Selvin breathed a quiet sigh of relief when things tampered down from escalating into combat. Not that he was opposed to combat - far from it! He just wasn't so sure of the outcome with that many opponents...especially when they were...cats or cat-like beings...with unknown abilities.

He watched and waited as Tarrov spoke to one of the cats to see what would come of it.

In reply to Tarrov Garrick (msg # 283):

"Oh I doubt it," says the Blue-Grey quite matter of factly. "The King hates mice. He says they'really only good for the abattoir. Whatever that is. Buuuuttt..." It flicks it's tail back and forth, cooking it's head as it looks you over. "You could ask the Skin Birds for help. They hate the King. Go to the building that smells like old fish. Down that way." He flicks his head towards an alleyway. "OR you could make a run for it. Though the King does like a chase. You might make it. Maybe. Best of luck to you though."

"Hey," said Tarrov as the cat turned away.  "Would you mind showing me the way to the Skin Birds?  And would you mind telling me some more about them?  Will they be friendlier than the King?  Is there any particular way we might be able to win their favor or their help?  And where did the King come from, anyway?  Has he always held sway in this area of Korvosa or is his reign of a more-recent vintage?"

Korvosa was minting entirely too many self-styled royals for Tarrov's taste.  And he didn't particularly like any of them.

In reply to Tarrov Garrick (msg # 286):

"If you want the Skin Birds to help you," says the cat, glancing backwards, "The last thing you want is to show up with me anywhere around you. They hate the King and his children. As to your interest in history...which by the way is proper for a mouse. Mice should generally be cognizant of their ignorance. So I applaud you in seeking to remedy yours...in brief, the King was summoned to this world by some mouse who believed he could rise above his station. The King of course taught him the error of his ways. But alas the Skin Birds took offense at that. They do that you know. Take offense. I doubt they have any other purpose in life. But I digress. The King, weakened from his transport and the ensuing altercation had to flee the fury of the Skin Birds and took refuge here. He tucked in amongst the rulers of House Granny Abigail. A fabled haven House Granny Abigail. A mouse who existed only to serve as many of the gentry as possible. If only all of you mice knew your stations. Whilst there he sired many nobility. And of course the addition of his seed only enhanced the awesomeness of the feline bloodline, ensuring that once the mice had done away with themselves, we of the nobility could rise and take our stations. Now. Up the alley and down about sixteen or seventeen stoops. You best hurry before he arrives."  The Blue-Grey purrs. "Mice should be unseen and not heard. So scamper."

"So," Tarrov said, returning to the group.  "Sounds like these cat-creatures are the result of some sort of summoning-gone-wrong."  The bard pointed down an alleyway.  "The cat told me of a group called the 'Skin Birds' who are based down there, in a 'house smelling of fish.'  It sounds like they'd be willing to help us take out the cats, as there is no love lost between the two groups."

"Of course," he shrugged unhappily, "there's no guarantee they'd be any friendlier to us than the cats would be.  But it sounds like our options are to get their help or to just sprint our way through cat territory."  Tarrov scratched his head doubtfully.  "And I'm not too fond of that second option."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:02, Mon 07 Dec 2015.

"Well then.  To the birds it is."  Belgar begins marching down the alleyway.

Selvin came down to just above the groups' heads so his voice wouldn't carry far. "Yeah. That sounds right. I know a bit 'bout summonin' after all." He snorted. "We're all mice apparently t'them."

He shook his head but then realized no one would see that. "I agree. I don't wanna tangle with the cats if we can help it."

The alley runs parallel to a main Avenue than turns sharply south. As you head in that direction, your nose begins to pick up the odor of rotting fish. At first it's subtle. This is Korvosa and it is after the riots, so any odor worth it's stench has to compete with the usual smells of garbage, decaying onions, and corpses in the hot sun. But as the alley branches, you are able to follow the fish stench more towards the west. You hear the rush of the river ahead and realize you have come up to the western docks of Old Korvosa.

Sitting at the end of one pier is an old warehouse. A mound of old fish lays like a seige wall along one side of it. One of the warehouses walls is broken down and part of it's rood is charred as if it had been struck by lightning. Here and there are the bodies of what look to be mangled cats, though one of the dead cats has two heads and another has a snake for a tail.

Flying all about the air of the pier are faerie dragons. They wheel in the sunlight, their delicate looking wings forming rainbows as the glide hither and then glide yon. They belch small clouds of pastel colored smoke into the air and then fly out over the city in small groups of three or four. There must be over a hundred  of the small winged lizards here.

A group of five detach themselves from the chaos over the warehouse and fly in your direction. They stop just outside of reach and look you over. One, with eyes like emeralds, floats forward a bit from the others. He gives you a rather imperious round of scrutiny and then says, in the deepest voice he can muster, "Why aren't you dead yet?"

Zuni had heard of rumours of faerie dragons in some part of the city but she had never seen them for herself.  Now that had changed.  She took a few steps forward in order to get a better look at the creatures, and really felt the urge to reach out and touch one of them.  She didn't though.  That might not have gone over very well.

"Why should we be dead?" she asked impetuously.

OOC:
Knowledge Local -> 28

Faerie Dragons?  Interesting.  Tarrov thought to himself.

"Greetings, my friend," Tarrov said, bowing.  "We are having a problem with the cats over yonder," he waved his hand in the direction from which the group had just come, "and we were told that you had no love for them.  Perhaps we could work together to thwart their plans?"

OOC:

10:58, Today: Tarrov Garrick rolled 29 using 1d20+17.  Diplomacy.

In reply to Zuni Runesong (msg # 292):

The Dragon seems surprised by Zuni's question. "Why you came through Rimburat's territory, did you not? Come along. You can speak with Old Mab"

Old Mab turns out to be a long slender bluish Purple dragon perched on an old desk inside the warehouse. If length is a sign of power among faerie dragons, Old Mab must be the boss. He is as long as a man'slumps arm.

"And what are these?" He asks your escort. He nods at the explanation and turns to you all. "Well. You have the bad fortune of walking into a war zone. We are at war with the Imp Rimburat and his offspring."

Zuni, this fits with what you know about the dragons. Students at the Magic College are infamous for summoning Imps and then losing control of them. Bands of Imps roam the city even during peaceful times. The dragons often form small communities and fight the imps. Two or three times a year, large clutches of Imps will battle squadrons of dragons in the air above the city. But this seems a bit different. The cat angle to be precise.

Mab curls his tail around his leg. "The Imp Rimburat hid himself as a cat many years ago. He has apparently been spring offspring. His blood has caused a taint amongst felines in this area. Well. I am sure you have noticed. You said something about an alliance?"

Selvin stayed invisible and quiet, letting the others do the talking. He watched the small dragon-like creatures for any signs of treachery...or that they could see him. His eyebrows shut up at the thought of the cat-creatures being imps and imp-spawn. That...sort of fit, but it was disturbing. He hoped Tarrov wasn't about to get them involved in a war, though imps were definitely usually more evil then faerie dragons. In a normal world.

Tarrov bowed to the leader of the faerie dragons.  "Mab, we are on a mission of urgent importance.  I'm sure you know about the disease spreading through Korvosa and the Queen's . . . unusual response to it.  We desperately need to get to an estate on the other side of Rimburat's territory."

The bard ran a hand through his silver hair.  "At this point we do not have time to engage in a protracted conflict with Rimburat.  We would, however, be willing to participate in an attack that ended up with us on the other side of his territory."  He gave Mab a sincere look.  "We need to get this done.  For everyone in Korvosa."

Zuni's eyes widened at the tale.  An Imp disguised as a cat?!  That made perfect sense.  It was most likely that Imp's ill-manners that had caused the cats to behave so rudely towards her earlier.

Oh, how she wanted now to find that Imp and introduce it to her blade.  Zuni had never thought of herself as the vindictive sort, except when it came to Gedran Lamm, but those cats ad really rubbed her the wrong way.

"We would be more than willing to take part in such an attack." Zuni added.  "If that was our only option."

In reply to Zuni Runesong (msg # 297):

Mab leans forward sl8ghtly. <-Darkgreen>"An estate? Do you mean the Arkonas?"</Darkgreen>

The dragons in the room tense. All eyes are on every last one of you. Including the space Selvin occupies.

"And what is your business on this estate?"

Belgar steps forward.  "To rescue a young boy for one!" he growls, "His name is Pol and he was under my guardianship when the Arkonas took him.  They took advantage when I went to help defend the bridges.  Nothing but snakes they are!  Cowardly snakes!"  Belgar's eyes are wide with rage and his veins throb in his neck and face. "And if you have a problem with THAT, then you have a problem with ME!"  His arms flex and fists tighten on shield and axe as his knuckles turn white and the familiar sound of popping leather in his palms.

In reply to Belgar Ironclad (msg # 299):

Mab listens patiently to Belgar . And then chuckles.
"Ah the Heart. Also known as the Dwarves favorite cufflink. But what you speak is a good cause. We will help." Mab settles himself into a more comfortable position. "The Arkonas are no Imp. I can tell you they are creatures of a evil mind. I am not sure they are human. What they are...I can not say. But I can tell you this much. They like to play games. They regularly come hunting through the slums for the poor. Rumor is the Arkonas will give anyone who survives the night in their Manor a bag of gold. But I think that is a myth. I can not believe an Arkona would ever part with their gold.

"I digress. We will mount a diversionary attack to the south of here. There is a way along the shoreline you can take. I will arrange a guide. You will need to be quick. Rimburat is a fiend but he is no fool. Fortunately he hates the Arkonas more than he hates us. So it is unlikely he would give them warning of your presence. The path along the shoreline will lead into a culvert that borders their property. From there, I can not aid you. The Arkona kill my kind on sight. And they are very good at finding us out. It will take a little time to arrange the attack..." He glances at a dragon behind him, who then flies off. Probably to make arrangements. "I have no food your kind would enjoy. But you are welcome to rest for a short time."

Belgar relaxes, blinking his eyes soft again.  He nods and turns to step back behind the group, grumbling to himself, "Cufflinks...  bah..."  These dragons seem to be good folk after all.  If given the chance, he might return some day to assist in their war.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:07, Mon 14 Dec 2015.

You find yourselves a corner and settle in. Chandanar thought to bring some safe bread from the bakery. And there are rain barrels outside with clean enough water. You rest. Pray. Study. A SHARPER weapons. And generally go about the preparations necessary to perform the duties of a murder hobo.

A dragon comes about an hour before sunset. He leads you to a pier. Mab is curled up on one of the pylons. "I hope you are rested. Because the operation will begin soon. This is Horace." He seems to be indicating a frog perched on the phl I need next to him. "He is an abandoned familiar. We have looked after him since his master...moved on. One 9f you will need to allow him to ride one your shoulder. His voice is not strong. So check with him often. Now then. The route is straightforward enough. Following the shoreline north until you reach a warehouse with blue and red trim around the door. You can't miss it. From there you leave the shoreline and follow the lanes heading northeast until you come to a bridge over a culvert. Go down into the culvert and head north again. You will see the wall surrounding the estate a bit further on. There are some pitfalls. Horace can give you warning for the ones that are stationary. And he'll keep you on course. The biggest concern are strays. Any cat you see may be one of Rumburat's offspring. And once you reach the warehouse, you will be in the Arkonas territory. They have patrols sweep through those streets. Any questions?"

Selvin noticed that he was being noticed, and gave a small weak smile. The cat-like being surrounding him showed its teeth in a wide friendly smile. He blinked a bit at Belgar's...intensity...about the rescue and everything. Then he looked even MORE surprised as the fairy dragons offered to help.

He wasn't that good with words, that was Tarrov's job, so he simply said, "Thank you."

Zuni finished checking over her sword and slid it back in to its scabbard.   Her thoughts had been on what Belgar had said the day before, about having to rescue a young boy from the Arkonas.  Maybe it was her time with Gaedren Lamm and the having seen how he treated the children that she kept, but hearing of a young boy in danger had struck a chord within her.  She decided that she was going to aid Belgar in this endeavour.

"Do you have any idea of what we might encounter on the estate?" she asked Mab.

The Arkonas play games hunting the poor?  Tarrov wanted to slap himself in the forehead.  Things just seemed to be going from bad to worse in Korvosa.  He had thought that theater people were pretty unorthodox, but most of them were just eccentric.  It seemed as if the city’s entire noble class had succumbed to the siren song of degeneracy and exploitation.

The bard nodded along as the faerie dragon outlined his plan to help, then left to arrange the diversionary attack.  Tarrov reached into his coat pocket for his notebook and scribbled some thoughts for later.  This was certainly turning into an epic tale.  He grinned to himself.  And there is no one better to tell it than yours truly.

“You have our thanks, Mab.  And I greatly hope your people can drive this imp back to his proper plane.  Once we have finished with our work I would be happy to assist you with that.”  Tarrov wasn’t too keen on fiends running loose about his city.  “I can take Horace,” he said, holding out his hand for the frog, “and then transmit anything he says to the rest of the group through Whisper Magic.”

“Wish us luck with the Arkonas.”  He tried to smile at Mab.  “It sounds like we’ll need it.”

In reply to Zuni Runesong (msg # 304):

"I can tell you the main house sits atop the sight of an old inn which was rumored to be a smuggler's post back in it's day. So there are no doubt passages under it which lead to the sea." Mab says in response to Zuni . He then glances at Belgar . "You say you wish to rescue a young boy. We will pray he is found safe. But it may be best to steal your heart against other outcomes. One way or the other, my advice is not to tip your hand to the Arkonas too early in asking about him right away. If they know his safety is a blade they can hold to your throat, they will not hesitate to draw that steel. Now. Head on. And may you succeed in this endeavor."

Horace hops onto the Bard's shoulder with a neat kick and settles himself in the crooked of the tunic clasp. "Start by following the beachline. Stay under the piers as much as you can. The cats will hunt there. But if the battle distracts them, then staying under the piers will hide our passage."

Your group quickly scuttles down the beachline. Soon you lose sight of the spot of your meeting with Mab. The idea of sticking under the pier is fine at first. But travel becomes slow in places the beach thins out.

Then at one point you run out of shoreline. A drainage ditch has become dammed with a stack of garbage and rotting corpses. It looks like the citizens just tossed plague victims down here as soon as they died, hoping the bodies would just wash out to sea. The resulting mess caused a back up and a pool of waist deep water (human waist deep that is) has collected under the moorings. The pool is not large, about twenty feet. You could plow through it and scramble back up onto the shoreline on the other side. Or you could climb up here and cross over the topside of the pier. Horace eyes the pool. "I don't know. This is new. The attack should still be under way. It might be safe to venture top side for a small bit."

Zuni covered her mouth and nose in an attempt to keep out the smell.  "Maybe we should take a look topside.  I don't fancy wading through water where the plague dead have been soaking.  Let me take a quick look to see if it looks clear."

Zuni slowly climbs a little ways up towards the pier, peeking over the edge to see what the situation is.

OOC:
Climb->23
Stealth->19

In reply to Zuni Runesong (msg # 307):

Zuni swings her way up the embankment easily and peers over the edge.

The pier here seems to run into the back of a shipbuilding establishment. There are no finished ships in the drydock. But a mostly complete frame sits about twenty yards north. A couple of work sheds are nearby, one of which is empty and one which houses an old fishing boat that seems to be under repairs. Stacks of lumber and planks make little rows between here and the worksheds. A low wall surrounds the shipyard. It looKS like there is a larger building near the gate on the far side of the worksheds. Other than a couple of seagulls seated on a lumber stack, there is no sign of movement.

You could move across the shipyard to the drydock. You would have to cross it later on anyway. Or you could head outside the gate and down the street.