Tequila’s illusionary curtains faded from view. This allowed the groups at either side of the room to see each other again and trade angry glances just as shouting could be heard from down the hall.
A man approached, in a rush, announcing to all that the Red Raven had taken down men at the Drowning Cat Tavern, and that only two people on his list showed up to be taken to the meeting. He stopped quite suddenly upon entering the room, surprised at the sight of combat and the tiny angel flying and singing above his head. The second man, running behind him didn’t take such quick notice of this and ended up running into the first. This bullrush sent the man flying forward onto the rug which then collapsed under his weight and caused him to drop 10 feet into a pit. Sounds of snarling and heavy, dragging footfalls could be heard from below, and shortly later screams as a killer crocodile ate him alive.
“Shouldn’t there be three down there, Bobby?” “We had to sell two of them.” “Son of a bitch.” “Fuggedaboutit.” Big and Bobby quipped.
The green-skinned assassin, refusing to die quickly or quietly made motions to push Christian into the pit behind him. Christian shifted himself and made an attempt to strike before he could be struck, but it was Lance’s longsword that slashed itself through the beastly man’s flesh and fell him.
Mr. Big rummaged through his desk. His tiny halfling hands were looking for something to perhaps turn the fight in his favour. Meanwhile his dwarven bodyguard interposed himself between Big and Lance, striking at him with a long reaching hammer with what Christian could recognize as phalanx fighting proficiency.
The group continued to fight bravely on as heavy feet could be heard approaching along with the sound of dragging metal across stone. From the hall emerged another thug announcing the arrival of The Immolator. A woman, nay, a mass of glistening, oily muscle and rage burst in from behind, grabbing the man and throwing him almost clear of the pit. He grabbed at the ledge and hung on for dear life above the killer croc below. From behind her partial mask, she snarled and howled out of a disfigured face as she raised her menacing-looking greatsword with ease. Big upped his price to encourage his men to take down the Raven and his Unkindness.
Not to be dissuaded, or perhaps a little insulted by the comparatively low of price they had on their heads, the party took bold moves in the fight. While the Raven took down the thug that was climbing up by Garret, Christian traded blows with the Immolator who promptly burst into flames as she attacked and hit Christian. She hit him hard. He hit back; hard. It was a critical strike that could have taken down an average person, but this flaming lady was anything but average. She howled on, ready to swing again when Redden took shots from across the room, with the second shot finding perfect precision and flying right through the Immolator’s mouth and through the back of her head dealing deadly damage that caused her to drop into a twitching, burning pile on the floor.
The collective jaws around the room dropped at the sight of such amazing violence. Mr. Big, cursing his luck, hopped on his desk and drank a potion. His small halfling body grew to the size of a slightly bigger than average man with silly looking halfling proportions to his head, hands and feet. He looked proud of himself and asked his friend “Do I look bigger, Bobby?” to which his friend smirked and replied, “Little bit, Biggy. Little bit.” Big grinned and cracked his neck and then his fingers, which were adorned with solid gold brass knuckles. He was ready to take care of this bird problem himself.
There was no end in sight as neither side was willing to give up. Another contender to Big’s prize moved silently into the room with great speed and grace. He unleashed a volley of arrows into the room, to which Christian put to use his god-given ability to attract arrows, protect his allies, and frustrate his opponents.
There were matchup all around the room. It was Biggie and his bodyguard against Lance, Bobby Dinero faced off with the Red Raven, and Christian held back the shots of this silent archer. Tequila provided much appreciated moral support and timely healing while Redden provided covering fire to help Christian take down his target before the man could perforate everyone in the room. Redden had a tendency to show a bit of competitive spirit when it came to facing off with other archers.
Campbell, the Red Raven, got a stroke of luck as Bobby took a wild swing with his heavy mace that swung a little too wild and his foot found exactly the wrong place. This caused another collapse of the rug and though he tried the best he could to maintain balance, he fell into the pit with the crocodile. With this, Campbell was free to help out Lance who was being tenderized by the pummeling of Mr. Big’s fists. At least part of Big’s reputation was true, he was quite a fierce brawler. He punched in a flurry of blows and cussed out Lance and his friends for coming into his home, dirtying up the place, and that he already gave “you guys” money.
Once the archer was taken down by Christian and Redden, and the Red Raven knocked out Mr. Big with a crushing blow to the cranium, his bodyguard “Frank” was quick to lay down arms and admit defeat. He knew he had failed his contract and was not willing to lay down his life. He slung his hammer on his back and put himself at the mercy of the group, making himself as helpful as possible.
“WHERE IS SHE?!” the Red Raven barked out at him, to which he pointed to the wall behind. “If it’s the old lady you’re looking for, they took her through a hidden door there. I suppose they’ve got her imprisoned somewhere back there?”
The group found the door and the Raven rushed through after telling the group to make sure the dwarf didn’t try anything funny. The group tended to the wounded, tied up the bad guys and untied Garret. Frank helped out in whatever manner the party would allow him (mostly moving unconscious bad guys to be tied.)
Christian followed the Raven and was late to find him knocking out a guard within a room containing holding cells. There, sitting on a cot, her hands crossed at her lap was Agnes.
“It’s about time you got here. Is that you Campbell or is it Michael? I can never tell with that silly beard and gravelly voice.”
Campbell tried to stifle that line of conversation, assuring her quietly that it was him and that she would be okay. He and Christian took her into the large meeting room where she found a comfortable place to sit alongside Garret who was shaken but okay.
When questioned about the whole thing, the Raven took control of the conversation and hinted strongly that people are much safer when they stay inside their homes or places of work at night. Garret claimed that Agnes didn’t want to stay at the inn and insisted he walk her home and they were attacked by unseen assailants and thrown into a carriage. However, they stopped the line of questioning there. The group felt it would be best to conduct further conversation away from the ears of a dwarf whom was fighting them just minutes prior.
They searched the hideout and found many valuables and notable items. There were chests with coins, but no gold, in Bobby’s room along with legers going back years. Christian found that a month ago there was a large sum of gold given to someone listed as “The Elf.”
Redden found a booby-trapped door that sprayed red paint all over his hands before making his way into Big’s room. There, among the lavish and opulent furniture and décor, he found a covered painted portrait of Mr. Big. The subject of the painting was a different Mr. Big. This Mr. Big better fit the description of the hulking mountain of a man enjoying a life of wealth. Why did he keep this obvious symbol of pride hidden? And why did a halfling need a king sized bed and an armoire full of plus sized fine clothes? Also, why did the chest in his room contain sacks of only gold coins?
Of course they found a number of other valuables, silverware, masterwork kitchen knives, and a bottle of fine vintage wine, and the villains they fought had some masterwork weaponry. The Immolator’s greatsword was made of an interesting metal that seemed to retain heat. Big’s solid gold brass knuckles would fetch a good price, too, though the two potions tucked away in his desk were a much more intriguing prize. Tequila examined them and concluded that they were transmutation magic, and likely the same that Big used to make himself, well, big.
Most importantly, the group found crates of drugs that they identified as the “tears of Razmir” which they had previously encountered while infiltrating the cult in Tamran.
With many new questions left unanswered we ended the session there, to be continued in 6 weeks.
END OF SESSION
Mr. Big – What’s up with this guy?
Bobby Was eaten by a crocodile. A little bit. A little bit.
The Immolator In life, she burned with rage; literally.
The Silent Archer Not so great at parties.
Frank the Tank Potentially a useful ally, or simply an asshole looking out for his best interests. Maybe both?
Agnes: Venerable, sassy, and safe from harm.
With such a long break between this session and the next, and particularly because we’re entering a phase of investigation, you should be taking notes on what your character is most concerned with. What questions does he have? With whom does he wish to speak?
Keep in mind that questions aren’t only reserved for the bad guys.