Thalla smirked when her dropping that name didn't seem to affect the crowd, but at least they were putting away their weapons. But wait, there was the small Elf over there, looking very surprised. Smiling, she lifted her maul and pointed it the Elf's way. "You. You know the name," she said. "Now tell us what you know."

The lad nodded, "He might. If you let him know it wasn't my fault? Gregg was gonna get it sooner or later. I just hoped it would be later, I guess."

The crowd stared, murmuring back and forth as they looked on. The one that Rethsiren pointed at was slow to move until a drink was promised, then he shrugged and started walking away. The elf that Thalla pointed at, however, panicked and ran. He darted South, along the coast, and then turned right into the city.

Basilisa frowned at the boy’s remark about Gregg’s inevitable fate. “Why would Gregg ‘get it’ at all?” Her eyes briefly followed the departing Thalia.

She marked the warrior woman’s direction as best she could as she turned her attention back to the lad. “Just so we get our story straight with your Papa. To that end, what is your name? I am Basilisa.” She offered a friendly handshake with an equally friendly grin.

At the prospect of a chase, Rethsiren promptly forgot about both body and promised drink and took off after the elf Thalla had pointed at. He grinned in exultation at the chase and settled into a ground-eating jog as he tried to run his prey to ground.

Whistling, he sent a mental command to Thia to give chase to the elf. He was relying a bit too much on his familiar, but there was no way he would be able to keep up with someone who was running away. At the very least, he could help track this man down. He cursed under his breath that he had not prepared the correct spell for this situation, and he knew the perfect spell too.

Raelan muttered, musing as the chase was afoot.
"When there's unknown destination,
shorter legs should keep their station.
Though longer limbs might turn out dandy,
knowledge, cunning, they be more handy."
He took the opportunity to plonk himself down, sitting on the unconscious thugs chest. He gave the mans face a gentle slap with a grubby hand and shrugged, satisfied he wasn't waking up just yet.

Singing a tuneless ditty to himself from his perch, interspersed with a dirty chuckle, Raelen held forth a hand. One by one, a variety of berries seemed to materialise in his palm. Anyone looking askance, out of the corner of their eye, or studying the gnome closely, might swear to themselves that the berries were being delivered by tiny, spectral insects before their miraculous appearance. But then again, maybe not. Maybe it was just some of his crazy rubbing off.

Raelen carefully selected and ate a berry with a content "Hm!" and as he pocketed the remainig berries, listened in to Belsara's interrogation of his yellow-haired friend.

OOC:

Cast Goodberry using Pact Magic.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:49, Fri 30 Oct 2020.

The lad smiled at Basilisa, "I'm Iosef. I, uh, I bought dragonsmoke from Gregg. It doesn't hurt anything, but he did business with some bad folk. I figured he would get done in by one of them eventually. But I don't know who woulda done it, or what to do if I did know."

Rethsiren and Thia took off. Rethsiren quickly found himself lost in the twists and turns of Sarambar. But a quick glance at the dim sky overhead showed a flash of Thia's wing gave him an idea of where to go.

It wasn't long before the elf was cornered down a blind alley between a butcher and a candlemaker. Rethsiren stood at the mouth and the elf had his back against the wall at the end.

OOC: Anyone following Rethsiren will be there with him. As a note, dragonsmoke is an opioid favored by the rich in Sarambar, and sometimes cut with other substances to cheapen it enough for the local populace to kill themselves slowly.

"Now..." Rethsiren rumbled, taking a step forward. "Belsara. You recognized the name. I need to know everything you know about it." He mourned the fact that he hadn't the means to *make* the man speak. Not until he could beseech the Drowned King again.

"I'm going to assume you're either a loyal fanatic like the other poor bastard, or she's threatened your life if you talk." He continued conversationally. The harsh look in his eyes, however, spoiled the effect of any casual approach. Whoever this group was had brought shame to his god and Rethsiren very much didn't like it. "So I will tell you now that you can either take the easy way -talk to me of your own will and make me believe the truth of your words, and then you can run as best you may- or the hard way. That means I and mine will drag you to some abandoned shack and sit on you until morning when I can beseech my god to make you. And though I cannot speak for my new friends, I promise you that the more you try my patience, the less comfortable the wait will be." Reth didn't generally condone torture, but... there were other options. And if it was for the greater good...well.


OOC:Someday the dice roller will get over its love affair with Reth and I will cry. But this is not that day.

08:31, Today: Rethsiren rolled 19 using 1d20.  Persuasion/Intimidation.

The elf was trapped, and he knew it. He was fat for an elf, with none of the characteristic grace and beauty of his kind. Instead a large scar ran across his face, mingling with dark tattoos. He was full of nervous energy and his eyes darted from Rethsiren to the alleyway behind the dragonborn.

"You shouldn't be asking about her", he licked his lips a few times as his voice rose, "You really shouldn't. She wouldn't like it. And if she doesn't like you then you might end up dead!"

“That sounds rough, Iosef. Do you remember who Gregg sold the dragonsmoke to...?” Basilisa actually felt a little sorry for his friend, and for the tragedy that nearly befell Iosef. Kids screwed up, she certainly had only a handful of years ago. She wanted to share this information with her new friends, but had apparently lost sight of them.

“Guys...?”

From atop his comatose perch, Raelan indulged himself with a dirty little chuckle at Basilisa's exclamation.
"Look down, fair maid, mayhap ye'll see,
no-body's alone in the tribe of we.
This query, this riddle, this mystery in hiding,
where smoke there is fire, a dragon abiding.

If victim a-seeking, for watery grave,
I'd look for one fuzzled by a sweet haze.
But dragon we seek like as not won't be found,
by following spoor left clear on the ground.

The smoke of our fire, the clue to the beast,
is either in flight from our dragons might,
or lower than I, right under my rump!"

 Raelan smiled and hummed to himself idly.

"I am touched by your concern." Rethsiren told the elf dryly. "But I believe I can handle myself quite adequately. And I should hate to miss the opportunity to meet such an... interesting lady and see her for myself. Surely she must have a method for meeting new recruits- perhaps you could at least tell me how that works."


23:04, Today: Rethsiren rolled 11 using 1d20.  Persuasion.

Iosef shrugged, "I didn't ask. He had a lot of people but last week he started talking about some new customer. He kept hinting that he was gonna strike it rich. I didn't think anything of it. Gregg's people weren't rich. We were never gonna buy a lot, but he was happy to keep selling bits and pieces here and there. But he was talking like his new customer was buying by the pound."

In the alleyway, the elf glared at Rethsiren, "New recruits? Like your kind could even understand what we're doing here. What has come before."
His voice was still loud, ringing around the alleyway. He could probably be heard out in the street but he didn't seem to care. Rethsiren could see one hand inching toward his waist where a long-bladed knife was sheathed.

Basilisa shooed the know-it-all gnome away. Iosef wasn’t so  irrelevant when they thwarted his near-killing, so she couldn’t dismiss what he told her so cavalierly. “Did Gregg tell you the customer’s name?”

Thalla watched the Elf race away, the Dragonborn in pursuit. As much as she liked her new companions and free drinks, comforting a child was not her forte. But chasing down possible cultists and shaking information out of them was very much so.

"I'll be back!" she called out, taking after the Elf and the Dragonborn, following a few steps behind, trying to be as quiet as she could manage. She stopped behind Rethsiren, letting a smoother tongue do the interrogating, but paced behind him, to let the Elf know that when the talking was done, it was her turn to pry secrets out of him.

So when she saw the Elf reach for his blade, she charged past Rethsiren. "Knife!" she yelled and aimed a shoulder at the Elf's soft gut to hopefully knock him on his arse and cause him to reconsider the knife.

OOC: Move up to the Elf and shove him to the ground (Athletics (Shove): rolled 19 using 1d20+5)

"Yeah, I think so. Something Durgal? Don? Dave? Davis! Davis Durgal. Gregg said he had money and wanted a lot of smoke. Said he was gonna make Gregg rich. But now that Gregg's gone..."
His voice trailed off and the lad hung his head.


In the alley, Thalla impacted the elf in the stomach just as he drew his knife. The blade went flying, clattering against the wall some four or five feet away. The elf put up a brief struggle as he cried out in rage and pain.

Thalla, please make an opposed Athletics or Acrobatics roll as he tries to grapple you.

Thalla rolled to her feet after shoulder-tackling the Elf, hearing the blade clatter away. She gave out a satisfied growl, flashing her teeth at him, and reached down and pulled out a handaxe of her own. The other hand reached out to try and wrap her arm around the Elf's neck and hold him place, the muscles in her arm flexing with the expected effort... But perhaps the Elf was more slippery than she imagined.

"You're making it very hard for me not to kill you," she growled in frustration.

OOC: Free action to take out handaxe.
Attempt to grapple Elf: rolled 11 using 1d20+5

Thalla's muscles tensed around the elf's throat and his brief struggles quickly died as he gave in. Spittle flecked the corner of his mouth and his breaths came in heavy gasps. He glared at Rethsiren from where he was held, but couldn't turn to see Thalla.

“Davis Durgal”. A name in case the dragonsmoke peddling was important. There would always be a new crisis in the world. “I could always follow up on the dealer. If it leads nowhere, at least it leads me back to what matters: bringing Art to the people and the world.”

Basilisa glanced at the unconscious thug. “Where’s that constable, anyway?” She was ready to find Thalia again.

"You're making it very hard for me not to kill you," she growled in frustration.

"And quite easy for me to do this." Rethsiren bounded energetically up to the struggling elf, assessed the situation with a glance, and calmly reached out a clawed hand to calmly bounce the man's head off the ground. Being able to knock someone out without killing them was quite a useful skill for a sailor once the alcohol started flowing and the Dragonborn was rather proud of it.

"Thank you, my lady warrior. That was well done, indeed. Now, I haven't the skill at present, but I believe if I ask my lord in the morning this fellow might be persuaded to be more cooperative- or perhaps one of our new fellows might have better luck."


18:52, Today: Rethsiren rolled 19 using 1d20+4.  Medicine check for knockout.

In reply to Basilisa (msg # 94):

Lathalan nodded to her, "Ready to move? I had my familiar follow them through the town. I should be able to help get us all back together."

Thalla nodded approvingly at that skull-thumping. It was always good to measure out physical force, and odds are that in her current irritated state, she would have crushed his skull.

"Ah yes, what they call the softer touch," she answered back with a grin, and hoisted the Elf onto her shoulder. She walked back the way they came, until she could find her new companions.

"Wouldn't cooperate," she explained with a shrug, giving the unconscious Elf a shake and then lowering him down to the floor. "He seems to know the villain. Maybe you can charm the secrets out of him," she said to Basilisa with a wink.

Thalla and Rethsiren returned to the shore where Basilisa, Lathalan, and Raelan were and dumped their unconscious elf next to the motionless thug. The crowd from the tavern was beginning to thin as the calls for the city guard rose.

Finally, two guardsmen came jogging around the corner. The coat of arms of Sarambar - a breaching swordfish in front of a rising sun - emblazoned in detailed threadwork on their tunics. One of the guards stepped toward the two men lying on the ground and the small group standing over them.

"What's going on here? What happened?", his tone was authoritative but not accusing.

Basilisa attempted to pick the unconscious elf’s pockets for any further clues about his mission or cult. Too many knees and feet nudged her, though. She attempted to play it off as checking him for wounds. “There, there. You weren’t hit quite that hard.”

OOC:

00:10, Today: Basilisa rolled 12 using 1d20+4.  Deception .
00:09, Today: Basilisa rolled 10 using 1d20+6.  Sleight of Hand

"Ah, good guardsmen," Rethsiren boomed in greeting. "Two of these gentlemen were engaged in nefarious activity -namely, trying to throw a man off a cliff- when we heard their victim's cries and intervened. They ranted a bit about a cult led by a Belsara, and when we asked around about her that one," A point at their newest body, "took off running. He was most stubborn about explaining himself. Do you have any means to compel truth? As one sworn to the Drowned King, I do have a particular interest in those who would falsely sacrifice others in his name."