Hathok moans but he can't seem to rouse beyond the response to pain.
'Git to give it a little harder than that lad'
Breg slaps Hathok,
'He seems ded..'
Breg grabs Hathok and the corpse of the monster, dragging them back to the hole we dropped into,
'We got your monster here lads'
He shouts up the hole,
'Big uns unconscious but alive, needs some tendin to'
Dwendle helps move the bodies before stopping just beneath the hole. “I’m gonna gran that guard as well, can’t hurt.”
Dwendle goes to bring the dwarf guard’s body back struggling but managing to get it to the hole.
The pair of you manage to drag the bulky form of Hathok back to the crumbled entry back the street above. A couple of your fellow work crew help to pull the battered half-orc back to the sun light above.
You see that in your absence, the dispersed crew and associated guards had been called in from the surrounding streets. At your reappearance a rumbling murmur rolls through the crowd, before being shouted down to silence by the imperial soldiers.
The dwarf that sent you down to find the Sargent in the first place, steps up and barks, "Show me." You take him and another half-dozen soldiers back into the sewer and lead them to the lair where the remains of the missing dwarves can be found. You notice at number of dark looks passing between the soldiers before they grab the corpses of the dwarves and undead creature and hustle out of there.
Halthok is given some rough medical care (stabilized) and then packed into a wagon. "You two, take your friend back your room and stay there. Someone will see about getting a cutter to come and patch him up." The party is led away under escort back towards the apartments. As you leave, you see the other corpses being placed in another wagon and led off in another direction by a pair of Imperials.
The return to the apartments is uneventful and with a little aid, Hathok is placed in his bunk. Sometime later a small group of Imperials arrives. Several soldiers escort a medic and a couple of other dwarves in civilian clothes. While the medic tends to Hathok, cleaning and applying ointment to the wounds, both Breg and Dwendle are interviewed regarding the events that occurred beneath the streets. These interviews take place in an adjacent room and each is interviewed alone. The lines of questioning aren't anything out of the ordinary, simply, what you did what you saw, how you dealt with the monster. Notes are taken and you are sent back to your room.
Coming back in you see that Hathok has been bandaged up. The medic gives you a jar of ointment and provides some instructions for continuing care and adds, "I don't like the look of those cuts. They look a little off, and there's an odd smell coming from them. I've cleaned them the best I can, but considering where he got them, I don't have high hopes."
With that, the Imperials leave. The remainder of the day passes uneventfully.
The next morning, there's a noticeable odor coming off of Hathok. Like pepper and cloves, and not entirely unpleasant. While you busy yourselves with the morning routine, you look up to see a familiar figure darkening your doorway.
"Well I guess the rumors were true," Shank says, as he and a pair of cronies step into your room. "The big fella got himself all beat up by some nasty critter. Not looking quite so tough now."
"A'Reckon I look tougher with a few more scars..."
Hathok offers as he puts on a brave face. Truth be told he felt like thrice hammered s+~$ and not only because he'd begun to sense an impending physical confrontation with Shank. He relished the thought of it whilst hale, but in his current ragged state he frantically searches for any excuse to stall and put the inevitable off for another day.
"Least that thing won't be picking off the chain gang no more, yer welcome."
Hathok winces as soon as he finishes; tact was never his strong suit and he left boot licking behind with the army he deserted on another continent.
Dwendle for once without much to say follows along and waits for the questions to come where he recounts in grey detail the blood and carnage of their fight as well as the dangerous cave they found. He plays it up as a grand fight where he helped to kill the creature using guile and his wits.
Once in the room after the night he spends a moment in bed mumbling the story to seemingly himself, recounting it in detail and with his personal flair. Then once the day begins he goes to the burly half Orc and heals him with cute light wounds.
When Shank comes around Dwendle does his best to look tough and tries to meet the dwarf’s tone. “Did you see what he killed? Thing looked like it would kill any man I've seen without much effort. Maybe we aren’t as green, pardon the pun, as we look.”
Breg stirs as the intruders enter, not paying them to may mind as his bunk mates talk with them. He does however ponder the monster they came across,
Shank sneers, "Couldn't have been that tough if you lot took it down."
He takes a look around the room, his gaze settling on the jar of ointment left by the medic. "I've come to collect your donation. It takes a lot of effort to keep this place running and you've not been kicking it."
He gestures and one of his thugs goes to take the medicine.
Dwendle stands up putting up his hands to try to calm the man coming for the medicine.
“Woah, he needs it. Maybe we can work out a trade. We keep the medicine we get something for you maybe even help you with something.”
The tired dwarf rises as the others come into the room, he awaits to see the response they have to Dwendle.
'Now lads he be needin that to save himself after he saved you all. Don' do anything foolish now.'
Streaming bits of ash begin to fall from his hands as he prepares himself,
Shank holds up a hand and his thug stops advancing.
"Trading in favors are we? Aye, that's a currency we can be dealing in. Might need some eager hands to do a bit a work in the future."
He looks at Breg, "You boys are the ones looking to be doing something foolish. Best be thinking about what you're thinking."
He turns back to Dwendle, "Your offer is intriguing, but will you lads deliver when asked? What's to stop you from just stiffing your ol' pal Shank further down the line?"
“Well if we stiff you, then you’ll be coming for a pound of flesh right? And I can say for myself that I’m not interested in that. Besides I try to follow through with things that I say I will do.”
Dwendle does his best to give a winning smile as he does this, his wide eyes and smile are a little unsettling for such a small man.
Hathok's a tad worried about his wounds. The salve and halfling seem his best hope for a peaceful recovery. He wisely decides to keep his mouth shut. Hammered s!$+ or not, he has the self awareness to know that he's a poor jest away from testing Shank's mettle. He grins and bears the extortion, hoping the halflings words hold water... For now.
Breg settles back, letting Dwendle continue his negotiations.
Shank gets a hard look, "If you stiff me, yer dead. No more chances, no more talk. There's a whole slew of nasty sods in here that would love to do me a favor and you'll never see it coming."
He puts on a smile, but his eyes remain flint hard. "You boys have a good day now. I'll be seeing you."
With that, the gangsters leave the room.
Over the next couple of days, things return to normal, with Hathok's numbness retreating and he rejoins the work crew.
The injuries themselves are slow to heal. The skin around the edges of the wounds become pale and chalky, and the odd, spicy smell clings to him. While Hathok feels fine, there is definitely something wrong with the way the injuries are healing.
Hathok is worried, he tries to ask around the work crews after a healer or cleric, in his own sneering way.
After his first day back, he attempts to strike a plan with his cell mates, his level of concern provoking the largest consecutive string of words he's spoken in a long time.
"Lads I'm feeling aright here'n'now but these wounds're lookin' stranger by the day. I needs a proper 'ealer, no offense friend," he says directly to Dwendle. "Problem is Shank's bound to come collect shortly and if'n it comes to blows I best be in fightin' trim and I cannae say how long I'll be hale. So we're down to three s%##e options as I see it: we do 'im 'is favor and hope eventually we can join 'is crew before 'is favors break us or I die of me wounds, OR we ambush the craggy bastard and take 'is place and force the dear Empress' local best to heal me, OR we make a run fer it and I roll the knuckles with whatever succor the locals 'ave on tap. Ah'm not sure I 'ave the time for the first, but Ah'm not sure we've got the sand for the second and gods only know what the locals can manage."
His face turns grim as he continues, "I'd still be face down in the muck weren't fer ye two and I'd like to thank ye fer that." He hesitates before continuing softly, "I'd hate to have ta leave ya's without repaying my debt..." Hathok trails off leaving his desire for his companions help plain, but so too, his urgency for finding a cure.
Dwendle relaxes seeing the dwarf leave and spends the next couple days asking around the camp to whomever he can to try to get some information on Shank as well as trying to talk around to try to get something to defend himself with, a shiv or a homemade sling maybe.
Dwendle sits on his bunk listening with a smile. “It’s all right, no offense taken. I can only pull a small amount of magic each day. And it’s not that impressive.”
His smile softens as he hears the half Orc speak softly with thanks. “Well it was common kindness, the same I’d expect from you. And I do hate this place it’s far to rigid for me, if you’re leaving I’d very much like to leave with you. I think you’re right though, staying here will only do so much. And it seems that your illness is something our captors haven’t seen, it might be something the locals know more about. Or maybe we could find answers in that abdomen sewer?”
Breg mostly listens as the two hash our plans to either overtake or join their minor oppressor,
'Might be in yer best interest to join the rotten slagger, yer not Dwarves no one going to give ya the respect, or fear that he gets.'
Breg keeps his eye out for anyone that might appear to be using spells,
The next morning while work assignments are being doled out, the three of you are pulled out of the milling workers and told to return to your room. When you ask why, you're simply told that the work order says you've got special duty assignment today and to await further details.
About an hour later, a older dwarf with a neat grey beard wearing well-made but nondescript civilian clothes enters your room. With him is a much more ostentatiously dressed companion. With pristine gold-embroidered robes and heavy jeweled rings on each finger, priests of the Forgelord are hard to miss. As they enter, you can see a pair of stone-faced imperial soldiers standing at the ready outside the room.
The priest's nose wrinkles as he enters. "Well, you were right. One of them is contaminated."
The priest's companion says, "I would think that by now, you would know that I am always right."
Turning to you all he says, "Please sit, we have much to discuss, but first we deal with the matter of the blight." He points at Hathok. "Please undress so that my honorable guest may have a look at your wounds. I would rather not have to pay for any more of his time than I must."
Hathok complies slowly peeling his ragged clothes off, side eyeing the priest with hope of a cure plain in his eyes. He stands unabashedly dressed as he was on his First Day, his wounds prominent primarily across his chest but also raked across his arms and thighs.
Dwendle follows along curious as to who exactly these new people are and watches the priest with an intent eye. He takes a seat in the room and at the orders to undress he turns about to give Hathok privacy.
Breg settles in,
'Contaminated with what? What was that thing we saw down there and what is this special assignment?'
The gaudy priest steps forward to investigate Hathoks wounds. "Just when you thought they couldn't spell any worse..."
He puts a hand on Hathok and mutters a few words to himself. His hand glows briefly and the wounds lose their odd discoloration. Eyeing his work, he nods to himself before moving back towards the door. "He should recover. It doesn't appear to have progressed far enough for him to have been able to pass it onto anyone else."
The other dwarf nods, "Thank you. As always I appreciate your help and discretion in these matters."
"Of course. I would never want to compromise such a profitable relationship." With that, the priest leaves.
The grey bearded dwarf waits a few moments before turning his attention to the party.
"Well gentlemen. It seems like you've had a little adventure."
A murmured word of thanks escapes Hathok's lips as the priest removes his hands. Hathok admires his mundane looking wounds as he pulls his clothes on. He's too astounded at his apparent good fortune to say anything further.
Breg mutters a grumble as he settles back into his cot, resting his eyes.
'If mandatory endangerment is an adventure, then aye, we had an adventure'
“Well I think it was fun, I liked getting to do something besides the labor everyday.”
He says still turned around with a chipper attitude, his feat dangling from the bed.
"Well, if there wasn't any endangerment, it wouldn't be an adventure."
The dwarf gives you all an appraising look and says, "Whether or not you've the appetite for it, you've got the aptitude, and your little exploit has brought your existence to the attention of my employer. My name is Davros and my benefactor is always in the market for useful people. Your success in the sewer suggests that the three of you might fit the bill."
He pulls out a piece of parchment and looks it over. "Now it says here that the a few of you have talents of the magical persuasion. Now just a word of caution to you, it's probably best if you don't go spreading that information around. No everyone has such an open mind about those kinds of things and the types of folks on the work crews in particular tend to be less than kind to the magically inclined."
He skims a bit more and puts the paper away, "We have been calling the creature you encountered below the streets a Blightstalker. They're undead, but unlike anything you come across in the Empire proper. From what we know, it's caused by curse and that makes it catching. The locals haven't been particularly helpful in providing any information, but we believe they know more than they let on. All the ones we've encountered so far have been lizardfolk, though there have been a couple of incidents with Imperials turning from becoming infected."
He points at Hathok, "You were well on your way to becoming one them yourself. Fortunately, we were able to remove the taint fast enough.'
"Now the Empire has no interest in the Blightstalkers beyond making sure they don't interfere with the expansion of Imperial boarders, but there are other interested parties that are more curious. My employer is one such individual. We need boots on the ground to investigate and don't want to draw undo suspicion by bringing in outside talent. This would be where you would come in."
"Officially, you would still be doing your time on the workcrews, but from time to time, your assignments would be related to investigating the truth behind this city and what lies beneath it. The danger would be high, but it might provide you with the opportunity to get out of here."
Breg sits up in his cot and looks to his bunk mates. He turns to Davros.
'Aye, any hope to git out of 'ere would be good.'
He gestures to the others,
'IF they are keen, then I am as well. But if we are headin into the depths again we best be needing more than a pry bar and some linen cloth to keep the disease away'
He shifts his gaze to Dwendle,
'Tell em lad, how important it is..'
Dwendle turns on his cot and smiles at dwarf speaking to them. “We’d be quite willing to help, we are not just the rank and file that end up dead in the sewers. If we have a little bit more help before we go in next time we could actually go deeper in. We barely went in last time. Im sure there is quite a bit more down there that with a bit more gear from such nice folks like yourselves we’d be able to explore.”
He stands up and walks over beaming with the slightly unsettlingly wide eyes that trademark his appearance.
"Aye, 'm no'afraid of some violence, plague mebbe, but ya better be offer'n better kit than a blasted shovel and rags. We also have a bit o'a problem with the local gang, so whatever payment yer offer'n better be somethin' they cannae take. Like our freedom or rank, or badges or some s@~*e." Hathok grimaces at the last, he can barely believe he's willing to jump back into the "chain of command," but it seems the safer option rather than cutting his way into Shank's outfit.