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After an interminable time keeping you waiting I will have to face facts and realise that I'm not going to be able to keep things rolling here. Turmoil of packing up 11 years of life, flusterances over work and the occasional roll of existential ennui are keeping me from giving you guys what you deserve - which is a DM that's actually able to engage consistently and deeply to progress the campaign. From the medium term it looks like I'm unlikely to get into a situation where I can resume steady posting either - as I'll start FIFO roles working offshore after I do relocate down to Australia, which will put sizable black spots over my time for PbPing. I'm likely to be flat out keeping up with the three PbPs I'm still playing in let alone being able to block out time for DMing. So I'm sorry, but I'll need to curtail. It's nothing on your characters or conduct, I was engaged deeply and happily within the whirl and whorl of the campaign... but the road of life has hit the cobblestones section.
After an interminable time keeping you waiting I will have to face facts and realise that I'm not going to be able to keep things rolling here. Turmoil of packing up 11 years of life, flusterances over work and the occasional roll of existential ennui are keeping me from giving you guys what you deserve - which is a DM that's actually able to engage consistently and deeply to progress the campaign. From the medium term it looks like I'm unlikely to get into a situation where I can resume steady posting either - as I'll start FIFO roles working offshore after I do relocate down to Australia, which will put sizable black spots over my time for PbPing. I'm likely to be flat out keeping up with the three PbPs I'm still playing in let alone being able to block out time for DMing. So I'm sorry, but I'll need to curtail. It's nothing on your characters or conduct, I was engaged deeply and happily within the whirl and whorl of the campaign... but the road of life has hit the cobblestones section.
Distractions and delays from the moving process (and job application process) continue to prevent me getting into a good headspace for posting. I am NOT pulling back, but I will be scatty for a while.
Distractions and delays from the moving process (and job application process) continue to prevent me getting into a good headspace for posting. I am NOT pulling back, but I will be scatty for a while.
Quillin indeed finds the sewer grates locked, but while the metal types and styling are similar (crude wrought pig-iron) - the key in your hands doesn't fit the lock upon the grates.
Tania's attempt to grapple the creature is foiled by some unctuous and slimy secretion coating it's form forestalling her from getting a grip. Lucetta's opportunistic strike and follow up attack fail to puncture the creature's skin either. Fiterri scurries out of the teetering building to gaze upon the beast... and is left dumbfounded by it. It doesn't conform to any known creatures that come to frenzied and quickened mind... though he kens it is unnatural of source. Gnitt's otherworldly call is answered by a similarly endowed beast as he abandons the collapsing building. The crocodile fails to crunch down upon the creature with it's teeth, but it's heavy tail does crunch solidly into the core of the flying monster.
Joseph's follow up strike is less successful than his first, striking naught but air. The shack beneath the beast then groans and with a series of gun-shot cracks and a sustained ripping and shearing sound it gives way to fall into the Skew below. The maimed and atrophied creature does not flee, instead keeping it's position floating above the open space below it where Larua's shack once stood... and turns it's toothed and tentacle wrath upon you... Bite at Joseph: for
Crit on Joseph:
Both maws of the beast close upon their targets, though Lucetta is more sorely marked and damaged by it's attention. Round 3: Large and Tentacly, Tania, Lucetta, Fiterri, Gnitt, Joseph
Leading your steps initially out of the casino and towards the nearest border betwixt Scurvytown and the marginally more urbane and refined areas of Freeport you're initially disconcerted by how many sewer openings and grates seem to line the path. Though with trepidation you proceed, nothing lurches from the shadows to devour you... yet. Minor tellers of tales and prognosticators of fortune can be found throughout Freeport - though their quality and skill is questionable at best. The Woman is the only name that rises above all others - holding court in Drac's End near the Tent City... but most likely she wouldn't be seeing anyone until at least the sun's crested.
Joseph's opportunistic strike scores the creature deeply down one flank, though the blood flowing from the wound doesn't come as gushing or swiftly as one might expect.
"Fine... I'd suggest you move along then. Madame will see to the casino, you'll need to see to yourselves..." a glance to Quillin and Tordek specifically "I'd not be for lingering in Scurvy unless you've got a need for it." nodding affirmation that his part in the conversation is finished before turning to walk away. As a side foot note he adds "Might be best to keep clear of any more sewer grates tonight eh?" He moves back over to the passage leading into the casino's basement to continue his investigations. The party then feels the pointed gaze of those thugs and casino personnel upon them... silently impressing upon you a suggestion that you might move onwards and outwards into the dark. The barman himself has backed away from the bar and doesn't seem to be open to entertaining any further refills. From what you see the injured party remains propped up against a wall and bloodied... but not sensate.
Initiative Block:
Tania: 20+2 = 22
Lucetta: Joseph: Gnitt: Fiterri: Large and Tentacly: Even before you can react you hear the bonesnapping squelching sounds of an old fortune teller being subjected to masticative attention. The lack of screams or protest casts a pallor of certainty over the fate of once was Madame Larua. Tania sees the folly of dispensing a greased missive to follow, holding to a call unto luck... Lucetta invokes a call to bestial nature and dives through the freshly opened window - rolling into the open area before the cabin. Fiterri expends a blast of fire ineffectual into the darkness as Gnitt begins a call upon otherwordly assistance. Finally Joseph joins Lucetta outside the cabin... frustratingly for the other inhabitants of the cabin as he too prefers the use of the fractured window than physically opening the door.
Round 2: Large and Tentacly, Tania, Lucetta, Fiterri, Gnitt, Joseph The foul creature before you is a writhing mass of tentacles and snake heads, flying by some eldritch talent above the kiss of the earth. Disgusting as it appears... half covered now in the blood and viscera of a recently disembowled mystic, one of the three heads and three of the six tentacles bursting from the core of it limp pale and withered, unusable. flying creature resembles a large writhing mass of tentacles and snake heads. Normally possessing three such snake heads and six tentacles, this particular gohl has been the victim of some wasting condition that has caused one of its heads and three of its tentacles to wither into pale, dangling, useless appendages. It launches it's bulk into the air ponderously, rising just above your heads before settling heavily onto the structure of Larua's hut... threatening to send it topping from it's precarious perch and into the tangle of the Skew some thirty or forty feet below. Tania, Fiterri and Gnitt hear the bones of the shack groan ominously and sharp cracking sounds start to fire like wooden muskets...
Dereliction of duty has been too oft an occurrence by myself over the last couple of weeks and for my part I apologize unreservedly. Work situations have been fluid and undulating, but hopefully have reached a kind of conclusion in the last couple of days that will at least give a stability. It looks like I'll be uprooting my roots in a couple of months and repatriating back down to Australia. Much excitement, trepidation and confusion... but hopefully after this weekend I'll be in a better head, mind and body space to roll on forwards. Patience is both a virtue and appreciated.
Dereliction of duty has been too oft an occurrence by myself over the last couple of weeks and for my part I apologize unreservedly. Work situations have been fluid and undulating, but hopefully have reached a kind of conclusion in the last couple of days that will at least give a stability. It looks like I'll be uprooting my roots in a couple of months and repatriating back down to Australia. Much excitement, trepidation and confusion... but hopefully after this weekend I'll be in a better head, mind and body space to roll on forwards. Patience is both a virtue and appreciated.
The man sighs "Snake men typically no, but all manner of sh1te comes out especially in Scurvy once the night falls. Any reason as to why you stayed here and didn't scarper after it happened? - don't tell me you're concerned citizens my heart couldn't take the shock."
As far as you all can recollect, the Bloody Jack killings stopped at the time that coincides closely with the date of the soothsaying of Madam Larua. Killings obviously occur all the time, even ritualistic killings... but none that matched the Bloody Jack fingerprint. Fiterri's offer draws an avaricious furrowed brow from the Madam. "Zhe true sight, I cannot call to it... sometimes it comes.. sometimes I cannot see wha.." her pronunciation interrupted by the whole flimsy building shaking as if it had just been struck by a gust of wind from a violent storm front. Before any of you can react or act, a large tentacle bursts through the hovel's tiny window and wraps itself around Madam Larua’s neck. She is able to let out only a small, “Urk!” before being pulled bodily through the window with the sound of much snapping of bone.
Change yes... potentially of the pack everything you own into little boxes and put it on a ship type change... hopefully positive as well.
Just a short note to let you know that I'm still here - just a very rocky start to 2017, work turmoil and potential significant changes, etc, etc. I should hopefully even out to a level keel soon though.
Just a short note to let you know that I'm still here - just a very rocky start to 2017, work turmoil and potential significant changes, etc, etc. I should hopefully even out to a level keel soon though.
Still shaking the dregs of 2016 from my boots - post will be up before the close of the weekend with apologies for the delay.
The Madam Larua stands and accepts the liquid encouragement, sequestering it to the side of her hovel before ushering you through the curtain into a small room in the back of her stall. It actually sits upon wooden scaffolds out over the precipice. It has only a rude cot, a small table and chairs, a single window with a thin curtain, and a locked steamer trunk. A bolted door leads to stairs descending down into the Skew. She produces a key from her girdle and opens the steamer trunk. Within are dozens of parchment rolls secured with bits of string or ribbon. Each bears a date carefully written on the outside. "All of zhese are the 'true' readings that Madam has had... so many portents and possibilities no?" The washed up teller of fortunes then rummages through the bottom of the trunk until she finds one pulling it out. The outside of the yellowed parchment shows a date 30 years ago. She pauses and considers with shaking hand for a moment before thrusting it towards you. "Take it, it is yours now..." Content of Fortune Told:
“You will soon lay down the knife as your time is done. Another is to come who will return to the scene of the crime and take up the bloody business again.” Knowledge Local DC20: The date on the parchment corresponds to roughly a week after the last known Bloody Jack killing.
There isn't much show of emotion on the guard's face as he adds "And when did you land in Freeport then? No encounters with the degenerates before this evenin?" clearly using the degenerate term to specifically refer to the serpent creatures.
It take a good span of twenty to thirty minutes of waiting before the watch finally decides to arrive into the Casino... clearly word of mouth doesn't travel at breakneck speeds in Scurvytown. Upon arrival the watchmen are taken to one side by the woman of stature for a quiet discussion out of your earshot. Given the body language involved there is a healthy amount of deference shown towards her. After a couple of minutes talk (which involves a few pointed glances and gestures in your direction) the watch captain gives a nod to both the lady and his underlings. The underlings head into the passage that the snake-man retreated through with a couple of the casino's thugs... while the watch captain heads in your direction on his own. A stern faced man with deep frown lines creasing his weathered face he queries "Right... might as well get your side as well... out wi' it then."
Madame Larua sighs "He did not share and Madame Larua thought best not to ask too deeply on zhese things. He came once a month for years, sometimes twice or thrice a week even... times as zhey are, one does not want to scare away zhe custom no?" "Of what the readings where... I do not know. Sometimes someone come in, gives me five pils, I close my eyes, say some grand words, and send zem on zeir way no better or worse zan zey came. Zey came wanting entertainment and a touch of mystery, and I gave it to zem..." pausing to wet her lips with an aged and leathery tongue "But sometimes... sometimes someone come in, and ze Spirit world really want to talk to zem. When zat happen, I say zings... zings I don’t know and don’t remember. My mother had ze Sight, and it touch me sometimes like zat. I don’t charge anyzing more for zese readings because if ze gods want to talk to someone, far be it from me to interfere. But when ze spirits decide to talk, you don’t get your own front row seat. You’re just ze carriage; ze spirits become ze driver.” Eyeing Gnitt's bottle hungrily "When ze spirits drive me... might be zhat Madame keeps quill and paper for zhe writing... not for me to read but for zhe posterity no? Bad luck for Madame to read of zhese, so I have kept them locked away..." you get an inkling that for the price of the fine liquor Gnitt has, she might overlook what luck might come from letting you read the scroll.
Fickle Hand of Fate:
Quillin's request is met with a simple shrug of the shoulders by the cashier - any peculiarity in the request flying firmly over their head.
Just a quick one to state a hope that your Christmastimes were enjoyable, I'm back in the saddle and recovering from my short holiday - though I understand we probably won't get back up and running until we've left the year of 2016 behind us.
Just a quick one to state a hope that your Christmastimes were enjoyable, I'm back in the saddle and recovering from my short holiday - though I understand we probably won't get back up and running until we've left the year of 2016 behind us.
Growing melancholy and sombre with recollection Madame Larua expounds "Always asking about sin... how he could find ze 'naughty children'. Pressing pressing, where are zhey, how can zhey be found. It iz why I remember him..." taking another swig of her libation "Perhaps zhat is why Madame remembers after all zhis time... intense, dark and pressing pressing 'Where are zhey... ze naughty ones'. Zhat and zhe talk of Bloody Jack Carver all over Festival..." grunting a dirty chuckle "Madame Larua had always had a thought, what if zhe Bill was actually Bloody himself no?"
Just a quick one - I'll be off for a short holiday sojourn down to Singapore starting tomorrow and stretching through to the 27th of December. As expected I'll be a wee bit incommunicado through that time and probably won't be posting. Merry Christmas to all regardless and I hope that you all get to descend into tryptophanic nirvana.
Just a quick one - I'll be off for a short holiday sojourn down to Singapore starting tomorrow and stretching through to the 27th of December. As expected I'll be a wee bit incommunicado through that time and probably won't be posting. Merry Christmas to all regardless and I hope that you all get to descend into tryptophanic nirvana.
Gnitt's request for more of the same but better is initially met with a wrinkled brow and confusion - after all the liquor she drinks is not meant for taste but strength. After being pressed though, they are able to furnish him with an older, dustier bottle that serves for purpose. The return of Tania is met with a softening of her features and a smile "Bless you child" holding out a hand to take the bottle, then licking her lips before opening it and drinking of the rot-gut's aroma. "Ah yes, ze spirits speak to me now... you are in luck my children, Madame Larua remembers." Taking a tot of liquor before setting heavy in her chair "Zis Bill which you speak of, he came here many times... troubled he was, always intense and dark. Madame did not enjoy the readings, no... ze spirits were not calmed in his presence."
Tania: You find a vendor nearby who is able to furnish you with what you're after. A bottle of the same (middling rotgut) sets you back a full coin in gold.
The lady demurely nods and gestures you to the bar where despite the tumult of the floor and night, the barman appears to have maintained his senses and position. The bar is relatively well stocked with liquor and mixers both - furnishing your libatory desires swiftly. Tipene's desire to drag the man out to the floor is forestalled by security from the casino doing the same for him. The bloodied man is left propped up against a wall, and as of yet doesn't show any sign of wakening. Quillin's desire to cash in chips is able to be served... but he's given slight pause. It's the same cashier in the cage that cashed in his chits just before all hell broke loose... As to the woman of stature, she can be seen directing her men to secure the building and proceeds to the serpent's exit point at least once or twice to discuss in hushed tones something beyond overhearing with the men there. Time drags on though, as you finish your drinks and wait for the watch.
With a lazy eyed smile the Madame responds "Such trouble I have forming words when the silver cannot be seen... you would not insult me such surely no?" clearly not looking to speak until the coin is physical, real and has changed hands.
Madame takes the silver in one hand, closing her other over the proferring appendage and smiling "Bless you child." keeping grip on Lucetta's hand with one of her own, she tucks the silver into her girdle tightly before making bleary eye contact with Lucetta. Holding pose for a few moments she then closes her eyes and states in a monotone "Look for a change in your future as ze hidden strength of your character catch ze attention of someone important" With a tired and trite flourish she opens her eyes and drops away Lucetta's hand "Such iz the spirits will." reaching to the floor behind her and clumsily taking a tot of fluid from the emptying bottle. Grinning yellowed teeth she adds "The past iz so grey and clouded no? If only Madame Larua had something of substance to help her remember." Sense Motive DC 10:
The drunk seems to be shaking you down for more silver or gold before divulging anything else. Sense Motive DC 12:
Those beset by the demons of drink oft weigh it's virtue more heavily than actual coin. Sense Motive DC 18:
You get a hunch that despite the situation... something might be important here, and that the charlatan is connected in some way. Joseph doesn't spy anything untoward or out of the ordinary in terms of the Skew's natural chaotic activity. Fiterri sees the usual trappings of a fortune teller, and that they appear, though dinted and old, to be appropriate. As he knows too well though, the power is not of the tool but of the wielder... and regardless of how fiercly the lady's candle burnt before - it is at low ebb now.
The lady holds up a hand to ward away the offer "My men will see to my house... I'm sure you understand that I wouldn't want any man off the street wandering through my house's nether regions." pausing slightly to reassess before pressing "The House is closed for the night... though the watch will likely need to see to the bodies. You're free to stay until we talk through the matter with them?"
You don't spy any nearby sewer openings - though knocking on the door elicits a slightly slurred response "It iz open child, come in" Pushing the portal open the interior is revealed to you. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim interior of this flimsy structure. The floor creaks, and the floorboards sag noticeably near the back wall where they extend out over the edge of the precipice of Festival. The rear wall even bows slightly from this warping, though much of it is covered by a thick, moth-eaten curtain. The side walls are likewise covered in this manner, and the ceiling is swathed in old, dusty bolts of muslin, giving the entire room the feeling of the inside of a gypsy caravan wagon. Before the rear curtain stands a small, cloth-covered table. Upon it rests a dust-covered crystal ball with a few wellthumbed, illuminated cards splayed out before it, along with an inkwell and old quill. Behind the table sits a bedraggled, white-haired old woman in threadbare finery and a colourful bandana. Her sharp features sag and have been dulled by age and drink. You assume her to be the aforementioned Madam Larua, but clearly many years have passed since the portrait on the sign above the door was painted. She thumps a halfempty bottle to the floor behind the table and fixes a bleary eye upon you. "Greetings my children, come, come... who wishez to know ze future? Cross my palm with five silver pilasters and the visions will come to me." the spidery veins on her nose and cheeks would reveal her long association with strong drink even if her fetid breath didn’t.
Quillin:
Quillin finds the usual pocket lint, half used pomade and comb... plus gp worth of house chips on the man's person. No reason can be seen for the serpent's interest. Grimly the lady measures your words, but ultimately swallows them well enough "No... this is the first I've seen of them." suspiciously sounding like 'something's being held back, but clearly unwilling to entertain the discussion further "My security was containing the situation, though one supposes your presence was of some help... you can see the barman for a tot on your way out."
Quillin's snark brings a sneer from the thugs and a deepening of disposition, but that it tempered by the unveiling of the serpentfolk lying cold and stark upon the floor. As adrenaline fades the scent of slimy fishguts mixes with the inimitable odour of ordure and makes the scene even more bizarre. The thug follows up with a "Rules is rules gnome, like we told the heathen" indicating Tipene "But he didn't listen..." the muscleman looks like he might be seeking to escalate the situation before he's interrupted by a better dressed lady emerging. "Gord" the thug turns to listen to the lady "leave them to me - go and check below" settling a gaze of hidden meaning imparted onto the thug - who begrudgingly nods and leaves the rest of you with a sneer. He heads towards the passageway that Quillin and the serpent danced among. The lady clicks her tongue and turns back to you "I take it this had nothing to do with you?" arching an eyebrow.
Deciding to leave the filth and rot of the sewagers to tomorrow, you proceed with due haste towards Madame Larua. Your destination is on the upper edge of the Skew, 200 feet of steeply rising streets built upon the edge of the great Festival Pier leading up to the Great Fayre at its summit. The streets are haphazard, full of switchbacks and dead ends, built up on elevated walks around, between and on top of the jumble of buildings crammed onto this artificial precipice. Fortunately, Madam Larua’s stall is near the top at the inner edge of this hodge-podge of construction making it 'comparatively' fairly easy to locate. The last gleam of twilight has given way to nightfall by the time you finish the climb from the banks of the Great Lyme River below up through the tangle of streets that is the Skew to the summit of Festival. The ramshackle streets and elevated walks you climbed rose steeply between the countless hovels and shops, built upon each other like a seemingly never-ending stack of precarious children’s blocks. The creaks of ancient timbers shoring up sections of this cobbled-together mass and the all-too-obvious warping and groaning of massive bolts holding key structural elements of the conglomeration together give the entire journey a feeling of taking one’s life into his or her own hands. It is not a pleasant sensation, and you are stunned to realize the masses of people that live and work in and among this house of cards. The dailies frequently speak of collapses in sections of the Skew, but they in no way capture the true peril that lurks incessantly among its rising byways and the atrocious loss of life that must occur. Surmounting the Skew brings you to the summit of the great pier that is the Festival District, and only a few hundred feet away lays the entrance to the Great Fayre, a riot of colour and lights, attractions and screams of delight against a background of never-ending, tuneless calliope music and the lingering smell of urine and fried treats. However, here at the very verge of the summit, set up outside the limits of the Great Fayre, are endless rows of vendor stalls, many occupied, some abandoned, but all burdened with years of grime and disenchantment. One in particular catches your eye — a ramshackle wooden affair with its back end virtually hanging out over the drop of the Skew below. Faded bunting that was once some shade of purple flutters feebly in the first breezes of the night around a hand-painted sign — long since faded and peeling — that shows an elaborately dressed, sharp-featured young gypsy woman peering deeply into the ubiquitous crystal ball. Still barely legible next to this image are the words, “Madam Larua — Teller of Fortunes and Diviner of Secrets.” You have found it. Though the door is presently closed, you can spy the faint dancing radiance of candlelight shining through beneath the door.
Tordek's ministrations of both ice and wolf-given tooth serve purpose well and render the serpentfolk insensate. Similarly Tipene takes advantage of the distraction offered by Lysandra's miss to deliver a bone-snapping blow that drives their serpent into the floor. It also ceases to move bar the ragged drawing of breath thereafter. Quillin's attempts are less successful, as his summoned wind-bag fails to further mar the beast and his corrosive spittle only burns a black mark into the wall. All of you hear a piercing high-pitched whistle emanating from the corridors where Quillin remains with the unconscious pirate. The serpent piques to the noise, hissing before slithering away and deeper into the bowels of the casino at haste. The mist that plied the casino also begins to ebb and fade, dissipating slowly. The thugs that Tipene left in his wake force their way through the thinning press and with menacing tone growl "No weapons on the floor... drop 'em." they bear cudgel and bludgeon themselves, but are awaiting your reaction before reasoning whether they need to use them... Round 4: Tordek, Lysandra, Tipene, Quillin, Serpentfolk, Guards
Everett regains a small amount of solidity with your reassurance, and offers a set of directions rather than specifically leading you towards the icon where he luncheons. Business completed, you take your leave of Grindylow's and chance a small glance skywards - noting that the sun had now moved past the zenith and was beginning it's slow snail-like descent through the polluted skies. Measuring the time remaining in the day and relative distances involved - you realise that you're unlikely to be able to visit both the sewer entrance and the fortune teller today... especially if the intent is still to make it down to the Queen's Own for a night-cap.
Lucetta tests the blue power and is able to definitively classify it as an extract of blue whinnis - specifically designed for administration via inhalation. If a victim were to take a full blooded breath of the dust then they'd likely fall insensate for a few hours, left unresisting to whatever would follow thereafter. The rag that had stoppered the bottle shows an old blue stain at it's center... clearly suggesting it's been used as means of delivery. Gnitt combs his memory of child kidnapping and other urbane pursuits and does not find much that helps to clarify the situation. Sure, the wee ones born to the Blight are predated upon in everywhich way - but the situation doesn't match. Why the cart, why the drug and why connected to a tinker that lives within a hovel? Gnitt doesn't believe that this matches with any organised ring of which he's aware. As you speak among yourselves you notice that Everett has gone quiet and pale... clearly the situation has deepened most violently from an amusing tale of a gear long ago repaired... and into more sinister mien. He shakes his head muttering "Ain't right... I don't know what the bugger it is... but it ain't right all the same." shaking his head and knuckling his brow. After a few deep breaths he peers inward again and spies the sigil on the key... experiencing a flash of recognition before confusedly adding "Eh... I seen that afore an all... one jus like it near where I takes me lunch." Lastly the group of you recall an old nursery rhyme told by nursemaids wanting to provoke obedience... that of Bloody Jack Carver... Bloody Jack Carver
The serpentfolk by Tordek evades both the flung bolt of ice as well as the flailing jaws of the summoned wolf. It hisses before attempting to drag Tordek away...
The serpent by Tipene and Lysandra attempts this time to put the tulita upon the ground...
The last of the serpentfolk grasps again for the prone and unconscious pirate...
For each of you the actions of the creatures seems to betray a certain... denseness and lack of adequate thought? Singleminded outside of ability or affect of their actions. Round 3: Tordek, Lysandra, Tipene, Quillin, Serpentfolk
Answers and enlightenment will come in thread.... after a bit of sleep :P
DM has sucked this end of the week and I apologize, but there shall be a post up on the morrow.
Tania can detect no sign nor taint of magic upon any of the contents within the cart. In removing the bottle from the belt the cloth stopper is disturbed enough to fall free. Peering down the neck of the bottle you see a dried remnant of blue powder within. The key on the other hand is large and made of iron with a decorative bow. Cast into the key’s bow is an intricate sigil of a plumb bob and hammer. Knowledge (local) DC 10:
The sigil is that of the city’s old Guild of Sewagers and Ironmongers, which can still be seen on the lock-gates on many of the older sewer tunnels and drainage channels throughout the city, if one knows where to look. DC 15 Knowledge (local) or DC 10 Knowledge (history):
The guild is known to have been extremely corrupt and both built and managed the sewers and underground drainage systems of the city for centuries before finally being replaced by the city’s Office of Sanitation by order of the infamous Crown Justice Moravan. The key appears to be one of the old master keys that belonged to the guild for use in accessing the city’s sewer lock-gates. Finally the parchment that the key was wrapped in is also of interest. It is actually a piece torn from a 30-year-old broadsheet that bears an advertisement for one “Madam Larua — Teller of Fortunes and Diviner of Secrets”. The broadsheet gives the location of her fortune-telling stall as being located near the edge of the Skew at the summit of the Festival Pier.
Everett takes the gear with a chuckle "Don't even know if we still gots a use for it... but thanks?" before being distracted by Lucetta's discovery. Everett shows his lack of knowledge about the existence of the hollow with a "Well I'll be buggered..." With dextrous turn and a light thump Lucetta sees the secret compartment laid bare. Once opened a hollow is revealed, as expected, but a more seasoned look elicits more troubling features.... The wood surrounding the space is double-layered to make it sturdier and proofed against sound and light. The additional thickness of the wood makes the compartment interior no bigger than could hold a small child. Secondly, the inside is smeared in many places with old flaky brown stains, suspiciously like old blood, and there are many scratch marks in the wood as if something had tried to escape. Perception DC 15:
Shining a bit of light t'wards the compartment leads to a stark discovery. Within one of the brown smears is a clear child-sized handprint. Also lying within the compartment is an old tool belt. Though the belt is mostly empty, two of it's many pockets and sleeves are filled. Within one is a small clay bottle with a rag stuffed into its neck to serve as a stopper. And a second holds a strangely crafted iron key wrapped in a piece of parchment.
Lysandra's words infuse Tipene's heart and arms with power... that's unfortunately misused as the man's tewhatewha thuds into the floor beside the slinking degenerate serpent. Quillin skulks forwards to coat the insensate and dragged pirate with lubricant, which combined with the elemental's continued blows serves to jolt the man from the serpent's grasp. Tordek's wolf appears...
Round 2: Tordek, Lysandra, Tipene, Quillin, Serpentfolk
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