"Any significant weight change or hair loss?"
“Well, if you think you're up to it, the thieves’ guild operates out of here, on Gold Street. Lots of information if you can buy it. You didn’t bring money with you, did you? Nobody takes money here. Maybe the Loyalists, but still, nobody worth spending it on.”
"Auntie's a big big tavern in Docktown, and a good place for gossip. You can try asking about Jax Telandil around there—he’s the Docktown Jax—but mind who you talk to if you don’t want to spread rumors.”
"Any shortness of breath?"
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Reggie is sure to give Auntie a wink and pantomime's wielding a whip and nods his head toward Boratio before riding out of the her bar. Despite the lateness of the hour, it is a peaceful trip back to Professor Poppo's.
He is all too happy to tumble into bed, having been buried under fish, taken 3 treks through a sewer, been to an intelligentsia salon and a rowdy bar since the last time he slept.
Rowdy curls up under the cot he chooses, just as tired.
"For the sake of leaving no (philosopher's) stone unturned, should we check out the Alchgarden? I'm not sure if there will be anything there useful to us, but maybe one of the Jax personas visted there. It seems like Whaler's Point would be the only other place we haven't been to investigate. Although, if any of you are planning on investigating the Merspectre, I'd like to tag along. That may be a night time only thing, though. Most ghosts don't seem to like coming out in the daylight for some reason."
Orange crab grass with real pincers, psychedelic mutant insects, a row of two-story-tall singing daisies with human faces, and a makeshift barrier of broken furniture around a huge pitcher plant dotted with signs saying helpful things like "Warning: Giant Humanoid-Eating Plant Ahead!" and "Don't Say We Didn't Warn You!" greet the party at the nearby alchemist's tower now known as the Alchgarden.
"Well? Whatdoyouwant? Ihaven'tgotallday." says the widowed gnome, Mrs. Zoot, the tower's owner and lead alchemist, in a rapid staccato of syllables. She has her thickly-gloved hands firmly planted on her hips as she looks up at Aquavaius (and much of the rest of the party). Her apron (and much of the rest of her) is mess of colorful stains.
"No." the gnome woman snaps over the sound of a rapidly beat-boxing giant daisy. "Unlessyouaretalkingaboutmylackofreagentstomakepotionsandoilsfrom."
Bonnifer looks up at Aquavius as if she were a new sort of insect.
"You know." she says at a more understandable speed. "My work does not allow me to get out much but even I noticed the the Second Ashes, five years ago. NowifyouwillexcusemeI'mgoingbacktodoingsomethingproductive."
The strange giant plants continue to sing their strangely uplifting song.
Pasted amid the signs around the park warning people off are a few pasted fliers announcing the performance to be held tomorrow.
A little later some of the group take a rowboat out to Whaler's Point. The place is pretty terrible. There is a constant greasy smell in the air that mixes with the stink of dead and dying fish. Grim-faced fishermen clomp about in raincoats and thick rubber boots, going about their business with fatalistic resolve. Few of them speak much more than to grunt meaningfully and nod to one another.
Every other shack and warehouse here has a familiar public notice plastered to its worn gray walls.
At the end of the spit of land stands a stone spire with a gallows attached to it that hangs out over the narrow entrance to the bay. There is a corpse hanging from it now. Whatever it was wearing has long since rotted to rags though there are hints--gold braid, and shreds of silk--that hint that the wearer was someone of some importance once upon a time. The strange thing is that even while the clothes look as though they have been hanging outside since the Second Ashes five years ago the man looks as though he was hung only this morning. Sea birds roost on the gallows pecking idly at the dead man's face, fingers and toes.
The strange thing is that even while the clothes look as though they have been hanging outside since the Second Ashes five years ago the man looks as though he was hung only this morning. Sea birds roost on the gallows pecking idly at the dead man's face, fingers and toes.
Boratio casts a minor spell of detection to see if there is magic at work here...
As they wander about, talking to Bonnifer and the whalers, Aiden makes some quiet inquiries about the Ciucci family and if there are any members in the city. He tries to see if his rumor about them being merfolk has spread or not.
The general response to both lines of inquiry is a dull or disinterested "Huh?"
The strange thing is that even while the clothes look as though they have been hanging outside since the Second Ashes five years ago the man looks as though he was hung only this morning. Sea birds roost on the gallows pecking idly at the dead man's face, fingers and toes.Boratio casts a minor spell of detection to see if there is magic at work here...
There doesn't seem there is anything magical about the macabre tableau.
Still, Fishblower feels the thing is hanging up there for a reason.
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Reggie takes one look at the clothing of the man hanging from the gibbet and makes an immediate decision about him.
"He probably deserved it," the halfling mutters, savagely.
"But if you want to take a closer look and have a plan, I'm game," he tells Boratio.
He's somewhat distracted by trying to keep Rowdy from scarfing down some of the scraps...or not scraps. The wolf isn't picky, after all and the stink of offal to humans and haflings is often a call to gourmet dining to a canine.
"I don't get why the clothes are ragged but the corpse looks like it's new... anyone here seen this sorta thing b'fore?"
"I don't get why the clothes are ragged but the corpse looks like it's new... anyone here seen this sorta thing b'fore?"
The top of the gallows is built on a pivot so the body can be swung out over the water and back over land. there's a corroded brass placard attached to the stone base that reads: "TRAITOR'S HOOK".
"YAAR! blasted beard and hat are in the way.... can't see shyte from sky! can someone help me bring this stiff down?"
[dice=disguise check to see if corpse was... disguised?]1d20+7
[dice=heal or perception]1d20+1"YAAR! blasted beard and hat are in the way.... can't see shyte from sky! can someone help me bring this stiff down?"
[dice=Strength check to lower carefully, taking 10, STR 17: can drag 1,300 lbs]10+3
"BY THE LORD OF LAW DON'T YOU TOUCH THAT ROTTING CORPSE!" shouts a man storming out of one of the warehouses. All the locals beat a hasty retreat back inside as the burly, red-faced old man rushes toward Blowfish.
"WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING, MAN!?"
"Sumthin's not right with this stiff man! look! its clothes are ragged but the flesh ain't goin'! We're tryin' to take a look at what's goin' on here. Did you put that man up there? what was the man's crime, if ye don't mind me askin'?"
"Sumthin's not right with this stiff man! look! its clothes are ragged but the flesh ain't goin'! We're tryin' to take a look at what's goin' on here. Did you put that man up there? what was the man's crime, if ye don't mind me askin'?"
"Look somewhere else then! I'm Meliar Aructus, former high priest of this town, and this wretched bit of filth is the former governor, Gracchian Tauranor. I mount the Traitor's Hook every day at dawn with the blessing of my lord, Asmodeus. And every dawn now for five years the Lord of Law has granted me the power to raise this diseased canker from the dead again just so we both can watch him hang once more!" Meliar practically spits the words.
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Rowdy snarls but it is only because he can sense the tension in his best pal Reggie. The expression on the halfling's face is even more vicious than the wolf's brows furrowed and lips curled away from his teeth. There is a rumbling in his chest, as well.
"Savages," he snarls, under his breath but not so carefully that the high priest can't hear it if he tries.
He's no fan of Asmodeus or Cheliax and he certainly does not approve of such a cruel punishment.
"Yarr! 'tis musta been a heinous crime I'm sure! our most sincere apologies, former high priest Aructus. Is there a large crowd spectating the execution every morning? I'd be interestin' to see yer power at work!"
Well that explains it, Thinks an obscured observer to himself from somewhere around the corner of the warehouse.
"Savages," he snarls, under his breath but not so carefully that the high priest can't hear it if he tries.
"What do you know about it, slip!" the man snaps. Then more slyly he says, "You're all strangers here, aren't you?"
"So uh, what crime did he commit?" Aquavius wonders. "You know, the thing he did five years ago. Must be pretty bad if you need to do this every day."
"He can't die enough for the lives he's taken...." His words trail off.
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"I know that any man's punishment should end and begin with his death. Let the gods deal with his soul. Let his body rest. Public revenge does nothing, except maybe make you feel better about yourself," Reggie snaps back. "You can't call this justice."
He makes no comment regarding their status as "strangers." He suspects even questioning this is enough to identify them as such but he's not going to confirm, either. Let there be whatever doubt is possible.
"Bad halfling! bad! I'm so sorry Mr. Aructus! it's so hard to find good slaves these days, and this one is best at what he does, that is ride horses and handle beasts, and NOT run his mouth to High Priests of Asmodeus! now, get back to town, you!"
Reggie's forced contrition seems to mollify the old man a bit. He seems lost in his own thoughts.
The party paddles their rowboat across the harbor from Whaler's Point to the warehouse district, Rowdy serving as a sort of figurehead.
Arriving at the warehouse from the dock they find most of the warehouse's high second floor windows boarded up. The logo along the building's flank needs repainting. Like most of the city's structures it seems worn and unkempt, a ghost of its former self.
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Reggie fumes the entire trip across the harbor. He casts a few, angry glances back at the body dangling from the tower behind them.
He's still brooding as they loiter outside the warehouse and he sits atop Rowdy with arms crossed, looking up and down the street, watching for trouble.
"This place should burn again," he comments to no one in particular.
"Hey Reggie - sorry about earlier. There's no good way to deal with the Asmodeans, and I didn't want him to lash out against you. Still, it pained me to say the false words, and I want you to know I don't believe any of them. This was just a way to use his bias against him. We should come at dawn and free that guy after the ex high priest raises him from the dead. That, or at least ensure the man gets his eternal rest by stealing the corpse and giving him a proper burial. In other words: break him out of his eternal jail."
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Reggie nods. "Sometimes freedom requires sacrifices and sometimes they are sacrifices of pride. It was the right thing to do. As will be saving that poor, tortured soul," he answers. He seems to perk up at the idea of rescuing the man, even if the man is dead.
He reaches out to shake Boratio's hand to show there are no hard feelings before turning his attention back to the task at hand. He's clearly in a better mood, Boratio's apology having soothed his frustration, even though the man was not who he was frustrated with.
"Ah, there's nothing better than a little B&E, Well, maybe some booze." Aquavius looks for a way in.
There are a few big barn-sized doors, all the windows are at second-floor height.
Aquavius notes the presence of Madge's Noodle Cart to the east her goblin winks back at her in an exaggerated fashion only possible by those with goblinoid faces. Madge looking the other way sings hoarsely about the quality of her noodles.
She also notes some motion from one of the high windows directly ahead.
Aiden doesn't notice anything suspicious. Upon trying to open the door he finds barred from the inside.
The goblin carter growls at 575 as the latter approaches. Madge puts a hand on his head and calms the snarling little beast.
"Don't mind Snapjack. He's just never seen a Xulgath before. He's very protective of Old Madge he is. Travelled with me all the way from Sandpoint he has."
The goblin pulls a live toad out of his apron and begins petting it.
"Have some o' Madge's oodlie doodlie noodles to help acclimate yourself to the surface world." Madge removes the cover of the cart's cauldron releasing a cloud of steam and revealing a slimy grayish mass of fish-scented noodles.
Apparently the customer has to supply their own bowl, and utensils, because the only utensil Madge has is her dented ladle.