"Well, we probably don't want to take and easy, normal route in case we're followed... And I suppose we should keep moving right now. If the hellhound is a good tracker we want some distance. It'll only be held for a couple of minutes."
"Look at it this way, dear Magpie. If Thrunes pets run rampant through the streets terrorizing innocent shopkeeps, it will turn their hearts towards our cause. Silver linings, and all that." The Raven says, dismounting elegantly from his roof. "Sowing dissent himself, Thrune is." To Vantine, he says "We could take the skyway. It is my preferred form of travel."
"Yeah, I suppose if the beasts just terrorize folks it helps our cause; if they burn folks to crispy cadavers, our inaction enabled that outcome."
"And if those hounds do kill people, we'll get them and their masters back for it." Nyxra growls.
Vantine tilts her head and narrows her eyes listening to the Raven's apparent invitation.
"Are you talking about scrambling around on rooftops? No thank you."
She turns and starts trotting off in the general direction of the badger place they're going to.
After a few minutes of discussion on how the group will get to the ruins of the Thrashing Badger, the Ravens settle on going on the streets, but only on the back ways and less traveled alleys, as best they can.
Along the way, they do notice a patrol of unarmed men and women wearing clothing marked with Asmodean iconography and the Dark Prince's unholy symbol about their necks. These are redactors, a branch of monks associated with the Church of Asmodeus that work closely with the Order of the Rack to "remove corrupting information" from historical records and other published works. Fortunately, they aren't terribly interested in the Ravens. In fact, they don't seem aware that there was a clash with a hellhound at all, as they are speaking in low voices.
"How else will they learn such things without someone to oversee them? It's our duty to do just that."
"No, it's the duty of their direct superiors. We serve the First, and his Church. They serve our interests, but not us directly."
"True, but is it not our duty to-"
Finally, the group arrives at the ruined boardwalk where once the Thrashing Badger stood, where Aisling is already waiting for them. Unfortunately, so too is an unpleasant truth - the tavern was burned down to the ground - which, in this case, was itself wood, causing the whole building to collapse into the Yolubilis.
As they stop to examine it, a passing half-elf woman with rough hands and the weathered features of a sailor takes note. "Tragic, innit? It had some truly excellent mead - brought in from Halgrim itself, if you can believe that."
Jessibel takes stock of the half-elf as she speaks, trying to get a feel for her level of trustworthiness. "What was this place?" Jessibel asks, trying to sound ignorant (I should be good at this!). "And what happened here?"
Jessibel allows a sort of vapid expression to cover the dace of Amanda Juliac, student from far-off Cassomir.
The woman arches a brow, her lips twisting in amusement. "You new in town or something? Big fires a month ago? Ring any bells?" She shakes her head. "This was the Thrashing Badger. Nice enough tavern, really."
Halgrim is the capital of the Ironbound Archipelago, and the second largest city in the Lands of the Linnorm Kings. It's out in the Srteaming Sea, far to the northwest, and the Ulfen are among the largest producers of mead in Avistan.
"Oh, I see," Jessibel/Amanda replies slowly. "I've never been to this part of the city. I suppose it's lucky the fire didn't spread along the docks to other buildings. Were there any deaths?"
Vantine looks around at the mess feeling quite morose.
Why did we decide to come here again? We already knew the place was built so it would collapse into the river.
There's simply no way Vantine is going to agree to get wet.
"Of all the places I know of burned that night, I can see the reason they were targets. Disfavored religions, places holding people or writings with too much uncomfortable information, simple malice, payback. But why this one? A bar?" she asks the woman.
The half-elven woman shrugs at Jessibel. "I don't think anyone's heard from the owner or serving staff since." Vantine's question causes her face to darken slightly and she lowers her voice, leaning closer. The witch catches a whiff of her breath, which is unfortunately unpleasant. "Now, you didn't hear it from me, but they say it was a hideout for revolutionaries. Political dissidents, so on and so forth." She straightens, rolling her shoulders. "But you should run along soon. It's not really the weather to spend all day outdoors, an' it looks like it might rain."
Jessibel merely nods with a sorrowful expression at the half-elf's words. Once the party's away from her and the burnt-out ruins of the Thrashing Badger, the bard suggests checking out Clenchjaw's for a bite to eat and a drink or two.
"I hate winter rain," she adds, glancing up at the cloudy sky.
Aisling is noble born, and that means comfort, but Iomdeae's trainign involves more hardship than a drop of rain. She looks slighlty amused at Jessi and Vantine. "I think overthrowing the mayor is going to need people who aren't worried about a bit of rain and water. Besides, after a week in a library I need to do somethign. I'm not turning back now."
She looks around, trying to spot the best place to start exploring from.
"Perhaps Thrune is planning on opening up his own tavern and wanted to eliminate the competition." The Raven hypothesizes, kicking some debris into the ocean. "You do not think that is what this whole mess is about, do you?" He glances at Aisling. "Thrune would not be doing this for personal gain, would he?!" The Raven ruffles his feathers, his fine elven cloak refusing to elicit any sound with the motion.
"So it actually was of a kind with the rest of the burned buildings."
Vantine is plenty ready to move onward. There's nothing to do where they're at now. Even if there were, the woman's lurking around right on top of the place makes things too difficult.
Aisling rarely ever bothers Vantine, she actually likes the priestess rather well. But sometimes a whiff of 'holier than thou' coming from Aisling gets through to rankle her. This is one of those times.
"By all means, that direction" Vantine says, pointing down into the river water.
"Do you want me to hold your boots while you're diving? And do let us know what you find."
"Dearest Vantine, could you please try to take things a little more seriously? This is no time for jests."
Nyxra snorts. "This argument is pointless. We should move on."
She then turns to Jessibel. "You mentioned another place we could investigate. Refresh my memory--where is it again?"
"Clenchjaw's!" Jessibel chirps, happy for once not to be the source of intra-party drama. "Supposedly, there have been brawls there lately--rather unusual. It's possible that's because some rabble-rousers formerly from the Thrashing Badger now frequent the place."
The elf nods in acknowledgement. "Then let's be off there. Lead the way."
"We pass Clenchjaw's every time we cross the Bleakbridge," Jessi tells Nyxra. "It's the last building on this side of the bridge."
"And just how do you know where the rabble-rousers frequent, dear Magpie?" The Raven asks, his tone somewhere between amused and disappointed.
"I overheard it on a visit to the Newt Market," Jessi replies. "I've never been in a bar brawl before. Any pointers should one break out during our visit?"
Jessi's lying! She's covering up where she actually heard about Clenchjaw's. The part about never being in a bar brawl seems truthful, however.
The Ravens make their way to Clenchjaw's , on the northern end of Bleakbridge. The tavern stands mostly unlit, though its door is unlocked when they try it. A man with short-shorn hair stands near a table, wiping it down, as a pair of halflings dart back and forth, scrubbing and sweeping.
"We're not open." The man says gruffly, not looking up. "And if you're with the CCG, I already told you people that I'm going to handle it." With that, he looks up, turning back to the group. His face is slightly scarred, and the frown on his brow deepens as he sees the Ravens.
Aisling holds up her hands to show no weapons. "Peace. We're not with the CCG. Btu who we are should be discussed indoors perhaps."
He sighs, waving the Ravens in. "Fine. Come in. Harian, make sure the sign shows we're closed." One of the halflings nods and does just that.
Inside, the heroes find the bar waiting for them immediately within the doors, before it swings open into the sitting room. At the far end, there's a stage, currently empty, with a door that presumably leads backstage. Behind the bar, a portrait of Queen Abrogail II hangs in a place of honor, though whether that's an empty gesture to the law or a genuine expression of patriotism is an open question.
"Well then. If you're not with the CCG, who are you and what do you want?" The man grunts, turning back to his task of cleaning the bar with heavy-knuckled fingers.
Jessibel is drawn to the stage like a moth to a flame. "Do you already have an entertainer lined up for the near future?" she asks the fellow she assumes is Clenchjaw. "I'm a decent singer--and formally trained!"
The man grunts. "No, and we're not looking for one right now. We've enough..." He waves her away, before sighing and taking a deep breath. "Tell me what brings you here, then. I'm sorry for my lack of hospitality, but for one thing, we're not open yet, and for another, things've been a bit strange 'round here for the past few weeks."
"I am dressed like a bird." The Raven says flatly. "Do not speak to me of strangeness."
The man grunts. "I don't judge others' tastes in clothing. At least you're wearing some."
Vantine finds Narcelia's behavior raising doubts that sap her courage. As much as she would like to tidy things up (and reclaim her flat) by moving the young woman to the Wasp's Nest, she's now reluctant to bring it up. At least in the most direct way.
"I thought maybe a change of scenery would be good for you after so long staring at the same set of walls. Also, if you liked this side of the river enough, I was thinking maybe you'd like to move over here instead. It could be arranged, safely for you."
"I suppose we should go on back if you're ready?"
"I saw the CCG accosting you yesterday when I was crossing the bridge. What kind of problem are you having with them?"
"Ah. That has to do with the strangeness I've been talking about." He says after a moment. "Name's Rinston Jon, but I go by Clenchjaw, and this here's my tavern." Clenchjaw drums his fingers on the bar. "The CCG were 'concerned' that my patrons're... what did they say, Harian?"
"Disturbing the peace, boss." The halfling says dryly.
"Aye." His brow furrows. "Thing is, normally I take care of troublemakers, easy as that." He snaps his fingers. "I picked up a few things in my time in the military, and most regulars don't make trouble. But with the Badger going down, I've got a bunch of unhappy new patrons."
"And is it the new influx of customers--'refugees' from the Thrashing Badger, if you will--that is causing the problems?" Jessibel asks from the stage.
The second halfling shakes his head. "No, and that's what's so strange about it. It's both them and the regulars. Plus some of the usual fortnightly visitors." He runs a hand through golden hair.
"As I said, normally I'd handle things, but..." Clenchjaw shakes his head. "I might be coming down with something, 'cause come evening I'm always tired and bleary."
"But you feel that way only in the evening?"
It sounds suspicious to Vantine, not like an illness but more like magic, a hex or charm perhaps.
"Do you clean this place very thoroughly each day? So completely that nothing could be hidden in a nook or cranny somewhere? Would you mind if I check for any magical auras?"
Could the CCG want to close the place and resort to some sort of magic to instigate problems they can then respond to?
"Aye, only around five-ish in the evening." Clenchjaw's nickname proves apt as his teeth grind slightly at her suggestion.
"We clean this place as thoroughly as anywhere, miss." Harian says, offended. "Clenchjaw's isn't some dive."
The man himself grunts before waving his hand. "If you think someone's casting magic around here, feel free to look for it."
Aisling listens with interes,t but not much to contribute to the talk. "Maybe we should come back later and see the sort of trboule that breaks out for ourselves?" The thought of being in a tavern, much less one that has fights, is not pleasant to her. But she goes whereever the Inheritor sends her, and she does her best not to complain. Too much.
But would just be *nice* if, for once, evertyhign could be settled in a law court rather than a tavern.
Jessibel perks up at Aisling's suggestion.
If we come back later, I've got to convince Clenchjaw to let me sing here; no one would ever suspect the onstage entertainer of being an undercover investigator!
"I could sing on the stage--maybe bring in some extra customers--and have a bird's-eye view of the goings on," Jessi tells Clenchjaw. "What do you have to lose?"
Even though the tavern owner doesn't ask for an audition, Jessi sings a few bars of an old Chelish drinking song to prove she's no hack.
"If you would prefer to stay here, I can arrange it so it costs nothing. don't worry about that."
Vantine hurriedly clarifies what she meant to Clenchjaw.
"I didn't mean to suggest you fine tavern isn't adequately cleaned, or that it seems unattractive. I was speaking in the sense that a very small object left behind, somewhere out of sight or hidden, might be having a magical influence on you. It doesn't sound like a typical illness."
"Have have a quick look around while the place is closed and empty to see if I can find any auras."
Vantine casts a quick cantrip Detect Magic and takes a few minutes to scan the premises.
Clenchjaw grimaces. "If you'd like. I'd really like this mess to end before the dottari start taking notice." He looks at Jessibel, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine, but I can't pay you. You want to sing, you do it for whatever the patrons want to give you."
Harian looks only slightly mollified by Verene's words, and goes about his business again.
Narcelia's lips quirk slightly. "Where would I stay? I didn't see much more than this floor when we were outside." She pauses. "I guess there's enough room for a halfling-sized floor upstairs."
Vantine decides to take the plunge.
"There is a place underneath this building. You can stay there. Other people who prefer to be out of sight right now are also using it. Would you like to see it?"
"There's nothing placed here, I'm sure of that now."
Vantine admires Jessi's opportunism, even if her implementation sometimes makes Vantine want to squirm a little in embarrassment for her.
"Yes, it would be a good idea to come back this evening and watch what happens. There may be something that stands out, a person, a pattern, something to tip us off."
Nyxra nods in quiet agreement.
"YES!! Oh--don't worry about not paying me; this whole thing is about helping you! If I earn a handful of coin, all the better, but I'll be here to help you."
Jessi huddles with the others a bit. "I think I'll stay here instead of trekking across the city again; I need to pick up an outfit or two at my apartment anyways. I'll try to see what the tavern's like earlier in the day so we'll be better able to note what's out of place as the night wears on."
Laria passes by the table, a pale brow arched at Vantine. "Free with my property, aren't you?" She grins, before looking at Narcelia. "Poor lass. We can get you settled down there later this evening, if you're willing." Her voice is low, but she's clearly aware of what Vantine's been talking about.
"Placed? No, never mind, I don't care." Clenchjaw waves his heavy hand. "Well, come back later tonight, then. You'll see when things get interesting."
The Ravens save Jessibel leave, making their way through the back streets once more. However, after several streets, a voice comes from overhead - not on the rooftops, but literally above their heads. "Who are you people? You look interesting. Much more interesting than the people at the bar."
She tells Narcelia "It's an interesting bunch. I really doubt they're going to bothered at all. Don't worry."
Vantine immediately looks up, readying a hex.
Nyxra looks up as well.
The Raven bellows, uncharacteristically emotional. He draws one of the tanglefoot bags and throws it overhead. "This city is infested!"
Aisling sighs and looks up, beyond the voice to her deity above. "Well, you haven't attacked us yet, which is an improment on how it usually goes. And we're actualy doing our best not to stand out." She looks sideways in one direction at Jessi and Vantine, dressed like jakdaws and magpies, and then in the other at the masked vigilnate, and then at the tall, dark skinned Elf.
"If you can believe that."
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Ravens see nothing above them - indeed, they're not entirely sure where the voice was, other than generally "above" them.
The Raven's tanglefoot bag flies up... and splats down uselessly on the road next to him. "Really, that was quite rude. You should be ashamed. I thought you might be fun, but being attacked isn't fun." It chants a few words, and a burst of light erupts in front of the Raven's face, leaving him seeing spots for several moments.
The voice goes silent for a few moments, and just when the Ravens think it's gone for good, it speaks again. "Why would I attack you? Other than being attacked myself, of course. You look interesting, and much less nasty than those thugs." It giggles. "You're trying not to stand out? Maybe to others you don't. I don't really get you mortals."
Narcelia pauses a moment, examining Laria carefully, before she nods. "Alright. I just have a few things in Vantine's apartment, so it shouldn't take too long to move in."