For decades, the crime lord Gaedren Lamm has tormented the people of Korvosa, complicit in crimes from pickpocketing to outright murder, but the crafty criminal has yet to face justice. However, his days are numbered, as several of his former victims are given an opportunity to end his threat.
During your daily routines, all five of you found a mysterious harrow card, bearing a cryptic message and a set of directions.
Your card is the Cricket, which generally symbolizes a swift passage or a serendipitous journey.
Your card is the Dance, which generally symbolizes gainful cooperation.
Your card is the Unicorn, which generally symbolizes the attainment of a long-sought goal.
Your card is the Peacock, which generally symbolizes a personal shift, such as a changing allegiance.
Your card is the Joke, which generally symbolizes a significant challenge overcome by cunning rather than force.
On the back of each card appears the following message: "I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done."
Anyone who knew him would have been surprised by Lucien's appearance, he felt like he'd aged a decade since that fateful night ten days ago. Then like now he was on patrol, but this time he was no longer an official member of the Korvsan Guard and his beloved Angella was dead. He'd found her face down in an alley not far from here. He and his partner Staunton hadn't recognised her at first. Staunton was squeamish around dead bodies so Lucien had gone to check before they dragged her onto the mortuary cart.
He renumbered feeling sad as he walked up to her, and then when he rolled her over and saw her face, his world fell apart. He remembered the feral cry that escaped his lips, the tears that mingled with the rain. His watch captain had been sympathetic, offered him as much time off as he needed. In his heart though Lucien knew he wouldn't be going back. There was too much red tape, too many laws designed to protect the powerful at the expense of innocent citizens.
He thought of this and more as he read the card for the third time. Somebody had placed a bundle of flowers and a harrow card in that alley, next to the ones he'd placed several days before. The note mentioned Gaedren, the very same lowlife scum who had pawned Angella's ring. In a flash he resolved to accept the invitation, he knew where Lancet Street was, but not before he cleaned himself up. If he was going to do this he was going to do it right, Angella would have hated to see him like this. He ran a finger through ten days worth of stubble, that would have to go. He would find some fresh clothes, buy them if needed.
Nicolai padded out of his bedroom into the main room of his apartment and, after breaking his fast, he puled his beloved Harrow deck from it's case and began shuffling for a spread. As he looked at the cards as he shuffled he noticed something odd, one of the cards in his deck had a different backing than his.
"How did that get in there?" as he pulled the card from the deck he noticed that it was the Joke, a card he most often identified with. But that was before...before the fates decided to dump a world of hurt on him and he folded like the proverbial house of cards.
The death of Natalia and their unborn child hit him with a tidal wave of grief and he chose to let himself drown in it. He drown himself in dose after dose of Shiver, hiding from the pain inside until, he hoped, that he would join his Natalia in the afterlife.
It wasn't until he hit rock bottom and he was found by the Korvosan Guard face down in his own filth, by the same Sergeant that brought him news of his wife's death. That Sergeant took pity on him and brought him to his own family so that he could recover. It was there with Tayce, and her daughter Breanna, that he began to find hope in the world again.
Once he fully recovered he began fruitlessly searching for the merchant of death that had nearly taken his life and had destroyed the lives of so many others. Thanks to his contacts and former clients of his he had a name, Gaedren Lamm!
He turned the card over and read the note on the back before dropping it in shock. Excitedly he grabbed his cloak and hit the streets, talking to people he knew about whoever lived at this 3 Lancet Street.
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Kane looks at the card. Either the messenger really truly knows what Gaedren did to me, or she just knows he is a bad person in general and is hoping I'm one of the many people wronged by him. Notice how the message is vague. This is how fake psychics work, they give vague message. They will tell you that you will become richer and when you find two silver pieces on the street, your message is true, or more coincidently you win the lottery.
Kane brushes himself off and travels there slowly taking in the sites he rarely got to seen during his time in the city.
'Interesting. Someone is playing a dangerous game. Let's see what this is all about.' Marcus thought to himself when he found the harrow card. He wasn't about to walk into a trap so easily advertised. Instead he headed toward 3 Lancet right away. Taking up a vantage point from which he could observe the dwelling he settled in for a good stakeout.
Marcus likes darkness if he can find it and will slip into a nearby alleyway or narrow spot between a house and its shed to watch the dwelling. He settles in to ensure he is well hidden (take 10 if possible for a total of 20). If this is not an option, he will find a proprietor to visit from whom's shop he can observe the goings on at 3 Lancet. Again, if not possible, his last means will be to walk the streets past Lancet periodically making note of occupants, ambush locations, and a good escape route.
A bolt of fear shot through Ematti.
The old fear, fear of being caught, fear of being punished. Her hand shook a little as she turned the card over in her hand, the unicorn on one side, the note from the unknown person on the other. Flip. Flip. Her heart fluttered painfully in her chest as her thoughts raced.
She glanced around the small one room shack like a trapped animal, her eyes darted from place to place looking for any clues. Her bedroll, the candle, the small pouch of food she hung from the ceiling to keep it safe from the rats, the loose board where she hid her notes. Nothing was disturbed. The note had been placed by the unknown person, on her bedroll while she had been out delivering a child.
”Cò a chuir seo?”, she whispered quietly.
Then, startled by the sound of her own voice, tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes. ”Damn e uile.” she choked out.
Ematti took a deep shuddering breath, ”Calistria, reothaich mo chrìdh' agus mo làmh fòs.”, she prayed.
She then moved swiftly around the room, rolling up the bedroll, securing her food, securing her papers from the place that they had been hidden. Her herbs and kit were already in her bag, safe on her person. She always wore armor under her robes and had a weapon close at hand…one couldn’t be too certain.
Benna would give her refuge for a day or so. Ematti had just delivered her grandson into the world, there would be kindness there that she could bank on, for a short while at least. Time enough for her to assess this threat to her secrecy…
How did they find out? her mind whirled as she moved out of the shack into the half-gloom of smoke and ash of the Shingles. She shimmied across a rope bridge, down a makeshift ladder and across a single plank that spanned the gap between two buildings with the ease of years of practice.
She had not slipped up that she was aware of…none should have ever known of her relation to Lamm…certainly she had asked questions, but the gifts that she received from Calistria should have ensured none would have ever even remembered the questioning in the first place.
Magic…some sort of divination? she thought as she ducked through a pitch black passage and emerged onto a busy street, her shoes squelching in the mud and muck as the walked, head down towards her destination.
Perhaps she would find out at sunset…perhaps not. She imagined she could feel the weight of the card where it was tucked into her satchel next to the packet of herbs. It felt like things were about to change. And maybe, just maybe Calistria had set the buzzing of the hive around her, moving her sting closer to Lamm.
For a moment, hope surged in her heart before she stuffed it back down into the darkness, and she moved off the busy Bridgefront street and back into the stygian gloom of its alleyways and Shingles paths, where she belonged.
The house abuts a narrow street that seems to be part of a maze of alleyways leading deeper into Midland - a good escape route, if needed.
You don't see any activity from the house, with the exception of four figures who seem to be referencing directions on some sort of card , who arrive shortly after you begin your vigil.
As you walk through the streets of Midland, the bustle of the shops and restaurants of this cosmopolitan district gives way to an eerie stillness as you approach the West Dock neighborhood. The house at 3 Lancet Street is a small two-story building competing for space with a warehouse to one side and an abandoned butcher's shop to the other.
The interior of the home is a somewhat cramped room filled with a fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice, courtesy of several sticks of incense smoldering in simple wall-mounted burners. The walls are draped with brocaded tapestries, one showing a black-skulled beast juggling human hearts, and another showing a pair of angels dancing atop a snow-blasted mountain. A third tapestry on the far wall depicts a tall, hooded figure shrouded in mist, holding a flaming sword in a skeletal hand.
Several brightly colored rugs cover the floor, but the room’s only furnishings are a wooden table covered by a bright red throw cloth and several simple, tall-backed chairs. A note sits under a stone paperweight on the table, while a basket covered by blue cloth sits beneath. A set of narrow stairs leads up to the second floor.
The upstairs room is a rather spartan bedroom, featuring a sturdy bed and a small chest containing personal effects of no significant value.
The stooped and cloaked figure moved slowly and steadily up Lancet Street. Grey hair hung out of the cloak, and when she looked around, weathered wrinkled skin surrounding piercing eyes could be seen by any who were observing. The cloak was rough spun, and the grey-brown color of fabric that had been washed many times. A plain brown, peasant dress could be seen under the cloak, and occasionally a large leather satchel. She paused a moment and moved over to the side of the road, where she produced a card from her satchel that she consulted then put back into the bag, before turning and making her way to #3.
Ematti moved up to the door indicated by the address. She felt out of place amidst the cleanliness and productivity of both the district and this street. Everything seemed to swirl into a nagging feeling that she shouldn’t have come here…that she should have just run and gone to ground. She rapped three times on the door, and unexpectedly the door swung open at her touch, the latch purposely up and set not to keep the door closed.
Enemy? A trap? Someone got here first perhaps?
She moved quietly into the room, and moved the morningstar from where it was hidden underneath the satchel into her hand, unwrapping the bit of cloth covering the spikes and storing it back in her satchel.
The noise of the street faded away as the door closed behind her, heavy curtains muffling any sound through the windows. A heavy smell of flowers, spice and incense in the air.
She moved further in, noting the menacing tapestries, which did nothing to ease her unease. As the silence continued, she moved further in, checking the remainder of the unlocked rooms in the house, before returning to the small table with the folded piece of paper.
Checking the note, her concern mounted. This feels more and more like a trap. There isn’t any place to hide either. her thoughts racing with some alarm, her eyes darting around.
Freshly shaved and in new clothes, Lucien confidently strode down Lancet Street to the address. Looking around he had the sense of a trap closing in on him but he wasn't about to back out now. If anything he straightened his back, determined to whatever he found with dignity.
He peered into the abandoned butcher's shop next door, and wondered what had happened to the owners. Shaking his head he mused, nothing good, times were hard. His attention turned to number 3 and to his surprise he found the door ajar. He adjusted his sword belt and cautiously entered, sniffing suspiciously at the unexpected smell of spices and eyeing the unusual wall hangings.
There didn't seem to be anyone home and his hackles started to rise but curiosity got the better of him and he lightly climbed the stairs. Spotting the note he read it quickly before replacing it, he glanced at the food but he wasn't feeling hungry so he left it be.
It was about then he realised he wasn't quite as alone as he'd thought, there was a old woman armed with what appeared to be a Morningstar. He gave her his best smile and said, "Uh hello? I'm sorry is this your house?"
The sudden appearance of the well dressed and coifed bravo in the small home was incongruous in the extreme. Ematti blinked, at a loss for words for a moment.
” A bheil thu an seo airson mo mharbhadh?” she asked. Then seeing the utter lack of comprehension or killing intent in the man’s eyes, she took a deep shuddering breath, and let the anxiety fade away.
”No. No this is not my house. I received a very surprising card that suggested I come here to see about dealing with an evil man.” she said in a clear, sharp voice from the top of the steps.
Ematti took a long cloth out of her bag, wrapped the head of the morningstar, and tucked it somewhere inside her cloak. Hands empty, she held them out at the young man at the bottom of the stairs. ”I am now unarmed, young man. If you don’t mind letting me pass, I saw some chairs down there, and my back is telling me its time to sit.” she said, her voice clear and sharp. She moved down the stairs and past the man.
”You may call me Ematti, or ma’am. Whichever makes you most comfortable, young man.” she said as she sat down on one of the chairs, and smoothed out her dress, before dropping the cloak off of her head.
"I received a very surprising card that suggested I come here to see about dealing with an evil man."
Lucien's eyebrows rose, "Huh. Well isn't that a coincidence, I too received a card. A harrow card at that..." As a full blooded varisian Lucien was naturally well aware of harrow decks and such, although he tended to put his belief in the solid, reliable teachings of Abadar instead.
"I am now unarmed, young man. If you don’t mind letting me pass."
With a quiet chuckle he graciously replied, "But of course Ma'am." He followed her downstairs, but he didn't sit, choosing to pace slowly as he waited for their mysterious host to arrive.
He pointed out the note and asked, "I assume you've read that? It's most peculiar. Anyway you mentioned an Evil man, perhaps we have something in common? Korvosa is supposed to be a shining city of law, a beacon of civilization against the darkness." He sighed unhappily, "Or so they say, it's just words. They talk about Justice but they don't know what it means."
Ematti sat quietly while the man paced, his observations did not require immediate answer, rather he seemed to be talking more to himself than Ematti. And so she remained silent.
A dwarf stomped through the front door, slinging it open like it had been hit by a battering ram. He moved over to the table where he quickly looked at the note before tossing it back on the table.
"An evil man? I knew him, is he really evil or is he just afraid we will find out his secrets. Maybe he just didn't handle the situation too well. Maybe if I apologize he will spare me, or maybe he really is evil and belongs in jail."
Ematti narrowed her eyes, and then, the droning of wasps buzzing in her ears, spat words out at the dwarf, "Oh, I assure you that many dead children sing of Lamm's murders in Pharasma's Boneyard. They sing of being beaten until their bones broke, his fingers around their throats, choking the life out of them, and being fed to his pets."
"If you knew him, as you say, then you are damned. You are stained with the blood of dead children. An mothaich thu an fhuil a’ cumail ri do chorragan, a’ cumail ri do làmhan...mallachadh chan ann a-nis! Tha mi ag iarraidh mo bhriathran!" she said, anger lashing from her eyes as much as her voice she sat.
Ematti took a deep breath and went silent, still obviously angry.
After seeing people begin to enter the residence, Marcus walks up the street past the warehouse and surreptitiously steps into the alley behind the larger building. He then makes his way down to #3 where he looks for a back entrance.
Nicolai finishes his rounds, satisfied that this Zellara woman means him no harm. As he leaves his apartment he settles his cloak around his shoulders and settles Nipper gently on his shoulder.
Walking down Lancet street he approaches number 3 and enters. Once inside he sees an elderly woman seated at a table and three other gentlemen standing around the table. He nods to the woman "Madame Zellara, I presume?"
A few minutes had passed between her outburst and Ematti had time to calm and compose herself once again, just before a new person arrived at the home and entered the small room.
Ematti glanced over the newcomer, more and more curious by the disparate grouping that had gathered.
"Madame Zellara? No lad, I am not Madame Zellara. I am just Ematti, or ma'am, if you must. I am guessing that you expect this Zellara person to be here though. Is she the owner of this home?" she asked, curious as to what the newcomer would share.
"Apologies, Ma'am." Nicolai says "I know very little about this Zellara. Only that she is some sort of fortune teller and that this is her shop" He pulls the card from his pouch and nods to the others in the room "May I take it that you all have received this mysterious summons as well?" he says as he lays his card, The Joke, face up on the table for everyone to see, curious to see what cards the others have received.
Ematti raised an unkempt eyebrow. Then, she moved slowly, producing a card from her satchel, and held it up to show the picture of the Unicorn rampant. She then put the card away.
Lucien regarded each of the newcomers in turn. He was particularly interested in the dwarf who claimed to know the evil man that Ematti had mentioned but not named. When the man who had the looks of a wizard about him asked if everyone had been summoned, Lucien stopped his pacing, glanced at Ematti and nodded as he replied "It sure looks that way, stranger. My inviration was scrawled on the back of a 'The Dance' harrow card. Anyway let's cut to the chase, who here has a grievance with Gaedren Lamm? All of you? I certainly do. Can't be sure if he killed my fiancee but it I know for certain he pawned the ring that had been stolen from her corpse. The ring I gave her." Lucien's voice may have been calm and steady but fury smouldered in his eyes.
"We seem to have that in common," Marcus says stepping out of the shadowed room from the back. "I believe his hand was instrumental in the death of my wife. If this meeting can get me one step closer to him then so be it." Then he pauses and shakes his head, pulling the card from his pocket he shows the harrow of the cricket and says "How rude of me, I am Marcus Nocturnus of Shadow Absalom. I was concerned this was a trap and so was not on my best behavior."
"And now that you are all here, I have information that may be of use to you all." A middle-aged Varisian woman with long, dark hair enters the house shortly after Marcus.
"Apologies for my tardiness. My name is Zellara Esmeranda, and like you, I have been wronged by Gaedren Lamm." She produces an intricately decorated harrow deck from her pockets, idly shuffling the cards as she speaks to you. "This is my harrow deck, passed down to me by my mother, who in her turn received it from her father. It is important to me, an heirloom passed down through a dozen generations, and also my sole means of support."
"When it was stolen by a pickpocket, my son Eran traced it back to a man named Gaedren - a name I believe you are all familiar with for your own reasons - and returned my deck to me. But Gaedren had him followed, and soon after he left my home, Gaedren’s thugs murdered him." Zellara's eyes close, and she takes a deep breath before continuing.
"I went to the Korvosan Guard, but they turned me down. I called on friends, begged those known to do business with him for help, in addition to my own sources." At this, she flourishes her harrow deck, a potent fortune-telling tool in the right hands. "In the process, I learned of you five, ones who have been wronged by Lamm but who have the abilities to face him.
Zellara spreads a map of Korvosa out on the table, indicating a small waterfront building in the West Dock neighborhood. "At Westpier 17 stands an old building - allegedly a fishery run by a man named Yargin Balko. Through my investigations, I discovered that Balko is one of Gaedren's accomplices, and I believe that Lamm can be found there."
Ematti relaxed slightly when the woman, Zellara, mentioned finding her through her Harrow deck.
Magic and divination...not a slip-up on my part. And perhaps a bit of divine intervention. This may be a Calistria blessed opportunity...
"I am sorry for your loss Zellara. That man's brutality poisons everything he touches." Ematti said, then paused as if weighing something in her mind, and looked down at her hands as she continued. "It was the Lambs that took the deck. Lamm's Lambs, his pickpockets and child thieves. He loves to use children because he can control them...beatings, small calculated kindnesses, sudden violence, and threats against other children to keep them all in line."
She looked up, and glanced around the group, tears evident in the corners of her eyes, "I know all this from a child that I lost."
"A child that I lost to that creature that a' caitheamh cruth duine." she finished, spitting out the final words with obvious rage.
With obvious effort, she calms herself. "If you wish for me to end Lamm to satisfy your thirst for revenge, you will not have to ask again. I have been searching for him for so very long."
Lucien considered Zellara's words and his own experiences and those of the gathered company. He shook his head, "It shouldn't have to be like this, we shouldn't have to take the law into our own hands. But how else will justice be done?"
Although the outcome was likely the same it mattered to Lucien why they where doing this.
After Ematti had said her peace, Lucien spoke up with quiet conviction, "I'm not doing this for vengeance. I'm doing it so nobody else has to loose a loved one, only to find that the so called proper authorities will do nothing. We'll be sending a message that Justice is back in town."
"Justice is for the rich. The rest of us have to take it upon ourselves. Zellara here has brought us together to remedy her problem. I am in, as you other two have stated as well. Are we to make a plan of it and approach this fishery together or is it a race to see who gets Lamm's head first?" Marcus asks looking at each of the others in the room. "As much as I'd like to kill him myself, his operation and his ability to stay a step ahead of those who want him out of the way speak to a difficult job for one man."
Ematti grimaced at Marcus’ words.
”You found the truth of the matter quickly Marcus.” she said as she leaned back in her chair, eyes focused off into the distance. ”The man is slippery, like a Jeggare eel in the mud. Any hint of a real threat and they will all disappear, and then we will have lost our only lead.”
”I have been looking for him for years…years! It is far too easy for such a small group of people to vanish into the shadows of this city. If we fail, we may never find them again. If we do this, we need to work together to ensure he does not slip the noose.” she said, glaring at the group.
”There will likely be lookouts. Children in the neighborhood and adults at the building. But our anonymity is our protection, I doubt they are looking for us.”
”I would normally say night would be the best time for sneaking around…but I don’t want to miss our chance at him. I don’t want him slipping away into the night. I don’t want them to somehow figure out that we are on his trail. I want him.”
”I don’t care which one of you kills him. I just need him to see me before he dies.” she said, her voice dripping with venom.
Unfortunately, I will likely be unable to post for the next few days - my area has had a major power outage that appears unlikely to be resolved soon. My sincerest apologies for the delay.
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After listening to Old Crone Ematti, he gives a surprised look then it strikes him. Okay, he's evil, but I didn't want to believe it at first.
He also shares with the party. Yargin Balko, he owns a valuable wand, assuming he still has it. So he maybe a powerful caster. Although he gives himself more credit than he's worth.
Lucien's gaze lingered on the dwarf, to have worked with Lamm and to give him the benefit of the doubt... Well inside knowledge would be useful, assuming he could be trusted. After a pause he asked, "Do you know sort of wand Yargin has?"
"I would typically stake the place out, try to pick out his lookouts, search out his escape routes, and then move in when I'm not expected. You propose not waiting Ematti? Where do the rest of you stand on this? Move on him in force now?"
"Going in blind doesn't seem like a particularly good idea." remarked Lucien, "Although there's something to be said for the element of surprise. Lamm's got away with things for so long, he won't be expecting organised resistance."
The map that Zellara provided indicates that Westpier 17 is approximately an hour's travel away, and your fortuitous meeting was fairly early in the day, so you could easily perform reconnaissance and still attack during the day if you so choose.
"Hmphf." Ematti said, making a noise of displeasure. "I am not a warrior to make any of these decisions. I am a healer. I couldn't possibly know how to attack anywhere." she continued.
"What I do know is this. During the day, by and large, the children are out. At night they are kept in the business, and dogs are let loose in whatever building is being used." she said.
"There will be a few guards, of course...adults like that one over there." she said, motioning at Kane. "But the ones that Lamm trusts are Giggles, a half-orc who always seemed unstable and someone named Hookshanks."
"If the children are there, they are hostages. This likely is best done during daylight." she finished, glancing at the assembled men around her.
"Fair enough. It seems we have little time to waste then. It is early evening so hopefully the children are still working. If we are to take him from his den we will need to know what we are up against. I suggest we set out at once and case the place before we go in."
"Right." nodded Lucien, "Perhaps we should form two groups? Those who are able to move stealthily scout ahead while the rest of us wait a short distance away. If you need us, holler and we'll come running."
”That sounds fair enough to me.” Ematti said after a moment’s consideration. ”I don’t move as fast as I used to, so it might be best for me to hide in plain sight. I can pass for a beggar and get near the building.”
"Am I the lone sneak among us or is anyone coming with me? Regardless, let us be off and we can discuss it along the way. It's still a bit of a walk." Marcus says and then moves to the door to emphasize his suggestion.
"I will be along presently young man. I want to be close enough to the building to hear if anything goes wrong so I can summon the others. I will be the beggar with a blue cloth on his left hand." she said as she rose from the table.
Ematti moved to the door that passed out into the space behind the house, and went out, closing the door behind herself.
Its +14 to the check (skill+8, +10 for assumed form, -2 for age, -2 for different sex, possibly additional +5 for minor differences since its not clothing/armor and whatnot, just a beard, some age lines and sores)
She took a moment to pull a few scraps of cloth out of her satchel, one of which she tied her hair back with before flipping the cloak over her head. She squatted down in the ruddy shadows cast by the slowly setting sun and rubbed a second bluish bit of cloth into a patch of wet dirt by the foundation of the house and wrapped around her left hand.
When she stood back up, she had a beard, a filthy unkempt thing, and what could be seen of her face in the cloak was younger, but covered in sores.
She coughed, a wet hacking thing, and started walking up the narrow space between the buildings, heading toward Westpier 17.
"hmmm? You think so too? Fishy are nice...I would like one, and you would too?...fishy, fishy, fishy." she said muttering to herself in a voice like gravel and nails, punctuated only by an occasional wet cough.
As the sun sinks lower in the sky, the unlikely band of heroes approaches the old fishery building - though "building" may be the wrong word for the decrepit amalgam of rotting planks that awaits you near the end of Westpier 17. As the disguised Ematti approaches, a middle-aged man in the somewhat tattered clothes of a struggling merchant is staggering under the weight of a number of barrels that reek of days-old fish, which he deposits in front of the fishery. A few minutes after he leaves, a heavily scarred half-orc exits the fishery, accompanied by a human dressed in faded clothes considered fashionable several decades ago.
As you watch, the half-orc carries the barrels into the fishery, while the human makes notes on a piece of paper he carries with him.
Nicolai will follow the rest of the group as they head towards the fishery. "I'd suggest that we observe the fishery at night and again in the morning. Check for routines and see who is guarding the place and how many children might be present day and night."
Marcus stops once he is able to observe the pier and slips into a darkened area to make himself less noticeable. Then he looks for anyone he may suspect as a lookout. He makes note of all exits he can see and whether or not the building itself sits over the water. Are there other piers nearby?
various rolls as needed:
The two men, their work complete, re-enter the fishery.
With the men gone, Ematti shambled closer to the front door, sitting a few feet away from the door.
[smaller]"Fishy, fishy, would like some fish." she muttered as she settled down near the door, then rested her head on the wall tiredly.
Ematti frowns as she cannot hear anything over the noise of the street.
A few streets away Lucien waited as patiently as he could, he tried to lounge rather than pace. There wasn't much to be done and the waiting chafed although he didn't complain to anyone. He tried to stay alert in case he was needed although he knew he wouldn't be able to keep it up for long.
Marcus makes his way back to where Lucien and presumably where Nicolai and Kane wait. "I make out no lookouts and the boat doesn't look seaworthy. There are two entrances. Shall we split up between the two doors? Otherwise our bird is liable to fly the coop as soon as we enter in force."
Ematti stays where she is, knowing that leaving her position will give her away. Her best defense being her disguise and anonymity.