An Eye for Bargains
"There was a body." The man at the desk in front of you (you're at the Adventure's Hall, in one of their offices) looks like he's had better days. Thom smells of sweat. Sweat trails mark his skin, stain his shirt. "We were able to file it away as pranks, until then."
He holds out a set of papers to you--whomever might take them. "The Veyshanti merchants are upset. It's their property. Most everyone's blaming the gobbers--or the plague. We can't have either of that right now, you understand."
"Plague's got everyone on edge."
The papers provide a name: Kerville Williams, aged 28. Lost his wife to Dragonier. Has (had) an adopted kid. Dockworker. Alexandrian. Found dead: deep in the Docks district, near the Veyshanti warehouse.
"Of course they're upset." Rishi plants her hands on her hips, "But just be glad they aren't demanding a 15 percent cut on their rent and taxes because of the impact it has on them." She stares and shakes her head. She was Veyshanti too, she knew what to expect of those Merchants.
"Wait, are they not? That might mean they feel guilty." Rishi casts her glance to the side and reaches out to snap up the papers.
Zeke stays to the back, a blue-scaled sith-makar trying to make his very large frame seem as small as it can be. His tail flicks back and forth as he takes in the small space with his green eyes. In the shadow of the cowl of his dark cloak sometimes they don't seem green at all. Zeke doesn't offer to take the papers, he stays away from everyone else and insead nods his head. "It isss underssstandable. Thisss one will do what can be done to offer aid." His right hand clenches around the haft of his walking stick, his cloak kept tight around his body.
Nizzi hmms, "Or they know something more than what they're letting on." The gnome considers, then nods over towards Rishi, her purple hair spiked and a bit frazzled from the summer heat, "So what's the plan?" Oh boy.
Stena lets out a sigh at the paper before she glances towards the others she's with, nodding her approval. She's ready 3enough to help out, best she can.
"Sure. All right," she offers, then she has a bite from the apple she's got in her hand. Bodies? No problems. Merchants? No problems.
Gnomes..? Stena looks warily at Nizzi.
"Stressed? Yeah." The man pauses so long it becomes awkward. He's staring at something on his desk. His voice is flat, worn down. "...the Veyshanti wanted to escort you. They demanded this mission in their own way. ...pot of tea showed up with one of their fancy note. Smelled like some sort of...herb thing. Dangerous but not. Our interpreter told us, they meant business by the 'smell' of it, if you can imagine," the man says. He still sounds dead; the words have no more inflection than the print on your report.
"...there's a gobber outside this door, to escort you. I don't know what that means in terms of negociations. You may ask." His tone suggests he doesn't give a shit, one way or the other. To Braelnoir, "Don't care, so long as the client's happy. What you're dealing with--" he says, and he takes a breath. Rallies some.
"Smoke, red eyes....some reported howls, yipping. High-pitched, and maybe sounded like goblins." The man runs a thumb over his brow. Then he pauses, and stares at his thumb. "...that's all I've got for you, outside of a location. Name. Just make this shit go away so we can all move on with our lives."
Slow blink. "That was insensitive of me. I'm sorry."
Braelnoir takes the briefing in from her perch, leaning against the wall, eyes flitting from person to person as they speak, then with a shrug inquires of the client, "You want th'perp in one piece, luv'r just th'biggest piece?"
GAME: Rishi rolls knowledge/local: (5)+4: 9
Rishi turns her head one way, then the other and then offers the papers off to someone else. Perhaps the gnome. But she's heading toward the door where the Gobber is supposed to be waiting. "If the tea smelled that way, then it's important enough. I'm ~so~ not hanging around to listen to you for more of it, even if what you said sounded a little racist about gobbers."
Rishi shoots another look toward the man who mentioned the red eyes then, a thin-lipped expression, but she doesn't look like she's waiting.
The sith-makar blinks at the rudeness, but doesn't comment on it, just ducks his head a little lower and flicks his tail. He looks at his companions briefly from beneath the hood of his cowl. "Perhapssss it would be bessst to be on our way quickly then." He sounds uncomfortable, but then he has unhappy thoughts about what those things might add up to. "Doesss anyone have any quessstionsss?" The question is asked with the air of someone who has many, but isn't comfortable asking them.
"..yeaaaaah. LEt's be on our way. Before, you know, someone says more racist things." Everyone knows the only target of waryness ought to be gnomes, after all. Stena has another bite from her apple and then tosses the core somehwere appropriate enough. There's boudn to be a place, right? Right?
"Sure, okay. Let's take the scort. Come on, move on..." She's ready to go, Stena is!
Nizzi eyes Stena right back, then nods in agreement with Rishi, cracking her knuckles as she "Let's go do this, then." She grins cheerfully.
The man gives a bit of a twitch, at his remarks being called racist. But all he says is--he reaches under his desk for a flask, and salutes them with it. "You could say this has done some things for tension...all the howls, crap, only happens at night, by the way."
He unstoppers the flask.
...and barring parting words, you're through the door. Where--there's a gobber on the other side of it. A short gobber, but they're all short, aren't they? Bare three feet in height, with bat-ears. The one of the left looks like a shark took a bite out of it. A handsome one, too, the gobber--plenty of warts over his skin, and a hat sits jauntily over his head.
He eyes the man through the door, as you come through. Eyes him, and his jaw works...moves.
Stops. And then he looks at the lot of you. Folds his arms over his narrow chest. "Name's Rudder," he says and waits for you to respond. Arms still folded.
It's near enough dusk, by the way.
Unsurprisingly Zeke is the last through the door, holding it open with the door between himself and others so that people can move through. He offers one last glance and a subtle shake of his head at the man inside before he closes the door. Then once on the other side he stays to the back, his tail almost flicking against the door as he takes in the small goblin on the other side. The offering of a name recieves a low bow of Zeke's head and the sith though the action is very unsith-like. "Thisss one issss known assss Zeke." He says his own name with a slight inclination that makes it sound as though the Z is a different letter entirely, but he does his best. Today it's not very good. Nervousness makes him lisp more than he usually does.
"Name's Rishi, so let's not stand around looking for Leave-r-ight." She plants her knuckles on her hips and looks at the gobber, not doing the racist thing to crouch down and talk to the gobber.... even if it would be funny.
Nizzi doesn't /need/ to crouch down, as she looks right at the goblin, "Hey Rudder, I'm Nizzi, let's get this done eh?" She grins cheerfully, hands on her hips as she regards him.
"Good to meet ya," the gobber says. He waves y'all down the hall--and it's good to move. Folks want to move. So he starts walking. His legs move fast, for someone three feet heigh. At this pace, you'll all cover ground fast enough.
"Look--I don't want ta tell you yer business--" the gobber says, "--but them Guild Masters is a load of shit. Whatever money they's payin' you."
"Well--" the gobber says, sounding gruding. "There's a lot of Veyshanti money in Alexandria, you take my meanin'. ...no one thought ta ask what was in that shipment they brought in," he adds. Glances meaningfully your way.
Possibly, the gobber walks a little faster. You're headed towards the Warehouse District. It won't take long. There's not a lot of time for questions, if you have any.
Stena, on the other hand, absolutely does need to crouch. She's less than happy about all this, actually, but she seems ready enough to move along with the swiftly-walking Gob. Something she can do easily on account of, you know, having legs that aren't stubs.
Being in the back means that Zeke isn't in the best position to take part in polite discourse with the goblin leading them around; though he's perceptive enough that with his effort given he hasn't missed anything. He does peer around a little bit, uncomfortable with the fact that they're headed into the region that is supposed to hold these howling mists with red eyes. "Hassss... Excusssse thisss one, but hassss anyone been behaving oddly of late? Doing thingsss that they would not normally do? Being lissstlesss? Complained of odd woundssss that they do not remember getting?"
Zeke's questions are asked quietly enough that they could go unanswered without much effort, but he seems to have a distinct line of questioning. "Perhapssss ssssomeone hassss sssseen animalsss?
"...yeh. Cousin of mine had that. Kerville Williams...that's tha guy, right? He had signs of it. But--" the gobber slows. You're further in, now and ahead--one can see Warehouse #41 and #42. It's the ones the papers mentioned.
"--they found his dog by th' body, too. Half-eaten, eh? Now who eats a dog?" the gobber asks. He smirks darkly at that. Reaches up, and adjusts his cap as y'all walk.
Ahead is a set of warehouses. They're all warehouses, and it's getting dark. The only light will be the mana lamps, soon--and here, in the docks, things work...as they work.
Flickering. Intermittent. Shadowy. Ahead, the two warehouses described in your papers. You can see a set of Veyshanti guards at each entry.
Rishi follows along easily enough, casting the gobber back an equally meaningful look that says she's not really in the caring mood about the politics of the docks. But with a roll of her eyes, she lets out a long and - also meaningful - sigh. tanned woman gives a gesture back at Zeke though, "Yeah, those sorts of questions. You know, unless we wanna listen to Mr. Racist of the what-ever-he's-in-charge-of place." She shrugs.
GAME: Zeke rolls heal: (14)+2: 16 GAME: Braelnoir rolls heal: (1)+0: 1 (EPIC FAIL)
Flick-flick goes Zeke's tail. Flick-flick. He almost seems to be fading into the background even more than he had before. It's not hard for a darkly-cloaked figure that has dark scales to be unobtrusive. "You sssshould leave, it isss not sssafe." His words are a whisper from the dark, his green eyes somehow all the brighter for the fact that he's trying to not be noticed.
He lowers his voice even further, trying to keep from startling the goblin. "Thissss one... notesss that the Veyshanti are known for unpleasssant thingsss. Thingsss that require warehousssesss. Plasscesss where... people can be kept?" Zeke shudders suddenly from head to tail, thinks of things that are far from pleasant indeed. "Thissss one hasss ssseen many oddities of late causssed by the plague asss well. Thingsss that may account for what hasss been sssseeen and heard."
The scythe carrier barely bats an eye at all the inflammation amidst the dialogue, though she does look around studiously once the group reaches the apparant stomping grounds of the red eyed whosiwhatsit. "Lotsa sweethearts in the world, luvvie, some are a li'l more straightforward about it." she says toward the dark sith with a shrug, but she turns her attention toward the impending guards.
The outside of Warehouse #41 (and #42) looks like any other, except--one might taste the spice. Just along the top of the tongue, along the cheeks as it invades the nostrils. A pair of Veyshanti guards stand by each entryway. They scowl at the gobber accompanying you, but briefly.
The two, the guards and the goblin, look at one another--and then the goblin snorts and looks away. The guards go back to watching the streets.
"Yeh. ..." the gobber says. He glances at Zeke. "...yeh. Ask'em about them sounds, eh? Maybe they came from a /person/," the gobber says darkly, in undertones. "Anyway. I ain't paid ta stick around. Hope youse figure it out."
And he walks away. Fast. Tensions high, a bit? Yeah.
So, there in front of you--the two warehouses. The guards. The papers say 'the incident' (Why not 'the murder'? Politics, paperwork, maybe?) happened between them.
"People -can- make noises like that, but I doubt they'd be that indiscrete as to let them make all that racket... right outside their warehouses." Rishi glances to Zeke, "Not really Veyshanti." And then she's looking back toward the guard, and then the warehouses. "Hmmm." She looks one way, then the other, and checks around the nearest corner. Maybe there's a window she can wall-run up to.
As Rishi walks over to one of the windows--a guard tugs at another's sleeve. One of them leans forward. "He--"
"It's the Adventurer's from the Guild," another says back.
"Oh." Then, "You have your papers?" the first guard asks.
Zeke flick-flicks his tail unhappily. "Thisss one meant no offensssce." He shrinks back further. His tail hasn't stopped yet. Every instinct says certain things distinctly, but... He isn't about to cause an incident amongst his group. He follows the rest of the group quietly now, on sharp lookout for anything unusual now that they're in the right neighborhood. Eyeing the paper now and again when he can catch a glimpse of it from around someone's shoulder. It doesn't seem to make him happy.
Nizzi frowns, "Well, if you'd be so kind as to hold it where //everyone// can see it?" She sighs a bit, looking frustrated and... well, honestly, like she wants to punch something. Which is her default state, in truth.
"No offence here, luvvie." Brae shrugs to the Sith. She considers the guards a moment, then, glances at the paper. The butt of her scythe settles against the street and she looks the building over whilst the formalities are taken care of.
"Oi! Hello!" Stena calls out to the guards, saying, "Yeah! I suppose we do. Somewhere. Right?" She glances over at the others. Papers, you know. She's probably not thought to bring anything of her own.
Well, except a tiny slice of pie which she eats.
"They came with the gobber. And--those look about right." One of the other guards--from the pair at #42, says. She nods towards the papers.
Then there's a pause. A long pause.
"Ah," says the first guard. The one who'd originally spoken up. "Good you're here, then. If you want to look around inside, we're authorized to escort you."
The other guards are silent. Silent and...not a lot of expression. Just pleasant. Distant.
GAME: Braelnoir rolls profession/siege engineer: (11)+4: 15
The blue-scaled sith hangs back enough that he doesn't really seem to be much a part of the group really. He's clearly uncomfortable if that tail is any indication. Or maybe it's not. Hard to tell with sith-makar. He looks right and left and then... Coughs. Quietly. Looks hopefully at the group to see if he has gotten any attention or not. Ducks his head and nervously fixes his cloak around himself.
"Well..." Rishi, after handing off the papers, looks inside and tilts her head. "They crates are definitely Vayshanti. I just can't say who's." She she turns back and shrugs at the others. "crates looked a little fidgeted about though." She turns back and heads towards the crates that look askew to look them over. She was so not waiting for the guard to escort her around.
The thumb of Brae's free hand hooks into one of her belts as she gives the place a lookover, focusing on one of the corners, "W'got any trackers amongst us, m'lovelies? There's some marrin' on some of these walls could be worth putting some trained eyes on." The woman saunters over toward the window the smaller woman was checking out and that hand comes out to gesture at it almost absently, "'Specially around here."
Nizzi clambers onto a crate, looking around with a more elevated view, "Hrm, not really my specialty..." She sniffs a bit, glancing back and forth. A nod towards Rishi follows and Stena shakes her head at Brae.
"Naw," she offers, "not me. I think my best skills are getting really loud, eating, and proceeding to hit things with my axe." A glance towards Nizzi, a nod. She's looking around too. For anything out of the ordinary.
It's not really helping.
Zeke continues to follow along, but... He lingers behind even more than he had before. He stares at the guards as though they might hold some secret as yet undiscovered. "Have you sssseen anything unusssual? Anything illegal or ssstrange going on?" The sith keeps his tone imminently polite, his tail flicking so constantly behind him that it seems like it's habitual or something maybe.
Gregor rides up just now, he arrived late at the Guild and had to catch up by riding through the town. Luckily someone either gave him directions, or he's got insane tracking skills. (He does track, but he got the directions. He's not -that- good.) Hitching his horse outside, he'll join the others, giving a curt, "I'm from the Explorers' Guild," to the guards outside.
The guards frown. Instantly. At Rishi's words. "They--which warehouse?" one of the set at #42 says. The speaker's just over five feet, with dark hair. She looks keenly at Rishi, then the rest of you. Her partner is immediately turning, and unlocking the door to that warehouse.
When Brae speaks up, they glance at her, too.
"Number 42, first," the dark-haired guard says. She looks over towards the guards at 41. "One of us at a time. You--Aamir. You will need to watch our post, as well."
Aamir nods, and the guards reshuffle. The one near the speaker throws open the doors for you. And, there are crates--crates inside.
Some of them are askew, just like Rishi said. Had said. What she'd noticed from looking in the window. Gregor's waved on through with the rest of you.
GAME: Zeke rolls perception: (4)+2: 6 GAME: Gregor rolls survival: (16)+7: 23 GAME: Gregor rolls perception: (7)+7: 14 GAME: Braelnoir rolls survival: (13)+4: 17 GAME: Rishi rolls Survival: (13)+7: 20 GAME: Rishi rolls Perception: (15)+9: 24 GAME: Braelnoir rolls perception: (11)+0: 11 GAME: Nizzi rolls perception: (18)+7: 25
Gregor ehs and says, "Have any of you checked out these footprints?" He points out some humanoid footprints. He checks out the blood, too. "That seems like a lot," he says. "On the edge of the crate," he points. He looks around brow furrowed.
GAME: Stena rolls perception: (11)+0: 11
Nizzi nods, "Yeah, there's a lot more behind the crate, too here." She glances back at Gregor and hrms, scratching her head a bit.
Braelnoir's eyes half lid as the tour begins, her lips quirked into an odd, almost daydreamy humor. Meanwhile, head on a swivel as some say, she checks out the inside of the building with the others, focusing on certain area of crates, "Somethin's been restless around here, too."
Zeke bumbles away from his questions, eyeing the footprints on the ground now that they've been pointed out. He'd only noticed the crates themselves aside from staring down the guards to no avail. He's not surprised. No... "Thisss one mentioned... that there may be sssomething unpleasssant taking plasssce here which is not sssupernatural but..."
He has not the words, Zeke's tail stiffens momentarily behind him and he steels himself. Looks at Gregor and lowers his voice to a mere whisper. "Thisss one thinksss that perhapsss there hasss been people here not of their own volition. That there have been ssslavesss here." He finally says it and it tastes like something has crawled inside his mouth and died.
Prompting Gregor's words, the footprints stand out--somewhat. But more, when you move the crate--
The smell of spices had almost covered it. Blood, of course. Enough that it soaks into the concrete, and nearby crates. In the center of it is a dog--the ribcage torn open, and chunks of meat missing, torn from its body. The legs, mostly skeletons, lie broken at awkward angles. One leg has a double paw.
Another, a set of quills.
Those of you who've lived in Alexandria the last few months might recall the plague--a plague that started with human victims, and then reached out to the wilderness. With...odd effects.
"...that's not in the paperwork," speaks up, one of the guards, after too long of a pause. "We've got to notify--" she says, and breaks off, mouth thinning. "That's Clan Ahl's mark." Clan Ahl?
GAME: Zeke rolls heal: (16)+2: 18
Nizzi glances over at the guard, "Who, or what, is Clan Ahl?" She honestly doesn't know, as she arches a brow.
Gregor nods to Zeke about slavers. "If that's the case, then we'll put a stop to that," he says. "They put an end to one of them for some reason, though, and we'll track them down about that in any case." When the dead dog is revealed, he wrinkles his nose, and is about to ask what Clan Ahl is when Nizzi asks.
Zeke draws closer to the body, undisturbed by the gore or the fact that the body is as misshapen as it is. What interests him is not what the animal was - which is clearly something plague-touched - nor even how it died. He opens his maw slightly and inhales. Tastes the raw meat and blood on his palette. Hovers a claw over the body seeking it's warmth, watches with keen eyes that know death and nods before rising. Carefully, to keep his cloak closed about himself. "Thisss creature died lassst night." He is certain of it, and he sounds so.
"Clan Ahl? What the hell does that mean? What, is it opposed by Clan Nothing, with Clan Or in the middle?"
Stena is grumbling about this, of course, giving a nod towards Gregor. She agrees with putting a stop to things, but the dead dog has her looking pretty damn angry. "...new merchant clan," the guard says shortly, her tone guarded. "New clan, ties to the djinni," she adds. There's some pride to it, and she stands straighter. A bit straighter, dark eyes flashing.
"...one I've considered joining. Is there a problem?" a woman asks. Tall, just over six feet. An Aesir woman, wearing Althea's garb. She's a small ways away from you--looks to have just come into the warehouse.
"...adventurers say they found a body," the guard says. "Ma'am."
"...a body? I...I'm Hearthguard Sasha," the Althean says. She smiles, and presses her hands together. "I'm...from here, but I'm friends with Clan Ahl. What's this about a body?"
Rishi lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes for a moment, "Uh huh, and that pause was so convincing that I remembered to share water after I asked for the their clan." She gives a thin-lipped expression and shakes her head once more, shrugging, "I think it's a new clan I don't recognise it." Then this Lady named Sasha walks in and she gives a look to her. A slow look up and down - friends of Clan Ahl... mhmm.
Gregor points out the mark of the clan that was identified as Ahl's, says to Sasha, "If you're familiar with their clan, can you explain the mark here?"
Braelnoir's slogged through too much blood to get squeamish about the dog's fate. She is, however, brought to a somewhat perplexed humor by it's errant physical traits, and she sloooowly turns toward the guards, then to the new Aesir to arrive, "Most a'one."
GAME: Gregor rolls perception: (6)+7: 13
Zeke can not help the sudden swift tension that courses through his body at the sight of this new individual. He looks them up and down and steps subtly away from the group as a whole. He says nothing as everything has been asked. Mostly everything. Everything that is polite to be asked. Zeke blinks slowly twice, once with his outer lids and once with the inner. Yes. This is not good.
"I'm...friends with Jack, one of their clan uh, leaders. It's mostly my friend Kisaiya's idea, but--" Sasha stammers and the guard perhaps wisely, says nothing. NOTHING.
"/Her/ idea," Sasha mutters. Then, "I'm--I'm sorry. I'm a little...there's so much going on, here. Why's there a body?" She looks expectantly at the group of you, looking confused.
Nizzi hrms, "Probably because it was murdered here. Not sure why." She looks around, seeing if there's anything else to discern.
Gregor points out more footprints around another crate. "Look, more here," he says. "I think maybe we ought to have this one open, if people were so interested in it?" To Sasha, he says, "That is the question we're trying to answer."
"Leadin' cause o'bodies." Brae tacks onto Nizzi's remark. She edges a little closer to Zeke and her empty hand his way a little, then slowly eases it down a couple inches, sparing him a vaguely sympathetic look and a whispered, "Eeeasy, now."
Zeke glances at Braelnoir, his tail suddenly flicking once and then letting out a sighed breath through his mouth. Easy. Yes. Of course. He nods to her a motion of thanks and then backs away further toward Gregor who is now further and thus more comfortably distant from the people "If you pleassse sssir. What can you tell thisss one about the footprints? Are they large, sssmall? Bare? Booted?" He looks hopefully at the man and then gently reaches out to tap his staff on the end of the crate. To see if anything living is inside.
Well, of course. The Hearthguard, Sasha, pales as the word murder gets thrown out. As Zeke mentions footprints. Pales, then goes red. "We--" she starts to say. Altheans aren't weak, though. She's starting to look pissed.
"We what. Lady?" asks a voice. A voice overhead, near the rafters. A man stands there, crouched on the crates. Lean, smaller of stature with almond eyes. Skin that speaks to the golden tones of the sand runners of deep Veyshan.
"--we've got to find out who did it, Raja. This shipment's important to--"
"--to the clan. But we're not made for /civilization/. Ma'am. No matter what your dear. Jack. Of Clan Ahl. Says," the stranger says.
One can hear nipping. Some shuffling around the crates.
Nizzi frowns as she tilts her head, "Okay, what's /that/ noise?" She leaps nimbly across crate to crate, being pretty strong for a gnome apparently as she wants to get a better view of what's making that snuffling noise. On the way, she unslings her "great" axe. Which is itself a bit weird for a gnome to carry, as she then shouts, "Jackals! Freaky ones that grin way too human-like!"
GAME: Nizzi RAGES!, gaining +2 to melee attack/damage/Will saves and 4 temporary HP GAME: Nizzi rolls 1d20+8: (7)+8: 15
Nizzi's muscles suddenly swell as dark black and crimson shadows seem to dance around her, eyes glowing black as she howls in anger. She swings her axe down, narrowly missing the jackal as she roars in tiny ferocious ANGER.
Raja grins at Sasha, the smile a slash like a knife across his face. He leaps, shifting to a pouncing position atop the crate he's on. "We're not made for civilization. Ma'am," he says darkly to Nizzi. And then, locks eyes with the cleric.
Locks eyes. "And let's not have any of Althea's magic, ma'am."
Sasha's eyes roll up and she falls. Crumpled, and undefended on the floor. Even as she does, Raja's skin begins to change. It turns dark, then silver. A lean jackal stands there, mouth open as it laughs at you all from wicked teeth.
From behind you, where the guard was--the sound of shifting, breaking bones. Raja pays no attention, but lucks his muzzle. "Come here--little Althean. Come here and we'll chew your bones!"
GAME: Rishi rolls weapon0 -2: (3)+9+-2: 10
Rishi frowns as suddenly... Raja. And he's doing something to Sasha before turning into a jackal? A jackal?
Her head tilts to the side but it's only a bit of momentary confusion as she runs toward the crate he's now on. "BAD! Bad... jackal thing. Shouldn't you be in Vayshan or something?" She jumps, scrambles up the crate and kicks at the thing -
Aaaand Rishi whiffs it. "Well - Verdamn it - stay still."
GAME: Braelnoir rolls weapon3-1: (11)+5+-1: 15
It all happens so very quickly. The staff touches the crate and then there are /more/ people and Zeke... wishes very much to be invisible. It seems as though he might be, because thankfully none of the attention is on him. Instead it is all on the woman who just arrived and she suddenly goes down in a tangle of limbs. Zeke can't determine why, but that only means it's nothing natural. Magic perhaps? All that really matters is that the were-jackals are targeting her and she's down. Defenseless.
The blue-scaled sith takes up his staff and rushes to her side, does not crouch beside her because, there is not time nor knowledge of how to help her. But he can defend her. Zeke takes up a posture there to do just that, growling at the jackals with his own sharp teeth. "Thisss one will not allow you to harm her!"
As everything decides to coalesce into the silhouette of a pear, Noir's scythe is coming up to a proper killing grip. The Acanian merc howling to let, "KOORRRRRRRRRRRR!" know someone's about to get their ass kicked, she takes a leaping step up the crates to support the small rager before unleashing a hellish, swooshing swing at the furry assailants... that ultimately just scares the hell out of their fleas.
GAME: Stena rolls cmb: (20)+7: 27 GAME: Beaglefinder rolls 1d20+5: (11)+5: 16
Hearing Nizzi's cry for help, Stena leaps over the crate! And then, well...
... now she has a jackal in her arms and she's holding on to it. "Don't much care for this nonsense! We're going to put a stop to it, oi?"
GAME: Nizzi rolls 1d20+9: (10)+9: 19
Gregor is no great warrior. He's a cavalry scout by profession. But he knows you don't leave comrades in arms vulnerable in the middle of a fight if you can help it. So he dashes forward, under the glare of a fourth jackal, but it's growling at the others, rather than attacking. A leader? He doesn't spend time on that, he grabs Sasha by one arm and pulls her unceremoniously across his shoulders, bearing her weight as he scoots backwards, then turns to set her safely away from the fight.
GAME: Nizzi rolls 1d10+8: (9)+8: 17
Nizzi twirls her axe again, then grins and LAUGHS back at the jackal, "Oh, you think that's funny well how about THIS!" She slams the axe deep into the shoulder of the jackal, blood gushing forth as the jackal yips in pain and howls in agony. "STILL FIND THAT FUNNY HUH DO YOU?!?"
GAME: Beaglefinder rolls 1d20+5: (5)+5: 10 GAME: Beaglefinder rolls 1d20+5: (9)+5: 14 GAME: Stena rolls will: (9)+1: 10 GAME: Beaglefinder rolls 1d20+5: (7)+5: 12 GAME: Rishi spends ONE point of KI POOL. GAME: Rishi rolls weapon0 -2: (15)+9+-2: 22 GAME: Rishi rolls weapon0 -2: (18)+9+-2: 25 GAME: Rishi rolls weapon0 -2: (12)+9+-2: 19
The mighty blow from the gnome causes the jackals to flinch. One can smell the whiff of sand, the hint of desert...
...the scent of rotted meat. The one grappled by Stena twists, and stares at her. The woman slumps, falling to the earth. Teeth, fortunately, miss her face and neck. But now, Nizzi and Brael face both jackals--and their friend lies unconscious at their feet.
Atop the boxes, the jackal who had been Raja leaps nimbly at Rishi, and misses--only to face a series of counterblows!
GAME: Rishi rolls 1d8+4+1+4: (3)+4+1+4: 12 GAME: Rishi rolls 1d8+4+4: (8)+4+4: 16 GAME: Rishi rolls 1d8+4+4: (5)+4+4: 13 GAME: Zeke rolls heal: (12)+2: 14 GAME: Zeke rolls weapon1: (14)+8: 22 GAME: Zeke rolls 1d6+4: (3)+4: 7
Rishi slips to the side as the jackal tried to get her - the first blow a vicious hook with the right. A knee soon follows and lastly an elbow that cracks him hard in the jaw. The creature stumbling back and then falling off of the crate. She gives a shake of her arms out and snerks, "You're a tough one. Been a while since I've found someone who's done iron body training like that."
"Can you keep thisss one sssafe?" Zeke asks of Gregor, green eyes pleading briefly. He has faith that this will be answered though with a yes. Because Gregor had the same first instinct that he did. To protect those that could not protect themselves. So he does so again. Stepping forward and swinging his staff. So grim is his look, so determined to stop the jackal is he that he grips the staff in both hands. Flashes crystal into the dark and strikes the creature hard on the head. The blow rings up his arms. "Here! Thisss one will fight you!"
Zeke hopes to have drawn its ire.
GAME: Braelnoir rolls weapon3-1: (17)+5+-1: 21 GAME: Braelnoir rolls 2d4+10: (6)+10: 16 GAME: Braelnoir rolls weapon3+1: (18)+5+1: 24 GAME: Braelnoir rolls 2d4+10: (7)+10: 17 GAME: Gregor rolls perception: (10)+7: 17
Braelnoir catches the flurry of action around her, as she recovers from her near-hit and notes the grappler gets a bad case of the vapors, probably from the scavenger's breath and sets about to cover her, first. She indexes the haft in her hands to flip the blade and with a roar of battle-lust she brings the scythe across the midsection of the jackal, not bisecting it, though sheering through an inconvenient amount of its body mass and, with a scant instant of time as the crimson implement emerges from the creature, she angles the stroke to -bury- the blade into the ribcage of Nizzi's foe as someone sends a third canid flying over her head.
"--stop! STOP! They're Jack's cousins!" the cleric being held by Gregor's come to. Her voice is rough, scratchy. "Something's wrong! They're--Raja! Raja, you're not like this! Stop acting like an idiot!"
Behind her, beside Gregor another jackal growls.
Near Braelnor, near Zeke and Nizzi--the other jackals are down. Bleeding, though not...dead. They're not healing? But they're not dying, despite the grievous slices and wounds? They appear caught in a stasis of some kind, the blood slowing.
And they smell like sand. Like rotting meat.
Stena, well...
Stena was about to say something. It was going to be a brilliant, witty retort! Solve all the world's problems in one go with a saying! Or something! She opens her mouth, the jackal looks deeply into her eyes, and she pitches forward into it and attacks it only with snores and drool.
Gregor sets Sasha back on her feet now that she's up, but rather than fighting, he'll grab a piece of tent pole from his pack. Poking between two crates, he flicks out what looks like a disembodied eye, picking it up to look at it curiously.
Nizzi growls faintly, her eyes slowly stopping their black-glowing, as paradoxical as that sounds, the gnome coming down from her bloodrage as she looks at the jackals, "What /is/ going on here?" It's a high pitched snarl, but still a snarl as she slings her axe, looking a bit tired from the sudden surge of anger.
Zeke looks at Sasha, then at the jackals. Then back to the woman. "Thissss one can heal them... but thisss one doess not want to fight them again. Perhapsss they can be sssecured?" He has no rope on him, but others perhaps? He has hope. Zeke glances around the room with this hope in his green eyes. He has not noticed yet that his hood has fallen back showing his curving black horns, nor that his crystal arm is still visible where it clutches his staff.
The low growl behind you all stops. There's smoke, a yip--and the guard from earlier stands there. Her mouth is a straight line. A slash. "You may as well kill him. Raja will be cast out, for this."
It doesn't take long for Stena to come to.
Sasha looks furious. Worried. Furious. "But he--he's sick! That's Jack's call to make, too! It's not yours!" she shouts, rounding on the guards.
One has the feeling of being in the midst of family business. Except, the guard is staring Sasha down. And Sasha isn't backing down. This isn't going to end well. Is it? Nizzi's question goes unanswered, and the tension in the warehouse ratchets up a few notches.
Blood soaks into the earth.
GAME: Zeke rolls heal: (3)+2: 5
Braelnoir braces a boot against the jackal to yank her scythe free as everything seems to go quiet. A shrug and she claps the fist with the emblem of Kor against her breastplate, then turns to check on Stena, offering a hand, should she seem to be coming to. Meanwhile... a look over her shoulder at what's happening over yonder.
GAME: Nizzi rolls spellcraft: (2)+5: 7
Gregor is absolutely confused. "What in the world is going on here?" he demands. The guards get a glare, and he says, "What are you talking about? Who's Jack and what's that got to do with this investigation?"
Rishi hops on down from the crate and heads on over toward it. "The lady is right -" pause, and she points at Sasha, "That one I mean. Jack should say when happens if they're kin." She juts her chin out stubbornly.
GAME: Rishi rolls Diplomacy: (14)+3: 17
The guard glares at Sasha, then --nods to Rishi. "Our clan's small enough already. And what Jack says..."
"Exactly," Sasha says. Sasha isn't always the most diplomatic, all of the time. This does not help. But, the guard backs down. And, as she does--there's a noise at the door.
"...maybe I can answer that. My name is Rifaah Ahl. ...but I'd appreciate you healing these idiots, first." The voice comes from the doorway. Another Veyshanti--lean, dark hair. This one moves like Rishi does, and has the dark-haired, sand-kissed complexion the guard does. That Raja does. "It's not they don't deserve to suffer--but Jarii's right. Our clan's small enough--small enough it's worth something to us if you can get to the bottom of this."
"...ngh?" Stena blinks her eyes where she lays on the ground.
"Wh... what happened?" Blink, blink.
So much for her consultation fees. Brae looks around again, then squares a look on the remaining guard as she tap-tap-taps her the haft of her weapon on the floor to knock the blood from the blade. That was fun... and guilt free. Bonus! She stays keyed, as wills start crossing, as it may turn into round two. Then, as she hears Stena stirring at her feet, she wiggles her hand a little and waits for her to take it, "Doggie breath." is her answer to the woman's question.
Zeke nods low, to Sasha, and then to Rifaah. He looks around the group briefly but... this is his choice. He wraps his hands around his staff and it clinks quietly against the ground as he sends a wordless prayer to the Dragonfather. Warmth spreads from him, the warmth of healing. It touches all of them gently, quieting wounds and healing flesh. Zeke's green eyes open a moment later and he is suddenly aware of himself once more, pulling his left hand inside the folds of his cloak and tipping his head down. Looking away.
"Thank you," to Zeke. "May you always find water, healer." The man bows in the Veyshanti style. Fluid, though. Moves...moves well. Trained in some way. He nods to Gregor, then. "...what you're holding, I don't know what it is. I can get you an audience with a friend of the clan's though, if we can work together."
To the others. "The rest should be obvious to you all by now. ...but I'm not as mysterious as my cousin. So I'll simply tell you. ...clan Ahl is a faction. We're djinni-blessed werejackals. Our small clan has taken on a mission to...reform...the others of our kind, in the sands. But we cannot do this with a small clan."
"...must've been /really/ bad. I've seen some serious stink over the years. Or is that smelled? I dunno, sometimes you can see it. Like the little vapor lines an otyugh leaves when it farts," says Stena.
Then she's on her feet, slowly.
Gregor glares at the speaker, and says, "I don't care if you're elf-based were-hippos or Sandy-in-a-tutu. You've attacked a duly deputized team from the Explorer's Guild in the legitimate pursuit of evidence to investigate a crime, and right now you're being a pain in my backside and talking over my head's not helping your cause. I don't follow politics and whatever other muck you're playing at, so you can skip that part. So you have two choices: You can become very helpful very fast, or we can finish this fight right now. We're Explorers, but that means we're deputized to kill the enemies of Alexandria. And you're not acting very helpful right now. So. You make the call."
Djinni-blessed gets a snort from Rishi, but she listens all the same - even if her arms are crossed and she might also be sizing up Rifaah. She puffs up a little more even, giving him a squint, then shrugs. "Well, I don't think your reformation is going very well."
The blue-scaled sith can not help but nod back to that bow, it is automatic. "Peasssce on your nessst." This too, is too habitual to go without being said, without being done. He grips his hand tightly around the haft of his staff however. His tail flicks. Green eyes are slightly narrow. He looks at the boxes and can not shake off the /wrongness/ that all of his instincts have spoken. "He holdssss an eye sssir. An actual eye."
Quiet words, but firmly spoken. More firm than the narrow gaze which takes in the crates rather than anything living. "Thisss one doesss not underssstand your wordsss. What isss it you wisssh of ussss? To capture people?" He flicks his tail, stills it forceably as Gregor speaks some of the words that he himself might have spoken had he... But he could not. Yet there is harshness in his words too. A firm finality that awaits the answer.
"Err." Rishi glances at Gregor and then leans over, murmuring, "They're saying is that they don't know what's going on and they want to work with us to figure it out."
Nizzi glances at the werejackals, then looks at Rishi, "Well... I think helping them helps get us to the bottom of this... whatever this is." She frowns, "Don't really like it a whole bunch, though."
"Seems there's a queue on folks need settin' straight." the merc replies casually. Brae glances at Stena as she's up on her feet, then back to glancing between her colleagues, then the Veyshanti and she reaches up to brush back her hair, the skeleton in her ear set to dancing a hangman's jig, but she's otherwise mum. She took the contract, she'll finish the contract.
GAME: Zeke rolls wisdom: (16)+2: 18 GAME: Gregor rolls wisdom: (15)+0: 15 GAME: Rishi rolls Knowledge/local: (2)+4: 6 GAME: Braelnoir rolls wisdom: (9)+0: 9 GAME: Nizzi rolls wisdom: (2)+0: 2
Zeke straightens suddenly, alarm running from the tip of his snout down to his suddenly rod-straight tail which has stopped it's flicking. "Wait... Wait if you pleassse. Hassss.... Did anyone /eat/ the creature here? One of you?" He looks at those who were jackal-turned. He swallows a touch of disgust and awaits this answer too.
Gregor eyes Rishi, eyes Nizzi, eyes this joker and glares. "That body we found. It looked like some plague-affected creature from the woods," he explains, now eyeing Zeke. "This situation," he decides, "is really annoying me. I don't like confusing situations, and you people are making it worse. I you think you can help, say out plain how you're going to help and what you're going to do."
Rifaah blinks a few times--a blink of dark eyes. "Excuse me?" to Gregor. Then, "It is a difficult path. However, I am nonetheless a /person/, good Alexandrian. I would like to know why it happened. I would, excuse me," he says, his voice firming, and eyes flashing, dark and hard like agates. "To /not lose my kin/--at least without finding out what made them act in this way, so their sickness does not spread. Do you have a family? Perhaps they are important to you!"
Rifaah looks to Gregor. "We will pay you for your efforts, with our thanks. Those of you willing to help--one is glad for it, with the thanks of my clan. The road ahead is hard," he says firmly, "But we shall not shirk from it." And he--this close. There's a touch of smoke, about the edges of his hair. It's not entirely...not entirely solid. A hint of ash. Fire.
"My cousin smells wrong, Alexandrians. What you saw today isn't like Raja. I am worried for him. I am worried for all of my kin." And then Zeke speaks up and he goes absolutely still. "...we are predators. An animal..." And he looks towards the--
--the carcass.
At that, the eye that Gregor had found begins to melt. One can hear a faint noise. A faint--
GAME: Gregor rolls perception: (9)+7: 16 GAME: Rishi rolls perception: (19)+9: 28 GAME: Zeke rolls perception: (1)+2: 3 (EPIC FAIL)
"A-a-a-and someone is laughing at us. How wonderful." Rishi lets out a sigh, "Sick and old laughter." She turns to look where she can hear it coming from, her eyes focusing in on the eye in Gregor's hand.
GAME: Stena rolls perception: (8)+0: 8
Gregor flicks his hand as the eye starts to melt, splattering the yuck. "Okay, whatever caused this is laughing at us now," he grumbles. As for the were-jackals, he says, "So I'm going to go out on a limb and grant you that someone or something has mind controlled him and is causing bad things to happen. You may not all be criminals. Fine," He nods. "So what do we do about it?" That's Gregor working together.
GAME: Braelnoir rolls perception: (4)+0: 4 GAME: Nizzi rolls perception: (3)+7: 10
"...I will introduce you to a dragon," Rifaah says, his tone even. "But you must dress well, act well, in front of him." He tilts his head to the side, and presses the hands together, this Veyshanti. A flick of the look to Rishi. "You understand," he says to her. Veyshanti. "Perhaps you may convey this better than I."
Then, he turns, and bows to Zeke, his hands pressed together. "Water giver," he says. "Thank you for your service to my clan."
-End