Colored splashes fly out of Ashtoret's hands when she takes a step forward and casts a spell covering all of the rats.
SCUFFLE AT THE INN OF THE UNLUCKY SAILOR - Round Two Cont'd!
Merida
Seebonickk
Theron -4 HP
Nightkit -4 HP
Man with stick (black)
Rat of unusual size (brown)
Rat of unusual size (red)
Rat swarm (yellow) -3 HP
Ashotoret
Menudo -4 HP
She hustles forward through the swarm and fires an arrow at the big brown rat.
The man with the stick looks incensed as his dire rat companion drops lifelessly to the ground.
Raising his stick above his head, he rushes at Merida, screaming as he does!
The Pathfinder easily sidesteps his swing.
SCUFFLE AT THE INN OF THE UNLUCKY SAILOR - Round Two Cont'd/Round Three Begins!
Ashotoret
Menudo -4 HP
Merida
Seebonickk
Theron -4 HP
Nightkit -4 HP
Man with stick (black)
Rat of unusual size (brown) -14 HP
Rat of unusual size (red)
Rat swarm (yellow) -3 HP
Ashotoret
Menudo -4 HP
Boldly stepping past the dozing rodents, Menudo moves to flank the man with the stupid hat.
Menduo cuts deeply, nearly removing the man's hat!
Theron grunts as he tries to disembowel the man.
Theron cuts thoroughly, removing the man's top half!
SCUFFLE AT THE INN OF THE UNLUCKY SAILOR - Round Two Cont'd/Round Three Begins!
Ashotoret
Merida
Seebonickk
Theron -4 HP
Nightkit -4 HP
Man with stick (black)
Rat of unusual size (red)
Rat swarm (yellow) -3 HP
Ashotoret
Menudo -4 HP
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Ashtoret, with an unhealthy gleam in her eyes, looks frighteningly detached at the killing of blind, stunned rats. Some kind of imbecile curiosity is felt in the eyes of this extremely intelligent woman. Her beautiful face at this moment loses all attractiveness, becoming somehow manic.
When she finishes examining rat blood and guts in large quantities, she seems to return to reality. The strange expression of the eyes disappears and focuses on what's inside the tavern.
She goes to the murdered rat summoner and carefully examines the contents of his personal belongings.
Theron readily dispatches the remaining rats of various sizes before they can fight back or flee.
The remains of the man with the stick and stupid hat do not yield much in the way of useable equipment. The stick serves as a club. The leather armor encapsulating the remains is quite untidy with blood and gore. A heavy wooden shield looks unused. However, the 150 gold pieces in the man's coin purse are untarnished.
The man was a druid. The brown dire rat was likely his companion and the others were under his control.
The kidnap victims are hog-tied with thick rope and then tied to each other by the neck. Of these five kidnap victims, one appears to be an Imperial Navy guard, three are wealthy Cassomirites, and the last is an auctioneer. You readily surmise that all of them were present at the relics auction a few nights ago.
Another victim, wearing a bloodied turban, is not tied to the others and is, instead, tied over the top of the bar, his abdomen bare, bloody, and bruised. It is clear that he has been drugged and, given the extent of his injuries, cannot be readily awakened by most conventional methods of medical treatment.
[dice=kn. local]1d20+4
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"We should do something about this poor man."
Merida stows her bow, draws a wand and touches the injured man wearing the turban with it. She then speaks the command word...
...and the tip of the wand lights up right away, healing the man a bit.
Cool! It's getting easier to activate it. Usually I need a few tries...
"Does anyone else need healing?"
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You know, Menudo. I never thought I'd live long enough to think about getting a wife. Theron pauses for a brief moment in reflection. He then smiles at Kit.
I've got the best pages marked... he laughs as he moves to the beaten man.
Can you walk? Lean on me if you need. offers the man a shoulder to use.
...and the tip of the wand lights up right away, healing the man a bit.
The man awakens.
In response to the Pathfinders' inquiries, the man nods weakly. "I will survive and can walk now that I have received some healing," assures the man. "I did not take the idea of slavery sitting down and I fought until those slavers subdued me. My name is Kafar."
"You two talk too much!" calls out on of the hog-tied victims. "And I should know. I'm an auctioneer!"
"Have you come to rescue us? Or to make use of us as slaves yourselves?" The man inquires further.
I loathe slavers...so that is a no...Kit...can you free them? Gags are optional... Theron says with a chuckle.
Can you tell us anything?
The assembled victims do not share in the chuckle, but look relieved upon hearing of the disdain for slavers. "This inn has been closed for some time and obviously was not open to patrons," one of the victims replies. "If you are not slavers--and as you are clearly dressed too poorly to be the Opparan watch or authorities of the Empire--just who might you all be?"
"I can tell you that we, here, are not all of those taken captive by these rat-lovers!" The auctioneer declares. "Those filthy cultists recently removed several of others from this inn and took them to a ship called the Prancing Prince. I understand that it’s moored on a dock on the other side of the shipyard."
Relieved from his bonds, the auctioneer leans in closer to Nighkit, revealing,"I heard one of the cultists saying, 'Once Ismacco arrives, we’ll make a lot of money for the cause by selling these slaves into the Chelaxian market.'”
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"Me, too." Merida adds while trying to cure Theron's so called 'scratch'.
She then moves on to the injured Nightkit and finally to Menudo... when suddely the wand makes "Poof!" and stops working completely.
"Oh my. I might have tried it too often... Can you use it to heal yourself, Menudo?"
She hands the wand to the paladin and tells him the command word.
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Sorry...I left my parade armour at home. Prancing Prince...how pretentious a name... Theron says as he realizes Merida healed his wound.
Thanks...is your wand broke? Use mine...mystical arts are not my strong suit...
well, I think we know where we have to go next...do you need escort to a safe place or do you want us to flag down a patrol?
Anti slaver mercenaries Nightkit replies. She then frowns as the auctioneer says his piece. Prancing Prince - Check. I guess he didn't say what cause but I bet it's nothing like raising money for poor orphans.
"Mercenaries? You are members of the Blackrock Company, then?" asks one of the recently freed captives.
"I think the one on the bar, Kafar, is with the Aspis Consortium," whispers another former captive.
"I am certain I saw a Pathfinder with the slavers who left here earlier. One of the guards had taken a wayfinder from the man," adds the auctioneer.
well, I think we know where we have to go next...do you need escort to a safe place or do you want us to flag down a patrol?
"With the rats and the horned man dead, and as all of us are free, I think we can make our way safely from here," suggests the auctioneer.
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Ashtoret, dressed in the clothes and jewelry of a noblewoman, raises an eyebrow in surprise. Your tastes, gentlemen, require improvement. This black veil is sewn according to the latest Ustalav fashion. After listening further, she nods. Cultists always present something interesting. I suggest we pay a courtesy call on the Prancing Prince.
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Thanks...is your wand broke? Use mine...mystical arts are not my strong suit...
"You're welcome. Yes, sometimes it does that, then I have to wait until the next day to try again. Hm, we could exchange wands until... we are done with what we need to do. Then we both have one on us if there's an emergency."
"Let's pay the Prancing Prince a visit, shall we?"
The sun has set, and streaks of red and orange lace the clouds as you approach the Prancing Prince. The tri-masted galleon appears to be in good condition and floats lazily against its mooring along a wide, crate- and barrel-filled dock.
No one appears to be aboard her, however, and the standard watch typically found at the gangplank of a docked ship is nowhere to be seen. Atop her bowsprit is a gaudily painted wooden man that appears to be the exact likeness of the Grand Prince of Taldor, Stavian III, hands on his hips, a huge smile across his face, and his legs bent as though he were dancing a jig.
The ship's decks, trappings, trim, and sails all have a very Qadiran feel to them, though she flies the Crown-and-Lion of Taldor and has a bowsprit in the shape of the Grand Prince himself.
The deck was recently scrubbed clean and still shows remnants of soap bubbles and puddles of water. It is otherwise deserted and completely dark.