compared to her. Sabina Merren, the finest woman a man could meet. We both fell in love with her, I think and that led to the fight that sent me to the guard."
"Sabina and Orsini carried on for a bit, but she denied him as well. Those injuries you talk about, they were from her, not I. Sabina went to be the Queen's bodyguard. Now with the King's death, she has great power and influence over the Queen, both in the throne room and in the bedchamber, if you believe the stories. No offense, sir." he says bowing to Corso. "But that story has the ring of truth to it."
Embarrassed, he says:" I am afraid I have acted the fool and let me emotions get away from me. I will return to duty tomorrow and face my punishment. The City needs strong guardians, not drunkards and cry-babies. Thank you, friends, for calling me out. You have a friend in the Guard should you need it."
He gets up and walks out, as steady as you've seen him all day. Perhaps headed down the right path.
I am going to assume that the night passes for you without further incident. Unless you want to have some nocturnal adventures or do some RP activity, we will close the curtain on this day, and open it on the next.
We do need to get the loot situated, so look at it closely and confirm what you want to take vs sell.
Iozif watches and listens with interest as Grau begins to recover from his drunken stupor and as he recounts his tale. It's fascinating the effect alcohol has on the body. Perhaps it would be possible to reproduce certain of the qualities in potion form without the downside? I shall have to experiment when I have the time. With a slow, quiet whistle, Iozif mulls over what he'd just heard. So a student of a fencing master and a competitor for the Queen's bodyguard's affections. What else have you been hiding, Grau?
"It's an impressive tale. There's no doubt about it. I'm not one to keep up with the latest gossip, so I'm afraid I can't refute nor confirm the truth of the rumors." Realizing what he'd been speculating about, Iozif coughs into his hand to cover his embarassment before continuing, "Ah, anyway. I'm glad you're feeling better Grau. The city does indeed need solid guardians of your sort. I'll be glad to see you back out and about on patrol. Fare well." Iozif waves as Grau leaves the Bailer's Retreat.
Once he seems the man leave, he turns back to his newfound companions. "That was surprising news. I'd not known he was an apprentice fencing master and in love with the Queen's bodyguard. I'm glad he's doing better though. So tell me, you are all planning to return tomorrow for the Marshal's task?" Iozif nods towards Ulgrim, "And I suppose you don't have a choice. Anyone have any idea what she'll have in mind?"
Grau is more sober by the minute, his piercing green eyes losing their glazed quality, and turning more of a bloodshot red. The looseness of his muscle tone replaced with hard packets of leanness.
"In truth I was a student of the great master. I learned much from him, not that I get much chance to display it. But I was nothing compared to her. Sabina Merren, the finest woman a man could meet. We both fell in love with her, I think and that led to the fight that sent me to the guard."
"Sabina and Orsini carried on for a bit, but she denied him as well. Those injuries you talk about, they were from her, not I. Sabina went to be the Queen's bodyguard. Now with the King's death, she has great power and influence over the Queen, both in the throne room and in the bedchamber, if you believe the stories. No offense, sir." he says bowing to Corso. "But that story has the ring of truth to it."
Embarrassed, he says:" I am afraid I have acted the fool and let me emotions get away from me. I will return to duty tomorrow and face my punishment. The City needs strong guardians, not drunkards and cry-babies. Thank you, friends, for calling me out. You have a friend in the Guard should you need it."
He gets up and walks out, as steady as you've seen him all day. Perhaps headed down the right path.
"Glad ta hear ye've come to yer senses. I'll see ye around Seargant," Ulgrim says to Soldado as he gets up to leave. The dwarven archer gives him an easy salute and a grin.
Ulgrim finishes off the last of the mushrooms in his pipe, and taps it out into the urns placed between each booth for that purpose. He downs the rest of his whiskey in a gulp and smacks his lips. "Well lads, we've undoubtedly got a busy day tomorrow. I'm goin ta call it an early evenin'." He gets up and goes to the bar, where he pays for his drink. Nodding to the others in the booth, he exits the Bailer's Retreat and returns to his chamber in the Citadel, where he goes to sleep.
Durriken takes in Grau's tale quietly, and rises when Ulgrim does. Nodding to the others, he also takes his leave for the evening.
Iozif polishes off the last of his stout and waves as his Ulgrim and Durriken leave. Ulgrim seems like a decent sort for a guard, but Durriken was awfully quiet. Then again, they went through some rough stuff today. Nodding to each of the remaining group at the table, Iozif says, "I think I'll take my leave as well. I've some alchemical work that I'd like to see done before tomorrow. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow." Stopping only to pay for his drink, Iozif makes his way to the markets at Eodred's Walk to purchase a few items.
After a little searching, he finds the familiar sight of Hedge Wizardry. Entering the little shop, Iozif purchases a few goods to expand on his existing alchemical supplies. Satisfied with the deals he had made with his purchases, he returns to his apartment on the Avenue of Arms.
Making his way up the rickety stairs to his tiny attic apartment, he sets up his new alchemical lab in a corner and immediately sets to work. After a few hours of effort, he drains a small amount of clear red liquid from his alembic. Nodding in satisfaction, he transfers the potion into one of the iron flasks that he'd purchased before arranging it on his new bandolier. "Soon people will start to think I'm a walking arsenal with all these odds and ends dangling off me. Perhaps I need to find a finer coat to identify myself more clearly as a doctor?" Smiling in satisfaction, he turns in, eager to see what he may learn on the morrow.
Gyllan reels in amazement to learn the story behind Soldado, Orsini and Sabina Merrin. What are we getting ourselves into, doing errands for the queen and getting in with this lot? Well, at least there's some money in it, and hopefully it's for the good of Korvosa... He's fairly quiet as the evening winds down, making his way home as everyone leaves, telling the others he'll see them in the morning.
As he walks home, he ponders what he'll do with his new-found wealth. I've got a fine blade, and it's served me well the last couple of days. Maybe a better bit of armor, that fits me properly, so I'm a bit more nimble when we're not in a fight? Though the way things seem to be going, I may be in fights more than I'm out of 'em.
Morning, 18 Desnus 4709, Citadel Volshyenek, Headquarters of the Korvosan Guard, Office of Commandant
After a quiet night, some studying, some gearing up, and others just resting and relaxing, the party comes together at the appointed hour in the headquarters of Field Marshal Cressida Kroft. Your welcome to the Citadel is more formal and the gate guards actually salute you this time. There is still a hub-bub of activity at the fortress, as unrest still simmers in the City.
The Field Marshal enters the briefing room, looking worse for wear. Worry lines still mar her features, and dark circles under her eyes tell you she did not get the night off. Next to he stands a tall man of advanced years. He has salt-and-pepper hair pulled back tightly into a bravo’s topknot. His eyes are a cast of deep green like the sea after a storm and the twinkle there, along with the bounce in his step, hint at a vibrancy and inner fire of a man half his age.
He wears expensively tailored clothes, styled to look simple. Black leather gloves cover both hands, and at his hip is the finely crafted pommel of a dueling rapier.
Field Marshal Kroft introduces the newcomer: ”Please welcome the honorable Vencarlo Orsini, a long-time friend of mine, and someone loyal to the City.”
Orsini bows low when introduced, shaking hands with each of you. He stops in front of Arianna, kissing her offered hand instead while looking her piercingly in the eyes the whole while. He says:”If Korvosa had more fine folk like you we’d already be out of this mess.” He is complimentary and polite, congratulating you on your successes so far. His kind words are cut off by the curt Field Marshal.
”As much as I would enjoy continuing this conversation, I fear we just don’t have time. Vencarlo has often come to me with news of important changes on the streets, and this is no different – indeed, what he’s learned could degrade into sanctions, embargoes, or even war against Cheliax if we don’t act now. This problem is a man named Darvayne Gios Amprei. You might have heard of him – he’s an ambassador from Cheliax whose disdain for Korvosa is well documented, and yet he’s taken great pleasure in what our city has to offer. Even before this recent unrest, this man was ready to recommend to his government a sanction on trade, or perhaps even an embargo. Vencarlo has learned through his own considerable sources that Ambassador Amprei’s actual goals are to undermine Korvosa’s economy to the point where he can buy up large portions of the city from desperate landholders and establish himself in a position of power here. Whatever the ambassador’s reasons, we can’t let his bias or personal plans hurt Korvosa. Yet neither can we take drastic action –not only would killing him be wrong, but it’d simply martyr him in Cheliax’s eyes.”
”Fortunately, Darvayne has his foibles. Again, Vencarlo has learned that Ambassador Amprei has been making fairly regular visits to a place in Old Korvosa called Eel’s End. This den of vice is run by a dangerous man named Devargo Barvasi, better known in Korvosa’s alleys as the King of Spiders. I’d love to put Barvasi out of business, but he pays his vice taxes regularly and never causes any problems – in fact, since he keeps his business constantly constrained entirely within the five ships moored at Eel’s End, he’s actually one of the least of my worries. Truth be told, I can’t decide whether Devargo is a stirge or a kraken. He seems like bloodsucking pest most days, but sometimes I fear just how far his tentacles have wormed their way into our great city. In this case though, his insidious web stretching across Korvosa’s underworld might prove to our advantage.”
”Devargo would never let someone he recognizes as an ally of the Guard into Eel’s End, but your group’s a different case. I’d like you to pay a visit to Eel’s End and secure an audience with Devargo. Find out what he knows about Amprei, get proof of any illicit goings-on the ambassador might be involved with, and bring that proof to me to use to undermine any forthcoming attempts by him to get Cheliax to cut us off. Devargo might not be willing to part with his information easily. I’ll supply you with some gold to bribe him, and whatever’s left you can keep for yourself. Remember: the man is dangerous, but so are you – if things get violent, I wouldn't mourn his passing.”
She hands Ulgrim a small pouch filled with 1,000 gp. She begins to give you the address to Eel’s End in Old Korvosa, but is interrupted by the swordsman. ”I am headed to my academy in Old Korvosa, I will escort these brave heroes that far whenever they are ready.”
"I don't think any of Barvasi's men know my face," Ulgrim says as he takes the money and tucks it away. "I understand the mission, I'm ready to go." The dwarven guardsman notes Orsini's injury without comment. Must be from Soldado's hellcat. Damned human women are always so uppity. He concentrates for a moment and his outfit changes to that of a scruffy dwarven mercenary in from Janderhoff.
Durriken takes the measure of Orsini, deciding that the man at least met his expectations. He takes in the Field Marshall's tale quietly, scoffing inwardly at the notion that he was any sort of hero, but having enough sense to keep it to himself.
"So we go in, bribe Devargo, and get him to tell us about the ambassador's vices. What kind of proof do you need to confirm it?"
Kroft nods at the dwarven guardsman. "That is partially why I chose you, soldier. Thank you for your willingness to do your duty."
She turns to Durriken, appraising him. "I don't know what will turn up. Something that ties the Ambassador to that den of iniquity. I am sure you'll know it when you see it."
Iozif looks appraisingly at Vencarlo as he makes his introductions. Is this the man that Grau was talking about? He returns the handshake firmly, surprised by the older man's vigor. As the field marshal begins to relate the group's task, Iozif turns his attention to her. He nods thoughtfully in a few places, but otherwise keeps his own council. A clever ploy that seems to have few drawbacks for the marshal. Should we fail, she can claim to have no knowledge of our role. Should we succeed, she reaps the benefits and gifts us with a pat on the head. Typical really: let the little folk bleed and toil while the nobles play at their games of power and subterfuge. Iozif checks that his gear is all in order before nodding to Cressida and saying, "I also understand the task we've been given and am ready to leave."
Gyllan returns Orsini's handshake firmly, amazed in spite of himself to be meeting such a figure of note in Korvosa. I've heard tales of his skill with a blade all my days, and now I've shaken his hand - damaged as it seems to be - and had him say my friends and I are good for the city. "It's an honor to meet you," he says simply, keeping the awe mostly out of his voice. He then turns to hear what Field Marshal Kroft has to say, his jaw clenching slightly as she tells of the Chelish ambassador's plans to hurt the city Gyllan loves.
"We're to root out secrets about this Amprei - lamprey, more like - and find proof of them to bring him down? You've got the right folks, Field Marshal. There's no one in this city I can't find, and find out about. It'll be a pleasure."
Arianna allows herself a small smile following Vencarlo's greeting. "A pleasure to meet you, Vencarlo."
The young woman begins to wonder about just what the situation is that she seems to have gotten herself into, absent-mindedly flipping a card from her Harrow deck while she listens to the Field Marshal.
"Very well. Hopefully this will not turn to violence, but I somehow doubt that will be the case."
Looking around at her companions to see if they are ready to leave, she adds, "I suppose there is no time like the present. Lead the way, Vencarlo."
With a wry smile at Corso, the Field Marshall dismisses you. Orsini walks with you out the gate of the Citadel and leads you down the streets towards Old Korvosa.
As he walks he takes an interest in your past exploits. "What brings all of you to our fair City? Are you natives or just passing through. How is it that the fair Field Marshall came to use you for her "special" operations?"
"I'm just a guard. Been parolin' these streets fer a decade. I lived in the Bank of Abadar for a long time before that," Ulgrim says in his scratchy whisper. I got no idea why I'm on the special operations. Aint nothin' special about me.
Rolling his eyes at Corso's extravagance, Iozif waits patiently for the group to leave the citadel by mentally recounting the skeletal structure of a human hand. ... no, that's not right. The Intermediate cuneiform is posteriorly located with respect to the second metatarsal... He's so absorbed by his thoughts that he nearly misses the group's dismissal.
Following behind Vencarlo, Iozif answer brusquely, his thoughts once again on physiology, "I'm afraid I've joined in to the group by chance. I was searching for a friend, G... " Iozif cuts off his off-hand remarks abruptly, realizing what he had been about to say. Flushing red, he coughs into his hand to hide his embarrassment before continuing, "Pardon me. I was searching for a friend who I feared caught up in the riots when I came across a group of thugs accosting the group. Feeling obligated to assist, I've been swept up in things. As for my history, suffice to say that I'm a native and that I'm currently studying medicine at the University of Korvosa. Funds allowing, of course. I have some skill in the alchemical arts among other things that serve to keep me in my studies."
"I'm a Shingles boy myself, born and raised," offers Gyllan, wondering how the elegant Orsini will take this information. "I'm known around town a bit, though not so much as you, and for different reasons. I can find anyone or anything in the city, for a price. Anyway, my friends and I got asked to do a bit of work for the Field Marshal, and it seemed a good way to help Korvosa amidst all this craziness."
"Just passing through, though it will be a while before I leave." Arianna begins. "I am part of one of the many native Varisian caravans that travel our beautiful homeland. Korvosa has long been part of our route, our most recent visit resulted in a problem for my brother, I remained behind to resolve that problem. When my caravan returns, I will leave with it." muttering under her breath she adds, "Whenever that may be..."
"Lived here my whole life." Durriken offers, then falls silent again. Too many people. Some can be trusted. But all of them? doubtful.
Orsini nods as each of you shares a bit. "Our fair city will be the worse for your departure, lady." he says smoothly to Arianna, tipping a salute in her direction. A dwarf soldier, a doctor, a nobleman,and two lifers eh? You make quite a group. Tell me, men," here he addresses Gyllan and Durriken specifically, "What do you think of our fair Queen Ileosa and the recent troubles?"
You stroll along back into Northgate and towards the bridges that lead to Old Korvosa. There doesn't seem to be any sign of trouble on the streets today, just folks going about their business as usual.
"It has given me the opportunity to earn more coin than I had previously seen in my life, though a return to some order would be welcome." He pauses. "As to the Queen, the person in charge does not concern me."
Gyllan considers Orsini's question for a long moment, then responds, "I liked the king well, and I mourn the city's loss in his death. I don't really know what to think of the queen, I know little of her. But the recent troubles in the city worry me, and I'm not sure they're being handled as well as they could. Though today seems better than yesterday, in terms of troubles."
He looks at Durriken and considers his somewhat mercenary answer, then continues, "It's true, we've picked up some coin, and I've made a few new friends, but I do hope today's calm sticks, and we don't return to the kind of madness we've just been through."
As you cross into Old Korvosa, the upper floor slums of the Shingles, stands before you like sore thumb. The feeling is different over in the Old City, and has always been. More of a lawlessness, a separation from the ordered lives of those in the more lavish areas of Korvosa.
Orsini takes in your responses nodding to himself. "The Queen got off to a bad start here, and matters lately have not made it better. I have been quite a critic of the royal family myself, when necessary, but am reserving judgement on Her Highness until I see more for myself."
He sighs. "As for Korvosa, I think she has seen better days, but with wardens like you manning the walls, she will pull through."
At last you arrive at his home and training facility. It is quite ornate, and well appointed. He gives you directions to Eel's End on the west side of the island, salutes your bravery, and wishes you farewell, departing into the quiet of his sanctuary once again.
As they pass near the Shingles, a contented smile plays across Gyllan's face, and a number of people raise hands in greeting, or quietly say his name as they pass, and a few give him a hard stare or scowl. He greets them all in turn, pleased to be near home and see that, while it is still the disheveled Shingles of always, it has not suffered greatly in the chaos that's gripped the city. Guess it didn't have so far to fall, he thinks to himself. There's a lesson in that.
He keeps this in mind as he sees Orsini's elaborate fencing school, and as they make their way to the Eel's End, he wonders how many others will fall from on high before Korvosa sets herself right again.
"Good day," Ulgrim says by way of farewell, and then plods along behind the others. I'm already getting a bad feeling about this. Hopefully nobody has to die today. Ha! Yeah, right....
Iozif listens with a keen ear to his companion's thoughts on the Queen and the city at large. Apathy for one and trepidation for the other. It's curious that so few others take issue with the way the city is run. Then again, perhaps they think it best to remain silent. I can hardly fault them that. As they pass from the familiar North Point into the slums of Bridgefront, Iozif looks around sadly and shakes his head in disgust. Yes, we have a long ways to go before any king or queen can impress me.
As Orsini makes his own thoughts known, Iozif finds himself smiling in spite of his melancholy. I'm surprised that a fencing champion takes such a keen interest in politics. I may well have sold the man short. Bowing with real respect, he nods politely to the master fencer and says, "Good day to you as well, Master Orsini. It's a shame we didn't have longer to discuss the state of things here in Korvosa. I should think I'd enjoy that conversation very much."
Eel's End sits anchored off the last pier on the eastern side of Old Korvosa. It being just around noon, the place has a drawn and worn out look to it, but still the vice peddlers seem to be doing a good business.
The sound of carousing booms from the five elegantly painted ships moored to a long pier. Large signs painted in several languages hang from ropes slung between the ships or are nailed to pilings. The closest ship to the east bears a sign that says - "The Twin Tigers - Take the Tiger by the Tail and Try Your Luck!". Opposite that, to the west a barge's sign says, "Welcome to the Goldenhawk - No Safer Stay in Old Korvosa." Further to the southeast, is "Dragon's Breath Corridor - Dream the Dragon's Dreams at Affordable Prices!", while opposite that is the "House of Clouds - The Caress of Our Lovelies Will Take You Straight to Heaven!". Only the largest ship, to the south, bears no signage at all.
Short rope bridges or gangplanks provide access to the decks of these ships from the pier, or from the decks of the other ships. Sailors, thugs, drunkards, prostitutes, and what could even be a few well-dressed nobles carouse on the pier and the decks of the five ships, seemingly oblivious to Korvosa's recent troubles. Here and there, large men dressed in chainmail patrol the area, their faces grim in the sea of revelry.
The pier is about 70' long, and widens to a large square platform for the last 30'. From this platform spin off all the ropes and planking leading aboard the ship of your choice. Two guards in chainmail stand at the entrance where the pier meets the shore, each armed with a longsword and shield as well. They look you over as you approach, but don't move to stop you.
"What'll it be first lads, pussy, drugs or dice?" Ulgrim says the others, pretending to appear excited at the prospect. Well, mostly pretending.
Durriken keeps his voice low as they approach. "I assume that our friend is in the unmarked ship. If we want to meet him without suspicion, we may need to make ourselves known in one of the others."
Gyllan smiles at Ulgrim's blunt question, then says, "Well, if it's the first, he'll probably be somewhere a bit more private - and we would be too, pretty soon. So drugs or dice might give us a better chance to take a look for him, and dice is the easiest to just take a look around. So let's start with that. I think Durriken's probably right, he could be on that ship with no sign on it, but we'd do well to learn a bit about the place, and maybe look like we fit in a bit."
He then takes a moment to think on what he's heard about Eel's End, since he knows Korvosa so well.
Iozif fights to hide his distaste as the party makes its way through the vice-ridden Old Docks. A canker on our city that the government sees fit to allow, never mind the damage to the poor from drug use and disease. Disgusting. As they finally reach the pier of Eel's end, Iozif schools his features and tries to appear happy-go-lucky but he's doubtful the effect is convincing. Dropping his voice, he smiles grimly and says, "Durriken's suggestion strikes me as sensible. If they don't typically allow 'guests' onto that boat, then we'll be attracting more attention than we otherwise would prefer. Given the options Ulgrim has so tastefully laid out, my preference is for dice and drinks."