Zarke looks up from tending wounds and speaks in disbelief "Wait... this has been going on for awhile? I guess I wouldn't have believed it either..."
Abayone, I would like time to think about this with my new friends.
She turns and whispers: I happen to be in transition between jobs right now, through no fault of my own… so I'm inclined to accept. I am also known as a cunning negotiator, and can tell you that 10 Gold perdeem is a fantastic price!
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Yuturr smiles at the eager ratfolk. I, for one, am less convinced it's a good rate. Allow me.
Turning to Abayone, he smiles warmly. Your offer seems a little light, I'm afraid, though only a little. He taps his mouth as if in thought. You are quite correct that we are the heroes you seek, but one as well-informed as you will know that the best inn in Kibwe — and where else would heroes stay? — will swallow that daily allotment in no time. Now perhaps a bit more, and some advance coin, and we will gladly take your kind offer.
Abayone smiles slightly as Yuturr negotiates. It seems like she expected this.
"Very well, then. 12 gp per day, and I will pay for five days up front." She reaches into her purse with a gloved hand and places 60 gp onto a table.
“I am so glad that you are willing to take the job, my friends. I have two leads so far; I ask you to follow up on these and find out anything else you can by asking around the city. First, I hear that a mystic named Baats’ulan preaches in the Adayenki Pavilion every sundown. Baats’ulan’s acolytes are numerous and secretive, but several have apparently been afflicted with this transformation. Second, the nation of Nex is known for crafting oozes, and a Nexian envoy named Mafzat A’Haddin maintains an office at the edge of the Iwisa Block, near the northern gate. I believe your investigations there would bear more fruit if you neglect to mention that you are working on behalf of the city—Mafzat has an unreasonable dislike of his post, and of the Kibwe government as a result.”
Abayone gives a slight chuckle, as though incredulous that anyone might dislike Kibwe.
“If you can find some source of these transformations and put a stop to it, or if you find yourself at a dead end, come see me in the eastern market. My home is beneath the Pillar-Watcher that resembles a standing rhinoceros— ah, look, you can just see it from here.”
"Hm. Those are useful leads indeed, thank you." Turning to the others, "If we are agreed to accept this job, then I propose we begin with Mr. A'Haddin. Perhaps we can conduct our interview there in time to speak with the mystic today as well."
"Before we depart, though, I'd like to spend a few minutes examining what remains of this poor man...or whatever he is now."
While Asta examines the body: Are the oozes all like poor Kendi here or are there lots of kinds? I don't know if my hammer can take another beating like that.
She looks sadly at the pile of ooze. "They are different kinds, I think. Different colors at any rate."
Asta, with time to examine the body, identifies it as a black pudding. He knows everything there is to know about black puddings.
"I propose we begin with Mr. A'Haddin. Perhaps we can conduct our interview there in time to speak with the mystic today as well."
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Finishing up his examination, Asta wipes his hands on a hankerchief and turns to Fuchsia. "As I suspected, a black pudding. The body is highly corrosive, as you discovered. May I?" Examining Fuchsia's hammer, he looks over the pitted and scarred surface and the corroded haft. "A simple resurfacing should be easy enough, and there's some beautiful darkwood pieces in here. It would be simple enough to fashion a new haft."
It's easy enough to get direction to the Nexian office.
This cramped office is filled with folios, scrolls, and stacks of loose paper. Even the papers seem to wilt in the hot, humid air of the stuffy office. A large cat sprawls atop a cabinet, motionless except for the tip of its tail. The office’s sole occupant, besides the tired cat, is Mafzat. He’s a thin man with half-moon spectacles over watery eyes, a weak chin, and a perpetual scowl.
"Who are you? What business do you have with the Vaunted Bureaucracy of Nex?"
The cat eyes Fuchsia.
Fucshia offers the ambassador a shallow bow. Who are we? I'm Madouc. These are my friends: Asta, Jack Lily-White of the Lily-White Stripes, Yuturr, Asta, and Zarke.
She reaches over to scritch the cat's chin. You know, they say the main difference between a cat and a lie is that the cat only has nine lives.
Anyway, my friends and I were about to get fleeced by this merchant selling knockoff bucklers when he exploded. Turned into some kind of homicidal black pudding that tried to strangle Zarke here to death. Came close, too. But not close enough.
Wasn't a great start to the day, Ambassador Mafzat. Not at all. Almost getting killed by a blob tends to make one stop and think about the "how" and "why" of life, ask the big questions, and dare to wonder why things are the way they are.
We're here for some of those questions. Namely, "Why did Kendi Laughs-Long explode into a black pudding" and "Will more oozes try to strangle us to death in broad daylight." Things like that. And we hope the Vaunted Bureaucracy can help with any theories about what's going on. We hear you're into oozes and stuff, after all. We could even talk shop over a cold drink at lunch. What do you say, Ambassador Mafzat?
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Yuturr knows that look in a cat's eye and is having none of it right now.
He elects to not be offended by Fucshia's nine lives comment and instead casually picks up the cat, which uncharacteristically begins purring at once as it receives all the pets.
"Yes, well I am a very important person after all. I do report directly to Nex’s ruling body."
He stiffens as Fuchsia brings up the ooze tranformations, but then softens as it doesn't sound like she's blaming Nex.
"I would love a cold drink, but I have entirely too much work to do to leave. How I loathe this city! I hope to return to Nex soon. Glorious Nex. The Representative Council here gives me almost no consideration. And now I've heard rumor of a Nexian shipment about which I wasn’t informed! I'm being cut out every which way."
It's hard to imagine Nex being behind this — the amount of arcane magic one would have to muster to make that happen is enormous, and while I know you'd be capable of it, it hardly seems worthwhile, considering, Yuturr notes. But people do talk, you know. Especially about things they don't understand. So, if we're to convince others that you and your nation aren't the source of this ooze-making thing, we'll likely need to ask for your help.
Zarke is clearly way out of his element talking to government functionaries, no matter how minor they may be.
He is wise enough not to embarrass the functionary by pointing out his inflated sense of self-importance though, and listens for now.
"Hrmph, hrmph. Yes, well, as you say, Nex is of course capable of impressive acts of arcane might, but we had nothing to do with this. I have heard of a couple of things related to this that you could investigate. First, an elven healer named Numu in the Bwamandu Camp has been treating people suffering from a strange slime sickness. Second, a brute in the Bekyar Block named Grisshuk keeps turning people who cross him into oozes, which is not an ability he ever showed before."
"A shipment from Nex without your knowledge? That does not sound like proper protocol to me, given your important position in relations between the two nations."
Fuchsia waits to see how the famous musician will butter up Mafzat even more!
"I'm new to all this, so I'm sorry if I'm just catching up," Jack says. He seems very much like the sort that has to wind himself up to get talking. "Me and Meg, we did a show in Quantium on our last tour, and the people there were great. Very friendly, warm audience and all. We came here hoping to perform, but I can tell you now..."
Jack trails off, shaking his head and a look of disappointment clear on his face. He glances to Nutmeg, who picks up on what Jack is putting down and looks mournful while shaking her head. "The people in Kibwe just don't seem to get what we're doing, do they Meg?"
The frontman for the Lily-White Stripes perks up, "I know we're all asking questions because you're an in-the-know sort. But when all this is said and done I'd also like to talk to you about the best places to do a show back home. I've no doubt you know the best places to play."
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"Ah, Quantium. What a beautiful city."
He drifts off in a fond memory of some kind, then returns to you with the first genuine smile you've seen.
"All right, I like you all. It seems like you're doing some good in this city. Why don't you take this as an honorary symbol of Nex's support in your investigation?"
He hands you a diplomat's badge.
The ratfolk pins on the badge. When you put it like that, I’ll gladly represent the completely innocent bureaucracy of Nex.
On the way out she suggests paying the thug a visit. She punches a fist into her palm: Straightening out bullies like Grisshuk is always top priority for me.
Zarke nods, "Lets stop by the stables on our way to see Grisshuk, I'm worried my friend might be getting lonely."
"That sounds good. I'm afraid by the sounds of things the healer is likely to still be at their work, even if we visit this Grisshuk first."
Fuchsia does some asking around about Grisshuk and the Bekyar Block.
The Bekyar Block is the largest concentration of Bekyar humans in the city. Until recently, it was the site of the city’s slave market. Slave-taking has always been illegal in Kibwe, but slaves captured elsewhere were traded in the Bekyar Block. Kibwe’s Representative Council made slave trading illegal a few years ago, so slavers started protection rackets, “hiring” their former slaves as muscle.
Fuchsia gets a description of Grisshuk. He’s an orc nearly 7 feet tall and powerfully muscled, with large iron fishhooks dangling from his ears and nose. Everyone in the block knows he’s been hanging out near a small shrine to a deity named Grandmother Grace, which is unusual for such an amoral, irreligious thug like Grisshuk.
Fuchsia tries to think but this kind of thing isn't her forté. Do any of you know who Grandmother Grace is?
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"I feel like I have average knowledge on this subject."
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Asta and Jack think that Grandmother Grace is a local interpretation of Sarenrae, with a particular focus on her redemptive aspect.
Yuturr thinks that Grandmother Grace is a euphemism for Grandmother Spider. As trickery is part of her domain, people often refer to her by other names.
What a poseur! Let’s go get him!
Fuchsia sets off for the shrine!
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Yuturr follows Fuchsia, giving deep thought to the prospect of an overgrown Grandmother Spider and not liking at all what his mind comes up with.
The back-alley shrine’s door is already open. A stylized symbol of a smiling old woman holding a glowing orb lovingly to her chest has been carved above it. The interior is a single large room with low partition walls and a few tattered mats. At the far end, a stone font filled with water stands in a large box of sand. A muscular orc wearing blood-stained hide armor kneels in front of the font while reverently pouring water into the sand.
Fuchsia leans on the doorframe and waits a moment for the ritual to finish.
Hey, Grisshuk. She places a hand casually on her rapier and tips her hat at the orc.
Feelin' guilty about something?
He turns at the mention of his name.
“Have you heard about people turning into slime? That’s because of me. I’ve been breaking legs and taking slaves most of my life. Never thought it would catch up to me, but it did. I’ve been cursed by the gods, and cursed hard. Now, people I meet turn into slime. You probably will, too, for meeting me. I'm sorry. I figure I gotta repent of my evil ways and ask for mercy from the gods. Can’t think of any other way.”
Asta wracks his brain, trying to think of anything he knows about how Grisshuk could be causing people to turn into slimes.
Good thinking, Grisshuk; better late than never. I won't begrudge someone their time to make amends.
I'm Madouc, by the way. She walks over and offers her hand, unafraid of touching this cursed orc. Maybe you heard of me. Been breaking legs my whole life too, but I'm not cursed. Do you know why? 'Cause most of those legs belonged to slavers. Maybe old Grandmother Grace here wouldn't mind if you broke some slaver legs, either. She nods at the font.
Anyways, that's up to you. We're not here to preach. We're here on the trail of these slime explosions. Maybe you can help make amends by helping us, here before the sands of grace.
What do you say, Grisshuk? Will you answer some questions for us? Might help you learn more about your situation too.
He sighs and shrugs. "Sure. I think you're better off getting away from me before you turn into slime, too, but I'll answer your questions."
Zarke pipes in "We've come not too long ago from a darkwood merchant who umm... oozefied. Does the name Kendi mean anything to you?"
Grisshuk shakes his head no. "No. I don't know them. I haven't left the Bekyar Block in months."
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"See death elsewhere too, but enough about that... when did things start going all puddle shaped? What's the first case you remember?" Zarke follows up.
Grisshuk sighs. “I got cursed about the time my old friend Matala came to me. She worked for someone named Khalibi somewhere in the city, until a few days ago when she got sick. I sent her to a healer I heard about in the Bwamandu Camp named Numu and haven’t seen her again. Maybe she died. Maybe I should look for this Khalibi and see if he’s hiring. Maybe the gods would like it if I got an honest job.”
"That's the second time we've heard about this healer. That sounds like a promising lead."
Yuturr has listened up until now, but curiosity...well, you know.
What makes you certain you're the reason for this oozification? Yuturr asks earnestly. Did you cross someone in particular? Did you wish for ill to befall someone? Did someone tell you it was your fault?
"I don't think it's you either. If you never met Kendi, but he still turned to ooze, it seems like it's something else." Jack pauses, thinking. "Might be we can look in on Matala for you too. Can you point us to Numu?"
"Well, I would punch a guy, and then a little while later, that guy would turn into an ooze! I was so surprised the first time it happened, but then it kept happening. What could it be besides a curse?"
"Yeah, I can give you directions to Numu."
Suddenly, two humans wielding large clubs burst in through the shrine doors. One calls out, “Grisshuk! We said we weren’t done with you, fool. If you don’t come back to work for us, we’ll…”
As their words trail off, they suddenly transform before your eyes!
Initiative!
Fuchsia
Asta
Yuturr
Jelly 2
Zarke
Jack
Grisshuk
Jelly 1
Asta's mind races as the two thugs suddenly transform. These look different than the shopkeeper.
Not seeing a good opening for a strike, Asta shares what he knows, then draws his sword from his cane and then his mace.
Asta indeed crits! He recognizes ochre jellies. They can grab and constrict with their pseudopods and piercing, slashing, and electricity attacks cause them to split in in two. They are immune to acid, critical hits, electricity, mental, piercing, precision, slashing, unconscious, and visual.