Quisquiliae Group 2 IC

[Bulwer]

The Fuzzy Yrthak Alehouse, Dryad District, Deepcave
Around 5 o'clock, 12 Heiron, 502 ATT

The corkboard covered half of the wall that the tavern shared with the apartment house next door, but you'd need to go down about a foot to actually see cork. It was entirely coated with layers upon layers of paper and parchment, held up with nails, tacks, glue, and the odd pocketknife. The entire mass protruded from the wall in a sort of convex beige bulge. Inked lettering, varying greatly in neatness, spelling, and language proclaimed "GOLD FOR SWORDS," "NEED MEN," "NEED WOMEN," "BUSINESS OPPORTUNITY," and a few hundred other things ranging from obvious scams to bounties to lewd personal advertisements.

A man entered, visibly human save for the foot-wide feathered wings sprouting from either side of his skull. He was evidently a regular, because the bartender, an burly elvish woman, called out to him as he stepped inside.

"'Ello, Zimov! You here for me, or are you t'just be droppin' in again?"

"Just dropping in, Gawya, but I'll be back later just for you." He dropped her a wink as he passed by the bar, and placed a single silver piece on one of the few parts of the surface not covered by spilled drinks or unconscious drunks.

He proceeded to the corkboard, and contemplated it for a moment before he drew a folded parchment from the pocket of his jacket and pinned it up in a roughly central place over top of an advertisement for a kobold massage parlor. It read "PEOPLE NEEDED TO INVESTIGATE DANGEROUS CAVE. TALK TO ZIMOV. PAYS WELL."

He stepped back and admired his handiwork, flapping his head-wings once or twice before heading back to the bar.

"Actually," he remarked to the bartender, "Crowd's not too bad for midafternoon. Maybe I'll get a bite." She provided him with an affectionate look and a reddish drink in a square glass, which he took as he sat down.

[Frog Dragon]

Iluim

A young elven man entered the tavern. His hair was raven black, a stark contrast to his very light skin. He was wearing simple clothing, more suitable for moving in the wilderness than anything else, along with a cloak. One pecualiarity of him was tha he was carryin more waterskins than any single person would ever reasonably need. He walked to the corkboard, his eyes darting through the messages Bounties.. Hmm. I'm no headhunter.. when a particular one caught his attention A cave... good. This town is confusing. Now who's this Zimov guy anyway? I'd better ask. This job might buy me the services of a wizard. I hear some of those types are good at locating people or things. He walks to the bardesk asking the bartender "Do you know where might I find a fella named Zimov?"

[Dreamshifter]

Zendra Smallbottom

Though it was still fairly early, Zendra was already at the bar of the Fuzzy Yrthak, and at least partly drunk. She had been in Deepcave for a few months now, and had found this place suited many of her needs, most of the time. At the bartender's shout, she turned and hoisted a drink in Zimov's direction. She didn't know Zimov very well, but he was someone she had drank with before.

"Afternoon, Zimov. Not getting drunk this early, I hope? Should leave that for us professional drinkers. And posting a job? Typical scam, or something with more potential reward? I could use some extra beer money..."

Turning on her stool, which doesn't really match the others in the bar (being Halfling sized and styled differently), she adds "Or, maybe pay down some of my broken furniture tab." she runs a hand through her short cropped brown hair in what could be taken as an expression of embarrassment, but her green eyes sparkle mischievously.

[Gorgondantess]

A nasty looking greenish fellow leans back against the wall on a chair in the corner, ostensibly asleep, one leg on the table in front of him, a hand on his limp head and the other hanging uselessly to the side. A puddle of ugly, foul smelling liquid sits under him, dripping from two flaps of skin on his back. The area he sits in is ostentatiously clear, avoided by everyone. He lies motionless for a while, then suddenly falls to the ground from his precarious position, chair clattering to the floor. He wakes up with a start, and pick himself up with an annoyed look and shuffles over to the other side of the room, the crowd parting to let him through. He wears nothing but a loincloth and a halfcape slung over one shoulder to hide his misshapen form, and carries nothing but a sword and a bow.
He makes it to the cork wall in an lumbering, uneven but otherwise graceful gait, looks around, then snatches the notice off the wall, stepping over to the counter. His skin is corded with muscle, rippling, bumpy, pocked and glisteningly smooth, and the flaps of skin on his back turn out to be limp, translucent, prehensile brown-green wings.
He slaps the notice down on the bar with his three lumpy, clawed fingers, and addresses the bartender. "You. Gawya. Whar's Zimov?" His voice is grumbling and incoherent, as if he just woke up from a night of drinking (and he probably has), and though he carries a bit of a rasp and rumble to his voice, he can't hide the fact he sounds like an elven toddler.

[Bulwer]

Zimov leaned back in his barstool to see around the hulking humanoid that sat between him and Zendra. "Fancy meeting you here," he said nonchalantly to the halfling woman. "I'm either getting drunk or poisoned, depending. Hey Gawya! How big's my tab these days?"

"Big enough that I'd regret killin' ya, but not so big I've lost all hope o' seein' it paid." She grinned.

"Perfect. Actually, this job might be just for you, as long as that axe of yours isn't just for decoration. Follow me, there's a table free." Zimov proceeded to a nearby round table and sat down, gesturing for Zendra to do the same. "Now, this cave--"

He stopped at the arrival of Melissa, who had just been pointed toward the table. He stretched and tipped his head-wings, as though his skull were a hawk about to swoop. The effect was not unlike a bow, though he otherwise stayed upright in his seat.

"Miss, it is my most distinct pleasure to introduce myself as Zimov Alexanderkin, freelance businessman. Are you the sort of lady who enjoys the investigation of dangerous caves? I noticed you looking at my notice. Please, have a seat." He smiled, and his eyes crinkled. Were he human, his age might be around forty.

He turned toward the two prospective employees as though to continue, but turned around again to see the short, slight, pale elf standing behind him. "Zimov, I am. Please, sit, I am about to speak about the job for which I am hiring." He did not turn again as the person leaning in the corner fell to the floor, though most of the rest of the tavern did.

"Now, the job. I'd no idea interest was so great in dangerous caves, but I'll count it as my luck. This one is interesting, though. Used to be a hideout for the Bloody Cutlasses, is the word. Connects up with the rest of the caves near the shaft west of here, and the entrance is about to be cleared away. I need a few dedicated folks to go in and carry out anything that might be in there. The pay is five gold or a twelfth share of the take for each of you, whichever is higher. What do you say?"

The misshapen man was directed to the table in plenty of time to hear the gist of it, but Zimov wasn't deterred from finishing his pitch by his arrival.

[Dreamshifter]

Zendra Smallbottom

Following and sitting as directed, Zendra brings her drink along for the ride. "5 gold, or a twelfth share? Hmm, that could be good or bad, depending what's in there. Still, better than nothin. And while my axe looks pretty, it's not just for decoration. Quick in and out, and home in time for a late night drinking binge, with any luck. Sure, count me in."

She looks the others over, then shrugs. Any company is better than none. Hope they can hold their own, if anything rears it's head in there...

[Frog Dragon]

"I am no heavy lifter myself though I think could flood items out of the cave unless there's anythign the water might threaten. " He sits down, continuing "Bloody Cutlasses might be pirates. And if so there should be water. That makes me a whole lot more effective. Anyway the looks good. I'll accept" He takes a comfortable position in the chair and finishes.

[Gorgondantess]

Fawkes walks over to the table and slams his hand down on it. "My spit's worth more than 5 gold, boy, and if there's danger involved... unless you foresee a twelfth of the take being far, far more than 5 gold, I think I'll just step aside and leave you to your business."

[Bulwer]

Zimov extracted a folded square of parchment and an ink pen from the pocket of his jacket, and unfolded it, laying it flat on the table. It was filled about halfway with neatly written Common text that outlined roughly the terms that he had just stated. It bore his own flowery signature at the center of the blank space.

"Good on you, Zendra. An afternoon's work, then back to drinking." He slid the contract toward her with the pen on top. "And you, miss," he said to Melissa, "will be, I'm sure, as useful as you are striking. The magical arts are seldom without worth, unless the job is merely the hauling of barrels of coins." He chuckled. "Not that I've ever been quite that lucky."

He turned to Iluim. "There are all kinds of things in the caves, and water's not the least common. I take it you're also a mage of some kind?"

He started at the sudden approach of Fawkes, and took a moment to collect himself before replying. His head-wings flared, then folded neatly about his head, as though he had just come in for a landing. "Sir, if I wanted your bodily fluids, I would collect some off of the floor over there. What I want is your labor." He stood and looked down at his potential employee. "The Cutlasses robbed hundreds of men in their heyday-- the poor, sometimes, but also the very, very rich. If this is their stash, a twelfth share is enough to make all of us rich. If it is not, I'll be paying you five gold for a leisurely evening walk. Or not, as the case may be."

[Bulwer]

Zimov kept his wings folded as he sat, but raised them again he he spoke to Melissa, smoothing the feathers with one hand. "To spend time with me? I suppose that all it would cost you, in particular, would be your name. I fear you've the advantage of me in that." His feathers straightened, he tugged once at his lapels, then flattened them back.

[Dreamshifter]

Zendra can't stop the smile or the chuckle that escapes her. "Zimov knows me well enough, but for the rest of you, I'm Zendra Smallbottom. And just so we are clear, too many jokes about my name gets people's knees removed." She is still smiling, so it's hard to be sure if she's actually joking, or really serious. "So, three or four? If it's just three, I say we divvy the shares into 10 instead of 12. More for everyone, at greater risk for us."

[Frog Dragon]

"I understand miss." He flexes his arms in the chair "And by the way. I am Iluim Frostwood. A pleasure to meet you" He shakes Zimov's hand in a friendly manner. "And one thing. When will we be leaving for the cave?"

[Gorgondantess]

Fawkes puts his hand down on the table, exerting his presence over the others.
"When do we leave?"

[Bulwer]

The "Grimlock's Staircase", Delverton, Deepcave
6 o'clock, 12 Heiron, 502 ATT

The cobblestone circle was the center of "Delverton," a well-off area of Deepcave to the southwest of the Dryad District. For a radius of 20 yards around the pit, the ground was kept clear, serving as a staging area for the adventurers who began their journies into the caverns below the city. Even as the hour became late and the sun was showing signs of being near to blinking out, there were others gearing up for a trek to the caves.

Zimov had stayed behind in the tavern, planning to spend his evening getting pleasantly drunk as he awaited the return of his employees. "It's only about half a mile northish from the Staircase," he'd said, instructing them to follow the red chalk marks in the shape of a "Z." "You'll find two orcish gents with shovels. Tell them that they are relieved, and to find me here." From then on, they were on their own.

The "Grimlock's Staircase," as this entrance to the cave was popularly known, was a cylindrical shaft sunk straight down into the ground. Around its edge was a broad spiral staircase, neatly constructed of gray stone by local shopkeepers, who valued the traffic of adventurers in and out.

The other group preparing to enter was comprised of a tall, practically-dressed red-headed human woman and a pair of halfling men who seemed to be armed with about a dozen large hunting knives each. The woman, who was dressed in practical canvas and leather gear, knelt to secure the packs of her compatriots, then led them toward the Staircase.

The sun flickered, twitching to the left, as though a god were trying to blow it out.

[Dreamshifter]

She stares at the cute boys (or not cute, that doesn't matter much in a dark room) for a moment, then draws herself back to the present. "Well, folks, shall we go down?" She doesn't wait for an answer, heading down herself.

[Frog Dragon]

"Let us go then" He keeps his right hand at the cork of one his waterskins, ready to plop the cork out and follows the halfling.

[Gorgondantess]

Fawkes goes on without a word. He eyes the other group and draws a long knife; crude and worn, obviously not made to be pretty, and with spots of either rust or encrusted blood. He just keeps it at his side, and keeps pace.

[Bulwer]

The Grimlock's Staircase deposits would-be spelunkers in a large atrium, a roughly dome-shaped room lit with torches on poled about 20 feet from the stairs. The further one goes from the center, the rougher the floor becomes, the lower the ceiling descends, and the dimmer the lighting fades. The cave diverges into tunnels in all directions.

Far to the south is the great lake that lies beneath Deepcave, where Anthar, the dragon the rules the city, is rumored to sleep. The path to the north is where today's adventure lies, though, and the path is strewn with rocks that no one has cleared off. One rock bears a prominent red Z, scrawled in chalk.

To the east, the voices of the three that preceded you fade away.

Spoiler

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The terrain is light rubble. The DC of Balance and Tumble checks increases by 2.