Pemak steps up to the doorway and grins widely. "Well, you certainly seem capability enough to handle 'security situations'. Should I assume you would like to take on a contract?"
18 Hskomoro
17 Akkina (Damage: 19, 4 Images)
15 Naomi
13 Daenerija
12 Khāṇa (Damage: 24, 1d4 Bleed)
11 Beryx
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Ilchok lashes out at Khāṇa and Plague Hunter with sharp, savage slashes!
[dice=Claw on Khāṇa]1d20+12+2-2-5
[dice=Claw Damage on Khāṇa]1d8+4+2
[dice=Claw on Plague Hunter]1d20+12-2-5
Ilchok aims straight for Khāṇa's face, and it seems for an eyeblink it may be able to rip it right off - but something deflects it at the last moment, and a faint, distant-sounding scream can be heard.
"Nice try," Khāṇa simply retorts. "But you're even more surrounded than I think you know...."
Daenerija's claws shorten to their usual size and her heart is still beating wildly. "Khana, you survived a blow that would have killed me in an instant. Good work everyone!"
"Smart gamblers make their own luck," She replies simply.
Naomi steps over to attempt to staunch the bleeding.
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Akkina smiles as she looks at the show of incompetence. "You all know I'm a trained cleric, so why are you all swarming around her fast dying body trying to take shots in the dark while I could do this with my eyes closed?"
Turning to the patient and clearing a path for herself, she asks Khana "Quick: do you carry any personal healing potions or wand?"
"So why haven't you?" Pemak calls out with another throaty laugh.
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Naomi steps over to attempt to staunch the bleeding.
dice=Heal 1d20+2
Thinking quickly, Khāṇa manages to practically will her wound closed before she loses consciousness.
As she recovers, she gives Akkina a shrewd look. "Where I come from, healers for the Quick do their jobs well not out of charity, but on the logic that patients they fail sometimes come back to avenge their own deaths - and with greater standing in the courts than before!"
Khana managed to treat the wound after only a little more damage!
"Right, now that we're all sorted out here, back to business." Pemak steps out into the slush and nudges the corpse. "One blade down, but plenty more in the dark. If you take care of these Ghostknives, I can assure you that the Dryblade lodge will be welcome to rebuild with a new leader. What do you say?"
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"I say anything more you know would be welcome," replies Khāṇa as she stares at the dead doppelganger in fascination and schadenfreude. "You can't possibly expect us to singlehandedly butcher an entire 'specialist''s guild, so surely you must know something that'll make it a little easier than that?"
"I know they don't know you're coming, thanks to your swift actions here. And I doubt you'll find them all that difficult to deal with, if Ilchok here is the kind of specialist they recruit."
"I would have thought your loyalty to your venture captain would have been stronger, but I suppose I overestimated that too much." Pemak steps back into her shop.
"In the sewers, of course. I can tell you what you need in order to follow the maps Timinic has so helpfully drawn up to their lair."
"No, but expulsion from the guilds is a rare thing. Most don't leave in a condition to set up their own practice." Turning to Beryx, she explains the route to follow. "You'll use the sewer access at the Dripping Wall, making your way along the tunnels Timinic marked out..."
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"Generally, thosse who can handle a Venture-Captain are asssumed to be beyond the capabilitiess of newer agentss" Hskomoro adds, somewhat diplomatically. "But with thiss one..." he nudges the body with one toe. "Perhapss not."
Looking right at Pemak, he adds "It would be helpful for ssomeone to remind the localss that Pathfinderss do not dissappear quietly."
"I'm sure that there are many that will listen very closely to how this particular disagreement is settled." Hskomoro gets the feeling that the message will be delivered, but the contents depend on how the Ghostknives are dealt with.
Checking over the doppleganger's corpse, the party finds the matching pearl earring to the one found in Brandur's home, and a finely crafted belt. Two vials hold potions of some sort as well.
Akkina recognizes the one vial as a potion of invisibility but cannot read the aura on the belt.
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Khāṇa gives the earring a look (after a moment's taunting the now-earless corpse).
"Why would you even want to stick something like this in your ear?" She finally says in a mildly incredulous tone. "To hear the endless whining of an annoyed oyster?? Whose idea of a good time is that?"
Seeing the two 'seeresses of mystery' over there fumbling with earthly goods, she snatches the belt and remaining potion for her own perusal.
The monstrous glimmer from earlier returns to her eyes, and this time she's not feeling so much compunction against tampering with evidence - she leans closer to Ilchok's corpse as it increasingly resembles a beached squid, gently pares off a section of white, rubbery flesh with the tip of her axe, and chants...:
"Finders keepers, losers weepers, tell me what girds shadow-creepers!"
...before shoving the delicacy in her mouth. The susurrus around her shifts in once more its intensity - from 'angry' to 'curious', if an observer had to guess - and Khāṇa's eyes once again sparkle as though they were literally made from gold as she studies the loot.
Khāṇa realizes the earring is paired with the other 40gp one found at the cottage, before identifying the belt as one of mighty constitution.
Having made the agreement to deal with the Ghostknives, the party makes their way through the streets, cutting through alleys were possible to return to the Dripping Wall distillery. Walking into the main room after a quarter hour or so, you see a few new faces milling about, but no sign of the bartender.
"That's odd. Ramyla should be here." Timinic swallows, clearly trying to hold in his nerves. "Maybe she needed something in the back?"
DC10 Heal
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"I knew it," Khāṇa brusquely declares upon seeing the body. "I hope she's not the only one who knew how to mix those cocktails; probably was, though - and that's not a talent the Dead tend to keep, so bang goes that idea..."
She doesn't even need to get very close to the body before adding,
"Yup, same poison - minus the funny 'antidote'. Body's still quite supple, so she's been dead for less than an hour."
She then makes a vague gesture, as though something had occurred to her; she begins looking around the room for an antidote-stash, especially near the body and where she appeared to be headed....
Timinic follows the party down into the basement, his eyes going wide at the sight of the body. "RAMLYA!" He rushes to her side, kneeling over her, helpless to do anything. "This is my fault. Nothing would have happened if I hadn't mapped those tunnels. I'm done with this!"
Naomi offers to stay with the distraught agent while the party handles the Ghostknives. Khāṇa sees nothing special among the stores.
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"It would never have happened if the localss didn't assssasssinate her. Don't try taking that blame." Hskomoro tries... well, "comforting" might be too strong a word, so perhaps "calming" their guide.
"How far down the tunnelsss are they hiding?" he asks the others, consulting the map and considering where Pemak indicated their destination to be.
He then looks Khāṇa over briefly. "Are you fully recovered from the imposster?"
"You can say that, but Ramyla never would have been involved without me!" Timinic does not appear convinced by Hskomoro's logic, but at least he's not going anywhere.
The sewer tunnels are dark and dank, the arched passageways only reaching five feet in height. Connecting chambers the party move through rise up to ten foot ceilings, the waterways clearly deep enough to make smaller adventurers need to swim. The route does not follow a simple path, but the turns are manageable enough that there is little risk of getting lost.
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He then looks Khāṇa over briefly. "Are you fully recovered from the imposster?"
After putting on the enchanted belt, Khāṇa exposes her remaining wound. "Nope; that a Quick-Stick? I already know you're not happy to see me!" She laughs raucously at her own joke (all the moreso if it seems to make Hskomoro uncomfortable). "Anyway, don't mind if you do...!"
The sound of rushing water echoes throughout this dank cistern as sleet-filled runoff pours in from northern, eastern, and southern channels before emptying through an outlet in the northeast corner. Stone walkways line the walls, with a large platform jutting out into the center of the room. Seven coffin-sized crates float on the water, tethered to the platform’s railings by short chains.