|
Kyrie watched the tengu quietly, the gun moving to keep him in line. Of course he didn't know that things like people, walls and buildings wouldn't stop the round. It was because of that she didn't get to randomly shoot it off on the island of Kortoss
"Tell glass, chilled, Arkenstart Amberbock please." She said as the server came up. She looked at him with a bland smile as she slid Piecemaker to one side.
Dicky, do you have something like chicken wings here? The oysters were great.. but I need some foul."
|
The tengu gives a slight polite nod to Dicky, Kyrie and a couple of others before heading on out with a bit of a stumble that he gracefully works into a slight dancing move, and is also cautious to not let the door hit his tailfeathers on the way out.
Quiet, professional, and not nearly as loud as his entrance.
Next time, leave the case at home. Play it cool, and we'll keep an eye on the place for the time being, just in case some idiot wants to start something. Courts aren't the only way to handle grievances legally, after all...
|
|
"That's always a good thing, isn't it Dicky? I think we're all getting over the last rescue mission we had. That wasn't a pretty sight. Goldy II wouldn't even go into the one room we saw. Not that I would blame him... I still wake up smelling dretch. That is one smell you never get over." The blonde K9 specialist shakes her head, trying to dislodge the memory.
"Set me up with a stiff one, Dicky. And no, I mean a drink. I ain't Ri'Chard's ma, after all."
|
A tall man, in black enameled full plate with red trim walks in. His iron mask conceals any emotion. All eyes turn to the Asmodean star on his chest, and then most quickly look away. "Serpico! You're books in order? I don't want to have to go through that audit again! And watch what you are calling the Paracountess... she's a woman of great power and influence! I may not serve her Dark Archive any more, but I will still come to her defense!"
The man makes his way up to the bar, and says, "Got any Three Devil Ale? Only good thing to ever come out of Taldor!"
Rikki gets shot "the look" from the corner.
|
|
Faustus! Ms. Dralneen is a woman of other great things as well. Like great tracks of land. Three Devil? Let me look.
Dicky squats down to look for the ale the inquisitor asked about. His eyes linger on the shotgun strapped to the under side of the bar a little longer than they should have.... maybe. Discovering he has around 8 bottles left he stands and tells Faustus, Nope, sorry! Plum out.
|
|
"Serpico, you lie more than a Aspis agent. I can tell by the look in your eye you've got at least a couple left. Hell, I'll even pay for this round... you don't have to give it as an offer to the Church." says the Inquisitor of Asmodeas in the cold, calculating voice that he always uses. Several of the patrons of the Boar and Oyster start gathering their things, as if making ready to leave.
Faustus sits down at the bar stool, and gives Dicky a cold stare. "A bottle of Three Devil Ale, please. We don't have a problem here, do we? Or do we need to discuss that little issue with your license from last year?"
He looks back at the common room, seeing the concern around the room. "Just a minor miscommunication, folks. Nothing to get worried about."
|
|
Dix' looks around the bar on a quiet afternoon. "i gotta tell you Dicky... if i see another hellknight it will be too soon. I mean seriously - we've dealt with jurisdiction disputes before... but that woman had ZERO prefessional courtesy."
The detective goes back to his Hellknight Law and Order handbook, while pounding back a strong dwarven ale.
|
|
"Dix, we'll need to find a new source of our gunpowder and cartridges. Those we got before that mission were crap. I can't believe we saw twelve misfires. I swear that those Hellknights cursed us. Either that, or it was that miserable weather.
"Gimme something to forget that crap.
"At least Crunch seems to be working out. "
|
|
"It's true. Never trust a Varisian to get you good powder. We need to stick with the dwarves... they never let us down. In powder or beer." The Ulfen woman downs her stout, as she contemplates the offer from the Hellknights. She just shakes her head at the thought. No, she is a member of SWAT, and that's what she'll remain.
"Say, Serpico, you got a joint or somethin' for Crunch here to chew on? Don't want him gettin' any ideas around here."
|
|
Hey, I will let you know that I tried very hard to determine a way to get the wagon and prisons to Cheliax. It is not my problem the Society's wizards can not teleport one wagon and four horses to the mission site.
Bad Varisian Powder? What? I will have you know that I did not misfire once the entire mission. Not once! Granted, I only had to fire once but it was enough.
Dicky throws crunch a leg bone Cutter John sent in with the last batch of sausages.
|
|
I got news for all you guys. The Boar 'n Oysters is gonna pack up for GenCon. Maybe I'm gonna pop up an oyster stand in front of the Sagamore, sell a few oysters to hungry Pathfinders. You all should most definitely stop by and talk a bit. I might get lonely with out all of the scintillating conversation.
|
|
Two clouds of mist filter into the room and materialize into humanoid form.
"Alright, Babyshanks, we're in! The cops is all off at GemCrom (or whatever)! Let tha caper begin!"
Harv begins to carry out his part of the plan. Giggling, he picks the locks on the desks belonging to the various Ricks and Dicks, taking care to pocket anything that appears remotely valuable. After each desk is open he applies a bit of sovereign glue to the lip of every drawer and cabinet before closing them, sealing them shut.
A loud rumbling comes from Harv's stomach before he flatulates LOUDLY.
"Babyshanks! Methinks them gassy-us form potions is Givin me side effects!" A second fart--louder than the first-- punctuates the exclamation.
|
|
The second cloud of mist materializes and the figure stands absolutely stone-still for several seconds...
...then retches repeatedly for the next few seconds...
...and follows that performance with a violent bout of vomiting.
Baby Shanks attempts to wipe the bile off himself, yelps excruciatingly as he drags a spiked gauntlet across his face, quickly stifles the noise by clamping his other hand over his mouth, and breaks his nose as his other gauntlet crashes into the cartilage.
Muffled, blood-soaked gurgles are all that emit from him, "M'ckdist'p'dm'ck'np'sh'nm'k'nmep'ksh'tallob'rmys'lf'n'br'kmyg'dd'mnnose" as he stumbles back and into the vat of the days oysters...
A moment later he's regained his posture and stemmed the bleeding enough to talk a bit more clearly, albeit with a swelling mouth and tongue now; "Godth damn dith 'toopid pile 'o fith thit... I'm gonna thmell like pith-wata' fa' dayth now!"
Baby Shanks begins to recall the plan laid out in detail by Harv:
"I got goz masks for the smell..."
"Da mathkth!"
He whips out the Goz Mask in the hopes of eliminating this wretched amalgamation of puke and pollock from his nostrils. With the blood clotting up his nose enough to make breathing impossible, he's fairly certain the mask is doing it's job splendidly.
Baby Shanks finally notices Harv toiling away and decides he'd better start pulling his weight in this operation if he ever wants to get noticed by the Boss Man.
"While's I'm doing this, I need you to go to the holding cells and take care of any possible witnesses."
He does his best to look professional as he quietly moves past Harv and into the back where the holding cells are, "Don't worry Harb, I'mma ho'd up my part o' dith operathun."
Aside from a blood-soaked mask sitting awkwardly on his face, bits of oyster and oyster paraphernalia stuck to several spikes on his armor, and an overall nauseating aroma emanating from him as a whole, Harv notices that something's not quite right with the parts of Baby Shanks' face that are visible... It could just be swelling from the broken nose..
|
|
Harv dons his goz mask before finding the file cabinets holding case files, information on wanted persons, and other assorted reports. He files through them for some time until he discovers his and babyshanks files. He stows them in his pack before dumping the rest in a pile on the floor.
"These files on us is way too small! Don't they know weze big timas?!"
He farts again before producing a vial of alchemists fire.
"This'll show em!" he shouts before throwing the vial on the mound of documents. Harv laughs with deviant glee as fire engulfs the materials. He turns for the evidence locker, not paying attention to the fire as it creeps onto a curtain.
"SHANKS! I got our files! Take care a dem holding cell mooks while I get us intah the evidence locka!"
|
|
As the room behind him briefly erupts in flames and is quickly reduced to smoke, Baby Shanks enters the holding room. Something about the smoke, the mask, or a combination of both start to cloud his vision and stifle his hearing. Even so, he can see that there's at least one person back here still incarcerated.
Speech seems to be getting progressively difficult too...
Was he shouting? It's getting difficult to hear things as well... What the hell is going on...?
The inmate back here seems confused enough by all the shouting, smoke, and fire that he re-actively throws his hands in the air and doesn't say a word.
Baby Shanks reaches for the crowbar that Harv lent him, but finds it difficult to get a firm grip on it... Regardless, he manages to pry the door open.
He makes a serious struggle trying to undue the seal on the Sovereign Glue; so much so that the inmate actually starts to feel bad for him... Finally, he's able to remove the seal and begins to generously apply the liquid to the inmate's hands.
Suddenly Baby Shanks looks up in alarm,
|
|
Harv frantically works with the lock after donning his goggles of minute seeing. His intense study of lock mechanisms pays off as the locker opens. Harv marvels in awe at the contents: drugs, counterfeit currency, and an assortment of both wands and weapons.
He snaps out of his fascination and dashes into the locker. He drops serval bags on the floor and begins sorting the loot as per the plan.
Meanwhile, the fire outside grows...
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
It has to be the ever increasing volume of smoke billowing in from the main hall... Yeah, that has to be why Baby Shanks is finding it so hard to see, hear, and breathe...
He manages to get the majority of the Sovereign Glue on the hands of the poor soul unfortunate enough to be in the Boar and Oyster's holding room.
The inmate, in his state of utter confusion, obeys and places his hand on the floor of the cell.
However, Baby Shanks is finding it increasingly difficult to breathe; let alone see or hear...
He clasps his hand around his neck in order to try and clear his airway,
After a brief minute, Baby Shanks finds that he's unable to remove his hands from his throat...
|
|
Harv has stuffed most of the evidence into his bags. Several bags of aether on the top shelf are outside his reach, so he attempts to climb the shelves. He jumps up, grabbing onto the ledge. The shelf becomes top heavy and tips backwards, sending the rogue crashing to the floor and knocking off his goz mask. Several bags of aether land square on his face, covering his face and shoulders with narcotic powder before he is reunited with the unpleasant aroma that is the boar and oysters.
"UGH! THIS IS WAY BEYOND PERSONAL USE! "
He squirms from underneath the shelf before donning his goz mask again, but not before the acrid smell of smoke greets his nostrils. The effects of the aether set in and he becomes incredibly excited.
"SHANKSSHANKSHANKSSHANKS! ISMELLSMOKEDOYOUSMELLSMOKECUZISMELLSMOKE?!"
|
|
Baby Shanks tears through half of the door frame separating the two rooms as he tries to find out why Harv is screaming and why he's having such difficulty with hearing, seeing, and breathing...
He finds Harv; but with all the excited movement, smoke, and degradation of his most basic senses, things have essentially gone quantum for Baby Shanks... Breathable air, discernible sounds, and recognizable shapes appear and disappear at random. All of this reaches a fevered pitch for such a simple mind and cognitive collapse becomes a clear and present danger.
The swelling of his face has gotten to the point where his helmet has become incredibly restrictive and convolutes most of his auditory and ocular functions. He reaches out to grab Harv during one of the moments he seems within arm's-reach... and nearly rips his own throat out as the Sovereign Glue has set up completely. Baby Shanks succumbs to panic and confusion. He barrels through the tavern toward where the door seems to be present more often than not.
|
|
"BABYSHANKSBABYSHANKSBABYSHANKSWEGOTTAGODRINKTHEINVISPOTIONSANDGETTOTHEREND EVOOOOZEPOINT! NOW!"
Harv exits the evidence locker in a panic as flames make their way to the rafters. The extradimensional spaces make the trip light, but he is clearly struggling to carry all the bags.
"THEPLACEISONFIRE! STICKYBANDITS--OUT!"
Harc drops the bags, produces a potion, and disappears. Moments later, the bags disappear from view. An invisible Harv unlocks the door from the inside and opens it.
|
|
Panic.
Confusion.
Baby Shanks is running on primal instincts now.
- Something about this place is making him feel a bit stuffy; ergo, moving to a new establishment is the only logical course of action.
- Finding the established exit to this public institution has become, for all intents and purposes, a fruitless exercise; ergo, it would be reasonable to expect that a new exit must be made.
- There is a dangerous drop with the expected intake of oxygen that is currently causing muscular and cognitive functions to be significantly degraded; ergo, a simple show of force expending all remaining muscular and cognitive reserves is the easiest solution to the extraction conundrum.
Having decided on a sufficient plan of attack, Baby Shanks simply moves toward the nearest wall and then moves through it. He keeps making progress until he is clear of the establishment.
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Ri'chard shrugs at the loss of the Boar n' Oysters, she never liked that dump anyway. She snickers...why would anybody want to take out a restaurant that's nothing more than Dicky's side project. Everybody knows SWAT members are as clean as they come, as members get booted out in a second if there's even a sniffle of wrongdoing; they even have a member of Internal Affairs serving.
She smiles as she puts two and two together. The fact that anybody trying to break in likely thought Dicky's personal office contained anything of worth beyond his ledgers and the receipt for the artificial oysters packed in water makes her chuckle turn into laughter, I'll bet these two yahoos will think that the blacklists he keeps on patrons are probably some kind of personnel files from the office and that the Chelaxian oregano he keeps in that locker are drugs. Everybody knows that this was Dicky's little side project with no connections to SWAT proper, but these two apparently didn't get the memo. Oh well, this should teach Serpico a good lesson.
As she waits for the rest of the fuzz to arrive, she finds a comfortable spot outside the fire and starts casting a scry to watch the events unfold, and more importantly, see where the two nitwits disappear to. Outside my jurisdiction - unless they murder somebody I'm not chasing them down. Besides, the information might be good to hold over Dicky and his stupid mom jokes.
|
|
Dix' continues to peruse the crime scene. "Dicky - we got some sloppy criminals here. Theres definately some dna on the crystalized substances.... super heated glue im guessing. The lab is working on it. The captain says we have the full department's backing on bringing these punkasses down."
He pauses "oh - and the old ribs joint across the street is for sale - the insurance cash will easily cover the building and renovations. We'll be up and running by next week's shipments thanks to a trio of dwarves i know."
|
|
"Ernie, you crazy old man, don't get ahead of yourself." Says the inquisitor, Krunder the Crucible of Torag Esq., "... Again... Before that stone shaper can start working we need to make sure that the formalities are legally observed."
Handing a chisel and hammer to Dicky, and pulling out a stone tablet, "Sir this document will bear witness that you established business in a building updated and constructed by Dwarven bretheren from the Halls of Torag's Boast. Where none but the greatest masons hail. This will also be embeded into the foundation, may it stand as long as the world." Changing tone of voice, "Just put your X here..." he says.
After watching Dicky 'Artfully' chip away at the limestone tablet Krunder places it back in his bag with the tools. Then goes about checking his wrist bound grudgebook against the faces he sees.
|
|
"So, Serpico," the deadpan voice of the Asmodean inquisitor asks, "I hear you have a little problem here. " He looks around at the destruction the two caused. "If you would like an independent to bring in the perpetrators, I am sure that the Church of the First will be able to lend a hand. After all, we are as much about upholding the Law as you folks are. We cannot allow such... Chaos... To go unpunished. "
He looks around the room again, shaking his head. "Yes, they must pay. Just answer me this, do you want them back, to serve their sentence under your laws, or would you prefer that they be taken care of... no questions asked?" As expected, the priest of the First has his contract ready for Dicky Serpico to sign.
|
|
That darn bird. Also, it seems like the attorneys are out in force today!
Almost as if out of nowhere he's there, barrister's case in hand.
"I won't claim to be as good as Faustus there, but if you need these people to suffer an eternity of legal wrangling I can make it happen pro bono.
No catch.
Your shop was a good place to grab lunch and I'd consider it quid pro quo for the service compared to what tengu normally get.
Unlike Faustus, a verbal agreement to begin investigation works for me, if nothing comes of it, it was a nice chat.
Need me to explore some angles for you?"