To Angvar
"First, don't call me 'master,' particularly not in private. I am not some insecure fool who craves false flattery from those who do not respect him."
"Secondly, I do consider it highly likely that you will attempt to kill me. That's because I don't know yet if you are smarter than that. I believe that you have far more to gain from this alliance than I do."
"Third, there will be no 'dancing on graves.' It's disrespectful." he looks up with a wry grin, "Also, the ground here is damp, you might slip and hurt yourself."
"One last thing. There are people around who would prefer you dead, such as the proprietor of the Golden Goblin. Do try not to antagonize them, as I've already displeased them by keeping you alive."
Mordecai
"What shall I call you then? I do not know your name, and I am certainly not master of myself."
Angvar merely shakes his head at Mordecai's sense of humour. It's a lot for him to adjust to. At the mention of Saul, however, his eyes seem to burn with fire. "The Gold Goblin? Is that where we are now? What time is it? Is it still evening? If we hurry, we can still meet up with the man who hired us. We were supposed to meet at the docks just before dawn. I'd like to give him a piece of my mind."
To Angvar;
Bexilarius takes his leave, returning home to his lodgings to clean up after the evening's exertions. He briefly considers tracking down Sam, but he has no idea where she might have gone, and truth be told, vomiting at the sight of blood didn't make her more attractive. Counting his newly-won coins, Bex instead decides to head to the House of Silken Veils, his favorite haunt when he can afford it (which he now can!) Maybe look up that new girl, Lavender Lil. All the "succubi" at the Gold Goblin have reawakened his taste for some demon-lovin'...
DM:
Ozbadin pulls Saul aside at the first opportunity to discuss what he had mentioned earlier.
Ozbadin sticks around for a while to watch the clean-up operation, and see if any stragglers might offer opportunity for sport.
Bexilarius
Finding someone to examine your items is not difficult. A young and handsome man handles your items, speaking aloud a few words and donning some interesting goggles. For a modest fee of 15 gold pieces, the man identifies your items
"Are you looking to sell 'em, fella? I could roll the cost of the identifyin' into the sale, and give you 550 sweet pieces of gold right now."
Ozbadin
Saul giggles in glee when Ozbadin reveals his true nature. "I knew it! Well, I knew something! I knew you couldn't have been just a regular drunk sailor, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I was beginning to think I was crazy! Oh, do I have plans for you. Welcome to the business, my friend!"
Bexilarius
While you are sorting out your business with the young man identifying your equipment, a voice is heard from behind you, seemingly separate from any sound of movement or footsteps.
"Lavender Lil is with a client, currently. She's not one for a team effort, so you may have to wait."
Striding in front of you is a half-elf woman, her shocking red hair becoming a theme for today. She commands presence for sure, and the whip coiled at her side marks her as more than just a callgirl; she's a member of the clergy.
"Of course, I'm free right now, if you really can't hold it in any longer."
"Mordecai i understand you want someone to go to the docks with you. ill tag along if there is a chance for some fighting."
She lets out a big grin that suggests the Gold Goblin fight might not have been enough.
Gierixa and Mordecai
You gather your things, and Angvar gets his from the River Runner, leaving him with nothing more than a dagger and his spellbook. There are still a few disgruntled gamblers hanging out around the front of the place, but they seem to be mostly ranting to each other. Slipping past them is easy enough. You hustle down to the docks district, searching for the man who hired Angvar and his goons.
"We were supposed to meet on the southernmost pier. We're also supposed to have the chest. I can pretend to still have it shrunken if need be. That's our story, alright?"
There doesn't appear to be anyone waiting at the pier when you arrive. "Maybe they're not here yet. I'd hate to have missed them," Angvar says, twirling the dagger in his hand while he scans the horizon.
Unfortunately, keeping your eyes on the street level in combination with this night's low tide means you are ill prepared
Exploding out of the water beneath Angvar's feet, a large and disgusting fish lunges at him. The blow knocks him into the water with the thing, his screams turning to gurgles as he splashes down into the murk. The horrible creature shakes the poor wizard, mixing blood with mud.
Before the encounter;
"I would be very much appreciate the company, milady. Hopefully we'll find some ruffian to beat some sense into."
During the encounter;
"Fires of Hell!" Mordecai shouts, completely losing his composure. Again, his dagger slides smoothly from it's sheath and wobbling in an unseen grasp, slashes wildly at the barracuda. At the same time, he drops to his knees and attempts to reach the unconscious mage, cursing himself for going out after exhausting his day's supply of magic.
Ozbadin if he is through with his conversation would have trailed the two to see what they were up to.
1d20+6 → [5,6] = (11) Stealth
OOC: Is anyone else having trouble getting IC rolls to link. I can't seem to click on the links and get them to copy anymore?
Ozbadin clearly sees Mordecai spot him, his head turning sharply to look straight at him for an instant, despite the confusion. "Fish for dinner." he says loudly enough to carry, but has already turned back to the fight and it's not obvious that he was saying it to anyone other than Gierixa or the unconscious mage.
"Only if you let me pick the wine" Ozbadin replies and closes to combat.
1d20+2 → [18,2] = (20) Scimitar Attack
1d20+2 → [14,2] = (16) Confirm Critical
2d6+7 → [5,5,7] = (17) Damage w/ Inspiration point spent
"And I insist you let me do the filleting"
1d20+4 → [16,4] = (20) Initiative
OOC: Wow!
Gierixa laughs as the fish grabs the stupid human. "he got to close to the water. guess we better bail him out." She stifles her chuckle as she remembers that this man was Mordecai's property.
DM:
Completing his transaction, Bexilarius turns around at the sound of the woman's voice. "What is it with half-elf redheads today?" he asks of no one in particular. Bex takes in her accoutrements. "Then again, being propositioned by one of the Savored Sting's own priestesses is something new, I'll admit." Bex considers for a moment. "I was looking for a little 'horn-and-tail' action this evening, if you know what I mean, but I might be able to change my plans. The question is, why did you come to me? And how much?, of course."
With your collective efforts, a flash of scimitars, and some quick thinking, you manage to shred the fish like it shredded Angvar. Mordecai pulls the unconscious and limp body from the water, but he's lost a lot of blood. Horrible gashes along his legs and arms are seeping out blood, and he is shivering.
Bexilarius
The boy scratches his head, and says; "Once we take into account the fee for the identifying, I can only give you 50 gold for the thing. There's not a ton of juice left in it."
"ugh. if you want me to heal your little pet it means i have to touch him and i'm not doing that without being paid."
Bexilarius
"Cost? That depends on what you're looking for. You name it, we can do it, so long as you pay. It's quite simple really." She playfully, and gently, traces the length of her coiled whip with one finger as she speaks to you.
"I only came to you because I heard you were looking for Miss Lil'. I'm handling the bookings tonight, and I just happen to be free myself. If you really need a little horn to get off, I can see if there's another girl free."
Ozbadin uses his dexterous fingers to try and hold some of the wounds together. He is not skilled but can see the worse areas.
1d20 → [15] = (15) Heal Check.
OOC: I know these rolls won't be there when I "really" need them but I'll roll with it while its good ;).
Mordecai also attempts a Heal check to stabilize Angvar, but seems to be a few seconds behind what Ozbadin already did.
10, about all that roll would be likely to do is tell if he's alive or dead...
"Thank you, mystery man" he says to Ozbadin, and then, "And for the impressive sword work, thank you both."
He makes sure that Angvar's equipment (and particularly spellbook) is on him and then asks Ozbadin, "Would you mind giving me a hand getting him back to the inn? I've already pulled him back from the brink of death once today, and I'm not quite prepared to do so again."
"I think I've lost my taste for fish, at the moment, but I'd be glad to buy the both of you dinner this evening."
"Well, since I have bloodied my sword in his defense, and bloodied my hands bandaging his wounds, I might as well bloody my cloak helping you return him to the Inn".
"Ozbadin, is the name", and though that is a large amount of fish meat, I've heard that when they get that big, they're not very tasty, and might make you sick".
"So yes, I take you up on your offer, especially if you have a basin I might clean up a bit in".
Angvar's body is cold, wet, and bloody. A faint heartbeat lets you know he's on the edge of life, but otherwise not quite dead.
The Swamp Barracuda floats at the top of the water, bleeding out through the murk. It will soon be a feast for the local water fowl, or worse.
Angvar's spellbook is on the edge of the dock, but his dagger went into the water with him. It'll take some fishing about to get it.
Mordecai dismisses the lost dagger (his own having returned to his feet, and which he re-sheathes). "Thanks, again." he says, carefully lifting Angvar for the journey back towards the Goblin, hoping to find some sort of shop on the way back where he can find some clothing, since he doubts that Saul is going to be thrilled to have Angvar's dripping body carried through the front doors.
At least if he's dry and in a non-bloodied robe, he could be mistaken for terribly, terribly drunk...
Mordecai, Ozbadin
No shops are open this time of night. A few panes of glass don't stop you, however, and soon Angvar is wrapped in Korvosan fineries. You manage to get him back into the gambling hall easily enough.
Unfortunately, there aren't any employees to man the kitchen, currently. It's easy enough to whip something up for yourselves. As part owners, you freely help yourself to whatever is there.
Cleaning up both Angvar yourselves takes a bit of time, and the fish-y smell from combating the swamp barracuda perverts any dinner arrangements you make.
Eventually, you retire to bed, exhausted, but ready to learn more about your new jobs.
Gierixa
You watch in disgust as they cart the floppy, bleeding, human out of the water and away. You could have used the coin, but at least you didn't have to touch him.
It's late, and you wearily search around for a place to lie down. Eventually finding a secluded enough space behind the Gambling Hall's back entrance, you drift off to sleep. While you are falling asleep, you casually note that you have enough coin to pay Hyram back.
Bexilarius
Mordecai is a bit jittery after the fish encounter, and shovels random bits of food into his mouth, not tasting much of it. Since Angvar is a mess, he cleans him up (not wanting him to get infected from the mucky water, which he will Purify with a cantrip, just in case) and dresses him in a robe with a cowl (the less people like Saul have to see his face and be flagrantly confronted with the fact that he's not dead, the easier tempers will be, he hopes).
He thanks Ozbadin and Gierixa again for their quick swordwork, and may ask Ozbadin a few questions about the whole slave-thing, since he's not familiar with local traditions, but he's clearly somewhat exhausted and just being polite.
Once everything is settled, he curls up to sleep against the wall nearest the fireplace in the adjacent room, soaking up the warmth, while Angvar is sprawled out on the bed. He idly pokes at Angvar's spellbook, but lacking the ability to read it, and being unsure what sort of magical traps might lay upon it, he doesn't open it and places it in his backpack.
In the morning, praying will occur, following by curative spells. Mordecai will get some breakfast for the both of them and fill Angvar in on the events of the evening that he missed. He suggests to Angvar that they ditch the idea of further pursuit today, as he will not be able to heal him again if anything unfortunate happens.
When Mordecai leaves for the noon meeting with Saul, he'll take his pack (containing Angvar's spellbook), but leave his shield behind. He will recommend to Angvar that, if he knows a spell to alter the coloration of cloth (prestidigitation cantrip should be able to do this) that he may wish to alter the color of the robe he's currently wearing, as it's stolen and may be recognizably so... He also has left Angvar's previous clothing, bloody and probably still damp, to dry against the fireplace stone. Mordecai will Mend the outfit's tears, but doesn't have magic to clean them.
"You look like you play some sick, sick games, but this is new. Are you planning to end my life piece by tiny piece?"
The voice is weak, but the owner is alive. The last thing Angvar clearly remembers is coming face to face with a set of teeth in some muddy water. Now he seems to be in a kitchen somewhere.
"The Gold Goblin? It's been a recurring theme this evening. Come on. You can talk and eat at the same time. I can talk and die. We're equal that way. Master Mordecai."
Gierixa wakes to her morning routine, though she is more careful in finding a clean patch of dirt away from home. She prays to Gozreh for new magics.
Mordecai hands Angvar some gravy-covered bread for breakfast with a sardonic expression. "Eat up, you lost quite a bit of blood last night."
"At the docks last night, nothing awaited us save a fish larger than yourself that leapt out of the water, and nearly bit you in half, dragging you into the muck. Gierixa and Ozbadin made short work of it with their blades, and then we carried you back here."
"Your previous clothing was torn, water-logged and blood-stained. Magic has mended the tears, but you'll have to deal with the bloodstains yourself, as I have no magic for that, and I suppose I should draw the line at carrying you home, tending your wounds, mending your clothing and fetching your meals." any edge to the comment is softened somewhat by the self-deprecating grin he's wearing, as Mordecai, for all his sarcastic talk, still sometimes yearns for the simplicity of the days when his only ambition in life was to serve the comforts of another.
"I'll be heading out to work out a business arrangement with the proprietor here, whom, I might add, is not terribly fond of you, and whom you may wish to avoid antagonizing. Do try to stay out of trouble, as healing is hardly my first specialty..."
"Thuvalia. What about her? The deal was based on decent burial."
Angvar watches Mordecai carefully.
"I should tell you Master Mordecai, that if you raise her, not only is any deal off, but you're going down too. Just so we both understand each other. I'm a man without hope now, with nothing left to lose I care to keep. You might just need me more than I need you."
He shifts, discovering fresh wounds with every movement. "You're right. Healing is not your speciality, but you haven't done a bad job. Master."
He waits until Mordecai is almost out of the room. "Got my spellbook have you? I can use minor magics without it, but if you want anything useful from me, I'll need the book. Arcane secrets aren't designed to stay in your head forever. They fry your brains. If you want me useful, you'd better leave the book here so I can recharge my powers."
This is a direct challenge and will pretty much set the course of their future relationship. If Angvar is going to be any help at all, he needs the book and he and Mordecai need to reach enough of an understanding for Mordecai to let him have it.
Mordecai smiles at the implicit criticism of his healing skills, but lets Angvar continue.
"We've already discussed the 'Master' thing. My name is Mordecai. And I'll be calling you Angvar, not 'slave' or 'wretch' or 'minion.' I want none of those things. A Wizard with a broken will would be less than worthless."
Mordecai looks out at the position of the sun to gauge the time, and heads for the door. "Let's go take care of that burial. Without a side-trek to the docks, this time." he turns and meets Angvar's challenging gaze, "I have no intention of raising her, in any sense of the word. Her time in this world is done. She's welcome to whatever peace she's earned."
He wordlessly hands over the spellbook, once Angvar stands to come with him, and makes his way for the Boneyard.
Angvar crosses to Mordecai, still sizing him up.
Recovery brings arrogance.
"Your offer is interesting. The slaughter of my beloved has left a void in my life that I do not believe can be filled. You wish me to think otherwise. So be it. Offer me enough interest, desire, passion and pain to fill the gaping hole Thuvalia has left and we shall see. You offer me the finest of wines and the greatest of power. That is not enough. I need a new cause, a new passion. Without it I will kill myself and you with me. Death will be the only unexplored country left to me. Perhaps you know the longing?
I am not a man to cross lightly Mordecai. Possibly you're not either. The only way either of us will find out is by trying it. Shall we go to the Boneyard?"
He stops again, this time in front of a mirror. "A few minor changes I think." He rumples his hair, pulls up the hood of his robe and stoops.
"Slavery is not new to me. The form of it is however."
You make your way to the city Mortuary without incident. Unless you count incident in fresh corpses, in which case there is much incident; there are a number of bodies unceremoniously waiting for Mordecai this morning, in addition to Thuvalia and the thugs. A small sack containing a total of 25gp is all the communication that is necessary for him to begin his death-work.
Given his extreme laxitude in getting around to the morning's work, Mordecai goes from quietly resolved to get this duty out of the way to energized and enthusiastic in record time, upon hefting the burial fee that miraculously awaits him.
He will give any unknown corpses a burial in accordance to Urgathoan tradition, mouth left open to hasten the souls passage (or the entrance of other spirits, whichever) and hands left open and facing upwards, as if grasping for something or bereft. "Pallid Princess, take these fallen and faithless souls into thy bottomless depths, there to embrace them like a lover. Scare away from them any lesser terror, and replace the cold, empty silence of death with new hungers and dark whispered promises."
At last he comes to the body of Thuvalia, and while he's obviously sore, flexing his hands after the exertion of previous burials, he sets to work carrying her body to a fire-blackened stone atop the hill, setting her down gently and arranging her body. He looks to Angvar, "Is there a specific diety to whom she paid the most honor? I am versed in the funerary customs of many faiths."
Regardless of the answer, it's clear that he means to commit her body to the pyre (and that she wouldn't be the first person to receive this form of 'burial' here), not this boggy, vermin-infested soil, and he produces a flask of some think oil, almost a paste, which produces an amazingly thick and fragrant scent when opened.
"My dark passion worshipped Sarenrae. She was the shadow on the sun. Commit her to flame. Let her leap free."
Angvar touches the dead lips of his love one last time and watches Mordecai carefully and in silence as he works.
Ozbadin is now beginning to tire after his long eventful day. Boy, his life has certainly turned in one evening. He talks a bit with Mordecai about this whole "Slavery" thing, and wonders if he might be too lenient with the nearly dead mage to truly make him a slave.
"No you must take away everything from him, and reshape him the way you want him to be". "He must have nothing, even his name, if you truly want him to be under your control". "And fear! he must fear you more than the call of Pharasma herself". Still not sure his new acquaintance truly gets it he rises to leave. "Well it has been "Interesting" talking with you". "I have a feeling we will see each other again real soon". and with a nod Ozbadin leaves the GG to return to his comfortable room in his fathers house.
The next morning, Ozbadin, being free of a hangover for the first time in ages rises early and takes a position outside the GG, dressed as a beggar. He keeps an eye out for any trouble, and if he happens to see anyone he recognizes he'll follow them around for a while to see if he can discover anything about them he might be able to file away and use to his advantage someday.
The woman's body erupts in flames as Mordecai completes the ritual. The scent of burning hair and flesh teases you, stinging your nostrils and your eyes with the stench. You finish up your work, and leave again to meet Saul.
When you return from the Mortuary, you find the Gold Goblin has been affixed with two signs in front of the main doors. Crudely painted on some scrap wood is a sign that says 'Closed for Repairs. Opening Soon' right next to a sign that says 'HELP WANTED'.
"How appropriate," Mordecai says, upon learning of Thuvalia's diety of choice. How appropriate that she died on the blade of a scimitar, the holy weapon of Sarenrae. his mind adds with gallows humor.
"Shining goddess in your golden palace on the sun, cast your all-seeing gaze to this, your daughter, who lies cold before you. Lift her from this dark place to dance eternally in your grace, with all of the unkindnesses of this world burned away in your purifying flame."
He coats the stone beneath her in the fragrant ruddy oil, and smears some as well on her limbs and the sides of her face, streaking some through her hair as well, leaving her with the appearance of a Shoanti, painted for war. Moments later, a trace of alchemical fire in the mixture causes the paste to begin to smolder as the tiny grains are exposed to air from the action of Mordecai's hands, and he pulls them away quickly and wipes them on the soil as she aromatic oils begin to burn with a flame hotter than any simple lamp oil could produce.
Whether through Osirian alchemy or concealed magic, the flames burn white, generating also a thick white smoke tinged with a powerful scent like incense that mingles with the smell of burning flesh in such a way as to obscure it from the senses.
for Ozbadin
"In my, admittedly limited, experience," he says, "one way to keep a person bound to you is to convince them that they will be better off with you than they would be under their own stewardship. And the easiest way to convince someone of this, is to make it the truth."
Beneath his hood, Angvar smiles at the signs on the door.
"How good to know that I wrought so much havoc."
He pulls Mordecai to one side and continues.
"Mordecai, it might be a good idea for me to stay away from Saul until you can come up with some reason for my being there. That is your problem. Mine is to find my familiar and create a more plausible disguise for myself. Do note, the game isn't over. It's hardly begun. You have honoured your promise to Thuvalia. Your promise to me still stands. Find me passion."
Mordecai/DM
DM
"Mordecai, it might be a good idea for me to stay away from Saul until you can come up with some reason for my being there. That is your problem. Mine is to find my familiar and create a more plausible disguise for myself. Do note, the game isn't over. It's hardly begun. You have honoured your promise to Thuvalia. Your promise to me still stands. Find me passion."
Mordecai points to the blot in the sky. "There's my current passion. Finding out who is responsible for that. If they mean to blot out the sun and plunge Riddleport, or, perhaps, the entire world, into endless night, I want to see how they do it..." his face turns to Angvar's and he looks very serious. "There is power there. Power I mean to take."
He shrugs. "Who knows, perhaps that fluttering devil-thing of Saul's can replace your missing familiar, if we play our cards right."
Mordecai then steps into the Golden Goblin, since he's probably spent most of the morning at the Boneyard, and he has a meeting to attend.
His business concluded, Bexilarius turns to face Fortunata. "Usually I take the responsibility to punish myself for my transgressions," he muses, entranced by the sight of her fingers caressing her whip. "But today seems to be a day for exceptions. Lead on, lady, and suffice to say that my discipline of late has been appallingly lax. Perhaps I need a bit of pain, a little reminder, to purify and cleanse my body and soul."
In the morning, Bexilarius leaves the House of Silken Veils after a fine breakfast, and makes his way back to his room in Rotgut. He spends time loosening a floorboard under his cot to create a hiding place for most of his money. He does his morning exercises and meditations, and washes, then heads back to the Gold Goblin. His muscles are sore, but the stretching helped, and the fresh welts on his back sting deliciously. It looks to be a fine day.
Bex;
Angvar
You all show up at the Gold Goblin near noontime; pushing past the signs that reveal the hall as closed, eager to take on your new responsibilities here. Or, at the very least, find out what those responsibilities could be.
"If you're looking for Saul, he's upstairs. Eatin'. I'm pretty sure he's expecting you. I'll take you to him."
Hans leads you up the stair through the back room, and back into the dining room that shoots off from the private room Saul has left for you.
Saul is happily lunching away at the end of the table. The table itself has a number of things splayed out across it. Various cheeses, some fresh fruit, cured meats, bread, and wine constitute this lunch.
When he sees you enter, he gets up from his chair, and looks a little embarassed. "Please excuse the barbaric nature of this meal. I know nothing has been prepared, but this is the best that I can do in my present situation.", he says, waving his key-arm around for emphasis. "Although, it does help me illustrate my point and purpose for bringing you in. We have no one to work for us. Most of the staff quit last night over that fiasco. And, while I can't blame them fully, it's disheartening. I've started to interview some people, but I need to fill almost every position here. That is, of course, after we sort out some of your roles in all of this. Please, sit down. Have something to eat."
Saul sits down to eat again, not waiting to see if you'll join him.
"Then I'll give you the grand tour. Once you get a sense of how things work here, I'll get a sense of what other positions I'll need to fill."
Since only Saul knows Ozbadin for who he truly is he will come as the semi-intoxicated sailor once again. he will make an effort to keep from addressing Mordecai or Gelixia face to face since they have seen him in his true identity.
"Thank you". Ozbadin Growls. "I could stand a bite to eat at that".
Mordecai wastes no time taking the invitation to help himself, and samples a bit of each of the foods available, seeming more interested in tasting everything available than eating any significant amount of any one thing.
His ears perk up a bit at the comment about the staff quitting, and he shrugs slightly as Saul goes on to say that he doesn't blame them fully for their choice, dismissing any notions of being sent around to encourage them to 'reconsider' or making 'examples' of them for their fickle loyalties.
At the mention of roles to fill, Mordecai finally speaks up. "As a result of my priestly training, I believe I would be best suited towards observing for signs of cheating or other problem behavior, either from the cat-walks or down on the floor, although you may, of course, find more productive areas in which I can assist, being more familiar with your operations."
DM Dahn