Magda looks at the crack, wondering as suddenly the oaken one slips forward and the wall is talking about light. She turns to Marcus, wide-eyed and rather surprised "But... you Can't be hidden in the dark if you have a LIGHT!" Vera has talked to her about the fact you can't stay unnoticed when you are stumbling about in the dark and can't see either, so she sighs and casts light on the wall's belt buckle. "Low enough it won't distract you and easy enough to cover with a hand if you need to hide." looking at the crack she decides "We should go down this one, it's new and I don't know it. And Oakleg already went down it, so... I'll catch up. Follow slower." she takes after the wandering halfling.
Yaziyah's hand drifts to her new silver weapon, but then she pulls it away. It was prudent to be ready for a confrontation, and a few defensive spells were on hand for that, but it wouldn't do to provoke the lycanthropes by brandishing their weapons. No, it was better to keep her other weapon sharp.
Magda and Erasmo creep forward together, until they can see into the crack in the wall. It looks like there's firelight flickering from much further into the area than the room immediately to their east. Both Erasmo and Magda see a few bulbous mushrooms growing next to the fetid water, but can't see into the northern part of the room.
Erasmo appreciates how silent Magda can move and waits for her so they can scout together. He peeks inside the crack in the wall and at the mushrooms, approaching slowly.
When Erasmo creeps forward into the crack, he apparently gets a little too close to one of the mushrooms.
An ear-splitting noise emits from the mushroom, echoing through the sewer. Erasmo stumbles back and stays where he is. It looks like the hope for stealth has been dashed.
Both PCs know this is the telltale sound of a shrieker... shrieking. But for this round it's impossible to explain this to any other PCs due to the noise.
Marcus puts the body down, then pushes his way to the front; if something was going to attack the group, it would have to deal with him first.
As the wall starts moving forward, nearly as loudly as the screaming mushroom, (hells in a poop bucket that was not right), she touches his shoulder and asks the city to make sure all his parts stay inside him.
Yaziyah grips her hammer and moves up behind Erasmo, menacing anything that would dare come close.
With the others surrounding him and the noise ringing his ears, Erasmo decides to coat his shortsword with the silversheen he bought, just in case they are attacked.
Marcus splashes forward, and peers into the makeshift room. The flow of sewer filth oozes into this rough-hewn stone cave from the west, pooling to the south before continuing through a crude channel in the eastern wall. Fat black mushrooms and other disgusting fungus grow thick around the pool of slime. Several low alcoves are cut into the walls, each filled with moldering hay, filthy furs, and tiny bones.
Marcus sees two wererats with cloaks, clothes and armor, in hybrid form, in the northern part of the room, with their short swords drawn. Their pointed noses twitch, and their round ears are flattened against their heads from the noise, but their eyes are keen and calculating.
Vera shields herself with armor while casting dancing lights to light the way--for everyone except Magda of course.
"I'm so glad you all were there to get that crowd to break up. I really wonder who that guy was riling them up. I worry it's not the last we've seen of him."
As the party walks along the sewers, Vera spends an inordinate amount of effort trying to keep the party clean. . "I really hope we find these wererats soon."
Marcus comes to a halt, and slowly raises a flat hand to the party to symbol them to also halt. He speaks slowly, and calmly. "There are a few wererats in front of me. I also have some companions behind me." He says, to the wererats. He lets his arms come down to his side, weapons undrawn, although shield in hand. "Everybody be calm. Not looking for a fight."
"HELLO!" Magda says quickly and loud (probably more loud than needed now that the sound has ended), a hand in the air waving. "We're not hear to cause trouble, but to talk. The nice Yelloweyes talked to us, pointed us here, and asked us to talk the young warrior guy... oh names... Girrigz!" she thinks for a moment and decides to add, since they might be able to smell anyway "We taught the scared mass of people above that they were being idiots, and promise to help figure out the whys of it all, but for now... we are also returning the body of your friend."
The shrieker seems to be 'recharging' of sorts, but looks like it's quivering a bit.
The leftmost wererat hisses at Magda, and says, with a raspy voice, "get out of our lair - and I will get Girrigz." He looks to be waiting for the party to comply.
"Okay, understand, barged in. Leaving, will be right out there." Magda hoists the body, and starts herding her friends and companions out.
Marcus nods, slowly backing up, keeping his eyes trained forward as the group recedes.
Yaziyah stows her weapon and backs away, moving slowly and deliberately. She wasn't looking forward to that mushroom screaming again, so she keeps a wary eye on it.
Erasmo does the same, also sheathing his sword. He can draw incredibly quickly, so he isn't worried too much of this being a trick.
Vera also follows along. She hopes the wererats aren't using the opportunity to prepare for battle.
A few moments later, when it’s quiet,
Girrigz appears in the “hall” to the east, opposite the entrance hole. His face is a twisted one of anger, ”who is this who so boldly strolls into our domain of waste and refuse? Who would steal even the meager scraps of this hovel from us?” His weapon is also drawn and he seems ready to fight if need be. The other wererat has slunk back to the entrance.
”Come to try and finish the job? Like the rabble who strangled Chosven?”
Marcus does his part. He stands there, imposing and frowning down, arms crossed as his eyes watch for any sudden moves. He had no weapon drawn. No need to tell them he was plenty deadly without one.
"We're not that rabble." Magda says, with a bit of don't accuse us heat back. "We got your friend back from them, we wish we had gotten there they got him passed, but we didn't. We had just heard from Yelloweyes, her asking us to come see if we could help, and... we were just too late." she frowned, wondering if they hadn't paused at the shops... but it was too late.
"We ain't here to take a thing, just to talk and figure out if we can work together. The city is sick, your people are crushed under all this, and all we can do is do our best to help fix both the best we can. If everyone was willing to just help no and then the city wouldn't be in such a state. So what do you think? Can we help together a bit?" Madga babble's diplomacy.
"Magda knows a lot about the city, including its sewers. The city belongs to all of us."
Sensing that Girrigz might not be entirely persuaded by Mags, Vera tries a more self-interested approach. "If what you're looking for is a safe home, we can help you if you help us fight this disease. The well-being of the city is also your wellbeing. If the city prospers, you will too. If the city descends into chaos, then chaos will come for you--as it already has."
Yaziyah nods at Vera's words. "We saw it above - as times get tough, many will seek to profit, and to pursue their own agenda. We are sorry for not being able to save your kin, but we stopped them from desecrating their body."
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Girrigz sniffs the air. He responds, in a harsh voice, though one laden with words which show at the least, the wererat is well-read, "Your words are sweet, but I have been betrayed many times by sweet words. The sweetness has stayed my blade, but my 'folk have a rightful chance to leverage. I worry little about the disease which kills your kin - we are like our cousins, the rats." He gestures with his mithril rapier, then hisses, "and you say that the descent into chaos will come for us - no longer, now we are prepared, and we will begin to take advantage of the chaos. We believed there was once an order to how humans did things - but you all remain fools. There is no order, now is our only chance to strike! We intend to carve our deserved slice of flesh from the fatty roast which is the city!" He raises his hands, and the wererats nearby feebly cheer, seemingly more afraid of Girrigz than enthusiastic.
"I have watched the greatest swordfighters in Korvosa study for years, and have never lost a duel - against one nor many. I have no fear!" He sneers a bit, "and Chosven - the poor fool, was afraid. He left our warren to find food - as if we could not provide such to him. He is a valuable lesson regarding the sweetness of Korvosa, isn't he?" He points at the other wererats, who nod.
He stands still, calming himself down, "but you have done a kindness, in your own way. I could be persuaded to... direct our ire, somewhere, instead of my envisioned run of wanton slaughter. For the length of this disease, at least. After this, we can renegotiate!" He grins.
"We just did what anyone should." Magda says with the hope that someday 'should' would become 'would'. "And 'For now' is better than 'never'" the half-orc lifts the body up and starts moving toward the wererats (slowly and non threateningly of course). "Please don't make him less for his hunger, it gnaws worse than any wound." she shifts to hand their kin back to whoever will take him "Any that have truly felt it knows that as much as I do." despite her desire to see this settled peacefully, the way he belittled Chosven irked her.
Erasmo keeps watching and ready to act, though he has nothing to add. Magda and Yazi were handling the peace offer very nicely.
Marcus watches Girrigz move, frowning at his own assessment. He gives a small, nearly imperceptible shake of his head to the others. But otherwise he keeps his silence, for the moment.
Vera did not like Girrigz one bit. But she sees the slight shake of the head. Marcus was not eager to fight. And that made her less eager to fight. "Yes, well Girrigz, your offer of a truce with those on the surface is most welcome. And when the disease passes, we can certainly talk again. Who may I ask do you plan to fight if not us?"
Girrigz licks his lips, ”no, you perhaps did not hear me, young lady, I would be willing to only kill whom you ask me to - if it should further our warren’s wealth at least. But choose soon, I am a man of action, and this chatter grows tiresome.”
"Oh! Oh . . . . so you're asking for us to pick a target?" What the bloodthirsty Girrigz was suggesting was far beyond anything Vera was expecting. "Your offer is . . . intriguing, just a moment."
She turns to the others in doing so, slips in behind Marcus. [smaller]"I think we're gonna have to fight this guy," she concludes.
Yaziyah frowns as she glances at the lead wererat. "We cannot be responsible for aiming more violence at the city. I am afraid you are right, I hope that if we defeat him the others may fall in line. Still, try not to kill him."
"The rat lady wanted him killed, right? I believe she is afraid that as long as he lives, he'll be a danger to the city. If we defeat him, do you believe he'll be more or less angry about the city dwellers?"
"Oh, he'll be angry." Yaziyah gives Erasmo a quick, bitter smile. "I'm hoping that what worked for me may work for him as well - having a lot of time to think about his life choices, but without the power to hurt anyone."
Marcus seemingly ignores his companions whispering. He continues to stare at Girrigz. But after a few moments he clears his throat. "Who made your blade? I only tend to work with smiths who make...heavier instruments."
Magda is with the wererats at the moment transferring the body to them, so abstains from the whispering since the distance would require whisper shouting and no one likes whisper shouting.
Girrigz’s ears twitch, and he calls back, ”it says someone named Pom Graef, in an elven script. I bought it from Slicing Dicers down the street. It is weighted for elves but I adapted quickly after my last was broken. Something more durable seemed to be worth the money - that which I pried from the fingers of a fat nobleman and his stupid guards.” He chuckles to himself.
***
Girrigz watches Magda carefully, and allows her to return Chosven. The two were rats take his body gingerly and leave him on a bed of straw nearby, but do not attack the shaman, and even put their weapons away to handle him. They nod appreciatively towards Magda as she returns to the sewer system itself.
"Mhmm, never worth it to skimp on your steel. Elves make good weaponry. They have a way of making the metal bend instead of break. I prefer dwarven work myself, but I don't tend to use thin lengths of steel." He cocks his head at the weapon, then holds a hand out. "May I?" He lets the question hang in the air a moment, then raises a finger. "Ah, only fair." He takes his own main weapon, his falchion, and offers it sideways.
Girrigz’s eyes shine in the firelight, though Marcus remains separated from him by some distance, He calls out, ”it would be hard to disarm me, except if I gave up my weapon willingly. Therefore, would be quite a fool to trade with you. The falchion is elegant enough, but not subtle, and I am no expert. Your intentions may not be violent, but I will not give up the source of my power in these discussions.” His voice sounds harsh and sharp, but has notes of an apology.
Speaking louder he calls, ”have you a target, or is our discussion over? If it is - I recommend you stay out of my way in the future…”
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"Mhmm." Marcus nods, raising the tip of the falchion. He lets the silence hang. He learned what he needed to. Girrigz was arrogant, but not to the point of blatant stupidity. But he did make a fatal misstep; he admitted he had narrow training in weaponry. Marcus tucked away this knowledge, as well as his blade, folding his arms again.
Magda comes back to her side, listens to the discussion. With a slightly dejected shake of her head and slight slump of her shoulders, she turns back "No target, unless you know how to stab a sickness, a real one not one of those say one thing but mean another, like 'There is a sickness in this city' usually meaning some group of people you don't like." she doesn't pause long since stabbing real sickness isn't a thing "Which means, you'll taketo fighting on regular folk. Moms, dads, just trying to survive, which we would have to try and stop, cause it is the right thing and all... so it looks like we'll have to fight. Sometime, so might as well be now, right. Better that way, we're here, you're here. So... are you ready?"
Girrigz's voice echoes through the warren, and he says, "you offer a fair deal - but I cannot accept. I will try to avoid killing you all, and instead, turn you to my side. My folk have that within our power, it would be a shame to waste the intellects and might of such formidable folk." A harsh chuckle sounds, and he says "I will be waiting."
The wererat nods his head at Marcus, and disappears into their cave system.
"Darn it, he slipped away!"
Vera tries to rally the others. "We can't just let him go. He's vicious and bloodthirsty, and he won't stop his war against those who live on the surface. I guess he's taken us off his target list because we returned Chosven's body to him, but I don't think we can return the favor."
Yaziyah watches the opening through which Girrigz had disappeared grimly. "No, we cannot. We end this now."
Erasmo points to his silvery blade. "Also, I'd rather not have to buy this expensive silversheen again..."
Marcus gives a long "Hmm."
"When we find him we gotta disable him somehow. Take his sword, ideally, root him to the ground, break a leg, something to slow him down." Marcus moves forward, leading the way.
"We aren't letting him go, he's choosing the battlefield, is all." Magda points out, knowing allowing him to do so is a BAD idea, but nothing to be doing about that now. She slips up behind Marcus. "I follow you, nice and slow now, so I can yell out if something is coming." the half-orc girl pressing her hand against his back "Oh and here, the city says you are worth keeping so don't get stabbed too bad."
Fetid water sluices through the sewer, and odd echos reverberate off of the walls. A relatively quiet affair, compared to the shrieker, but occasional drips of water onto the stone are mournful and lonely.