The Keelhauled Dwarf wasn't one of Throneport's nicer taverns. In fact, from an amenities standpoint it was probably in the bottom twenty percent of the city's bars. Cleanliness did not rank among the Keelhauled Dwarf's list of attributes. Nor did variety of available drinks. Or quality of food. It didn't even have a dedicated fighting pit, like the Monster Pit not too far away.
What it did have was that it was safe. As long as one wasn't on the outs with House Tarkanan, anyway. Even the Brelish Peacekeepers had quickly come to an understanding with the Keelhauled Dwarf's proprietors. Nobody would dare do anything stupid on their turf, even if they were willing to face the bouncers- each one bigger and tougher than the last.
The tavern was neutral ground, a good place to meet at. And being in a cavernous cellar underneath a working warehouse made it a place with lots of dark corners to skulk around in. You could get in, do your business, and get out, with everybody minding their own business and leaving each other alone.
Usually.
Tonight, things had gotten out of hand.
A fist fight at a table that would otherwise have been contained quickly got out of hand when someone started throwing around clouds of smoke that made some people go into a berserk rage and others flee in confused terror. Things got so bad that the Peacekeepers even called in the City Watch to haul away the dozens of folk who had been involved, carted off to the Civil Palace's jail cells because there were far too many of them to be kept in the neighborhood watchpost.
Even the Palace's cells were overcrowded by the sheer number of rioters. The night magistrates were overwhelmed, and it looked like it would be hours before anyone in the cell would have a chance to plead their case.
A half-elf, a ratfolk, a shifter, a warforged, and were all crowded into a 10x10 cell with Goggh. Everyone knew Goggh. It was impossible to go to the Keelhauled Dwarf and not at least know the minotaur bouncer by sight, just like it was impossible to not know Kyaruun the ogre or Brick Wall the warforged.
They were lucky. There were only six of them in there. In the cell next to them, nearly a dozen people- mostly humans, with one elaborately bearded and moustachioed man passed out in a corner- were crowded in, while on their other side a pair of gnolls were yipping and laughing at a trio of shifters doing their best to not look like prey.
"Look, alls I'm sayin is, there need to be rules in life. Rules in barfights, too, like no drawing steel. It's the way of cowards." The Drow woman seemed to be talking for the sake of talking.
Unlike many of her people, This Drow had black hair, cut short with the tips dyed an odd shade of purple that matched her eyes. She was a little short for a Drow, and wore Leather armor dyed varying shades of Gray, with the intent that it clearly helped her blend into the dark.
"I'm sure we'll have all this settled in the morning." she nodded to herself then leaned back on the bench and put her back against the stone wall.
[color=gray]HP 10 | AC: 15; T: 15; FF: 11 | Init +4 | Fort: +1; Ref: +4; Will: +0 [/color]
The young ratfolk woman among them emitted a light squeak, and nodded in agreement at the "drow's" statement.
"Me should have listened to the falling bones. Knew something danger danger was coming, but determined is determined."
Her words were a mix of the common tongue interspersed with the click of meeting teeth. Jixel wasn't making an attempt to speak in riddles either, well not on purpose of course. Such things were purely a result of upbringing and previous company.
"Could be worse. Dark here. Good company." With a high-pitched chuckle the black-furred semi-rodentia flicked a set of beady eyes around her fellow incarcerated.
"Even Goggh got done. There is hope for us yet!"
A clucking sound was heard then coming from the ratfolk's bag. The contents must have been considered innocent enough to have been allowed to accompany her.
The dark plated Warforged shifted on his feet. He had been staring out into the other cells for a long time. As his cellmates spoke he turned around, "My first night in this city and I am swept up due to a fight I never even threw a fist in.
Resisting arrest seemed an ill conceived idea and so here I am".
The Drow shrugged and said "Life is Pain."
Holding his head, the half-elf stands. Goggh, you did your best on that one, but damn that man can throw a punch.
Examining the bruises on his knuckles Illendur sighs, So they scooped us up, but who are all of you. I know Goggh, obviously, who doesn't. I'm Illendur. What was that smoke, does anyone know?
Cracking his knuckles painfully on the bruised hand, Illendur settles back against the wall, waiting for the others to introduce themselves. The half-elf pulls back his disheveled hair into a short tail, and waits.
"You can call me Illiadorai of the House of Splendour, Third of my name, and Handmaiden to the Goddess."
She pauses for a moment, then starts laughing.
"You can call me Arma."
"You can call me Ash." The sullen shifter addressed those speaking, but he seemed thoroughly distracted by the gnolls in the other cell. "That smoke must have..."
Suddenly he turned and slammed his hand on the bars. "Hey! Unless you gnolls want trouble when you're out of here, you leave those shifters alone!" he snarled.
The gnolls turned to look at Ash and one of them said something in their bestial language, which made them both laugh. One of the shifters in the other cell nodded his acknowledgement at Ash's attempted intervention but didn't say anything to further rile up the gnolls.
"I am Pierce.
Despite the surroundings, it is good to be able to meet someone in this city who is not trying to throw a punch at me.
I do not think I was ever involved in such an altercation in Sharn despite years of frequenting such places to meet sources".
Goggh scratched his chin as the others spoke. He was feeling terribly uncomfortable there - with his large size, he pretty much occupied the entire cell by himself. He knew everybody there. All these troublemakers - well, they weren't all necessarily troublemakers, but certainly they were at very least trouble magnets. Knowing everybody didn't make his situation much better.
When Ash interjected, the minotaur truned around his whole body with difficulty. He had to be particularly careful not to impale Pierce's metal with his left horn. Goggh's face was that of a "who cares about the shifters", but he didn't break silence. Instead, he sighed and went back to look at the cell bars. After a while, however, he clicked his tongue and spoke - the voice sounded deep and patient.
Take it easy, guys. - he finally said, not particularly targeted at anybody, but making sure all cells could hear - We got enough trouble already for the night. Some of us just want to go back to work tomorrow. And in my case, I will probably have to see all of you all's faces again on the next times to come. I'd hate to add insult to injury by making them even uglier.
Pierce stares at the Minotaur with his unreadable Warforged expression, "How good are you at remembering faces Goggh? Can you put names to faces if there was incentive behind it?"
"I know you wouldn't want to hurt my pretty face. Some would consider that a national tragedy."
Goggh's warning carries to the half-elf, and Illendur's face gets serious when the minotaur speaks. Goggh, you aren't wrong. I'm as frustrated as anyone else in here, and a scrap blown out of hand did us all in for the night. I'd hate to see that occur again.
Watching the interplay between the gnolls and shifters Illendur doesn't add to the veil of threat in the room, choosing instead to be amused by Arma's irreverence for the situation, cracking a smile at her attempt at levity.
Cocking his head at the warforged's question, What's that Pierce? Faces and money? I'm pretty good at keeping my eyes open for things, it would depend on where those faces were.
Illendur grins at the warforged, trying to gauge the construct's countenance and having difficulty reading it.
Though he was still glaring at the gnolls, Ash proved he was listening. "I won't start trouble, but I'll end it," he grumbled. "What faces are those that need recognizing, Pierce?"
Pierce's question to the Minotaur is taken up by others in the cell, Good. Others are curious as well.
"I do not have a name for a face, at least not yet".
He moves closer to the others in the cell so the rest of the prisoners cannot hear him, "I have come from Sharn looking for one or perhaps a few who committed a terrible crime".
Considering the warforged and the others in the cell, How terrible a crime? Illendur asks, leaning into the conversation. There are many in this city who have done a lot of terrible things; so it may be difficult to narrow it down.
"Who would put a cop in jail?" the Drow woman asked, appearing to be curious.
Pierce replies to Illendur, "Kidnapping. I've seen the little versions of your kind running around, they seem rather helpless. Picking on the helpless in such a manner seems a terrible crime to me".
The 'Forged turns to Arma, "Is one of us a member of the Local Watch who was placed in here? That would be a helpful contact".
"A cop is a cop is a cop, regardless of what beat you walk."
Pierce cocks his head at Arma, "I am not member of the Watch. Nor am I sworn as a constable of any locality including this one thus I cannot be defined as a cop".
"So then you're just here for vengeance?"
Pierce shakes his head in the negative, "No. I was asked to travel here and gather information on these kidnappers, if I could discover any".
Jixel was grinning by now, listening to this random assortment of cage-dweller's conversation. Pulling her small bag onto her lap then, almost protectively, the ratfolk wrapped a furred arm around it in something of a hug.
A sniff of the air to left and right, a scratch behind a mouse-like ear. Her eyes settled on the shiny one then, the forged fellow.
"Criminals and kidnappers? You're probably in just the right place."
A squeaky short-lived laugh followed, as she added, "but not in this cell of course. Oh, Jix is my name. So... this face you seek... can it be described?"
The gnolls in the adjoining cell laughed at Goggh's threat but did quiet down noticeably. The shifters' apparent spokesperson nodded thanks at the big bouncer.
The humans in the cell on the other side- a couple of them uproariously drunk, and a few more in almost as bad shape as the unconscious man on the floor- agreed loudly with the minotaur. "Yeah! You tell 'em, big guy!"
"We need to get to work!"
"Let us out of..." That one interrupted himself by throwing up, luckily out of the bars into the hallway rather than onto one of his cellmates.
Goggh just stays silent as the others speak. He scratched the fur in his head, blinking slowly, hoping his employers would set bail already and pull him off. They usually didn't keep theirs in the joint for long, as much as he believed they'd trust he wouldn't be speaking much about their business there.
Pierce shakes his head at Jixel, "Not yet. When I do, I suppose it seems that I can find some of you and see if perhaps that is a face you have seen or a name you have heard. More contacts are always better than less contacts".
Pierce does not bother asking the Minotaur the same question again, if it wanted to answer, it would have. Besides, now he has several other curious locals who he can leverage, possibly.
Sitting this far north, summers in Throneport were usually quite comfortable, and the season was normally a great time for citizens and visitors to congregate outside. From Sea Ward's famous open air theatre to wandering Trades Ward's glittering cacophony, summer swelled Throneport's population with tourists and entrepreneurs and the markets were busier than at any other time of year. Sometimes, though, warm air pushed up from the south and settled heat and humidity over the entire Sound, making the streets and tightly packed buildings all but an oven. It had been five days since the hot weather settled in and the city had slowed to a crawl- Throneporters weren't good in the heat.
Those with the money were staying indoors where their cooling wards and ensorceled fans could keep them comfortable. Those without had spilled onto the streets and into every open, shady space available to them- thousands of have-nots were sleeping on rooftops and in parks, just trying to get through the sultry nights. The Watch was out in force to keep people safe through the wee hours and doing their best to keep fraying tempers from flaring into deadly encounters.
It had been a few days since the brouhaha at the Keelhauled Dwarf, and a little more than a day since Vordik Gaebler- the unfortunate, unconscious human in the cell next to theirs- had asked Goggh if he knew anybody who might be looking for work. "Might be dangerous," he'd said, "so they should know how to take care of themselves. There's money in it for them, but this needs to happen quick."
Gaebler hadn't wanted to meet the group at the Dwarf, maybe sensitive to the owners' reputation, so they were all at the Yawning Portal, one of the city's most famous taverns. Another distinct advantage it had over the Keelhauled Dwarf was that notoriety had brought in enough money to pay for magic to keep the place cool during these rare heatwaves.
The Yawning Portal was packed, three floors full to bursting with regulars, locals, and tourists. And, of course, the famous Well- a 40' wide open well that descended down into the sprawling network of tunnels, passageways, dungeons, and cave systems that ran under the sprawling city. The foolish, the brave, and the adventurous could pay a galifar and be lowered down into the unlit tunnels- some did this as a test of bravery- taking a dip to go down, grab something and come back up to prove you'd been there. Others did this as the start of an adventure, with fewer coming back up than went down.
Nobody was taking a dip right now, but the night was still young.
Despite the heat outside, Ash was wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a heavy machete sheathed on his back, the sweat stains slowly drying in the cooler air in the Portal. He'd been reluctant to answer Goggh's call to action until the minotaur mentioned that Pierce had agreed to come. The shifter had lost track of the warforged after being released from jail, but he still wanted to know whether the kidnappers the detective was searching for was responsible for the missing shifter children he'd heard about.
Now he waited, patient to hear what Goggh and his contact had to say before pulling Pierce aside after to ask his questions. A cool mug of ale sat by his arm, and every now and then he'd wet his throat with a sip. Privately, he wondered what could possibly possess such a crowd of malcontents to hear out what offer this contact had to make. Feral yellow-green eyes watched from behind shaggy brown bangs as the bestial shifter looked them over.
Illendur wipes sweat from his brow entering the Yawning Portal, looking more ominous than he did a few nights ago, with a breastplate comfortably worn upon his person, and a mismatched pair of swords on his waist. Pushing back his hair from his sweat soaked face his sleeves climb, revealing a dagger sheath strapped to his left wrist. Seeing the table where they were supposed to meet, he orders a cold ale from the barman and crosses to where he sees Ash sitting at the table. Taking a seat, he takes a deep drink of the ale, and breathes a sigh of relief. Greetings Ash, hope you've been well in the last few. That was a rough night. Any idea what this is about? I've spent the whole day moving a singer from appointment to appointment, and I'm starving and tired. I guess we'll see what we're in for now.
Illendur watches the sweat roll off the tankard, leaving a ring of condensation on the table.
Arma walked into the Yawning Portal, sweating, but not nearly quite as much as her fair skinned companions.
She then sauntered over to the table and then pulled out a chair, spinning with the motion even as she seated herself, coming to a stop sitting in the chair leaning up against a pillar and propping her feet up on the table.
"So, hopefully this cold wave stops sometime soon." she commented, serious to all appearances.
Goggh finally walked in. Lowering his head to pass through the door - and still managing to hit it with one of his horns - he let his eyes go around the tavern until he finally saw the group. He didn't smile, but kept his same blase expression, and signed the barkeep to bring the "special" large chair. Finally ready, he sat down and looked at the others before breaking the silence.
Thanks for coming. - he said, a monster of few words - Hope you're rested. It seems that mister Gaebler - that human who was unconscious near our cell - has a job requiring a certain set of skills and a lack of better judgment for danger, but paying the right coin. I'd say let's wait for the others and hopefully we'll hear from this... Potential employer.
"Jobs are good."
Greetings Ash, hope you've been well in the last few. That was a rough night. Any idea what this is about? I've spent the whole day moving a singer from appointment to appointment, and I'm starving and tired. I guess we'll see what we're in for now.
Ash nodded politely to Illendur as the half-elf took a seat, murmuring a greeting, then immediately changed that to a shake of his head when the warrior asked about the purpose of the meeting. "It's my impression that we've been picked for some kind of work... but I don't know what." He pushed a menu lying on the table towards the hungry half-elf.
When Goggh explained the situation, Ash grunted noncommitally, taking a drink. If their potential employer had been drunk and in jail, chances were that this was a waste of time workwise... but then, that wasn't why he was here, despite his shrunken moneypouch.
He kept an eye out for the warforged, the missing children on his mind more than the potential offer of work.
Chuckling at Arma's dry sarcasm, Illendur picks up the menu Ash passed to him, Thanks Ash.
Glancing over the menu, Illendur then flags down a passing server, I'll have the sausage, spicy with a warm sauce, and another ale if you please. Thirsty work today. Thank you. He places a silver piece in the hand of the server, draining the last of his first ale and hands the tankard back, That should do for now.
Laughing again at Goggh's statement, Well certainly we proved the other evening these folks have a certain disregard for danger. I'm curious about the meeting place and why we're here. But I suppose we'll have to wait for our mysterious benefactor to arrive.
And Arma, you are right, work is good. A break in the day-to-day would be nice. I'm tired of running divas all over the city to entertain the overly well-dressed for an hour or so. This would be a welcome distraction.
Through the general din, the group started to hear a chant getting louder and louder, coming from a table a few away from yours. "DIP DIP DIP DIP DIP!!"
A young man, obviously a little drunk, stood up, finished his drink and slammed the flagon back down on the table, then stood up and walked a little woozily to the bar. The crowd slowly quieted as people saw what was going on. He slapped a gold piece down on the bar and said something to Durnan the bartender.
Durnan nodded, reached under the bar to pull out a bell, and hand it to the young man. The crowd burst out cheering, and the young man began to strip off his weapons and armor. Once he was down to his underwear, he walked out onto the small wooden platform hanging over the well in the middle of the first floor.
A rope with a looped end was lowered from the ceiling above. The young man carried a mug of beer over to the well, slammed it back and threw the mug down the hole then stepped into the rope. The cheering swelled as he put his foot into the loop and started the descent.
People started yelling out bets almost immediately.
"I'll bet a silver he's ringing that bell before he hits the bottom!"
"2 copper says he stays down 3 minutes and comes up with the cup!" more betting.
"What's going on over there?" Arma asked, sitting up.
Jixel hadn't planned on being fashionably late, but she'd also wanted to take some time getting here. Hot sun and fur didn't go so well together, so through shadowy alleyways and less crowded shortcuts it had been.
Upon finally seeing the table of familiar faces, she squeezed between a mass of patrons loitering at the bar area and headed over.
"Ehhe! Fancy meeting you all here."
A clawed little hand dragged a stool over, and the next course of action was to review the menu.
"Maybe he's going down the hole to find some cheese? No cheese on the menu? Then fry bread it is."
She looked up and smiled then, seemingly more interested in what the others were eating and drinking, than a silly drunkard's fate.
Pierce's darkwood plating stands out as he enters the Inn. He holds a backpack slung over the same shoulder as a shortbow and a quiver. His free hand holds a walking stick.
As he sits the chair does not creak with weight as thye often do under Warforged bodies. His height and weight are the same as a normal human of his size (5'6").
As Ash pulls him in closer, Pierce shakes his head and whispers in return, [b]"I do not know if there is a connection but there could well be. Did these shifter nappings happen here in the city recently?
I fear thus far I have made little headway wit my investigations".{/b]
Pierce does not pay attention to the raucous Inn reacting to the man approaching the large opening.
---
As the gamblers yelled out their bets, a bard three tables over started strumming his lute and singing a song.
Deep and dark down below,
where only fools and braggarts go,
where monsters roam and dangers mortal,
few survive the Yawning Portal,
stand your ground or ring the bell,
and hope you make it up the well!
A few others joined in; apparently it was a popular song at the Yawning Portal.
In the other direction, the table where the young man had left before taking his Dip was apparently arguing with the table next to them about something. Their yelling quickly rose so it was audible over the growing chorus of singers and the cacophony of gamblers.
"You touch that rope and you're a dead man!" A woman's voice, though very low and surprisingly loud.
"Oh yeah!? We got you three to one, half-breed!" A man's voice, its words slurred a little, as if he was having to talk about something in his mouth.
A female half-orc burst out of her seat, easily seven feet tall and covered in muscle. Her green hair had a streak of red in it and was shaved on one side, and while she wasn't bearing any weapons she looked very fierce. "Say that again, trog!"
In response, the other table rose as one, a big grey orc, a pair of shifters, and a trio of tieflings. One of the tieflings was bald and even from several tables away, the eye shaped tattoos on his head could clearly be made out. The crowd quickly moved to watch the fray, cutting off the view from the group's table.
Seeing the dispute about to break out, Illendur sighs, Isn't this what we just went through the other night? Oh she's going to put a wallop on someone over there!
He takes a drink of his ale and cranes his neck to watch the altercation from the comfort of his seat.
Arma walked over to the bickering tables and says "So, you guys are planning on interfering? Interesting. I wonder what the owner would have to say about that."
Interrupting his story to peer over at the altercation, Ash winced when he saw the shifters. Fervently hoping they were on the right side of that fight, he excused himself from the table and followed Arma, though he didn't speak up just yet.
Instead he took a good look at each side. While he'd been in the city a while, he'd been laying low, and wasn't too familiar with the local people of interest.
That half-orc was surprisingly beautiful, he thought uncomfortably, only glancing at her circumspectly. Shaking his head sharply to distract himself, he looked around, trying to identify the one she'd called a trog. Were they fighting over a bet? He shot a look at Arma, curious as to what she'd think of it all.
Goggh looked at the mess forming nearby, and inhaled in obvious discomfort. He made a point to not know much about the people and groups of the area as to never be involved or implicated in anything, but the last days had been particularly challenging. Yet, if there was something he knew, this was that one night at the box was enough for him.
I guess we didn't choose the best venue for our discussion. Since I don't see our potential employer around, I'd rather postpone it to some other day. Or never. - his eyes went around the room - I'd rather not stay to see this situation complicating more. If you'd excuse me...
With that, he started to push his chair to leave, hoping his "potential employer" knew where to find him on any other night.
Watching Arma waltz through the crowd over to the burgeoning altercation, Illendur drains his ale and stands. Well, here we go. Goggh, Pierce, Jixxel, I know this isn't our place, but if Arma and Ash are going to get involved, we should really support them. I know, this is how we all met in the first place, but I can't help feeling like they expected our backup. You know?
Looking at the three remaining at the table, Illendur motions towards what is sure to be an evolving brawl, picks up his empty tankard, and asks, Shall we? It is the friendly thing to do. before wandering over to stand by Ash and pretend to drink out of his empty tankard; maintaining a smile on his face the whole time.