Twenty minutes later, bells all across the Styes tolled twelve times to mark it was noon. The three adventurers had chosen a tavern called the Wicked Warlock to eat lunch. Being that they were in the Alchemist's Quarter, the places to eat were nicer than elsewhere in the city - but the Wicked Warlock was still a dive in comparison to the places Jaran was used to eating in Bellmoral.
The two humans ordered ale and mutton, while Shroom just ordered beer and poured it on itself. Once they were done eating, they began asking around for information on Dory or his warehouse.
Most of what they got was what they already knew: Dory had a debilitating case of Innsmouth Syndrome, ran the Styes with a corrupt hand, and generally inspired a mix of respect, fear, and mockery in the people who lived under his rule.
The new information they discovered was that Dory's unique home was in the center of the Alchemists' Quarter, perched at the edge of a large swath of mud and known as Hemlock Pit. With a 'consultation fee' of 10 copper pieces, Jaran also found out that his house was guarded by no less than three vicious guard dogs, which, although nobody had ever seen as his house was surrounded by a wall, were heard barking and snarling any time someone wandered a bit too close.
"T' Hemlock pit, then?" Aldrava inquired, once the information was shared. "Th' scallywag has t' do some shoppin' every once in awhile, so someone's bound t' know somethin' we don't."
"Aye- I mean, yes." Jaran agreed, and the three paid their three copper pieces at the bar and headed out.
Hemlock Pit was, quite possibly, the only nice building in the Styes. While the common man lived in poverty, Hemlock Pit was a newer building. It was built upwards, meaning it took more space vertically than it did horizontally, and so it towered three stories above a large wall designed to keep the common man out.
Sure enough, the snarling of guard dogs could be heard from behind the wall, but something about their sound seemed off.
"Th' nerve o' some scallywags." Aldrava commented, looking Hemlock Pit up and down, "Livin' like king's while thar underlin's 'ave t' starve 'n loot."
"Yeah." Jaran agreed, putting his hands in his pockets to avoid the uncanny need to stroke his non-existent beard, "We only really know one thing about Dory: He smells like a rotten fish. And, wears a lot of perfume to try and hide it. So, I guess the closest perfumer is the one who might know him best."
"Aye, seems like." Aldrava agreed, and the two began their search.
The local perfumer existed in the form of a well-to-do man named Jubal Harshaw. Jubal's store was larger and better upkeep than most, and could easily be found both by directions from the locals and the overwhelming mix of aromas that seemed to seep out of its very seams.
"Welcome, welcome!" No sooner had Jaran and Aldrava entered Jubal's Perfumes than they were greeted by a rather rotund man with shaggy, black hair and the clothes of a minor noble, "Ah, a beautiful couple! And you've come to Jubal to smell nice for each other, no?"
Aldrava seemed stunned. "I- we- no, we be nah- he's nah-" She stuttered.
"We're not together." Jaran firmly finished his companion's broken sentence, "Just friends. But I'm sure if I wanted to smell nice for a date, you'd be the one to come to."
"Ah, right you are!" Jubal gave a jovial laugh, causing the various flasks across his outfit to jingle, "I cater to the nobility of the Styes, those who want to impress! Of course, it comes with a price tag, but you get what you pay for, no?"
Jaran already felt he had a good reading on this man. If they were going to get any information out of him, they needed to flatter him - so he continued.
"Of course! We heard you even cater to Councillor Dory himself!" Jaran let out a charming half smirk, "Such a shame, his Innsmouth Syndrome, but I'm sure your wares make even him smell wonderful!"
"Ah, Dory, Dory…" Jubal chuckled again, "Such a poor case. It's genetic, you know. Not a 'curse from the gods' or whatever people have told you. We've had many a chat, and he explained how it ran in his family... he thought he was safe when he didn't get it by his twentieth birthday, but oh was he wrong, no?"
"So ye know 'im?" Aldrava inquired. It wasn't the most graceful way of asking, but luckily, Jaran had already buttered the man up and he was in a talking mood.
"He's an odd one." Jubal affirmed, "Besides just the fact that he looks like a dying fish. Which is strange on it's own, no? Speaking of fish, I think he owns a few - he's always talking about his 'beauties in the pool'. The odd thing? I made a joke, if he'd like to buy perfume for them, too. He took the idea in full seriousness, and now buys extra vials just for them."
"He buys perfume for his fish?!" Jaran raised an eyebrow.
"I think the Innsmouth claimed part of his mind, no?" Jubal shrugged, "Only way I can understand. But who am I to judge? He wants his fish to smell as nice as possible, I make his fish smell as nice as possible!"
"This may be a silly riddle…" Aldrava seemed genuinely interested, "but wha' do ye sell fer fish?"
"Well, nothing specifically for fish." Jubal explained, "Sort of a custom order, no? But for his fish, Dory buys a scent called 'Euphoria'. Very strong, very nice. The fish love it, the ladies love it, and so will you!"
At that moment, Shroom, who had been waiting outside, entered the perfumer's, casually looking around with his glowing orbs.
"Ah, welcome! Welcome!" Jubal beamed, seemingly totally unphased by the presence of a Myconid in his shop, "A Myconid, such a rare customer… no doubt, you came straight out of the Underdark, and you immediately needed to visit old Jubal Harshaw! After all, only the finest products will do for a creature with such an attuned sense of pheromones!"
Shroom just stared at the perfumer, then gave a polite nod.
"He doesn't natter any." Aldrava explained his silence.
"I'll tell you what, you're traveling with a Myconid, and Myconid spore perfume has made me a lot of money in the past." Jubal began again, "I'll cut you a deal: I'll sell you a bottle Crystal Noir, 33% off."
"We be nah here t'-" Aldrava started, but Jaran cut her off. If they were going to get anything more out of Jubal, they needed to play along with his self-important delusions.
"How much would it be?" Jaran inquired, "It's be an honour to buy from such a distinguished salesman. Normally, I'd question your other products, but with you, well I'm sure you know what's best."
"Of course I do!" Jubal smiled, taking out a black perfume vial and placing it on the counter, "10 gold pieces for the vial!"
Jaran repressed the need to wince and reminded himself he'd be making far more than that when they got to Saltmarsh the next day. He took out 10 gold like it was no big deal and handed it over, then put the perfume in his bag.
"Can you tell us more about Dory?" The thief inquired, "He seems like such an interesting fellow."
"I can tell you he bought an extra order of Davidoff's 'Cool Water' this morning!" Jubal mused, "Good product! He said he'd been at a murder scene. Such a shame, a murder in the Alchemist's Quarter - at least it wasn't the Lantern Ghost anymore, no?"
"So ye know where 'twas, then?" Aldrava inquired.
"Of course, of course!" Jubal beamed, "Dory and I share everything! Not just perfume tips! I'm good friends with all my regulars, no?"
It wasn't hard to get the location of the most recent murder out of Jubal, so, after a lengthy conversation in which Jaran had to tactfully avoid multiple attempts to sell him more overpriced perfume, the three were on their way.
The murder scene was in an alleyway on the far reaches of the Alchemist's Quarter's northern end. Much to Jaran's surprise, there weren't guards wandering around - but from a few locals, they learned the body had been immediately removed and cremated.
It was clear no effort had been made to clean up the scene. No doubt, the guard had figured the local rats and gulls would clean up the scene for them, and so blood and even a few chunks of what one could assume to be human were sitting around still.
Jaran and Aldrava studied the scene from top to bottom, but other than the obvious morbidity, they couldn't find anything of interest.
It was Shroom who found something useful, in the form of what appeared to be bloody footprints. Jaran had seen these earlier, but their webbed nature had caused him to overlook them as belonging to gulls. However, on closer inspection, they were far too big to belong to any bird.
"Aldrava, come here!" Jaran called, "I think I- well, Shroom found something!"
"About time." Aldrava commented, "'ave ye considered splashin' yer new perfume all o'er this ship t' get rid o' th' smell?"
Aldrava walked over and looked at the footprints. No sooner had she seen them than her eyes widened. "I reckon we be nah dealin' wit' humans."
Jaran crouched down, studying the footprint closer. "I think you're right." he agreed, "The gripping insanity, these footprints, those murals. I'm not sure what it is, but Refrum was right. Something sinister is afoot in this city."
"'n somehow, Dory be connected t' all o' it." Aldrava agreed.
"...So, you want to investigate Dory." Came a sudden voice from the end of the alleyway. The two humans reached for their guns, and even Shroom held out its staff, ready to cast a spell. Into the alley walked a small figure, obviously a halfling or gnome judging by her height, and as she moved into the light, it was revealed to be a well-dressed young gnome.
"You can put your guns away." The gnome assured them, "If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have announced myself. No, I want to help. From one adventurer to another."
"Alright, wha''s yer help?" Aldrava asked. Ye pull any funny stuff, me cutlass be goin' straight through yer heart."
"Not so fast, friend." The Gnome chuckled, "My name is Grotten, and I charge a fee."
"Sink me, thar 'tis." Aldrava rolled her eyes.
"Hey!" Grotten protested, "A girl's gotta make a living in this city!"
Jaran and Aldrava paused for a second, on one hand, there was no saying this information would be of any use. Even if she was going to give a legitimate tip, it could easily be something they already knew. Still, they were basically out of leads - and neither of them wanted to give up the case.
"I'll give you a bottle of perfume." Jaran said, at last, "I bought it for 10 gold, you can probably fense it."
Grotten considered this for a second, before nodding. Jaran took out the bottle of perfume with his free hand, handing it over. "Alright, speak."
At last, Grotten smiled, putting the perfume in her backpack. "Alright, now we're talking! So, a few days ago, I got this tip, from… uh, an associate. He said there were a cache of pearls being stored at Dory's warehouse. Big ones, expensive ones, and the like. So, I went to see if the place was worth 'visiting'."
Jaran nodded. "Go on."
"That warehouse was way too busy. People were coming in and out all night, watched over by strange figures totally hidden by dark cloaks. Then, finally, this massive statue that looked like nothing I'd ever seen before - like it was made from the parts of sea creatures - was taken out. And then… the activity stopped. That's all I know."
Aldrava nodded, putting away her gun. Jaran did the same, and finally Shroom returned its staff to a neutral location.
"If you're looking to learn more about Dory, I'd say: Start at his warehouse." Grotten concluded, "But be careful of those robed figures."
Obviously, the ideal plan of action would be to sneak into the warehouse at night - but the Party was only in the Styes for a day, and didn't have that much time. So, they decided to approach during the day and see if they couldn't blend in and do some investigating.
The original plan was to leave Shroom behind, as it would attract too much attention - but, upon being told this, Shroom used magic to turn itself into a handsome, young elf male. Perfect for blending in.
Mr. Dory's warehouse was a three-story stone building, roofed in slate and dotted with iron-barred windows. Its walls and roof appeared to be coated with a bituminous black gruel, an accumulation of the pollution that belched from nearby alchemists' workshops.
At first, Jaran, Aldrava, and Shroom approached unnoticed amongst the crowds. The warehouse bustled with workers who loaded and unloaded large, six-wheeled freight wagons. Dory rented space in the warehouse to merchants and alchemists, many of whom used it as a staging area for shipments.
However, when they got to the door, they were stopped by a large, burlish-looking guard.
"State your business." was all he had to say.
"We be here t' see Councillor Dory." Aldrava lied, "None o' yer business wha' we wants from 'im, though."
"Well you can't bloody see him, because he's not bloody here." The guard said, firmly, "However, you can see Miss Chumwell, she manages the warehouse during business hours. If that won't do, you can bugger off."
"That'll do." Jaran sighed, and the guard nodded, turning to guide them inside.
The interior of the warehouse was piled high with crates, boxes, and packages, most marked with alchemists' personal symbols and 'Fragile' or 'Handle With Care.' A closed door offered a way into a walled-in area to the northwest., a mechanical lift stood along the south wall to the east, and two iron spiral staircases rose from the northeast and southwest corners.
It was to this walled off area that Jaran, Aldrava, and Shroom were guided. The door, labeled 'Birsk Chumwell, Manager', was opened, and the Party was allowed in, to find what appeared to be the
business office of the warehouse, containing filing cabinets, a work desk, and a large table, along with two sets of rickety bunk beds.
Behind the work desk was a phlegmatic, no-nonsense woman with a permanent look of frustration and a never-ending list of tasks. One could assume this was Brisk Chumwell, especially after the guard greeted her with, "Miss Chumwell, these sods have business with Dory." and walked off.
Brisk looked up, adjusting her glasses and staring plainly at the two before sighing, "I can put a request in for you to meet with the councillor, but it will probably be six business days before he can meet with you." She informed them.
"Actually, you might be able to help us." Jaran smiled, walking over to the desk, "We're looking to rent space in this warehouse, you see. Figured it might be a good idea to get a small tour first."
Brisk sighed. "Right." She rested her head in her hand, "That has to be the stupidest thing I've heard all day. It's a warehouse. There's nothing to see unless you have a fetish for large, well-marked boxes. Now please, get out. I have work to do."
"Alright, landlubber." Aldrava turned to Jaran once the two were out of Brisk's office, "That farrgin' failed. Ye got any more plans?"
"Actually, yes." Jaran nodded, "You might notice there's no guard to escort us out. There's nothing stopping us from wandering as we see fit."
Aldrava stopped, looking around as if expecting someone to tell them to keep moving. However, nobody did. "Aye, ye be right." she observed, "I suppose we can loot a look around."
And so they did. Under the previously created guise of touring the warehouse to see if it was good enough to store their goods, they wandered, talking to a few of the workers.
What they could gather was that the warehouse was secure enough, guarded during the day by sheer number of potential witnesses to any wrongdoing, and at night by what were probably guard dogs. The workers could hear the guard dogs making noise in the loft during the day, but they never dared to venture there on their own - in fact, their contracts specifically forbade them from going beyond the second floor.
This wasn't a problem anyway, the workers agreed, the loft area was used for long-term storage. Many of the crates there were in a kind of legal limbo; their owners had ether forgotten about them, died, or for some other reason never reclaimed their belongings.
Naturally, the loft was where the Party decided to head first.
The loft was a large, rectangular room, full of old crates and boxes. At first, as the three adventurers climbed the stairs, they thought it unoccupied. That is, until three manticores emerged sleepily from behind the boxes.
As soon as the manticores realized people had infiltrated their lair, they took on offensive postures and began growling, causing Jaran and Aldrava to stop dead in their tracks.
"Well farrg me!" Aldrava exclaimed, "These nah be dogs!"
"Yeah, a little bit more dangerous." Jaran agreed, "Let's go. We can find another way up."
The three hurried down the stairs, but it did no good - the manticores had sensed prey, and were riled up. Instead of simply going back to sleep, they gave chase. No sooner had the three reached the perceived 'safety' of the second floor, then the manticores were on their heels.
Jaran drew his sword first, followed by Aldrava drawing her pistol, and finally, Shroom polymorphed back into its true, Myconid, form, raising his staff and the familiar fire appearing on the end.
Of course, the fact that two humans and a fungus were preparing to fight manticores on the second floor of the warehouse didn't go unnoticed. Workers who had been minding their own business ran down the stairs, screaming things like 'Call the militia!" and "Get the guards!" .
Still, the battle began. And it began with a manticore charging at Shroom. Shroom, in turn, tapped its staff against the ground. With a horrible sound, vines began to shoot up from the floor where the manticore was charging, wrapping around its legs and grabbing it. Although the monstrosity struggled against the vines, they proved too strong, and soon the vines wrapped around its body as well.
Jaran, meanwhile, wasn't going to let a manticore get the jump on him. Holding his rapier in one hand, he moved forward towards the two remaining manticores, performing a riposte maneuver to both slash at the creature and defend himself - this proved to pay off, as the second manticore jumped at him, causing him to barely jump out of the way. As it passed by him, he managed to get off a third slash, this time striking at the monster's stomach.
Aldrava took aim at the third manticore, seeing as it was the only one not preoccupied, and pulled the trigger of her flintlock. With a BANG! and a cloud of gunpowder, the bullet flew through the air, striking the manticore in the chest. However, seeing how well charging head-in had done for its companions, the manticore chose not to attack head first. Instead, it used its tail, swinging it around - three sharp spikes shot off of the tip of the tail, flying towards the marine.
While the first two spikes missed, the third hit her in the thigh, eliciting a cry of pain from the marine. She didn't go down, however, drawing her longsword and charging in with a battle cry worthy of a barbarian.
Shroom seemed focused on his trapped manticore, walking forward and touching its flaming staff to the vines. Despite the fact they should be non-flammable, the vines shot up in flames as if dry, and the manticore cried out in pain as it began to be burned alive.
As Aldrava reached her target and performed a strong slash from the left, Jaran continued his attacks on the second manticore, launching a series of rapid fire thrusts, before the beast could recover from its jump. The second manticore swung its large, spiky tail at the rogue, but he was ready - he jumped to the side, then brought his rapier across its tail. The manticore cried out, but this seemed to enrage it more than hurt - a second swing of the tail caught Jaran right in his left arm, and he winced. Now was not the time to bleed, the rogue told himself, and continued with a counterattack.
Meanwhile, the first manticore finally got free from the vines that bound it; they had been sufficiently weakened by the fire. Enraged and in pain, it tackled Shroom, but Shroom was ready. It let the manticore tackle it to the ground, then performed a simple spell: Electrical energy discharged from Shroom's body in every direction, electrocuting the manticore. As energy surged through its body, the beast let out one final howl of pain, then died. Shroom was quick to assess the situation and get back into the fray, now coming to Aldrava's aide.
Although Shroom couldn't use most of his magic without worrying about hitting Aldrava, it proved to be a competent fighter in melee range, using its magical staff as a bowstaff. And so, Aldrava and Shroom made quick work of the third manticore, and their attention turned to the last one - which was involved in a stalemate with Jaran. The rogue's dodging abilities proved too fast for the manticore most of the time, but on the flip side, his rapier could do no more than minor flesh wounds.
Shroom and Aldrava easily turned the tide, though. And soon, all three manticores were done with. Finally, the Party could catch their breath.
"Well, that was unexpected." Jaran grinned from ear to ear, "You all alright?"
"Aye." Aldrava affirmed, "Ye?"
"I'm fine." The rogue assured her, "My leather caught most of the hit. Now, let's get out of here before the militia arrives."
As if on cue, the sound of rattling metal and footsteps were heard from the stairs, followed by ten individuals coming up, all dressed in the armour of the guard.
"Hold it right there!" Constable Juke ordered, "You are all under arrest for disrupting the peace! Drop your weapons, put your hands up, and please, don't make this any more difficult than it needs to be."
Jarn paused, turning around. "Listen, Juke." He insisted, "We can explain."
"I'm sure you can." Juke crossed her arms, "And I'm sure the judge will be glad to hear it."
It was Shroom throwing down its staff in surrender that convinced Jaran and Aldrava to give themselves up to the law, and soon the three were being escorted down the street by the contingent of militia sent to arrest them.
They were about halfway through the city when the Party and their captors were approached by a man in a dark brown robe. At first, the guards paid him no mind - he blended perfectly into the civilians that were walking along the street. However, these civilians all kept their distance, while the figure drew closer and closer.
"Halt!" Juke ordered, "Don't come any closer!"
Her orders were unheeded, and just as Juke's hand reached the hilt of her sword, the man struck. Or, rather, men. From all around the group, what had been apparent civilians drew hidden weapons and turned on the guards, making quick work of the inexperienced and unexpecting militiamen.
Finally, the man who had originally approached turned to the three prisoners. "Come." is all he said. He didn't have to ask twice - still cuffed and unarmed, the Party had no will to resist him.
