Filth Priests Sighted

22 DECEMBER 3460

They all sleep well and start to get up at around 7.30. Yaz is up a little earlier than the others and heads into the stables in order to make his morning devotions along with the animals. The rest of them bathe themselves, only realizing now how grimy and malodorous they have become as a result of their time down below.

Winnacer too is up a little earlier than the others are. He heads down to the stables and finds Milan hard at work grooming he horses. The young Lord smiles a little at seeing his squire's devotion and then takes Milan aside:

"Good morning Milan. Did you find out anything interesting in town yesterday?"

"Oh yes," Milan nods enthusiastically. "I spent the whole day at the marketplace. They've got lots of interesting things there; some great hats and some really wonderful fire-pokers with their handles carved in the forms of animals' heads."

Winnacer sighs a little:

"That wasn't really what I meant, but never mind."

He pauses and then continues:

"I've got a present for you Milan. Just be careful with it and do not fire it when I'm not around to supervise. And hide it well on your person."

Winnacer hands Milan one of the calivers.

Milan is obvious curious regarding his new toy. His eyes light up as he sees how shiny it is. He brings it up to his eye and looks down the barrel.

"It's all dark inside," he says excitedly. "What is it?"

"A hand gunne," Winnacer replies. "A true sidearm for the more modern warrior. More authoritative than the bow, more mundane than the magickal arts, more reliable than a thief's crowbar - the gunne is the warrior's great equalizer. It is a weapon embraced by my family from its conception and has stood by us to this day. I will teach you the fundamentals of the matchlock"

"While swords are supposed to be named for the ages, gunnes are supposed to be named for something more personal. My father's was called 'Rasha' named for some peasant woman my father was ... errrrm ... close with as a child. In the meantime, think of a name for your gunne."

"Errm ..." says Milan as he thinks about the question for a while.

"I think I'll call it Tadeus," he eventually replies.

"I really miss having him around," he says a little sadly.

Winnacer nods, then pats the boy on the shoulder and heads back into the inn, heading for the dining room.

The others all start to head down to breakfast around 8.00.

As they start to eat from the large breakfast provided by the inn, Rolex comes down at 8.09 precisely.

He greets them all warmly and then sits down with them in order to eat:

"So what are your plans for the day?" he asks. "If there is any further assistance that you would require from me, then please let me know now, as I am intending to leave for Litultovitze immediately after breakfast so that I might be back there in time for Evensong."

"Bastion, we must thank you profusely for the help of you and your brother," Winnacer replies. "I cannot easily think of anything else that you can help us with, unless you can conjure up the location of the Nemotz."

Rolex sighs, which sends him coughing:

"If only I could," he says, shaking his head, "but, alas, powers of divination are not within Zemnye's realm."

Winnacer smiles and offers his hand to Rolex:

"You are solid as the earth beneath our feet. We appreciate all you have done for us and will return to tell you of what transpires here in your absence. Thank you."

Rolex smiles:

"No, my thanks to you all for doing everything within your powers to try and help solve the curse that is effecting our village. Brother Timex and myself will pray each day that you may be successful in dealing with the ratmen scourge in the hope that it may remove the curse of our village."

He shakes them all firmly by the hand.

Winnacer then looks around at everyone:

"As for our plans today, we've got several meetings later. But it would be best to make some inquiries this morning into the location of the Nemotz. Anybody have any ideas?"

There is a long pregnant pause in response.

"Well," Winnacer responds, "if nobody else has any ideas, I suggest that we split up and look around the upper levels of Opava. It would also be good to check in with the locals to see if they have any leads. Does anybody have any magicks that might help?"

Fae simply shrugs, her foul mood quite evident on her face and in the tone of her voice:

"Just tha amulet."

Aithne looks bad. She clearly hasn't slept and her eyes are shadowed by dark circles. She clears her throat and looks at those gathered:

"Look, I'm not cut out for this kind of work. My strengths are in fighting in the outdoors. Striking from the trees without warning. Harassing the Nyemetz from the wilderness. I'm not a city girl. And, I can't conscientiously support evil to fight evil. It... I just can't do it. I'm sorry. I wish you all the best. But, this isn't for me. I'll do my part outside of the cities. And, if you have need of me there, I will aid you as best I can."

Winnacer nods, his face solemn:

"We all must do our part as we are comfortable with. If your heart says you must go, then we can do little else than bid you farewell. Thank you for all of your help here. I pray fortune and happiness find you and perhaps our paths shall cross again."

She looks at them all one last time:

"Well, no reason to dally. Good-bye."

And she leaves.

"Wait," cries Rowan as Aithne starts out of the room.

He gets up from his chair and heads out after them. The others can see the pair of them talking for several minutes before Aithne turns her back and continues out of the inn.

Rowan returns to the table with a long face:

"I tried to talk her out of it," he says sadly, "but it would appear that her mind is set."

He sighs:

"Such a shame. Her beauty and wit shall be so sorely missed."

He pauses for a moment, obviously deep in thought and then looks up to the rest of them:

"Well, if we are to go our separate ways this morning, then I will go and try and find out what has happened to my cousin. She had not returned to her room last night by the time we got back, although perhaps she returned a little later, as I have not tried to speak to her this morning."

"If she is not in her room, then I will have to go and look for her, as I am starting to worry about her."

Winnacer nods:

"Very good," he says. "If we are all planning on going our own separate ways, then I suggest that we meet up back at the Black Rock before 3.00 so that we can find out if Emsee has any useful information for us."

Rowan scowls a little, obviously not liking the thought of returning to the tavern full of crazed diggerz:

"I'm not sure that I would be of any great use to you there. Perhaps it is better if we were to meet at the Council of Seven meeting tonight at 7.00. Once I have determined that my cousin is safe, then I intend to check upon Zosia, as she appears to be in great need of my protection."

Rowan then finishes his cup of tea and heads out into the cold streets of 'Tall Town'.

"I think that I will make inquiries among the upper levels about the dwarf I'm looking for and the Beardy Boys," says Porter.

"I'll also inquire about the Nemotz, although I'm not quite sure why I'm doing so, 'cause it's really not my problem."

With that, he gets up and starts to take his leave of the inn.

"I'll go wit ye," Faewen'il says before getting up and walking after him.

Porter doesn't comment at Fae's coming along with him on his investigative work. He finds having her around to be a distraction, and frankly thinks that the woman is merely trying to continue to mess with him. Unwilling to allow her the satisfaction of knowing it's bothering him, Porter doesn't refuse her company, however.

With Faewen'il and Porter now having gone, just Winnacer, Rolex and Yaz are left at the breakfast table.

"What about you, Yaz?" asks the young Lord.

"I ain't going back in there again until I have to," Yaz says with his customary scowl, toking frantically on some holy ganja.

"I hate it down there and I'm not ready to go back down yet. Let me spend a few more hours in Prirodna's realm and then I'll join you at the Black Rock."

Winnacer nods his agreement and watches as Yaz saunters off on his own. The young Lord finishes his breakfast and then walks to the door along with Rolex, shaking his hand once again and watching him trudge through the snows on the start of his journey back to Litultovitze. It is bitterly cold outside now, once again setting the record for the coldest day of the year, with the temperature only slightly above 0F. The skies are gray and it looks as if it will be snowing again before the day is out.

Winnacer returns back inside the inn and heads back out of the stables where he finds Milan just finishing grooming the horses.

"I think it's time to show you a little of Opava, Milan," the young Lord says to his squire. "It might not be pleasant in there, but at least it's not too cold."

The pair of them heads back up to their rooms and Milan puts on a set of chainmail and then the two of them walk out of the inn into 'Tall Town'. After just a couple of minutes, they approach the huge gates and the guard towers adjoining it. The goblin guards are nowhere to be seen today, however.

They walk into the city proper and then look around for inns, or other likely sources of information. The pair of them spends the whole morning going from inn to tavern trying to find out information about the Nemotz priests, but without much luck. As it is early morning when they start, the taverns and inns of the city are nearly empty, as it seems as if the burghers of Opava are not an early-rising bunch. Most of those that are around at that time are old-timers, sat smoking pipes and sipping warm ale.

Winnacer has a singular lack of success with his questioning attempts. It appears that the majority of the dwarves that he tries to speak to either don't speak any Bohavian, or are pretending not to, as they give the Bohavians the cold shoulder.

Around lunchtime, the pair of them gives up on the top level and move down the staircase to see if they have any more luck on the second. They don't. In fact the dwarves here, some of whom are wearing the blue bandannas denoting their loyalty to the Crips, are fairly hostile towards the pair of them.

Getting more and more discouraged by their fruitless attempts to gather information, they continue onwards. After exiting their third tavern of the level without any success, they pass a very large impressive looking building which they can see gray-robed dwarves walking in and out of. It is easy for Winnacer to tell, from the huge sign of the hammer and anvil engraved upon the enormous iron doors, that this is the Cathedral of Zelezny.

The pair of them walks through the doors and into the Cathedral. Inside the Cathedral it is warm compared to the cool and dankness of the rest of the city. They can see that the reason for the heat is the fact that there is an enormous furnace at the head of the temple, in the place where an altar would be in most churches, constantly fed by acolytes who are shoveling coal onto the flame. Several gray-robed priests are hammering on pieces of iron and steel that they take from the white-hot coals.

Another reason for the heat inside is that the nave of the Cathedral is very busy. There is a long line of dwarves waiting for something that stretches all of the way from the door of the Cathedral, up the aisle and to the forge at the end. Winnacer and Milan see that the crowd consists of middle-aged and elderly dwarves, all of them dressed in little more than rags and looking filthy.

The young Lord and his squire walk past the line and get to the forge. They see that the gray-clad priests of Zelezny are giving out alms to the poor, giving each of those in the line three copper pieces each and blessing them as they take their money. Each of the almoners bows before the forge after receiving the money, giving their thanks for the Church's charity before slowly walking out of the Cathedral with their heads bowed.

Winnacer waits for a while, as he sees that all of the priests are busy giving out the alms, forging metal objects or stoking the fire. Eventually, one of the priests finishes an item that he has been hammering for the past couple of minutes and places it in a trough of water, sending steam rising into the air. As the priest pauses to wipe the sweat from his brow, Winnacer approaches the priest.

The dwarf looks up at him with a neutral expression upon his face. Compared to the hostile or disinterested looks that he has been receiving all morning, this is close to being a positive welcome:

"What is it?" the dwarven priest asks.

"I was wondering whether there would be a senior priest available," Winnacer responds.

"Why you wish to see him?" the priest replies.

"One of my companions was dwarven," Winnacer responds. "I never knew where he came from or which god he worshipped, but I have been informed that it was possibly Zelezny. I would thus like to make a donation to the Church."

The dwarf's mood lightens considerably at the mention of the word 'donation':

"Well that's not something we get every day, especially not from a Bohavian," the priest replies, the foundations of a smile appearing on his face. "Come with me. I think you'd better speak directly to the Artificer."

The dwarf barks something to his companions and then heads off towards the back of the temple with Winnacer and Milan following right behind him. He leads the pair to another iron door, from behind which they can hear the sound of hammer on metal. The dwarf knocks on the door then throws it open and leads them inside.

Here they see a spartan office-cum-forge which contains one middle-aged dwarf who is beating metal into shape over a small furnace while muttering an incantation. The dwarf doesn't seem to notice the door opening at all. The priest who led them into the room heads over to the other dwarf and mutters something to him. The dwarf nods and leaves the metal he is working on and comes over to greet the two of them. As he does so, they see that the dwarf is immensely muscular considering his advancing years:

"Pleased to meet you," he says as he shakes first Winnacer and then Milan by the hand. "I am Artificer Dranthor ArcWelder."

"Please, take a seat," he says, indicating one of several ornate wrought iron chairs standing before a desk that is in the form of a gigantic anvil made of solid iron.

The Artificer walks around the other side of the anvil and sits on an even more ornate chair that looks more like a throne than a chair. He sits down and leans forwards:

"Now, I understand that you would like to make a donation to the Church?"

"Yes, I would," Winnacer replies. "I am Winnacer Duene Stradheim, LawBringer of Spravedelna. One of my companions lost his life fighting a great evil. His name was Gronkruulden Axegrinder, whom has been posthumously dubbed the 'Demonslayer.' It is on his behalf that I wish to donate these gems that are his due share."

Winnacer pulls out a small cloth resplendent with 3000 gold worth of gems. The Artificer's eyes boggle as he sees the riches contained within.

"It is only right for what he duly earned to be returned to his people and that in which he believed in," the young Lord continues. "I have already donated some money in his name to repair the fourth well of Opava. I think his spirit would appreciate such things."

Winnacer hands the gems to the Artificer.

"Take this with my blessings in the name of Gronk the Demonslayer."

The Artificer's hands are shaking as he takes the gems. He picks one up and looks towards the light coming from the forge, investigating the cut and luster of the gemstones.

He seems to be slightly overawed by the gift and shakes his head:

"These are magnificent," he says, "this is most definitely the largest donation that the Church of Zelezny in Opava has ever received while I have been holding the position of Artificer. I can tell you that this donation is going to go along way to helping the lives of the hundreds of unemployed smiths and metalworkers in this city and save them from the scourge of Zlodey."

He pauses for a moment and then continues:

"I wonder whether you would have a problem if we were to share this incredibly generous donation with the Church of Zemnye?" he asks.

"The Churches of Zemnye and Zelezny work very closely together in this city, with Zemnye representing the miners and Zelezny the metal workers. CornerStone Rockrender of the Cathedral of Zemnye is a good friend of mine and has been kind enough to share any large donations that he has had with my Church so that one group is no more or less privileged than the other."

Winnacer nods:

"If this is what you believe is the right decision, then you have my blessing," the LawBringer replies.

"Thank you," the Artificer replies. "Now I only wish that there was some way in which we could go some way to repaying you for your donation. However, as you probably know, the Church is going through a rather difficult period here at the moment and I believe that we have very little to offer you."

The young Lord nods once more and then replies:

"Well perhaps there is something that you can do; not only for me, but also Opava."

"I know it is unusual to see Bohavians in your city. So, if I may, I would like to explain the purpose to my visit here."

Winnacer then starts to, yet again, tell the Artificer as to why the party are in the city. Before he has gone very far, however, Artificer ArcWelder stops him:

"So YOU'RE the Bohavians that Durian was telling me about?" he interrupts. "I did think it was rather surprising that there were two groups of Bohavians roaming around the city at the moment."

"CornerStone Rockrender invited me for dinner last night and told me all about your discussions with him," he continues. "Obviously this is a very serious matter indeed and one that we obviously cannot ignore. I will therefore have no hesitation in providing all assistance that I can in facing this threat."

"I believe that there is little that I can do regarding the location of the Nemotz priests, as our Church is not skilled at information gathering. However, once the threat of the ratmen has been confirmed, then I am fairly sure that I can gather many of the congregation together in order to fight for the survival of their city. Their hammers have been idle for too long and they have very little to live for at the moment. I think that they would willingly risk their lives in order to protect their loved ones, as they have little else to live for."

"That will be very useful indeed, Artificer," Winnacer replies. "The ratmen are strong in numbers, but we have proven that they are not invincible and I am sure that they cannot match the dwarven spirit."

The LawBringer pauses and then continues:

"The ratmen problem we still have time to deal with, as they are not planning on breaking through until New Year's Eve according to our information. The Nemotz threat is more pressing, however, as they are set to strike in 36 hours' time. I need to devote all of our efforts towards finding and stopping the Nemotz' evil agenda first. Once that has been accomplished, then I shall return to discuss the matter more."

The Artificer nods:

"Very good," he agrees. "The doors of the Cathedral of Zelezny are always open to you."

"One last thing, Artificer," Winnacer finishes. "I may be able to offer some of the dwarves of your congregation jobs. Unfortunately, they would have to relocate themselves, but I would be able to promise them good salaries in a friendly environment working for one of the best causes of all. If you could perhaps look into finding suitable candidates with knowledge of weaponsmithing, gunne-smithing, and perhaps even armorsmithing, I would appreciate it."

Winnacer can't help but to smile thinking about the look on Honza's face when a team of blacksmiths show up to help him out. The young Lord was sure that Honza would criticize even the Artificer's technique if given the chance:

'But we all have to swallow our pride somewhat for the general good,' he thinks, a lesson Spravedelna seemed to be going out of Her way to teach the fledgling Paladin.

The Artificer nods at this:

"If there would be the chance of a living wage and protection for the followers and their families, then I am sure that there would be a very positive reaction to such a call," he replies. "Although the dwarves of Opava feel a strong bond to their birthplace, there are few families that would wish to see their children brought up in an environment like this. Several have tried to move in order to find alternate employment, but there is less and less demand for their skills all over Bohavia since the Nyemetz banned the production of gunnes and look suspiciously at anyone buying arms and armor in quantity."

He sighs:

"Yet, the followers of Zelezny have more pressing matters to attend to currently, what with the impending ratmen invasion. Once this threat has been negated, then I will speak to them regarding your offer."

Winnacer nods sagely and then gets up from his seat and reaches over the Artificer's desk in order to shake his hand. The LawBringer and the dwarf say their farewells and Milan waves goodbye as well. Winnacer and his squire then walk out of the Cathedral.

Winnacer looks up at the ornate clock on the cathedral and sees that it is already 2.30p.m. He speaks to Milan:

"I think that we might as well make our way down to the Black Rock now," the LawBringer says. "It won't hurt to get there a little early."

The two of them head off to the staircase:

"Now I must warn you that it is rather rough down here, Milan," warns Winnacer as the pair of them continue walking, "so keep your wits about you and stay close to me."

They find the staircase and descend down through all of the levels until they get to the bottom. The 8th is a lot quieter at the moment than it was the previous night, although there are still dwarves scurrying around in the shadows. After five minutes, they reach the 'Black Rock'. The doors are open and there is no line to get in this time, although the door guards are still there.

The pair of them walks in and are stopped at the door:

"Two silvers each," the halfling on the door says.

Winnacer pays for the pair of them and they walk into the bar. The halfling that sold Winnacer the caliver the previous evening is still there and gives the LawBringer a wave as he passes by.

Upon entering the bar, Winnacer sees that the bar is half-full at the moment, which is quite surprising considering the fact that all of the other taverns the young Lord went into earlier in the day were practically empty. The customers look a great deal more subdued than they were the previous evening, with the majority looking hung over or simply high on 'Suck'. The majority of the dwarves look over at the pair of them and scowl, but no one seems to be in the mood for causing trouble at the moment.

Winnacer looks around to see if the others are there, but see that he and Milan are the first to arrive. The pair of them takes a table towards the rear of the bar and waits for the others to show up. A halfling barmaid turns up to take the orders. Milan is very intrigued by the little vials that he sees many of the dwarves drinking from, but Winnacer tells him that he would be better off with a regular flagon of ale.

Shortly after the drinks arrive, so does Yaz. His complexion appears to be a pale blue color:

"F***," he says. "It's f***ing cold outside. It's started snowing again and it's f***ing windy on top of the hill as well."

"Maybe next time you should leave your clothes on," Winnacer says with a smile.

Yaz joins them at the table and orders a warm beer. Five minutes later, Faewen'il and Porter skulk into the tavern and join the others at the table. The new arrivals order drinks and then wait for the arrival of the DWA.

Emsee, Ice Pick and Beatmaster B., the three surviving members of 'Diggerz Wiv Attitude' enter the tavern just a little after 3.00, sauntering in as if they own they place. Most of the audience looks up at them as they do so and start cheering, with one or two of the more lively members firing their calivers at the ceiling. The DWA seem to revel in their celebrity/notoriety and salute the crowd, with Ice Pick shouting out 'respect' and 'word' to them as well.

Once they have had enough of the adoration, the members of the DWA saunter up to your table and sit down, placing their calivers on the table. They are all wearing their customary scowls and give no signs of being particularly happy at being reunited with the party members.

As Emsee is just about to open his mouth to speak, the fat bastard halfling owner of the tavern walks up on stage. He is looking a little embarrassed. He shouts out to the crowd with the aid of a megaphone:

"I've got a bit of an apology to make to you diggerz today," he starts. "There's been a bit of a mix up on the bookings front. I'm afraid that the 'Insane Stunty Klown Posse' who you were expecting to perform this afternoon have been inadvertently sent to perform at the Tall Town Merchants' Association Annual St. Vaclav's Day Luncheon."

The crowd starts to boo and hiss and throw empty vials of suck at the halfling.

"And we've got the bard who was supposed to be performing for them," the halfling continues.

One of the dwarves hurls an axe, which embeds itself in the stage a few inches from the halfling's feet. One of the door guards wades over in order to sort out the troublemaker.

"So ... errm," stutters the halfling, "can you all please put your hands together and give a big warm Black Rock welcome to Whisperin' Walter Wallaring."

The hail of 'Suck' vials increases along with the occasional flagon and chair and the halfling makes a quick exit from the stage.

Emsee turns away from the stage and looks at the party members conspiratorially:

"Now listen up good yo muthaf***ing lankees, 'cuz Emsee got better things to be doin' than talkin' to a bunch o' pussies like yo'."

"But I gave yo' ma word ..."

"Word," emphasizes Ice Pick.

" ... that I'd repay the favor that yo' did fo' me by savin' ma hairy digger ass las' night."

On the stage, a plump looking, middle-aged half-elf emerges from the back room. He is wearing a comfy lime green pullover and is holding a lute in his hands. He appears to be very nervous as he walks across the stage and sits down in a rocking chair that has been set up for him. The half-elf sits down, shaking a little and starts to tune his lute.

"So yo' says yo' wants my posse to provide protection to yo' diggerz that'll be comin' down here to check on tha tunnels?" Emsee continues. "Well that's cool wiv ma diggerz. Ain't no muthaf***ers gonna be messin' wiv yo' crew while they be down on the 8th, 'cuz ma posse's the best."

The half-elven bard grins a little nervously and speaks to the crowd:

"Good afternoon to you all, ladies and gentlemen," he starts softly, "My name is Whisperin' Walter Wallering and I've come here to spread a little bit of festive cheer to the fine folk of Opava at this joyous time of year."

The dwarves have all fallen silent. They are simply gaping at the bard, open-mouthed.

"I spent tha mornin' speakin' to tha other 'Blood' bosses," Emsee continues. "I managed to talk to most o' them muthas an' told 'em that the ratbastards gonna be messin' bout wit dem and dere bitches. I managed to get about three-quarters o' dem to say dey would help if dem ratpussies show dere ugly faces around da hood."

"So I'd like to start off with a little song I wrote that goes a little something like this," Whisperin' Walter whispers.

He starts to softly strum the lute and croons:

"Chestnuts ... roasting … on an … open ... fire ..."

"So I kept ma word an' yo crew gonna have no problems when dey come down here an' do dere thing wiv da rock," Emsee continues, casually lighting the match of his caliver with his cheroot as Ice Pick and Beatmaster B. do the same."

"Jack Frost ... nipping ... at your ... nose ..." the bard continues to warble.

"So dat's most o' what we promised yo' in da deal done," Emsee continues, casually hoisting the caliver over his shoulder, as do the other two in his posse."

"Yuletide ... carols ... being sung ... by a ... AARRRGGHHHHHH!!!!!!"

The three diggerz simultaneously pull the triggers on their calivers and the bullets fly towards the unfortunate bard. All three bullets hit the bard in the chest, splattering blood and guts all over the stage. The force of the blast sends the rocking chair flying backwards and toppling over so that all that can be seen are the bard's feet above the seat of the chair.

A mighty roar of appreciation comes up from the audience, which starts to clap and cheer wildly, shooting their calivers into the air.

The DWA don't react at all. They simply bring their calivers from their shoulders, blow the smoke from the barrels and then Emsee continues as if nothing has happened:

"And so we's Paid In Full, we got the last bit of information yo' lankees wants from us diggerz."

"About them chillin', illin' sick, skanky lankee muthaf***ers yo' was lookin' for," Emsee continues. "The word in tha hood is that they was seen goin' into the Mortuary o' Smurt up on tha 3rd 'bout five days ago. Ain't no digger seen 'em comin' out tha place since then."

Winnacer's eyes glow fiercely with Holy Rage as the dwarves nonchalantly blow smoke from their calivers. Their casual airs do not linger long as they take note of the Paladin, finding it difficult to do anything except keep themselves from running away, with the exception of Ice Pick, who seems to be unaffected by the LawBringer's Holy Wrath:

"Respect," Ice Pick does have to admit, however.

Winnacer addresses them with a low, angry voice:

"A deal is all that we have. Know that it is all that is keeping each of you alive right now. Even think about breaking your word, and I'll introduce you to a world of pain beyond anything you could imagine."

"We'll find you when we're ready."

With that Winnacer gets up and walks to the stage, retrieving the poor bard's body. The bard is completely and utterly dead and so Winnacer can do little more than hoist Whisperin' Walter's body over his shoulder. As he does so, Whisperin' Walter's liver falls onto the ground through the gaping hole in his chest. Winnacer picks it up and tries to put it back inside the bard's chest cavity.

Porter manages a smile, his teeth slowly grinding as he follows up Winnacer:

"Winnacer ain't got his rap down right, does he?" he says to the DWA.

"He's trying to break balls and everything but he really can't cut it as a tough guy. Do me a favor and humor him. We all know whose got beard around here and who doesn't," he finishes with a wink.

Temporarily taken aback by Winnacer's Holy Wrath, Emsee is even more pissed when the Fear subsides and he sinks back to the table. He casts a look towards the LawBringer and spits in his direction.

Fae says something in dwarven after Porter speaks. This seems to have an effect upon Emsee and he almost breaks into a smile before he utters a few words in dwarven back at Fae. The exchange continues and Emsee finally manages to smile before giving a high five to the magess.

The Feisty One watches Winnacer retrieve the body, the smile never leaving her face. Granted, the dwarves hadn't needed to kill the crooning bard, but they certainly were right in silencing the noise he was making. Perhaps that was why most mages of any note were neutral in their dealings with others... and hence the large number of supposed transformations into lowly creatures when they were angered. However, she was hardly in the position to change an entire city's lifestyle because it didn't match her own. While she didn't approve of bloodshed in general, she had a disguise to maintain, and therefore the smile stayed put.

Of course, Winnacer would hardly view her smile in that light... not that he would bother trying in the first place... and she certainly didn't care what he thought either.

Porter nods at the DWA:

"You da man, Emsee. I 'ppreciate the info, and let me drop this on you. My bitch here," looking at Fae and clearly enjoying using the diggerz slang for her, "and I have placed a man in the Beardy Boys pad, the Bald Eagle. He should be good for some info on the digger with the plaited beard, but when that's done, I may be able to score you some info to get your respect from them suckas. Anything in particular you might want to know?"

Fae simply smiled as she snuggled in closer to Porter and ran a singular finger down his back slowly in varying patterns. To those that could see her, there wasn't even any malice in her eyes that one might have thought might be there.

"...word..." Fae spoke in Dwarven.

"Respect," Emsee and Ice Pick say together.

"We ain't digger-pussy-muthaf***ers," Emsee replies to Porter. "Yo' can bet yo' lankee ass that we gonna be lookin' for some payback on them Beardy Boy muthaf***ers."

"We knows the 'Bald Eagle' where they hang wiv dey's homeys an' we knows it's right in the middle o' they's hood," Emsee continues. "They got they's hood sown up tighter than a gnome bitch's ass. We tried many times to take them muthaf***ing diggerz down, but they always know we're comin' as soon as we set foot on the 2nd. If yo' could find out if they's ever leavin' their hood so we's could set somethin' up for them an' bring them muthas down for good, then we'd be owin' yo's another favor."

While Porter and Fae have been speaking to the DWA, Winnacer is walking out of the tavern, beckoning for Milan to follow him. The squire seems to have been in a state of shock since entering the tavern, but quickly finishes off his flagon of warm ale and heads after his Lord. Yaz sighs deeply and follows after them.

Porter and Fae both say their farewells to the DWA and then head out of the 'Black Rock'. On the way out, Porter approaches the arms dealing halfling, asking for forty shots for his new caliver. Paying the 20 gold and four silver, Porter looks at his nearly empty purse with some disgust. He'd have to score soon, and this damn Nemotz/ratman business was keeping him from his 7000 as sure as the plaited beard dwarf was.

After Porter finishes purchasing his ammunition, he and Fae catch up with the other three. They walk in silence through the dark, intimidating streets of the 8th towards the staircase leading upwards. As they leave the 8th, Winnacer starts to calm down a little and the young Lord turns to the others in order to address them:

"It looks like we have plans for tonight at the Mortuary of Smurt after our meeting with the Council. We perhaps should make preparations for a fight."

Winnacer looks towards Faewen'il.

"I was wondering if it would be possible for you to bring your talents to bear for us, Faewen'il. Often before, you have employed your magicks to garner a lay of the land before we attempted infiltration. Would you be interested in partaking in such a mission while the rest of us talked with the Council? If you could get your hands upon the plague vials with your magicks, it would defuse this whole situation and make it easier to grab a hold of the Nemotz as they try to make their escape. Can we count on you here?"

It takes a great effort for Faewen'il to not roll her eyes at his request; he acted as if she always had every spell that he needed at her fingertips... though he always did that and it always annoys her just as he was doing now:

"Infiltration such as I have done a'fore requires I have two spells ready... and I have already used one o them taday. I have business ta attend ta right now... but iffen I am undisturbed this evenin, I MIGHT be able ta try early in tha morning."

"With less than thirty-six hours left, we are kind of pushing it close if we wait until the morning to scout," Winnacer replies. "Anybody have any other ideas on how to infiltrate the building? Perhaps the Cornerstone may have some idea of the general layout of the place. We should try to place an ally of ours by the Temple to keep an eye on it anyway."

"Suit yarself," Fae says to no one in particular.

Winnacer still looks pretty pissed:

"I'm of the mind to just go in there and kill them all right now," the young Lord continues. "But too many lives rely upon our success here. We need more information. Perhaps we can loosen some lips....by threat or by magick."

Fae audibly sighs:

"I can try ta get tha info on tha layout o tha place... but I will na be able ta stay around very long. As far as usin magic ta get information.... I can try... it will na be as easy as other thins since I be a bit too healthy ta be hangin out an making friends."

"Perhaps a lightning raid at midnight may be what is best," Winnacer suggests. "If we can infiltrate the building under the cloak of invisibility, or perhaps by altering the stone to allow entry from the cathedral's side, we can get in and out before they can mount a unified response to us."

"We should consult with Joy first, for perhaps the thieves of this town know a bit more about Smurt's mortuary than we do. It would be nice to have numbers and a layout."

Winnacer looks at Yaz and Faewen'il:

"Would both of you be ready for such an undertaking tonight? Or would it be most prudent to wait until tomorrow after you can prepare for what we are going to face? If our information is scant, we may be forced to wait until Faewen'il has a chance to scout the place out."

"Tha INVISIBILITY be what I NOT have far me or tha rest of you," Fae says in an exasperated tone.

Yaz presses on his right nostril and expels a dollop of green mucous:

"I gotta few spells up my sleeve for today," he replies, "but I wasn't planning on having to go into a temple full of priests today, so they are not perfect."

He looks over at Faewen'il:

"If Maire's not gonna be ready until tomorrow morning in any case, then I'd prefer to wait until tomorrow as well. That way I can make sure that I've got everything ready to take those f***ers out."

"It sounds like our raid is going to have to wait until we are fully prepared then," Winnacer agrees. "Let us spend the rest of the day trying to gather information about the Smurtians. Once we have a better idea of what we face, we can better plan our attack."

"It is half-tempting to wait until they make their move. But if the Nemotz are working hand-in-hand with the Smurtians, we will not know who exactly is going to introduce the virus. In fact, they may have already mobilized the plague bearers in readiness for tomorrow."

Winnacer paces around, obviously agitated and hyper-vigilant:

"We need to take them all down as soon as we are ready."

"Yeah," agrees Yaz, flailing his arms around. "I just want to take them f***ers out and then the ratbastards and get the f*** outta this hole."

After Winnacer and Fae finish their conversation, Porter approaches Winnacer, placing his arm around the paladin's shoulder that is not burdened by dead bard:

"Allow me to talk to you about something. Now, when we enter all these temples and speak with all this 'holy men' and all that crap, I don't open my trap and call them a bunch of jive-ass preacher bums who are full of crap and aren't any better than thieves stealing from the flock. That's your area and I leave that to you. If I couldn't stomach listening to their crap and watching how they prey off their so-called followers, I would excuse myself and wait outside. Likewise, if I go out of my way to put my reputation on the line with people that I have more familiarity with, I don't need you threatening them, etc., etc., etc. One, it might get you killed, and more importantly, it makes me look bad. Okay?"

Winnacer face reveals that it is probably is not okay:

"The fact that they all still live is tribute enough to my self-control. I have pledged my life to stand up for those who meet with foul Injustice and have felt the touch of a Goddess grace me for my commitment. This is no mere distaste, this is an outrage! Spravedelna cries out for their blood to pay for their sins, and I ignore Her plea for the sake of Opava. And you worry that I may make you look bad in front of these guys! They likely won't be alive long enough to matter, if I have something to say about it."

Winnacer looks at Porter and takes a deep breath:

"I'm sorry, Porter, if I stepped on your feet back there. I will try in the future to try to stay out of these things when it is possible. But it is one thing to work with evil men on a limited extent to do what is best for the community, it is another to allow such evils to linger on. There will be evils that I cannot ignore, nor can I believe that you could with a clear conscience."

Winnacer pauses a minute, taking another deep breath:

"As to other matters. It seems that you have closed in on your quarry. Once the Nemotz priests have been stopped, we will have some time on our hands. It seems this fellow deserves to be brought to the light of Judgement. I'd be happy to help flush him out, if I must bring in one of the gunnes to open the doors he's hiding behind."

Porter lets Winnacer expend his fury before replying:

"I don't claim to understand why it burns you up so bad, but if you can keep your temper under control, then we won't have a problem. Unnecessarily threatening someone on their home turf isn't a wise idea regardless. Also, I have my own rules that I live by, and when I speak of my reputation, I speak of my reputation as one who lives by those rules. I've made a deal with those fellas, and so long as they uphold it, I don't have a problem with them. But anyway, you're rubbing off on me, as I'm talking too much. I think we've reached an understanding."

Yaz is starting to look bored:

"So where we going to next?" he asks. "The less time we spend in this dump the better."

"I think it would be a good idea to revisit the Cathedrals of Zelezny and Zemnye to tell them what we have discovered regarding the location of the Nemotz priests," Winnacer replies. "Perhaps they have ways that they might be able to aid us."

Yaz sighs:

"More church meetings," he says, shaking his head. "Oh well, I guess they're pretty warm inside."