Jenna has said little as Corros and Nicolai discourse with Master Padin, the blonde haired Priestess simply sitting back in her seat, cradling an intricately wrought goblet in her hands, sipping infrequently at the red wine within it, offering the occasional comment with regard to their adventures in the underground City, but spending most of her time swirling the wine it contains around as she listens to the conversation going back and forth, from time to time looking around at the artworks that adorn the walls, not that she expected to recognise any of them.

Heeding Ulfgar's earlier advice she had removed her armour,  was clad in a scarlet tunic that she had plucked from her pack, a dark cloak borrowed from Lenora worn over the tunic as they had made their way through the streets, that cloak now hanging on a hook, the short sleeves of the tunic revealing a little of the fresh bandage wrapped around her left arm. Unlike their previous visit to this place though she was not without her armour and weapons altogether, for before they had left their accommodation she had placed her chain mail, shield, and Arma's Blessing within Ulfgar's magical bag of holding.

"I am a merchant and a scholar. I can only speak intelligently to matters pertaining to those realms. My sources don't extend far into the local underworld. I will do my best to answer your questions.

"The leader of the Bloodforged is the eldest son of a disgraced Tokari noble house named Zardis Kreyg. He is also an albino- irrelevant except for recognition purposes. As far as I can tell, he resides in the keep with his bodyguard and about half of his men. The others are spread about the city- about 20 at the Fire Watch Guardhouse, not far from here. Zardis' organization boasts approximiately 200 men-at-arms, infantry only, veterans most of them, experienced and well-equipped. They also boast a warmage of some repute. Apparently, the Fire Council had a pre-contract in place with the Bloodforged, but cancelled it for some reason." He gives the Five an almost playful knowing look. "This may have prompted Zardis' decision to take the city and hold it for ransom, presumably to recoup anticipated revenue lost by the contract cancellation. Balefyre is a rich prize for any ambitious maritime power, even richer when access to the platinum mines in the north is considered. However, at the moment, the Bloodforged don't have direct control of mining camp. They lack the strength to mount and expedition to seize it and hold the city simultaneously. Yonder's Hole is essentially under siege now, as the Bloodforged won't permit its resupply.

"Zardis keeps the Fire Council- most of it, that is- in place to continue running the city's day-to-day affairs. They continue to collect import duties, for example. They are no more than puppets now, though. He has declared himself Lord Protector of Balefyre, giving himself the power of a dictator. In effect, the city is under martial law. Zardis also controls what's left of the Fire Watch- about 50 spears. 25 remain at Yonder's Hole and the rest have been dismissed. First Sergeant D'Kord is acting commandant now- he is cooperating fully with Zardis. They've already recruited a small army of informers. Anyone who acts or speaks out publically against the current regime is arrested, Commander Overmark and Councilman Breakwater being the most prominent examples. No doubt, the Bloodforged will try to squeeze every last copper out of the Council coffers before they find a buyer and leave the city.

"The Bloodforged have allowed mercantile business to proceed more or less as usual. Incoming and outgoing vessels are thoroughly searched for 'contraband'. Business has already started to slow down, however. News of the takeover has no doubt spread to nearly every shore of the Great Inner Sea by now, or it will soon. I believe that foreign merchants are afraid that the Bloodforged may do with their cargos what they did with the city- hold them for ransom. Therefore, their reluctance to send their cargos here would not be surprising. Fortunately, Balefyre feeds itself. However, other consumer goods might be much harder to come by in the very near future.

"I cannot speak to the city's 'grey economy' except to report that the Bloodforged appear to be taking over the protection racket. We've been approached by Redcloaks offering to provide 'security' for a 'modest' weekly fee. You've been here long enough to know that extortion has traditionally been Toesplitter's purview. The curfew can't be helping the illicit activities of the city's various unlicensed enterprises.

"The mercenaries also stop and fine citizens for all kinds of imagined offenses. The Redcloaks, as they are known, act with complete impunity. Rapes, beatings, and murders have already occurred. Petitioners are ignored or arrested.

"From all reports, the Bloodforged are growing increasingly unpopular. Allies should not be too hard to find. Organizing and mobilizing them will likely be the difficult part. Fear keeps the population in fetters."

By now, most of the Five have noticed that, although Thumek refills Padin's cup just like their own, Padin has yet to drink from it. Perhaps coincidentally, the line of questioning moves towards matters of the supernatural.

"Increased arcane or occult activities? Not that I know of. But then, that is not my area of expertise." Padin says, with a hint of a thin-lipped smile.

This line of questioning once again brings up the matter of the obviously arcane nature of the artifacts recovered from the City of the Forgotten Ones. Padin's next comments pertaining to said are addressed mostly to Corros,

"Your interpretations of the artifacts that you've chosen to keep would, of course, be very welcome, my young friend. As a scholar, you have some understanding of historiography, yes? It is always best to start with the primary sources, unsullied by preconceptions. I would very much like to study your artifacts directly, prior to hearing your thoughts. Then we can both share our own unique interpretations of the materials. Second-hand information is not without value, of course, but one should not rely on it alone. Bias is unavoidable, is it not?"

When Corros brings up the matter of the missing Drowned Rats, Padin answers quickly but says little, sticking to the obvious,

"The sewers have a reputation for being a dangerous place. Your pickpocket friends know this full well. Those who go missing in the sewers are seldom seen again, alive or dead."


Your Turn.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 20:32, Sat 04 June 2016.

Ulfgar sat quietly and listened to the discussion.  He showed a bit more interest than he had the first time, mostly because it wasn't as easy to dismiss the concerns of 'city dwellers' as he had last time, since Evra was a Balyefire resident as well.  The more he listened, the more he started to wonder how she was.  Had the Bloodforged stifled her business?  Had they tried to extort her?  Frostbeard had decided to seek out Evra and ask her to marry him when he was back in town.  The incident with the banshee had rattled him quite a bit and he didn't relish the idea that the only relationships he had was with a half-orc, a foreign spy, a religious zealot, and a frail telepathic street urchin.  While he was glad to have friends, he wanted something more.  Something to come home to.

"Albino you say," Frostbeard said, his ears picking details even as other concerns occupied his mind.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:25, Sun 05 June 2016.

Jenna remains content to let Corros and Nicolai speak on behalf of the group, the Priestess continuing to sip her wine, listen as Padin goes into detail about the activities of the Bloodforged. From time to time she glances over at Corros, looking at the Warlock when she thinks that everyone's attention is on Padin, her mind drifting back to the wordless conversation that they had shared at the waypoint, that which had ended with the promise of another conversation to follow.

The information comes quickly, Corros asking a few clarifying questions and wondering idly how effectively he would be able to pretend to be a fan of history, should it ever come to that.  Magic lore, check.  History?  The sun came up this morning.  He guesses it has been doing that for a while.

Watching Padin's cup seemingly empty without being emptied, is intriguing if only for what is says about their host.  Corros takes a few seconds to watch the more drawn version of the man and wonders if he is breathing.  Would it change their employment with the man if he wasn't?  They need more information and time to develop strategies to lever the city back onto its feet.  A situation that could make for strange bedfellows...speaking of which...Corros takes a split second to regard Jenna then pulls himself back to business.

The lack of revelation regarding the missing street rat doesn't surprise the warlock, even if Corros never mentioned that he was a pickpocket.  That wouldn't be hard to guess, but it could have been a slip.  A man of Padin's resources and knowledge doesn't get to where he is by being careless and probing farther could only make the situation for all of them more precarious.

"Thank you for your information and your patience with us, sir.  We know that the changes since we have been gone haven't been easy for anyone.  Hopefully we can right this before more are made to suffer."  Not his best noble speech, but it would probably suffice.

DAY 8 OF THE OCCUPATION

Having completed their audience with Lovad Padin, the Five take their leave and stealthily make their way back to their estate in the River Ward. After a few more hours of sleep and a late breakfast, courtesy of a slightly grumpy Lenore, the group splits up.

Singly and in small groups, they depart Bálint house to do a little business and test the waters in the city...

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This message was last edited by the GM at 00:59, Thu 09 June 2016.

Ulfgar and Gronk

The dwarf druid and half-orc gladiator head to Strongarm's Smithy to look into purchasing some new armor. Strongarm is puttering around his workspace, forges not yet up and running. Ulfgar gets the smith's attention by removing the thrikreen chiten "skins" from his Bag of Holding and setting them down on the countertop.

"Interesting. I've never worked with this material before. From bug-men you say?" Strongarm raps on the bone-like hide with his knuckles. "Interesting. I believe I could make these into a suit of plate for you, but I'm going to need some help. I've got an associate who does leather work for me. Give me 500 gold pieces and three days and I'll give you a custom suit of bug skin plate (Hide armor, AC 15 + Dex modifier). Whattaya say? Deal? Alright, step in here- I just have to take your measurements."

"And you, big boy? Basic scale, you said? I've got a suit right here that I think'll do you quite nicely. I'll have to let it out a bit, but, yeah. 100 gold pieces and I can have it done for you by tomorrow."

Gronk asks Ulfgar to remove the smoke-grey plate armor taken from the helmed horror beneath the City of the Forgotten Ones, and shows it to the hirsute blacksmith. Strongarm studies it carefully- it's easy to see that he's quite impressed with the workmanship and quality of the steel.

"It's a fine piece of work, that's for certain. And so light! It must be enchanted. That's all I can tell you. You'll have to ask a wizard what the enchantment does. I wouldn't put it on until then. Could be cursed."

Party Purse -600GP for Custom Hide Armor and Scale Mail

When Gronk asks how the occupation has affected business at the smithy, Strongarm looks around before answering, his voice significantly lower than before, "It's not been good. If I don't give 'em a hefty discount, the Redcloaks say they'll shut me down. I'm bleeding cash, I am."

After concluding their business with Strongarm, the pair turn north on to the Neck to visit Arcane Essentials, the Temple of M'c-Donal, and Evra's herbalist shop. They have to pass the Fire Watch Guard House on the way. A quartet of Redcloaks stops them under the arch leading to the Gate Ward.

"Hey! Green-skin! You got a permit for that thing?" One of the mercs demands, sneeringly, pointing at Spike. Gronk takes a deep breath and tries to smile while he shakes his head. Normally, he'd laugh off such disrespect, but not now, not coming from the same bastards that have got Kara Overmark chained up in dark cell. He wants to smash the racist bully in the mouth with Spike but he manages to maintain his cool. This is neither the time nor the place to kick off the insurrection.

"That'll be 10 gold pieces, then, for carrying an unlicensed weapon within city limits," the merc continues.

Gronk pays the fine, then makes the mistake of asking, "So where does one go to get a permit?"

The Redcloaks just laugh and wave the pair along.

Party Purse -10GP to pay "fine"

To identify the enchanted items recovered during the expedition to the City of the Forgotten Ones, Ulfgar and Gronk pop into Arcane Essentials.

"Your witchling friend left just a few minutes ago. You're not here for him? One of the books, then? No? Of course I can identify your enchanted items- that is, I can try," Arlö lisps.

Ulfgar removes each of the items from his Bag of Holding and places them in a row on the countertop.

"Ooh, what have we here? You always bring the most interesting pieces for me to look at. I should be able to identify these for you- the fee will be 20 gold pieces per item. Is that acceptable? Very good, let me begin."

The elf assembles the components needed to perform the identify spell and then sets to work. After about three quarters of an hour of closed-eyes chanting and hand waving, the diviner's report is ready.

'Smoke': Enchanted plate mail, AC 18. Counts as medium armor. This allows wearer to add his/her dexterity bonus to his/her AC. Penalty to stealth as with all other plate armors. Smoke is considered magical armor for purposes of determining attack damage to wearer.

Pendant of Proof Against Fear: Grants wearer advantage to all saving throws v. fear.

Ring of Animal Friendship: This ring has 3 charges, and it regains 1d3 expended charges daily at dawn. While wearing the ring, you can use an action to expend 1 of its charges to cast one of the following spells:
• Animal friendship (save DC 13)
• Fear (save DC 13), targeting only beasts that have an Intelligence of 3 or lower
• Speak with animals

Ring of Evasion: This ring has 3 charges, and it regains 1d3 expended charges daily at dawn. When you fail a Dexterity saving throw while wearing it, you can use your reaction to expend 1 of its charges to succeed on that saving throw instead.

Party Purse -80GP for identification of enchanted items.

The next stop is the Temple of M'c-Donal, a modest house of worship just off of the Farmer's Market square. The kindly cleric there politely declines Ulfgar's offer, explaining that the farms outside the city more or less cease their agricultural activities with the onset of winter. "Perhaps come spring.",  he suggests. The priest offers the visitors The Farmer's blessing before they depart.

"Be fruitful."

Gronk drops a gold piece into the unglazed earthen offering bowl on the way out.

Party Purse -1GP Donation

When Ulfgar enters Nature's Way Herbalist, Evra looks up from some dried herbs that she's bagging. "Ulfy!" she exclaims in a voice that cracks with emotion. After a long pause, she strides over to the dwarf and slaps him hard on his hairy right cheek.

"Where in the hells have you been? I thought you'd left me!" With that, the half-elf stoops down to embrace her dwarven paramour, breaking into tears, "Don't you ever do that to me again!"

(Not sure if Ulfgar wants to propose right now or wait a bit for more romantic circumstances. If so, she accepts, but is somewhat disappointed by the lack of an engagement ring.)

After picking up some herb plants and stopping by a carpenter to purchase planters and trellises, the pair returns to Bálint house via Dayv's Pie Wagon, dodging roaming Redcloaks along the way. Once home, Ulfgar sets about using his druidic magic to create a defensive topiary arrangement of thorny vines and shrubberies in the tiny front garden. Gronk, meanwhile, works out inside.

Party Purse -52GP for assorted plants, various gardening supplies, and a couple of tasty meat pies from Dayv's.

Subtotal: -743GP

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This message was last edited by the GM at 20:41, Tue 07 June 2016.

Corros

Corros accompanies Ulfgar and Gronk as far as Strongarm's Smithy before setting off on his own. The wily, streetwise former urchin manages to avoid Redcloak patrols completely. He wanders around the Harbor Ward until he spots a bump-and-grab team of Drowned Rats lingering on the fringes of the busy Fish Market- or rather, until the Drowned Rats spot him spotting them. One of them slips away into the crowd, returning a few minutes later with Shim. The young rogue approaches Corros, his two companions keeping a weary eye on the impromptu meeting from just out of earshot.

"So, your queer friend in Warehouse 8 don't know nothin' 'bout nothin', eh?" Shim says, frowning. Despite the disappointing news, the boy doesn't just cut and run- a good sign. Corros continues with the line of questioning.

"More disappearances? No, not any more Rats at least. But you still ain't solved the last ones, so..."

Unwilling to further press a sore subject, Corros changes the topic of conversation to the occupation.

"Well, business ain't been so good lately. We do most of our best work at night, but now that's not possible on account of the fuckin' curfew. A few of the boys have caught beatin's from the Redcloaks for bein' out after dark. They don't arrest us street kids 'cause there's no money in it, I suppose. They just kick the coin out of us and cut us loose. Anyway, I'll be glad to see the back of those fuckin' sell-sword cunts."

Being as subtle as possible, Corros inquires after sewer access to Fire Watch Keep, to which Shim replies, "It can be done, yeah. But it won't be easy, and it's gonna cost you…"

Corros is afraid to ask, but he does so anyway.

Shim thinks for a few seconds, then smiles slowly and replies, "One thousand gold pieces. Take it or leave it."

Corros doesn't commit- the boy reiterates that he's unwilling to negotiate price- so the warlock takes his leave.

"You want to think about it, go right ahead. It seems you know how to find us."

A quick stop at Arcane Essentials reveals that Arlo has a small selection of rather dusty books about ancient arcana. Due to their rarity and antiquity, they're rather expensive. Arlo does allow Corros to thumb through them, though. One of the tomes contains an entire chapter on summoning powerful entities from the outer planes. Another book offers much advice on creating artifacts of great power. Without knowing more about what "The Sleeper" and "the Weapon" is/are, it's hard to determine if any of this information would be especially pertinent or helpful. The elf diviner explains that the city library- such as it is- is located inside Council Hall. It offers public viewing of the collection five days a week, from 10am to 4pm, depending on the availability of the librarian, an elderly part-time volunteer.

From Arcane Essentials, Corros tracks down Ol' Klem. The semi-retired caravan captain is lunching alone at Pig's and Blankets. He recognizes the young warlock immediately, and welcomes the lad's company, even buying Corros an ale. The two get to talking.

"'Pace'   is coming along. My timing wasn't so good, with winter coming early and all. I would have had to take a break anyway, but the Bloodforged don't let anyone carry supplies out of the city now, so…"

Klem finishes his sentence by taking a long drink. His white whiskers drip with dark ale as he lowers the pewter tankard.

"Help? Well thanks, son, but unless you can make the Redcloaks disappear… " Old Klem laughs at his own wishful musing.

"But I'll never forget how you and your friends fought off those manticores. And you fixed my axle too! I'm still using that wagon to cart supplies up to the build site. Or was, at least. My offer still stands, though. If you want to buy a share of the inn, I'd be happy to have you and your friends on as partners. But there's no rush," Klem smiles wryly.

Having learned much, Corros proceeds to the Mermaid's Tale to meet Jenna for an early, private, dinner…

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This message was last edited by the GM at 17:03, Mon 06 June 2016.

Jenna

Jenna walks to Arma's Shrine, alone with her thoughts. Along the way, she receives a few catcalls and wolf whistles from roving Bloodforged patrollers, but they don't attempt to stop her, perhaps thinking better of "fining" a priestess of the Warrior.

The temple is right across the road from Fire Watch Keep. Two black-cloaked watchmen stand guard outside the closed portcullis. A pair of Redcloaks stands guard atop the gatehouse. They leer at Jenna as she enters the shrine.

"Strength and honor."

Jenna returns the greeting, walking across the small sanctuary to place a hefty pile of gold coins in the upturned shield that serves as the offering plate.

Party Purse -100GP: Jenna's offering to Arma (does that sound reasonable, Dave?)

"Thank you, sister. Your generosity humbles me."

The old priest, Brother Jaro, is happy to answer the young cleric's questions about the occupation.

"A few of the sell-swords have come in here and paid their respects, but most of them have no devotion to the Warrior. They fight for personal gain and little else. As you well know, Arma frowns on bloodshed for profit. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if many of them worshipped the Reaver."

Jaro spits loudly, without expelling any saliva (that would pollute the temple floor).

Jenna spends the rest of the day in silent prayer, leaving only when the angle of the sun's rays shining in through the high, west-facing, sword-shaped windows indicates the arrival of late afternoon/early evening. From the shrine, she makes her way back to the Harbor War and a rendezvous with Corros at the Mermaid's Tale…

Corros spends 20GP on a fairly sumptuous dinner for two, and 5GP for a room. And that's as much as I'm comfortable writing about that. ;)

Subtotal: -873GP

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This message was last edited by the GM at 21:03, Mon 06 June 2016.

Nic

After breakfast, Nic finds the Waterbearers. It isn't difficult for the Ardani. The River Ward is Balefyre's smallest neighborhood, and he's already got a good read on the streets, almost as if he'd grown up there.

"Yeah, Toesplitter's none too happy with the Bloodforged. They're steppin' on his hairy toes."

Sanja laughs at her own joke.

"Not directly- they haven't tried to arrest him or nothin' like that. The Redcloaks have started running their own protection racket, though. And the curfew's been bad for business. Night time is the right time for kinds of entertainments Toesplitter sells. The Pit used to go sunrise to sunrise; now it empties out when the sun starts to set. And the curfew's eating into his cut from the brothels, weed and pilk* sales too. The gangs would love to get a piece of the bloody mercs, but Toesplitter won't allow it. It's hard for the boys to understand, but Toesplitter didn't get to where he is today by being hasty. I'm afraid it's only a matter of time, though, before a Redcloak pushes too hard. Then, all bets are off, if you know what I mean."

Nic apportions out 75 gold coins that he'd set aside for this very occasion, 15 for Sanja and 10 for each of the others. It's a little over twice what the Waterbearers normally collect weekly from a local business for "protection" (on behalf of Toesplitter). The message is clear. What the boss doesn't know won't hurt him. The Waterbearers have a new** boss now.

*Slang term for Milk of the Poppy, a powerful drug grown in the Caliphates.

**i.e. another boss; at this point, it's fairly certain that the Waterbearer's primary loyalties still like with Toesplitter.

Party Purse -75GP to cement business relationship with the Waterbearers street gang.

Subtotal: -948GP

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This message was last edited by the GM at 22:14, Wed 08 June 2016.

The thought of getting gouged on a secret entrance to the Fire Watch Keep (1000GP's? Really? What are you going to do with that?  I don't know what to do with that!) is enough to have Corros gleefully hand over twenty five gold pieces to the proprietor of the Mermaid's Tale.  That sounds downright cheap!  He makes the arrangements for a private dinner delivered up stairs to a nice room that proves to be one of the nicest places he's ever been welcome to stay in.  The estates and domains of the superwealthy that just want to show off excepted of course.  Nice table, reasonable view, lockable door, several sitting chair, a dining table.  Giant bed.

Corros hangs his cloak on the provided hooks disconnects the various bits and pieces of adventure gear strapped to his body until he can relax in his finer clothes.  With his hands that need to be distracted from slight tremors, the warlock pours a few glasses of wine, setting one carefully on the table for Jenna's arrival, and sits heavily in one of the over stuffed chairs, one leg crossed over the other.

This is new territory.  There had been other girls, some even of some stature slumming down with delight in the seedy taverns of Silverleaf.  With Corros' looks and gift for words, getting attention was never a problem.  Jenna however has proved a bit of a challenge and an intriguing one at that.  A woman competent and worth striving for.  Someone who he would choose to be with, not a girl he would settle for while being used as a piece in a game designed to shock and scandalize.  Jenna has her secrets, Corros knows, and her own limits, but he is willing to work with that if it means being part of something.  Of someone.  Or at least he thinks he is.

When the door opens and Jenna enters, he stands, smiling warmly, genuinely happy.  "You came," he says.  "I'm glad.  Have some wine."

Jenna smiles at Corros as she closes the door behind her, although it takes more than a few moments before she can accept the offered glass of wine, for first there is the minor matter of placing her shield and Arma's Blessing to one side, removing her cloak, and, finally, taking off her armour, for she does not think that it would be appropriate to have dinner with Corros wearing a shirt of chain mail.  Not that the Priestess has any experience to draw on of what is and is not appropriate in these circumstances.

Her martial accoutrements placed to one side, she wears a fresh white tunic, one absent any rips or tears, belted with a length of scarlet cord that draws it snugly into her waist. The bandage that she wore on her arm, visible yesterday, is gone now, no trace of the wound remaining, Brother Jaro having insisted on ensuring that she was fully healed after she had made her donation to the Temple's coffers. Following her conversation with her brother Cleric she had spent the better part of the day in quiet reflection in the Temple. If Jaro was correct and many of the Bloodforged did indeed worship the Reaver then they had to die. The tents of her faith were very clear on that. Arma would show her the way.

"Thank you" Jenna finally says when she picks up the glass that he had poured for her, takes a sip, smiles again. "This tastes good" She says quietly as she looks around the room. There's a brief pause as her eyes come to rest on the bed. This is all new territory for Jenna; she is unsure of exactly how to behave and it likely shows. There's also what seems like the omnipresent confusion. She had purposely avoided thinking about Corros when she had been in the Warrior's House, but scarcely had she stepped over the threshold and back into the street before thoughts of him filled her mind. And now they were alone. She had not mentioned it to any of the others, doubted that he would have either, hoped that he would not have. This was nothing to do with them.

"I don't think I've ever stayed in anywhere as nice as this." Jenna says after a moment. 'Stayed' could mean different things of course, did not automatically suggest that she would be staying the night here. "My room at the Cloisters was quite...basic. Just a bed, nothing like that one -" she was smiling as she nodded towards the bed that looked as though it would be big enough for three people. At least. "- and a prayer alcove." Booted feet carry her across the room, the wine glass held in hand as she moves to the window, looks out at the view. "After the Cloisters I spent some time travelling, until I met you and the others and we all moved into our palatial home here." She turns to face him. "I'm sorry if I upset you the day that we moved in there. I suppose I was still getting used to life beyond the Cloisters.

But I'm glad we've been able to get some time together now." Jenna looks at Corros, and the images that had flashed through her mind at the way station suddenly return,  unbidden. A room, one luxurious, one that could be this one, or could not. The thoughts are interrupted by a sound,  a knocking, and there's a moment before she realises it's someone at the door, a disembodied voice coming from the other side of the wooden barrier. "Your dinner is served Master Graelor."

"Great timing on the food, yeah?" Corros says.  "I'm glad we're together, too."  He pauses in conversation for a moment to allow the server in, smiling at the smells coming in on the platter.  It had taken a few minutes to get the owner of the Mermaid's Tale to understand that Corros wanted good food, not a lot of food.  Nothing that could be taken as indulgent and over the top.  He wanted a sane amount of good bread, good meat, good cheese, a couple of fruit tarts, and a handful of oranges.  And more wine.  It looked like they had gotten the message.  For twenty gold, he better have.  Corros passed the server a couple of silver to hustle him back out of the room where he wouldn't have to see the warlock scramble over a lack of manners.

"Why don't you have a seat, Jenna."  He indicates one of the chairs at the table, then turns back to the collection of food and tries to design a plate from what he has seen the priestess eat over the weeks and months they've been together.  Finally he ditches all attempts at being suave and just starts to laugh, embracing honesty.  "Okay, I've never done this before, don't have any idea which fork goes where, and am just going to pile us up a bunch of food so we can eat and talk okay?  This is all new to me."  He returns to the table and places two plates down, each arranged carefully with what he hopes is a polite amount of food, then sits with a smile.

"I don't know that I was upset," Corros says reaching back to their conversation.  "Not in the long run anyway.  I was just surprised that you didn't see what I did.  But how could you?  That house, these inns, they are all firsts for me.  The first security I've had.  Even when..." He freezes for a moment, dropping the line of thought before he can fully recall Silverleaf, "I suppose I should be grateful that I was able to find safe places to sleep at all, but until I stood in that house, I had never felt like I had four walls around me that might be something more than temporary.  With people who might be around for more than a week.

"All of this feels so far above everything I've had and who I am that I don't know quite how to feel about it.  I'm a streetrat, yeah?  Jumped up, but that's what I am.  At my core.  It doesn't matter.  The rest doesn't matter so much." There is no bitterness in his voice, simple acceptance.  Corros sets his glass of wine down.  "But I do know how I feel about you."

For the first time since she entered the room, Corros opens his mind, draws forth his mental connection and shares with her his memory of sitting next to her on the bench and eating oranges, content that she had come back, enraptured with her shy grin.  And feeling very lucky that she noticed him at all.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:44, Mon 06 June 2016.

Strongarm’s Smithy

”Sounds like a plan.  If you could dye or lacquer it either black, brown, or deep green, that would be good as well.  No need to call attention to yourself, especially these days, right?” Ulfgar said, circling the orange plates with his index finger.  Covering the armor was preferable to buying a holocaust cloak to shroud the whole thing.

Post Redcloak Shakedown

”Glad I was only carrying this ‘Ship Part’,” Ulfgar said, patting the belaying pin in his belt.  ”We’ll need to let the others know to hide their arms.  In the mean, time, you can put that in the bag if you want,” Ulfgar said, offering the BOH as a holding place.

Temple of the HMFIC (Head Master Farmer in Charge)

”Spring huh?  Ok, I’ll check by then.  Oh, if you could send a runner over to the Balint house when the next Almanac is printed, I’ll pay cash on delivery for two copies,” Ulfgar said, shaking hand before he left.

Nature’s Way

”Evra, I’m so sorry,” Ulfgar said, letting the pain of the slap contrast with the warmth of the embrace.

”I was gone for what I thought was just a few days and I came back and I find out a month has gone by.  While I was gone I almost died.  I was laying on the floor of a cavern half alive and all I could think of was you."

Ulfgar stopped talking and took a knee.

”I want to marry you.  I don’t have a ring, but I can get one.  I don’t have a plan for the ceremony, but we can make one.  I just know that I want you in my life, forevermore.”

Back at the Ranch

”We should have gotten some pies for the others,” Ulfgar said sheepishly.  Really what he meant was getting some extra for when he got hungry later.  Spell casting always took it out of him and there was nothing like having a good post spell snack on hand.  Especially for an eight hour spell.

”Anyway, once this spell is done, I’m heading over to Evra’s from the night.  You’ll sleep better with this protection in place and I’ll sleep better there.”
This message was last edited by the player at 19:51, Mon 06 June 2016.

Jenna smiled when Corros put a plate down in front of her. "I've never done it before either." There's a sincerity in her tone, making it evident that she's not simply saying that in an attempt to make him feel better. "In the Cloisters they taught us different things. I learned all about the Goddess, how to serve Her." She looks down, places some meat and cheese on a piece of bread, averting her eyes from him as she continues. "And I learned how to kill in Her name. How to strike down Her enemies."But they had never taught her in the Cloisters which knife and fork to use.

Nor had they taught her to mount a fallen enemy's head on a pole. She could hear Master Harn's voice now, quoting the dogma that she had had to repeat over and over. A Priestess of Arma shows mercy to a defeated opponent. What mercy was there in mounting a head on a pole, like a trophy, for all to see? And, more than that, Jenna knew that had she had more time she would have mounted them all. She looked up from the bread to Corros, the emotions seeping out of her mind. She had been angry because they had threatened him. No, not angry, she had been in a rage. A raw, feral fury. She had been disappointed when they had fled, for she had wanted to kill them all. But a Priestess of Arma shows mercy to a defeated opponent.

A Priestess of Arma was expected to devote herself fully to the Goddess.

But she had always known that she was not the same as the other Acolytes. The elder Priests had said that she was special. There were things about her that marked her as different from the others. The fact that she could see in the dark. The mark at the small of her back, resembling a sunburst, looking almost as though it was branded into her flesh. The way that her eyes turned black sometimes. She knew there had been arguments about whether she should have stayed at the Cloisters or be cast out, knew because she had hidden in the shadows and listened as the Priests had argued amongst themselves. But the decision had been made, she had trained as a Priestess of Arma, been ordained into the faith.

And a Priestess of Arma was expected to devote herself fully to the Goddess.

She doesn't immediately respond when he talks about being a street rat, for she is unsure what to say, fearing that it may sound patronising. Or insulting. And so she takes a sip of wine, looks at him as images spill from his mind into hers, and with them his feelings. How he feels about her. And that in turn lets loose a maelstrom of sensations in her mind. For there were so many things that she had not been taught in the Cloisters.

Her eyes are on him as she places down the bread, not a single bite taken from it. "I'm sorry Corros. I don't feel hungry." Her voice is low, her tone apologetic, for she knows the trouble he has gone to in arranging this. Not to mention the expense.

He knows how he feels about her.

And she knows how she feels about him. The anguished shards of pain that she had felt when she had seen him lying, bloodied, battered spill out, followed a heartbeat later by the relief that he had not been more seriously wounded.

There's the sound of a chair scraping across the wooden floor as Jenna rises to her feet, holds out her hand, waits for him to take it in his. So that she can lead him towards the bed.

A Priestess of Arma was expected to devote herself fully to the Goddess.

But Jenna intended tonight to be devoted to Corros.

And fade...

In the late afternoon, an hour or so before supper, Vim Vander and a servant show up at Bálint House, both crudely disguised in dingy commoner's clothes.

"Word reached my father that you'd returned to the city. I'm- we're- very glad of it. He meant to thank you for your previous service to our household, but you left before these were finished." Vim takes five parcels from his servant, each wrapped in soft linen and tied with colorful ribbons, and hands them over to his hosts. Each package contains a fine set of elegant evening wear, tailored individually for each of the Five. "I suppose I could have left these with your housekeeper, but I wanted to give them to you personally, and thank you again for saving my life."

The young man hesitates, unsure of how to broach the true reason for his visit.

"As you must know by now, things have... changed around here." Another hesitation. "And not for the better," Vim ventures.

When his hosts nod assent, Vim relaxes somewhat.

"The Council is a sham. Zardis Kreyg runs the city now. He wishes to sell it to the highest bidder- an emissary from Varimor arrived just this morning. Representatives from Freeport and the Caliphates are expected any day now. In a few days, the bidding must surely begin. If the city is sold, our problems multiply. Instead of contending with a mercenary company 200 strong, we'll be up against an entire state. Our independence is at stake. Time is of the essence; we cannot allow a deal to be brokered. If you are willing to help, my father will put his resources at your disposal- money, basically."

The dark patches spreading around Vim's armpits belie his nerves. He looks hopefully at his audience, weighing their response and likely fearing that he's revealed too much. When he's fairly confident that they're all on the same side, he continues.

"I can't speak for the rest of the Merchant League, or for the rest of the Council for that Matter. Many are afraid to speak out against the Bloodforged. Muzz Breakwater, the representative of the Gate Ward and the Fisherman's Alliance, is already in chains for doing so. It is very likely that others would support this cause, but it's hard to know who to trust. I hope that our trust in you is not misplaced."

OOC: Corros and Jenna aren't present for this meeting, but those who are can pass along its meat the next morning. Please add a set of fine evening wear to your char-sheets.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:46, Thu 09 June 2016.

DAY 9 OF THE OCCUPATION

As the sun climbs above the city's eastern wall, Corros and Jenna begin the long walk of shame back to the River Ward. Ulfgar arrives shortly after the young lovebirds, an insistent, "what about my ring, Ulfy?" clanging around in his hairy head.

The usually cheerful Gronk is in a surly mood. The grumpy half-orc shares Vim Vander's information and the attached request for assistance.

He finishes his report with, "You already know what I think we should do."


Your Turn.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 01:47, Thu 09 June 2016.

Bálint House

At her employers' request, Lenore slips out to fetch Jurvis. The pair returns an hour or so later. Jurvis is a big man, tall, verging on rotund, with a round face and thinning hair. He looks a bit nervous but relaxes when it becomes clear that he's not in trouble with his girlfriend's bosses.

"I'd follow Commander Overmark into the lower hells, if she asked me to. I know that some of the other lads feel the same way. That's why the bloody Redcloaks cut us loose. I'd say there's at least a dozen of us, probably more. A few of the lads that got kept on got no love for the Bloodforged either. They're just too scared to quit, or need the money too bad. You got to be careful, though. Talk to the wrong person and you end up with your head on a pike. "

Jurvis assures the Five that he can muster about twenty spears when the time is right.

Nic's underworld contacts have informed him that Toesplitter can be found, at almost any hour, at his gaming hall, the Pit, conveniently located near the demarcation line separating the Harbor and River Wards. The Five, equipped for another urban spelunking expedition, make their way to the gaming hall for an audience with Balefyre's underworld boss.

---

The Pit

The Five walk through the main entrance, currently flanked by a contrasting pair of burly bouncers, a swarthy, impressively-muscled dwarf with a bared arms and barren pate, and a large human, head completely shaved, a hair taller than Gronk and nearly twice as wide. The new patrons are instructed to check their weapons at the cloak check just inside the entryway, receiving claim tickets in exchange.
(Ulfgar's man-purse [a.k.a. the BoH] is not checked or searched. For future reference, when asked to disarm, you may make a Sleight of Hand check to attempt to keep one or more small weapons on your persons- one check per item.)

The Pit's main room is huge, dimly-lit, and hazy with pipe smoke. The few small windows in the street-facing wall don't provide much ventilation or natural light. Numerous candles glow in lanterns of various colors hanging from chains set into the ceiling. A long bar takes up most of the back wall; it's framed by open doorways on either side. There's a broad stairway leading to the second floor on the left side of the room, and a low stage on the right, partially occupied by a small band of musicians playing half-heartedly. They share the stage with a pair of scantily clad dancing girls, gyrating lazily to the music. The rest of the floor is occupied by gaming tables- various card and dice games, a wheel of fortune or two, and several billiard tables. Among the two-dozen bleary-eyed patrons currently at play are at least four red-cloaked mercenaries. The floor manager, a thick, dark-bearded man, possibly Ardani, spots the Five immediately and walks over to introduce himself.

"You're here to see the boss, eh?" When the Five indicate the affirmative, the man nods to an associate and then continues, "Follow me."
He leads the Five past another bouncer and through the doorway on the right, to a private, candlelit booth, lavishly cushioned and smelling faintly of incense and sex. "Wait here."

The Five wait for about ten minutes before Toesplitter arrives with a hulking half-orc bodyguard at his shoulder, and two more toughs in trail. The Halfling is middle-aged and nattily dressed. The floor manager brings him an ornate chair, scaled to his diminutive frame but fashioned so that he sits at eye-level with human patrons (his hairy feet rest on an integral elevated footrest). The floor manager closes the curtain behind him, leaving the Five alone with Toesplitter and his massive bodyguard.

"So you're the five brave adventurers who took care of Balefyre's little pirate problem, eh? Pretty impressive. I'd heard you'd left town but here you are, back again, and gracing me with your presence. So, what brings you in to see me today? You're not thinking about cancelling your property protection subscription, are you?"

The Five state their business, but don't venture too much, Nic doing most of the talking.

"The Bloodforged…  can't say that I'm too fond of them. In fact, I'd say, they've, eh, overstayed their welcome."

Toecutter removes a cigar, huge in his diminutive hands, from his velvet surcoat. His bodyguard lights it for him. He starts puffing on it thoughtfully.

"Yeah, they been hurting business. The albino- Zardis Kreyg or whatever the fuck his name is- offered yours truly the vacant seat on the Fire Council but I turned it down. Be a waste of my time. There's no power in it anymore- wasn't really much to begin with. Money's the real power here- always has been, always will be- and the Bloodforged are fucking with mine. You see, I know my place in the grand scheme of things. I'm a big fish in a small pond. Balefyre loses its independence and all of a sudden that pond gets a lot bigger. I don't want that to happen. You got a plan for getting the Redcloaks out, I'm all ears."

Nic outlines the idea of a campaign of harassment, carried out by the city's street gangs, while the Five organize a coup-de-main. Toesplitter leans forward, elbows on the table, mouth behind steepled fingers. Several seconds pass before he responds.

"I can arrange that. But we start making trouble for them, they'll start making trouble for us, and right quick. They know who runs the gangs here. If the heat comes down too hot, I ease off. Understood?"

Toecutter's eyes narrow and his voice takes on a tone that's surprisingly menacing, coming from one so small.

"You'd better have a solid endgame, my friends. This thing better not end in a whimper. I've got a lot more at stake here than you do. You fuck me over, I'll make damn sure you go down in flames with me. That clear?"

---

The Fish Market

From the Pit, the party passes through the Fish Market where Corros manages to catch Shim's eye. The youth weaves his way over. The warlock reveals the party's intent.

"You know they're probably dead." Shim says, matter of fact, referring to Tagger and the original Drowned Rat search party. "You find out what happened to 'em, the fee we was talking about before, I cut it in half. You revenge 'em, I'll take you to the keep for free."

---

The Sewers

Their business with the Rats complete, the Five make their way to Warehouse Row, where it's not too hard to find the entrance to the sewers down which Shim led them on their first foray underground. That was at night, though. It's currently pressing on noon. The companions receive quite a few looks as they remove the grate and begin descending into the underground.

"City sanitation department. Routine inspection. Move along." Gronk says, bluffing badly.

It takes a few seconds for the party's five pairs of eyes to adjust to the darkness of the tunnels. Nic's preternatural sense of urban direction keeps the companions headed in the right direction. They recognize the cross-passages where the party encountered carrion crawlers on the previous trip, confirming the Ardani's instincts. As the adventurers slog through the shin-high (knee-high for Ulfgar) effluent, they get the feeling that they're being followed, but no one sees any evidence to back that up. They slog on. From up ahead comes a sound like that of white water pouring over rapids, faint at first, but building quickly. The team pauses, eyes in front and behind. Nic estimates that they're about a block away from the mouth of the tunnel leading to the secret passageway. Suddenly, the dark water [about 30'] in front of them seems to come to a boil. A low, roiling wave comes at them at speed- there's no time to get out of its way. It's a swarm of rats, rushing on in a blind panic. Something must be pushing them forward. Looking back, Corros espies what looks like a long piece of pale driftwood floating towards them, but a pair of dark eyes just above the surface of the black sludge suggest that it is something more sinister.


Your Turn.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 00:45, Tue 19 July 2016.

The Pit

While the Five walk across town and into the den of Toesplitter, Corros' mind wanders.  He knows he should be concentrating on watching out for the Bloodforged and trying to develop the plans necessary for city wide rebellion, but all he can keep thinking of is Jenna.  The angle of her jaw, the blush of her skin, the- Enough.  Really enough for now.  There's that whole needing to stay alive thing that needs attention.  He just wants to reach out and hold her hand, which, he admits, would look fairly ridiculous in her armor and his robes.

He settles for little smiles and mental winks when they can get away with it.  He supposes that Nic probably wants to throw up and that the other two are probably missing it entirely.  The fact is, though, the half-elf is happy and wants to enjoy the whole thing.  Jenna and being happy.  Maybe it will even last a little while.  Not that he's ever really had a girlfriend.  If that's even what they are.  They hadn't talked about what was next all that much.  In fact, after dinner, there hadn't been much talking at all.

It's hard not to ogle the dancing girls of The Pit. It's not his usual reaction, but he tries to manage next to his lady friend and even manages to follow Toesplitter's conversation.

"You're right," he says to the small man, and more indirectly, to his companions.  "We need an end goal.  A return to the status quo isn't going to work.  That puts us back into the same problems the city had prior to the Bloodforged and the rest of the world already smells blood in the harbor."

---

The Sewers

Corros hates rats.  Smelly, nasty, disease ridden critters that would wake him up in the middle of the night, biting exposed flesh or scampering across his feet.  It drove him out of the tunnels and into the rafters.  There is the briefest of moments as the wave of furry flesh begins to descend on The Five where he pictures in his imagination, clear almost the point of reality, taking revenge for all the times the little beasts disrupted his life with a centrally located shatter spell detonating in their midst inflicting a rat genocide.  The image flying bodies brings the hint of a smile that fades rapidly when he spots the eyeballs creeping up behind their group.  It seems they are about to be flanked.  Again.

"Um...sewer monster? Sewer alligator?" Rumors and legends fly through his brain.  People throwing pet alligators out in their chamber pots after they've gotten too big for the gardens... Not that he'd even seen one.  "Behind us."

Gritting his teeth for rat arrival, he draws forward mystical energy and fires it at the eyes to indicate to his companions where the real trouble is.  And maybe get it to reveal itself.

Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Casting Eldritch Bolt (2 bolts, +7 to hit, 1D10+4 each)
This message was last edited by the player at 13:50, Sat 11 June 2016.

The House

Jenna was quiet on her return to the house, content to leave the talking to the others, even more so than usual, on several occasions her mind drifting back to the events of the night before, at which point a soft smile would briefly cross over her lips, although she would take pains to hide it should anyone look in her direction. The Priestess was neither ashamed nor embarrassed by what she had done, but as far as she was concerned it was no one's business except her and Corros'. And possibly Arma's, but that was another matter altogether. Corros' brief incursions into her mind had not helped Jenna to maintain her composure either, not that she had minded them of course, though they had caused her to blush furiously several times.

Once Jurvis had went on his way she had retired to one of the upstairs rooms, tried on the new set of battle armor that they had brought back from the underground City. Whilst it had felt somewhat strange to be wearing something that had belonged to something that had tried to kill them it fitted her well, and still left her with relatively good ease of movement. Besides, it was grey, so perhaps that would appease Arma. Or perhaps not, for wearing grey was usually reserved for the Warrior's elder, Clerics, a right they had earned in battle. Was she ready to discard the white, don grey? And of her own accord? Descending the stairs wearing the new armor and casting her eyes on Corros was enough to make her muse that perhaps there were other reasons why it was more appropriate that she wore grey than white.

---

The Sewers

Whilst Jenna is not overly fond of rats they instil no has no particular feelings of unease either, so she watches the approaching throng with wariness but nothing else, bracing herself to stand against them until she hears Corros shout out, warning of a threat behind them. Spinning round in the murky water, the Priestess puts the threat of the rates to one side for the moment, her eyes piercing the gloom with accustomed ease to pick out the monster that the Warlock - her lover - has spotted.

The water splashing as she wades through it, Jenna steps forward, trying to palce herself between Corros and the creature - she would have done that before but now it probably looks to the otehrs that she is doing it just because it is him - and brings up her right hand, her eyes blinking, shifting from blue to white as she sends a bolt of the Goddess's energy coursing through the sewer towards the thing that lurks there.

Jenna
AC: 21, HP44/44
Launching Guiding Bolt at alligator thing (Level 2)

As usual, Gronk is near the point. He crouches down, his shield held low against the approaching breaker of frenzied rats. When they arrived, he'd try to bash them away from his unprotected legs (he hadn't picked up his new suit of scales yet, not wanting to get it all shitty the first time he wore it- that, in retrospect, he thinks might have been a mistake).

Gronk
AC 16; HP 65
Ready action: two melee attacks v. rat swarm when it get to within range

-

Ulfgar summons fire with his cantrip, throwing the small ball of flame at the approaching log-creature.  He then called on the primal forces of nature to change into a polar bear, the form he had met his druidic mentor in years ago.  He took his place online with Jenna, read to attack as the creature approached.

Ulfgar Frostbeard
AC: 15 HP: 66/66
Action: Casting produce flame and throwing it at alligator thing (w/advantage hopefully)
Bonus Action: Combat Wildshape to Polar Bear
Polar Bear statblock
Armor Class 12 (natural armor),  Hit Points 42 (5d10 + 15),  Speed 40 ft., swim 30 ft.
Multiattack. The bear makes two attacks: one with its bite and one with its claws.
Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 9 (1d8 + 5) piercing damage.
Claws. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 12 (2d6 + 5) slashing damage.

This message was last edited by the player at 08:24, Mon 13 June 2016.

The darkness of the sewer tunnel is momentarily banished by four bright, multicolored flashes of light, as the party's casters launch a barrage of spells at the pale mass swimming towards the team's rear. The creature thrashes against the painful impact of all four magical projectiles, revealing itself as an unusually large, albino crocodile (or alligator- none of the Five are naturalists). (Giant Croc -51HP)

Shortly thereafter, the rat swarms breaks over the party's point-men. Spike splashes down twice, leaving a flotsam of corpses in its wake whilst showering Gronk and Nic with raw sewage. (Rat Swarm -10HP)

More subtle in his offense, Nic (NPC'ed) thrusts Touch of Sylk into the mass of scrambling vermin at a slanting downward angle. When he withdraws the sword, two rats are wriggling their last on the slim blade (Rat Swarm -7HP). Ask he shakes the dying rats loose, Nic feels a sharp pain in his left calf as at least one of his victims' vengeful confederates gets its pointy little teeth through his leather boot (Nic -3HP).

The rat wave rushes on, through the party, and past it, eventually cresting over the advancing albino croc. The angered beast snaps and thrashes at the offending vermin, killing most of the survivors but effectively delaying its advance long enough for Jenna, Ulfgar, and Corros to mount another attack before the croc is able to do so.

With the initial threat to the party's front moving on, and their three companions dealing with the danger behind, the two point-men peer ahead into the darkness, searching for the cause of the rats' panicked flight. What they see defies expectation. Several rats appear to be floating, in mid-air, towards the adventurers, quivering slightly as they move closer. Floating with the rats is what appears to be a man's boot. It takes a few seconds for Nic and Gronk to realize what they're looking at. It's some sort of gelatinous cube, its outer edges sucking against the surface of the tunnel through which it's currently oozing.


Your Turn

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This message was last edited by the GM at 18:06, Wed 15 June 2016.

"Stay behind me." Jenna calls to Corros and Ulfgar as the rats rush past her legs. Unaware of what is happening in front of them, the blonde haired Priestess hefts Arma's Blessing in her right hand, her shield strapped firmly to her left arm as she wades forward, her eyes scanning the gloom, trying to pick out the shape of the crocodile, poised to lash out at it if she spots it.

Jenna
AC: 21, HP44/44
Trying to spot croc. If she sees it will attack with warhammer (1d8 +1)
Using War Priest for bonus attack

"No argument from me," Corros says.  Giant sewer monsters aren't his thing.  But then neither are rats and an intense feeling of revulsion passes through him as the four legged vermin scatter through his legs.  It occurs to Corros that maybe he should look over his shoulder to see what is driving the rats with such disregard for obstacles, but the beast in front draws all his attention, before it eats the woman he wants to spend a little more quality time with.

Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Casting Eldritch Bolt (2 bolts, +7 to hit, 1D10+4 each)