"So sorry to trouble you at this late hour, Speaker," Morgrim began with a self deprecating smile. "But we would not have done so were it not important."

"My sister and I were investigating a bandit camp at the foot of Kelvin's Cairn and we discovered something that may be of grave concern to you personally."

He unfurled the note and passed it across, casting a sidelong glance at the door guards. Until the Speaker vouched for them, he trusted no one save his sister. Morgrim waited while Duvessa looked the missive over.

"Perhaps, if you'd like, we can come inside and fill you in on the story in its fullness?"

The Speaker waves off Morgrim's concerns, takes the proffered parchment, and briefly examines it in the glow of light spilling out from her open doorway.



A few moments later she lifts her eyes to regard each of the dwarves, and responds in an even tone. "Yes. Please. Come inside." She then gestures to her guards to allow each to pass and pulls the door open wider, bidding each to enter the entrance parlor.

Once both have accepted her offer of hospitality, and brief introductions are completed, the Speaker motions for each to have a seat on a nearby bench. She then situates herself in a large padded chair near an open hearth, a log of pine glowing bright in its recesses.

Returning to matters at hand, "You came in on the caravan from Luskan, yes?" she asks, guessing the answer to her own question. The caravan's arrival had been big news in Bryn Shander and its crew did not escape the notice of even the Speaker herself.

Once her guess is confirmed, Duvessa continues, "If what you showed me is true, well, that bodes ill." She seems at a loss on how to mentally process the message.

"Who else has seen this?" she asks, leaning forward.

"There was a third with us," Morgrim explained. "She has gone to secure lodgings for the night. We've only just returned you see, and I thought it best to come here directly. No one else knows."

The Speaker studies the note again, turning it over in her hand several times. Finally, she comments, "Unless this has been forged, the mark belongs to an ally. A man who was just here before you arrived in fact."

She studies Morgrim dubiously for a moment then turns her attention to Dalgura. Then, her face softens and she lets out a low breath, "Trouble is what this is."

Duvessa explains the arcane sigil at the bottom of the letter belongs to Vaelish Gant, a Waterdhavian merchant who arrived about a month ago looking to establish a foothold in the lucrative scrimshaw trade. Vaelish has extensive contacts in Waterdeep and claims to be able to secure the best prices for carved scrimshaw.

"He has been a staunch ally these past few weeks..." she says, alluding to the recent troubles with Luskan thugs and beasts and the upcoming public audience to answer grievances made against her and to possibly call for a new Speaker.

In reply to Duvessa Shane (msg # 242):

"How long have you known this man?  When he left he wasn't paying attention to where he was walking and almost knocked us down.  After he gave his apology he stared at us for a moment.  Long enough that I wasn't going to turn my back to him while Grim was knocking.  Did you know him before the past few weeks?"

"About a month or so. After he came up from Waterdeep ," she says. She then claims to have never met him previously, though he has given her no reason to doubt his support or to suspect he was plotting against her. If anything, she suggests, Vaelish has been supportive of her and claims will have her back at the upcoming public audience.

"Are you sure he's from Waterdeep?" Morgrim mused. "And not from Luskan perhaps? Those bandits were well paid...."

Morgrim produced a fistful of coins. All of them bore the Luskan mint.

"If I had to guess, Mister Gant is trying to lull you in to a false sense of complacency before he tries to take the Speakership for himself at the coming assembly."

Duvessa nods indecisively when questioned about Vaelish's origins. Her knowledge of his past extends for only as long as he has been in Ten Towns and what she has been told by Vaelish himself. It's not uncommon for people from all over Faerun to end up in Icewinddale. It's a place people end up in search of new beginnings, free from the specter of the past, she claims.

When presented with the possibility of being upseated, she bristles and responds sharply, "Well, if that's true, he has another thing coming!"

Speaking now in a more subdued tone she thanks the adventurers for bring her this news. "Do you have reason to suspect anyone else in this plot?" she asks. She specifically asks about the Sheriff, whom she says has been less than effective in handling recent calamities.

Morgrim glanced at his sister and then shrugged. "He's given me no reason to doubt his loyalties," Morgrim replied. "A bit curmudgeonly if you ask me and I get the sense that he's struggling to keep afloat with everything going on at the moment, but when we confronted him with the truth of a matter concerning one of the Reghed tribesmen he did the honourable thing. He didn't have to, but he did."

"I trust him."

"In that case, I'd like to roll Sheriff Markhamm into the discussion soonest," Duvessa responds. "As Chief of Security, he should be appraised of these ill tidings..." Barring any strong objections, the Town Speaker intends to send a runner to gather Sheriff Markhamm so he can see the letter and hear the adventurers' tale.

"If wheels are already in motion, we need to act fast to gain the upper hand," she reasons.

In reply to Duvessa Shane (msg # 248):

Dal who had stifled a yawn while Grim and Duvessa were talking, went over to a corner chair and sat down.  If she couldn't sleep right now, at least she sit down and try to clear her thoughts and rest her feet.

"I have no objections," Morgrim replied with a shake of his head. He cast a kind eye towards his sister. "I don't suppose there's somewhere she can lie down? We've been on our feet since first light this morning."

In reply to Morgrim Ironhammer (msg # 250):

"No Grim.  I am awake.  I can hang in there if need be.  Besides you haven't gotten any more rest than I did."

Of course once she said that Dal quickly tried to hide another yawn but it was obvious that she wouldn't go quietly sleeping.

Duvessa motions for the adventurers to make themselves comfortable while she sends for Sheriff Markhamm. It does not take long for one of the Speaker's guards to return with Sheriff Markhamm in tow. The Sheriff noisily enters the parlor, bits of snow flaking off his boots onto the ground and nearly instantly forming small, sooty puddles. Sweeping his gaze over the room, he settles on the dwarves, now seated near an alcove by a fireplace.

Narrowing his eyes slightly he twists his mouth and comments, "You?! Again!?" There is no malice in his incredulous, almost mirthful tone.

"So, let's see what you've found..." he starts in, cutting immediately to the chase.

A few moments later, after examining the letter he confirms Duvessa's assessment of the arcane mark at the end of the letter. "No mistake about it. That's the mark Vaelish put on his office door." The Sheriff then states it's not likely any but the most skilled could forge a wizard's mark. Examining it again, he states his belief that the letter is authentic.

"It's enough for me to act on, Madame Speaker..."

Duvessa exhales a long, slow breath and crosses the room to peer out a window. Her back turned to the others, she says, "Very well. Do what must be done. Apprehend him and bring him in for questioning..."

The Sheriff nods his understanding and says, "Yes. Right."

The Sheriff then turns toward the dwarves and asks for their assistance in apprehending Vaelish. "I can bring out the militia, but Vaelish is a wizard and likely to be quite dangerous and elusive."

The Sheriff seeks to deputize the dwarves and will pay each 25 gp to lend their aid apprehending Vaelish.

Morgrim takes a seat and nods in and out of sleep as the trio await the arrival of Sherrif Markhamm. As the door opens with a gust of chill wind the druid eyes flutter open and he manages a faint smile, half hidden by his dark whiskers.

"Us again," he confirms. Exchanging a glance with his sister he waits while Markhamm reviews the missive and decides upon a plan of action.

"Do you intend to move tonight then?" he asks. "I am ready if you are, Dal," he adds, turning a questioning glance towards the younger Ironhammer.

Assuming a short rest. Morgrim is back to full HD.
19:18, Today: Morgrim Ironhammer rolled 7 using 1d8+2.  Healing Die.

The Sheriff considers the question for a moment, nods in the affirmative and replies, "If Vaelish is busy plotting to oust the Speaker, I'd just as soon see him under our custody than give the wizard the leisure of continued planning."

"Besides, we don't know if word has already reached him of your raid on the hideout. The longer we wait around there's more chance word reaches his ears."

Markhamm says he will roust four members of the town guard on the way to Vaelish's offices. Unless the dwarves offer a compelling reason otherwise, the Sheriff is ready to depart at once.

"Well, you'll have no objection from me," Morgrim said, rising from his chair. "What do you say, Dal? Ready for one more?"

In reply to Morgrim Ironhammer (msg # 257):

Dal had been resting while she could so she didn't hear Grim the first time around.  The second time she heard him though.  "Give me a second Grim.</blue."

Dal didn't wait but bent her head in prayer and meditation to her Goddess.  It never hurt to check in with her Goddess nor to ask blessing on what Dal and Grim would be doing.  Finally she kissed her holy symbol and got up.

"<blue>Ok Grim.  Let's venture forth one more time and THEN we'll get some sleep.  Ok?"

Wishing to seize the initiative and prevent Vaelish from learning about the raid on the bandit hideout and subsequent discovery of the missive in his hobgoblin associate's possession, Sheriff Markhamm quickly leads the dwarves through the town in darkness, stopping briefly at the armory to conscript the services of four loafing guards: Alan, Brent, Eagan and Randy.

Markhamm quickly whips them into shape, berating them for the state of their barracks room as they fumble while donning armor and grabbing weapons. Outfitted in chain shirt, shield and spears, the four town guards fall into position behind Sheriff as they march through dark, snow-crusted streets toward Vaelish's offices. The party draws a few curious glances along the way, though few people mill about outside as it is well into night and most are huddled inside their homes next to fireplace and hearth.

The party eventually draws outside Vaelish's demesne, a non-descript wooden longhouse across the street from Council Hall, both within view of Southwest Gate. Flickering light is seen through the cracks of the longhouse's closed, heavy wood shudders and a plume of sweet-smelling smoke rises from a central hearth. Save for the few shuddered windows, two doorways permit access to the longhouse: the main entrance foyer and a side entrance through an adjoining stable and workshed.

"You lot go to the main door," Morgrim suggested. "Dal and I will keep a watch on the side entrance."

Sheriff Markhamm nods and motions his guardsmen to take up position behind him at the front door as Dalgura and Morgrim proceed to the side entrance. Once everyone is in position, Markhamm raps heavily on the front door. A few moments pass and the dwarves hear the front door open and a brief conversation ensues. Markhamm asks to speak with Vaelish, the voice on the other end says he's not present. The Sheriff then asks to enter and look for himself. More discussion, this time more heated. Eventually, the voice at the door relents and the Sheriff and the four guardsmen enter the longhouse, the door shutting behind them.

Several tense moments pass as Dalgura and Morgrim wait outside in the cold near the side entrance. Then, a loud crashing thud is heard coming from inside the longhouse. Men begin shouting. Glass breaking. Wood splitting. Metal-on-metal. The sound of battle enjoined!

Morgrim bursts through the side door, shield at the ready. "Keep behind me, Dal!" he shouts as he goes looking for the source of the clamor.

The side door bursts inward, sending shards and splinters of wood flying as Morgrim steps into the threshold. The door leads to a kitchen and pantry, both currently empty. The muffled sound of furniture breaking and physical exertion is heard through an adjoining doorway, this partially open.

It sounds like quite a battle is taking place in the room beyond. Proceeding through the kitchen, the dwarves fling the door open and discover the source of conflict. Sheriff Markham and the four guardsmen are locked in battle with an equal number of enemies in a long common hall. The combatants scurry over and around a long table, kicking over chairs as they trade blows.

The Sheriff is at the head of his soldiers, locked in battle with a wiry human armed with a rapier. The rapier-armed man leaps effortlessly over the table and confounds the Sheriff with his elusive fighting style. The other men trade clumsy blows, hitting mostly furniture and walls. In short, the common hall is getting thrashed. The light shifts rapidly as an overhead candelabra jerks violently this way and that.

The lanky rapier-armed man leers at the militia-men and comments in a thick Luskan accent, "Yer bess run 'long now soon righ. I's yer lass chans. Yerv been wernd!"

The man's body begins contorting, his face elongated as tawny brown hair seemingly sprouts from his very flesh. Then, a long, serpentine tail swishes about madly. A wererat!

OOC:

Slim the Wererat Ruffian
AC 12
HP: ??/?? [Private to GM: 33/33]

Luskan Guards, 4
AC 16
HP: 11/11, 11/11, 11/11, 11/11


PC        AC    HP    Insp  Spell Save  Conditions & Notes
Dalgura   15   17/17    1      13
Morgrim   15   14/19    1      13
Markhamm  15   20/20    0      NA
Alan      16   11/11    0      NA
Eagan     16   11/11    0      NA
Randy     16   11/11    0      NA
Brent     16   11/11    0      NA



PCs are UP!!!
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:22, Tue 18 July 2017.