Perception
Mylvanni continues to nod her head at her crew's wise questioning. She takes out a small notepad, and writes down a few details.
Suddenly a mischief of wet rats scurries up from the floorboards, drowned out of their homes. Myrtle shrieks again as Alan facepalms, pouring himself much more than 2 fingers. The rats make for Skoona's unconscious body like a little island, but upon closer sniffing, decide the back kitchen is preferable.
Fane and the rest of the gambling crew come down, listening to the chatter. "Uncivil Serpent eh? Probably worth 1000 platinum. No one would buy it though, scourge of the sea siege. Wonder how many o'his crew is left...someone could plunder the plunderers..." elbowing his friend.
"So, someone finally bested Dead-eye in a melee?" another interested halfling observes. "Nay, twas dragon magic!" a human in holy vestments corrects. "No doubt someone would love to see him flogged and in the stocks..."
Alan finally picks himself out of a drink and saunters over "I have an idea." he curls his little rosy half-elf lips into a perfect 'O' and whistles a precise sequence of notes, smiling and nodding. Nothing seems to happen at first but then the animated armor, still bound in ropes, hovers to his side. "You can get your rope back and me and my friend here will take care of Dead-eye. I'll be sure to tell them how the Flaming Fist saved my honest establishment from a pirate's vengeance."
Donal looks the drunken half-elf up and down...
Chipluck, the betraying gnome, seems to be making his escape silently around the west side of the taproom, waddling from cover to cover towards the entrance...
The gnome would have gotten away from Mal if a random reflection hadn't drew his attention to right where the gnome was. The halfling goes from zero to a full run to get between the weasel gnome and his obvious exit, the front door. "Get'em!"
Donal, at Mal's command, breaks into a full run in that direction, looking for his quarry!
Evendur fails to note the escaping gnome.
Alan finally picks himself out of a drink and saunters over "I have an idea." he curls his little rosy half-elf lips into a perfect 'O' and whistles a precise sequence of notes, smiling and nodding. Nothing seems to happen at first but then the animated armor, still bound in ropes, hovers to his side. "You can get your rope back and me and my friend here will take care of Dead-eye. I'll be sure to tell them how the Flaming Fist saved my honest establishment from a pirate's vengeance."
He was taught early in his training that cultists often used innocuous signs and signals to communicate... and that was a VERY precise series of notes. He tried to weigh up the half elf, wracking his brains for what he was trying to do - was it a spell of persuasion? Or was he trying to tell his fellow degenerates something?
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Gorn returns with the swords and loot from the other flotsam that were foolish enough to follow a pirate captain into open melee and dumps them into the common pool. "I would be most appreciative of enough to get myself some armor," he says, gesturing at his glorious but un-armored self.
Then, as the room fills with conversation, he gets an idea. To explore this idea he needs to hold his ground as half the group run off following...something...but this might be important.
"Can you tell me what the Uncivil Serpent looks like and where to find it?" he asks Alan. "I think, as the new owners of the ship--by Rite of Conquest, of course--we should visit it to take stock of it."
Gorn nods to Donal and Grim, hoping they get what he's getting at. "We might not need the ship, but there might be certain, ah, evidence aboard it that could prove valuable."
He thinks he's getting the hang of this.
Alan nods but apologetically explains "Probably hidden in a cove upriver somewhere, no pirate would dare dock at Gray Harbor...especially not one as notorious as the Uncivil Serpent. Her mangonels are said to have torn through the Iron Keep's walls in mere hours during that Moonshae thing a few years ago..." he ponders a bit, then adds "But I know someone who knows." pointing to the unconscious sailor Donal mercifully half-whacked.
Fane interjects "I mentioned I'm a shipwright didn't I?" he smiles "Ship that size...probably needs a crew of twenty at least, maybe more for the siege engines. You did just fine with the handful here, but I'm guessin' 3 times as many and better defended await ye. Not saying it isn't a gamble-" the ghostly elfsong bursts out another verse, and Fane yells over it "I SAID ITS A GAMBLE BUT ONE THAT SOUNDS INTERESTING"
The gnome faces his new impediment in the form of a small halfling "Easy...what are you going to do??" he holds up his hands, unarmed. He was too full to run.
Donal nods to Alan, Do you have a rope of your own?
"Apparently Dead-eye was kind enough to provide his own." motioning to the animated armor still bound with rope. "...I'll untie my friend here and you can get yours back." he explains.
Donal nods, untying the animated armor first, then moving to the pirate captain. The stern warrior, then proceeds to take Dead-eye into a back room to beat the ever-loving tar out of the man (with a bag over his head as stated before), knowing that the magical slumber only lasts for a minute or so.
Then the new Flaming Fist recruit replaces his rope with the rope recovered from the animated armor, and drags the unconscious, and no doubt bloodied captain back to the bar, Did we want to hand him over to Alan, or take him back to his ship, boss?
Donal stands at attention as he awaits Myl's answer...
"I think hand him over. Don't really want to get distracted with hostages or prisoners or anything like that. We are not a band of thugs, but an organization of lawful opportunist".
”Tarina, this is the gnome who bet on Deadeye and ratted you out. You want him? Or a piece of him?” The Nightcloak asks the Guilder with an evil grin on his face.
The priest isn't concerned about Tarina cutting up the shifty gnome...
The boat intrigues him but the mission, HIS mission, was paramount.
He pulls Donal and Mylivanni aside.
The boat could be a very fine venture but we're sworn to 500 days of service and One Eye won't forget, let alone forgive that. More over it's a distraction - we're here to eradicate the cults of the Dead Three before a worse tragedy can befall this place. If we must profit? Sell the captain to Alan, for the information the Captain has, and let's move on. Who knows if someone might have somehow divined our purpose and warned the cultists.
Donal nods, Having Dead-Eye in our pocket could be useful, but you are right, our mission is more important. Distraction will allow the Three to do their deeds, and I want to get to cracking some heads.
So let's release the captain into their custody for say... 100 or so gold pieces and let's roll on, Grim says, his face intense and his tone as dark has his nickname.
Ah, ransom... An honored tradition, Donal nods. What say you, boss?
Tarina shakes her head at the gnome "Oh, do let him run, its much more rewarding. You hear that you little Lantanese drop-out? Run to your brul...let's see how many throats of your Crew I can slit before you know I'm there." she promises. Chipluck somehow manages to cross his eyes and look simultaneously at two different locations: not taking his eye off Tarina's blade, while also appealing to Mal for permission to vacate.
Deflated, the barkeeper watches his magical suit of armor fling the captain over its shiny glowing pauldron...its hovering altitude not dropping significantly. "*sigh* I know the drill with you Fist, all the same...very well, here's your protection fee. Its worth about that..." The half-elf slips an amber ring from his pinky, holding it up to the light one last time to enjoy the trapped scorpion within, and under his breath "...try and do something nice and it turns around to bite your ass... before handing it over.
Gorn, for armor and general adventurer gear here in Lower City, Eastway Expeditions is the ticket. Although once known for buying cheap gear and marking it up to extraordinary profits, the recent trade alliance between Baldur's Gate and Port Nyanzaru in Chult transformed the business. Scalm Shilvin, that slinky tiefling proprietor, capitalized by outfitting the droves of would be jungle explorers with such in-store only items like: dino-deterring oil, jungle-proof lanterns, bronto burger (canned rations), lucky zombie testicles, and of course scented candles. Most never returned. These days all the wealth has translated into a very well stocked outfitter.
Tarina shakes her head at the gnome "Oh, do let him run, its much more rewarding. You hear that you little Lantanese drop-out? Run to your brul...let's see how many throats of your Crew I can slit before you know I'm there." she promises. Chipluck somehow manages to cross his eyes and look simultaneously at two different locations: not taking his eye off Tarina's blade, while also appealing to Mal for permission to vacate.
Deflated, the barkeeper watches his magical suit of armor fling the captain over its shiny glowing pauldron...its hovering altitude not dropping significantly. "*sigh* I know the drill with you Fist, all the same...very well, here's your protection fee. Its worth about that..." The half-elf slips an amber ring from his pinky, holding it up to the light one last time to enjoy the trapped scorpion within, and under his breath "...try and do something nice and it turns around to bite your ass... before handing it over.
Mal nods at Tarina's comments while staring at the gnome. "So, Chipluck. We'll be seeing you around." He's says with his evil grin.
He stares at the gnome as Chipluck exits the tavern.
Bah, Missing a golden opportunity I think, but, if speed is of the essence, so to speak, It would be prudent to continue straight to our destination. Though, as long as it doesn't take up too much time... it should be fine. Tibs seems to be mildly perturbed, but figures he could at least restock on his spell regents.
To be fair, we aren't sailors. Got nothing to do with a ship... Donal says as he heads out the door.
Let me know if you spot one of Lord Kelemvors clergy or shrines in the area so I can make appropriate offerings. I would have his favour in the battles to come.
As luck would have it, there is actually a Temple to Kelemvor here in Lower City. While never exactly a glorious shining beacon of faith, the past decade has been especially difficult following a vicious assault by a group of a dozen skeletons led by two werewolves. (the story also involves the kidnapping of a mysterious hamster named Boo, but seems almost too fantastical to believe). The stained glass has never been replaced, and the second story still gapes uselessly to protect the lower carpets from water damage and mold. Most of the curated relics were moved long ago, but deeper inside, a humble priest maintains a small shrine...offering assistance with burial services to desperate mourners.
The party's conveyance from around the coat-tailed tiefling's shop and old Kelemvor temple to the bathhouse was mostly unchecked. Few would willingly approach the Flaming Fist on an obvious mission, but especially on such a humid late afternoon as this (the fog never really lifted from this morning, just expanded). The winds were gentle and in flux, at times bringing a sweet smell of hay from the northern fields and others a sickly fish stench from the south river murk. Most were content to lower their gaze or quickly retreat.
However, a peddler with the latest edition of the Baldur's Mouth might catch your attention with its latest shocker headline 'Fist Uncleanched'. Within, details of your failed conspiracy are outlined with stunning accuracy. While nothing immediately in the print could make you, its unsettling to know that someone somewhere out there is spilling the beans...
The bathhouse is a one-story stuccoed building with pearly, crystalline windows and clay roof tiles of the classic Chessentan style. Ten-foot-tall walls enclose a large courtyard outside the southeast corner of the building. The closed wooden doors to the courtyard are engraved with images of smiling nymphs dancing and frolicking in water. 'Artsy-lookin', just as Tarina described.
A pair of older men approach the door just before you do, chatting to each other "...no, not jasmine again. It befouled my nose last time like a curse of the damned."
The other rolls his eyes "Yes, just get lavender like a normal person. You're always trying exotic things instead of just sticking with what works."
"Like you're 'sticking' with Jabaz?" he retorts. "Why don't you let me take him for a spin this time? I'm so done with that tortle girl..."
"In your dreams..." they continue, flinging the door open and entering. When the door closes behind them, it doesn't appear locked or barred in any way.
As luck would have it, there is actually a Temple to Kelemvor here in Lower City. While never exactly a glorious shining beacon of faith, the past decade has been especially difficult following a vicious assault by a group of a dozen skeletons led by two werewolves. (the story also involves the kidnapping of a mysterious hamster named Boo, but seems almost too fantastical to believe). The stained glass has never been replaced, and the second story still gapes uselessly to protect the lower carpets from water damage and mold. Most of the protected relics were moved long ago, but deeper inside, a humble priest maintains a small shrine...offering assistance with burial services to desperate mourners.
It would be wise to check our information or at least some of it - not mentioning our target location lest it spook our quarry - with the old temple of Kelemvor. It is long past it's glory days but at least has a priest or two there. I can also seek some holy water, a valuable weapon given our likely opponents. I'd appreciate a companion - "Two is as good as one... and one might as well be none", as my mentor used to say... and I'd hate to be shanked while wandering on my own.
-At the old Temple-
Evendur is careful to make the proper obeisances and pray through the Litany of the Great Guide, and observe the Stations of the Crystal Spire at each of the small plaques positioned around the room.
Once done he approached the custodian of the old temple, his own holy symbol of Kelemvor, a badge also adorned with the emblem of The Doom Guide, prominent on his cloak.
As fellow servant of the Lord of the Dead and Judge of the Damned I greet thee, he says bowing his head respectfully.
He makes one of secret signs of the clergy with his fingers as he extends his hand in greeting... confirming he is indeed of the same faith, and more importantly, one of the priesthood.
I have come to pay my tithes, a funerary offering and ask for some aid - both information and perhaps to gift a sum to thy shrine in exchange for depleting your stock of holy water somewhat.
He lays out 5 gold for tithe, and 7 silvers and a few coppers for the offering, normally made to help others, typically the poor, defray the cost of funerals.
Donal quietly accompanies Grim to the temple, shield slung across his back and warmace casually resting on his shoulder.
EDIT: The warrior drops a pair of silvers into the offering box and makes the sign of the crossbar of Kelemvor's executioner's blade over his heart as he does so.
At Grim's words and concealed hand gesture, the priest responds mechanically "Honor to the dead, for bringing us to where we are now." to complete the formal, traditional greeting. As he extends his hand, his gray robe slips a little and you notice a lethal looking scar across the wrist. It was known that many came to the chuch after losing loved ones...but some came only after they themselves had died.
Then, more casually, "So, another true Doomguide in Heapside. () Were becoming rare artifacts here..." He carries a heavy looking, very worn bastard sword on his back, but doesn't seem healthy enough to use it in any fantastic fashion. There is a permanent morose somehow burned into his visage that seems forever apologetic. "That tithe will go far, there are many who would mourn. What is this information you seek?"
With the counter sign received, Evendur relaxes and even manages a smile.
He holds out the captured pirates old purse which he had taken to store his newly acquired coins in. Fifty Double Eagles in here if you could spare two bottles of holy water Brother. I am happy to know that a senior Guide is here still in service. Did you ever serve with the Knights of the Eternal Order?
He reaches out to touch the other mans arm in a gesture of comradeship.
As for information? Unusual disappearances and murders. With an influx of the desperate within the city my temporary patron, he indicates the Copper Flaming Fist badge, is concerned about a resurgence of worship of... Kelemvor's predecessor, and associated cults in the area, he says, tip toeing around naming The Dead Three. Fortunately my friend and I got the job. Any and all thoughts, suspicions or information you have that might help would be received in gratitude.
He smiles and nods in recollection "Eternal Order...the champions of Iriaebor. No that was before my time." he moves to a small weathered chest of drawers, rifling through it as he speaks. But at the mention of murder he pauses, a look of concern paralyzing his movements for an instant "Yes, a Cult of Murder, I fear it also. It began the night of the spring equinox () with a triple killing outside the Smilin' Boar. Well, the bodies were found there anyways. And they kept bein' found there...2 sometimes 3 a week since."
He turns back to the cabinet, sloshing a vial next to his ear and holding it up to the light before placing it on the table. "They started calling him 'Sickle Man', the victims all have curved wounds...they weren't slashed down quickly, you see, but carved. And all with a fatal heart-piercing wound...and crowns of blood." The priest finds a second vial, but a quick sniff at the cork sways his judgement against it.
"Can't be one man. No way. No valuables taken. No connections between the victims or known vendettas. Well, it's hardly a mystery to solve. This is organized, ceremonial slaying...the likes of which hasn't been seen since...ah here we go." It seems his old fingers have found a second good vial of holy water. Despite this, he continues to rummage and chatter...during this time Donal's donation does not go unnoticed.
He looks you all over and adds"There is one thing I still maintain in this decaying house of worship, and I think its the one thing that will help you the most in your holy endeavors..." he slides a slate stone box from the very back of a cabinet slowly, reverently placing it on a small carpet. Opening the chest reveals a slightly larger than average coin purse, which he hands directly to Grim, along with the holy waters "Yes, Coins of Kelemvor."
Simultaneously sacred and practical, whoever possessed a Coin of Kelemvor would receive a considerate and respectable funeral service. While some lesser clergy traded them to nobles for fund-raising purposes, the Doomguides were more likely to leave them behind on corpses they judged worthy. There are about 5 Coins inside, and a brief scripture is embroidered on the inside of the bag itself.
On the way to the bathhouse, Mal stops at two merchants. First, he enters Eastway Expeditions for new armor. The halfling tries on several suits of studded leather armor and settles with one with the fewest adjustments, several hidden pockets, and integrated dagger sheathes. The damage and blood-stains had been magically Mended and cleaned with Prestidigitation. Hopefully, he would be more successful. Checking out, he asks the slinky tiefling proprietor, Scalm Shilvin, "You selling many vacations? What's your current rate? Anyone vacationing here?"
Second, he stops by Sorcerous Sundries to pick up a crystal. He tries many to find one that fits, a violet quartz one on a leather thong. He ties the thong to his new armor, so it doesn't hit the ground if he has to drop it and stows it in one of the hidden pockets when he doesn't need it.
It had been awhile, since he had spent this much on himself in one hour. He felt good surprising himself that being Flaming Fist could be good for him.
When they arrive at the bathhouse, he hides among his new companions. He wouldn't volunteer to go first, but he could.
He looks you all over and adds"There is one thing I still maintain in this decaying house of worship, and I think its the one thing that will help you the most in your holy endeavors..." he slides a slate stone box from the very back of a cabinet slowly, reverently placing it on a small carpet. Opening the chest reveals a slightly larger than average coin purse, which he hands directly to Grim, along with the holy waters "Yes, Coins of Kelemvor."
Simultaneously sacred and practical, whoever possessed a Coin of Kelemvor would receive a considerate and respectable funeral service. While some lesser clergy traded them to nobles for fund-raising purposes, the Doomguides were more likely to leave them behind on corpses they judged worthy. There are about 5 Coins inside, and a brief scripture is embroidered on the inside of the bag itself.
My mentor... he... used to carry these, Evendur says voice thickened by emotion, profoundly grateful to be trusted with the coins. He salutes the old Doomguide then tucks the leathern ceremonial pouch inside his armour and next to his skin.
Have you parchment? I would write a few words. If I do not see you again in two days then I would have its contents both delivered to our Hierarchy as well as the Flaming Fists. I was told not to ask about HOW the person who gave me that information came by it - they did not say I couldn't write it down for others. Besides, if I pass to my reward I would have the Church take up where I left off lest our nemesis hide again.
The priest writes down what he knows so far, including the addition of a brief account (and credit to) the Shrines custodian's information lest it be somehow missed or forgotten, then folds the missive and hands it over.
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As the party broke up Gorn first headed upstairs to consume his promised meal. 'No reason passing up this culinary opportunity.'
Next he sees Mal at Expeditions, and purchases a suit of scale. It was heavy, which he didn't mind, and noisy, which he did, but not by much. He felt strange wearing so much, but it was lined on the inside and was surprisingly soft, so on the whole it was a net gain.
He meets the others outside the bathhouse.
"So what do we do now? Anyone wanna scout it out?"
Tiberius would go to the temple, intrigued enough to see it, and not needing to purchase anything at this time. Upon entering, he would remain quite, taking in the area and getting a good look around.
It is almost fitting, that a lord of the dead's house, would itself be decayed in appearance. I must say, excellent work in that regard. Very on theme.
He nods as the priest speaks. Ah, the wealth of wisdom one my glean from the clergy, quite remarkable truly.
Though as he talks of failure Tibs frowns.
I would say that doing such but begs ill tidings, I also believe you think too little of me. We shall not fail, of that I am certain.
Myl is conflicted at her charges splitting up, but also understands that too firm a fist only damages what you hold. She knows it will take a little time for the others to complete their duties, so takes it upon herself to find an inconspicuous spot near the bathhouse, and observes the comings and goings for anything suspicious.
History. Pulling Mal aside for a moment she warns him of what she knows of Eastway Expeditions... just in case he didn't already know... though he seems to know everything about the city at first meeting.
She then looks for something near the Bathhouse to observe and wait.
Perception
Scalm's personal exuberance and dedicated customer service tries to turn lemons into lemonade "Ah yes, the...vacation package. We offer many exciting destinations, rates by the tenday. Of course we also specialize with any outfitting your trip will require..." he holds up a heavy iron device "Bear trap. Can never be too careful with those bears, eh?" shuffling over to another shelf of goods, he picks out a stringed device with beads "Abacus. You know, mathematics isn't just for school children but can be an exiting pastime in its own right?" But when meeting your soul-less gaze filled with annoyance he tries a different tact "Stop. I see who you are now, I know what you're thinking. I'm going to say two words and I just want you to be honest...Portable. Ram."
Apparently he can't Cant.
Priest Alby is happy to help with the parchment, impressed by his Brother's wise foresight. But at Tiberius' aloof chatter on interior design, his face becomes more stern, an eyebrow twitching in irritation. *Of course the most affluent is also the one who gives the least...* perhaps he was thinking. "...I'll see the missive reaches its destination." the Doomguide promises.
Myl, from outside the courtyard its hard to see anything inside, except for brief glimpses as people come and go from the main gate. It appears to be a normal operating business offering hot water, scented oils, wellness candles, and deep tissue massages. The building and courtyard wall are all the same yellowish granite as most of the buildings in Baldur's Gate, which along with the artwork suggests this establishment has been here for some time.
Some of the windows on the main building are outside the courtyard wall's perimeter () but they are a foggy sort of glass and don't reveal the interior other than vague shapes. Looks like they could be opened, however.
As late afternoon begins to hint at sunset, more and more citizens come to lounge in the courtyard waiting for their turn in the waters or massage tables, reading newspapers and enjoying the garden. A street peddler in flashy colors takes advantage of the congregation and sells roasted lizards on a stick, 3 for 2 coppers (you aren't going to find that price elsewhere).
Other than that, nothing suspicious at all. Perhaps Tarina lied.
Pulling Mal aside for a moment she warns him of what she knows of Eastway Expeditions... just in case he didn't already know... though he seems to know everything about the city at first meeting.
The mean-looking halfling gives his squad leader a yes-water-is-wet kind of look and replies with a forced smile, "thanks."
After hearing the nonsense reply to his question, he leans close to Scalm and whispers, "No, I mean. Are you busy getting people out of town fast? What's the current rate? With the pressure at the gates, are you bringing people into the city?"
Mal relaxes inside the courtyard appearing to be waiting for his turn.
He watches in case anyone drops their newspaper when they are finished. In that case, he will casually stroll up to them and ask for the paper.
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"Whoa. Lizards!" Gorn all but squeals in joyousness and he makes a bulldozer-beeline to the lizard seller. "Three please," he politely asks.
The first disappears in one huge bite that almost takes the stick with it. He masticates massively and with great enjoyment. "Mmmmph. Man, you always add almost, but not quite, too much paprika. It really kicks it up a notch."
The second he nibbles with a bite more patience, savoring the flavor and making mental notes for his own attempt.
The third is held in reserve, for now.
-Outside Bathroom-
Might I suggest a different tactical approach? If we go in, we are heavily armed and armoured... most clients would go in dressed more casually in anticipation of bathing and if we try to 'blend in' it requires us losing the advantage of arms and armour. Maybe have some one suitably physically impressive and able to fight in less than normal situations to look around, like Gorn here... and Tiberius, while we look outside for back alleys, back doors and escape routes.
He frowns, thinking.
We could even try a double deception... two of us come through the front to 'arrest' Gorn after a few minutes, drawn by him being very loud, while flushing quarry towards the back where the others are waiting. And if things get really chaotic and all hands are needed? A yelled signal for 'everyone in'.
"Sound Plan Greymantle. Has anyone ever been in here? Perhaps there is a room where disrobing and armor / weapons are stored. Maybe one of us good with words could step inside and inquire.
The mean-looking halfling offers, "this place is for rich people or at least aristocrats. Either one of those goes in to take a look, or we all go in to investigate. We're Flaming Fist now. We can essentially go anywhere, right?"
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We could barge in waving badges to be sure but we'd have to move fast and with purpose, counting on luck. Given the clients we definitely don't want a slaughter that pulls in the innocent... I do recommend we scout the place before such a move.
He thinks carefully.
If we could snag an employee or two out here for questioning... that might help us work out our best course of action. Who knows, we may even find a helpful employee who sketches a map or points the finger at the right people. I'd bet hard gold that those working the door or front counter would be cult members or in bed with them. Too valuable a location to cede to the innocent.
While not a halfling of action, Mal was getting impatient with all of this overthinking. He thought his companions learned the “rules” of the Fist at the gate.
If no one wanted to volunteer to scout (and that certainly would not be him) then they should enter with badges and start searching. The mean-looking halfling watches his new leader and any potential hotspurs to take the initiative and lead.
Followers of the Dead Three have been seen coming and going from the bathhouse, and I'm told there's a secret door inside that leads to a dungeon. That's where the killers are hiding.