"Are we thinking insurance fraud?" Honeylyn wonders aloud.
Milton shakes his head "More like murder. His parents were killed in that ship fire." Milton lets that statement hang in the air.
Honeylyn blinks as she realizes she just taken an enormous bite of her own boot.
"Oh...right..." she says sheepishly.
The rest of the morning turns up nothing. Noone in Shadowshore has anything concrete on Vanthus, Lavinia, Penkus or Brissa. Annelise touches every contact she has, and there is nothing. Afternoon is getting on, and the regulars at the Plucked Parrot are settling into their usual drunken mutterings, when a slender half elf shuffles over to the table. His eyes are bloodshot and his face is streaked with tears and make-up.
"Are you the ones asking about Penkus?" he says, bitterness thick in his voice.
While his allies answer an almost certain, 'Yes' to the young Half-Elf who approached (as we are at a dead-end and we haven't yet revealed to anyone 'why' we are seeking Penkus), Svetozar Gligoric looks around to see if anyone is keeping an eye on our table or our visitor. His allies can get answers; I can keep my eye open to eavesdroppers.
Milton looks at the man and tries to place him. He waits for a moment to see if anyone knows him before answering.
Annelise silently curses at the interruption - they're now at the stage where people know they're asking questions, but they haven't had much in the way of answers. She puts the irritation to the back of her mind as she looks at the boy and tries to work out who he is. She doesn't go out of her way to advertise the fact that she's a half-elf, but she has roots in that community and connections that might help.
She looks at the crying youth. "Yes, that's us, although we've had no luck so far. Are you the break we've been looking for?"
Her first instinct is to ignore the fact he's obviously in distress and been crying. If he hasn't worked out by now that the city is tough and life is unfair, that's not her problem. But then she thinks about some of what she has been learning at the orphanage, and gives a heavy sigh.
"Is there something we can help you with?"
The young half-elf gives Annelise a bitter smile and shrugs.
"Your luck might be about to change," he says. "I know where Penkus and his new... friend have been hiding out the past month. Five gold, and I'll tell you. Ten and I'll take you there myself."
Annelise snaps her fingers as her memory falls into place and she recognises him. "Shefton Rusk." She purses her lips as she scrutinises him more closely. "As I remember it, it was normally the other person crying after you. Finally get a taste f your own medicine?"
10 gold isn't a lot, especially split between the group. But it's mroe than Annelise is willing to give on trust to a known thief and con artist. "Call it 8 gold for taking us there and you get to keep your extremities. Unless you're playing us, in which case I cut off your fingers, toes and everything in between."
Milton shakes his head, "Serves you right. You stole from a friend of mine. May you should just take the information out of his hide Annelise. I can cauterize any wounds so he doesn't bleed to death."
Honeylyn jumps as Milton and Annelise resort to hostility so quickly.
"Hey, hey, hey! Cut the lad a break! I'm all for haggling, it's good clean fun, but let's not heap injury on insult! He's clearly having a rough time of it, we don't have to make his day worse!"
She turns to Rusk.
"That's a lot of guilders for Shadowshore," she says.
"How can we be sure you'll be able to spend it safely? Don't want someone spotting you flashing that kind of money around and shanking you for it, you know? I admire your ambition, Mr. Rusk, but you might want to be more realistic. How does seven sound for an escort to the good Mr. Penkus, and our protection against the consequences of your snitching as a bonus?"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Shefton's face betrays abject terror for just a moment as Annelise threatens him. Just for a moment, before he controls his expression. You don't betray fear in Shadowshore. He is about to respond, carefully, when Milton jumps in. Shefton looks at the wizard, assessing his threat.
"Stole?" he says, softly, and shakes his head. "Let me guess, your 'friend,' came down to Shadowshore looking for something he couldn't get away with in the Merchant District or wherever. He got exactly what he wanted, and then he got his feelings hurt when it wasn't free. Does that ring any bells?"
When Honeylyn speaks, he sighs. The price keeps going down. Honeylyn looks like money, though. His eyes review the group, calculating. A merchant, a thug, a catperson and two scholarly types.
"I'd say you have a deal," he sighs. "But what good is protection from Penkus when these two are going to kill me anyway?"
Annelise gives the gnome a baleful look - I don't intterupt *your* business deals - but she has to concede Honeylyn has a point when her threat works a little too well. She turns her gaze back to Shefton.
"Honestly? I'm trying to avoid killing people these days." She says it in the same tone as someone saying they try to avoid caffeinated drinks in the afternnon because it keeps them up at night. "I know you might not believe that, but here's the truth of it - I ran into Soller Vark the other night, had my blade to his throat and everything, and he's still alive."
She lets him think on that, while she stares at him unblinkingly with her green eyes. "If I let a scumbag like that walk, you're safe. Unless you cross me of course."
Milton looks at Annelise and sighs with a deflated look when she says she isn't going to kill him. He doesn't say anything though.
Shefton studies Annelise intently, and then a wry smile twists his mouth. The switch from threats to trying-to-go-gentle is tough to swallow, but it tracks with some of the rumors he's heard. Without taking his eyes off the former enforcer, he holds his hand out to Honeylyn.
"Seven," he says. "Now, or I walk away. Wishing you the best of luck, of course."
He takes a quick look around at the group as a whole.
"Seven is agreed."
Honeylyn is already counting out the gold from her coin purse, before putting it in his hand.
"Go ahead. Give 'em a nibble if you wanna make sure they're good," she says. They were, of course, the Erkenwalds weren't cheats, but Shadowshore folk seemed to only trust what they and their own could confirm, if Annelise's little speech was any indication.
Shefton scrapes the coins against his teeth, and then slips them in his pocket. He frowns towards Milton and Annelise, but accepts them as part of the package with a sigh. Then he invites you to accompany him with a broad sweep of his arm. He leads you towards the shore, where a rickety sailboat is tied up to a dock. It's big enough for the group, and maybe a couple of others. Shefton seems to know his business, as he raises the sail efficiently enough and climbs aboard.
"Coming, or not?" he says.
Milton keeps his eyes on Shefton and carefully climbs on board the boat.
Honeylyn hops in and gives a mock salute.
"Aye aye, skipper!" she says.
'Coming"
Annelise frowns, but joins the others. Disposing of a body, or breaking someone's arm in four places, she can do that. Asking her to trust, well that's a new experience for her.
Parrot Island is in the middle of one of Sasserine's waterways. It is uninhabited, and has been as long as anyone can remember. It is a surrounded by 30' cliffs except for a tiny beach at one end. Shefton navigates the rocks skillfully, and brings the boat safely to the beach. Once it rests on the sand, he lowers the sail and hops out, wading ashore.
From the beach, one could easily forget that they were in the middle of a large city. The cliffs hide the city from view, and the narrow opening only shows the waterway. The island itself is covered with a dense jungle, and gets its name from the countless parrots whose screeching drowns out almost any other sound. A narrow path leads into the jungle, and Shefton sets off without hesitation.
Under the canopy, it is twilight even at midday, with a bare few slivers of sunlight making it through. The path is steep, leading to the top of the cliffs, but even there the undergrowth is so thick there is no sight of the city. A few minutes walk, and the path ends at a clearing, boulders cluster together in the sun, and Shefton leads you into the midst of them.
There is a wooden trapdoor in the middle of the clearing, so well hidden that Shefton is practically standing on it before you can see it. He hoists it open. A 5 foot wide shaft drops straight down, cut straight into the bedrock. A rope ladder is fixed to a sturdy iron ring.
"It's an old smuggler's hideout," Shefton says. "The deal was I take you here. I took you here. Best of luck to you."
During the walk through the jungle Svetozar Lanezra shares a glance with Trail in the Woods, nodding acknowledgment to his ally's likely improved comfort level out of the city and into mother nature.
For a moment while enjoying the shade and screeching parrots, he even forgets to worry about where his devilish brand has wandered across the visage of his flesh and what it reveals about his past vile nature.
That ends with the opening of the trap door leading to the bowels of the isle.
Looking to his companions for support, Svetozar Lanezra is ready to descend the depths, weapon in hand.
It's strange how close you can be to town and yet so completely unfamiliar. Annelise does her best not to let it get to her, but the noise of the parrots and the thickness of the jungle around her is strange and therefore threatening. It's a relief to get there and she looks down at the opening, before a thought strkes her.
"Wait. How are we getting back to town if you're taking the boat?"
Trail just strolls along in the jungle, breathing in good fresh air for a change, surrounded by the living spirits of nature. A slow rumbling sound, almost a purr, comes from him.
While he is still quite alert for danger, he also seems incredibly relaxed. No, that isn't quite right. He is at HOME here
Shefton looks at Annelise for a moment, trying to think of an answer that doesn't involve him confronting Penkus.
"Deal was, I'd take you here," he says, at last. "I know, you'll hunt me down and feed my innards to the cat while your cleric friend keeps me alive to suffer, right? Go on, I'll wait at the beach. Cheap fatherstuffers."
Annelise nods, satisfied with the answer, and looks down at the trapdoor. "Sooner we're in, sooner we're out again." She puts one foot on the rope ladder, testing it, before starting her climb down.
Honeylyn scratches her head at Shefton's strange insult and what exactly the fathers in question were getting stuffed with. Then she follows after Annelise.
"Once we get down, I can conceal us with a spell," she whispers.
Svetozar nods and quietly descends, glad Annelise thought to ask about the return trip as it had slipped his mind.
Milton follows the others down the ladder. Being a city boy this wilderness and undergone exploring is making him uneasy.
The shaft descends thirst or so feet, the air cooling quickly the deeper the characters go, from the sweltering midday heat outside to a damp chill at the base. At first, it is refreshing, but it would be an uncomfortable place to live.
At the bottom, you reach the end of a tunnel, five feet wide and just high enough for the tallest of you to scrape their head on the top. The walls and floor are lined with brick, slippery underfoot, and the ceiling forms an arch.
Svetozar Lanezra whispers that it may help, considering the slight slipperiness, for us to use a rope -- if it gets worse or opens to a hole -- of course, he has no rope so maybe someone else does. If not, he just recommends going slowly. And continues the descent into darkness.
Honeylyn waits for the others to arrive in the hole, and begins muttering a spell of concealment. It isn't a true invisibility spell, she wasn't THAT good yet, but it would pull the shadows more tightly around them and make them harder to see in the dark.
"Darn, it was SO nice up here"
With that complaint out of the way, Tawny descends into the darkness, thankful for his cat vision
Even with her nimble half-elf build, Annelise finds the going here difficult. "If I'd known we were going to be leiving civilisation behind us, I'd have packed for it." No lantern, no torches, no rope. Still, there doesn't seem to be any option than to keep going.
So she does.
Honeylyn's spell seems to gather the darkness around the party.
A few moments after Trails reaches the bottom of the shaft, the ladder falls after him, cut off from the iron rings that held it in place.
"Hellooooo!" a mocking voice calls down. "Or rather, goodbye! Thank you for arranging a boat for me! Give my love to Lavinia if you see her!"
Looking up the shaft, you see a face that you recognize from the portrait you were shown. It is Vanthus. He waves, laughs cruelly, and disappears from view. A moment later, Shefton comes tumbling down the shaft. A few bones break when he lands, but he feels no pain. His throat has already been slit to the bone.
Then the cover is pushed back over the top of the shaft. There is a terrible scraping sound of something heavy being pushed onto the cover. You can't help remembering the boulders that surrounded the opening.
Milton sighs deeply "I have a bad feeling the one we were trying to save, isn't worth saving. He slit his throat and tossed him down here with us. I think he did kill his parents. Kinda dark. Let's see if I can make some light." He then starts to try casting a spell.
Svetozar Lanezra goes into thinking mode, his past life as a Wizard and aptitude in this life as a scholar overtaking his zealous, holy warrior mission: 'Vanthus thanks us for a boat to get off the islet, meaning he's been trapped here for several weeks. He's just been hoping for a boat and is, hmm, "criminal"(?) enough to murder and mock. Why wouldn't he have just built a fire during his time here to signal someone was on the islet? Are we really the first persons here in weeks? .... *What is down in this hole that our murdered patsy was bringing us to?'
He looks to his allies and begins to help wherever he can -- if they focus on climbing up, he looks for items in the body; if they loot and have an obvious way up, he will search the floor of this mudslick hole. The possibility of being permanently buried doesn't 'yet' come to him.
Milton's efforts to make light only manage to make a flash that goes out almost instantly. It is accompanied by a bang that echoes down the narrow passage.
From a distance, you hear something splashing. Very much like someone wading through shallow water.
Annelise bends down to check Shefton's body, if only through force of habit. Even if his throat wasn't cut, he'd never survive that sort of fall. "Should have stayed in town," she murmurs. It's unclear whether she's talking to herself or the corpse.
"OK, our way up is gone so our onwly way out is through." At the sound of splashing, she draws a blade from inside her clothing. "If anyone has light, now would be the time to show off." She turns to face whatever is making the splashing sound, knives at the ready.
Shefton might have survived the fall, but not without some broken limbs. As it is, he is dead, but still warm and wet with blood. There are seven gold pieces in his pocket, and a few waxy...
stubs of candle?
Svetozar Lanezra takes the flintstone he uses to make small fires for warmth and lights the candle stubs. It provides a little cool illumination, just enough to lead the way toward the slurping water ahead. He nods at his ally who takes the gold for later. And joins the group plodding through to the sound.
Honeylyn's head snaps up when she hears Vanthus' voice, ready to make an indignant speech when she sees him pushing Shefton off the ledge. She only manages a panicked "NO!" before the body lands with a sickening crunch.
She's clearly horrified by what she's just witnessed, even more so when Annelise confirms he was dead before he even hit the cave floor. Annelise taking leadership and asking for light, however, shakes her out of the fugue.
"Light...yes..."
She chants again, reversing the incantation she'd just cast to draw shadows to them, and instead cast them away by conjuring dancing motes of light.
As the candle sparks to light with Svetozar's flint, Honeylyn's shadows turn bright, first filling the narrow space with a glowing fog that obscured as much as it revealed. The former shadows quickly coalesce into tiny orbs, that bathed the area in something with the quality of starlight, but the brightness of lanterns.
From down the narrow passageway, the splashing stops. For a moment, there is quiet, but then there is a wet thud, and another, and another. Like heavy footsteps, ponderously moving towards you.
Annelise peers into the dark, trying to see what's coming their way. The passageway is a tight fit but she scrambles into the front - she's getting to know the others but she doesn't see any of them as hitters, with the possible exception of the cat.
"Whatever's coming our way, it's no more dangerous than we are." There's a cool confidence to her words, despite the fact she is way outside her usual territory.
Honeylyn keeps her mouth shut as she tries to make herself seem smaller in the center of the group.
As we continue to walk toward the sounds ahead, confident in finding a way back to the surface, Svetozar Lanezra whispers to his allies, "My instinct makes me feel as though that which is ahead of us is more likely a native under this island rather than another pirate or scoundrel. An opportunity for diplomacy. But we shall soon see."
Trail advances with the rest, ready to fight this monster when it shows itself
The tunnel bends to the right, and around the corner, a dozen paces away, a humanoid form lurches into sight. It's footsteps are wet, and it seems wholly waterlogged. It moves stiffly, slowly. It was human once, you think, the rags it wears were once a sailor's garb. Now, the flesh is rotten, the smell of decay hits you, and the teeth in the creature's mouth are ragged, sharp-edged triangles, like you'd find in a shark's mouth.
It groans loudly at the sight of the group, and staggers forward, reaching out....