015: They burned down the gambling house (it died with an awful sound)

[Sierra]

<Cidward> The team slogs into town, no doubt weary from the unaccustomed weight that their regular gear imposes on this plane, yet Rosemund's enthusiasm proves unflagging despite this. She soon has the party broken up into pairs to cover more ground, with orders to meet up back at the main gate into town when everyone's tired enough to find lodging for the night. Julia finds herself walking with Rosemund, her companion overwhelmed with the enthusiasm of a young woman who's never seen a city other than her own. "Oh, where should we go?" she wonders. "Someone must have news--a whole building fell over! We could...check the taverns?" She wrinkles her nose. "That is where people search for gossip, is it not? Or we could just go there and look for ourselves, or ask the authorities, or..."
<Julia> More restrained, Julia suggests, "Why don't we visit the casino? If people are injured then healers would surely be of service? And if Dao in particular are injured, well having one in our debt would be helpful, wouldn't it?"
<Cidward> "That is a perfectly sensible idea!" Rosemund beams with approval. "We shall leave the taverns to Stephanie, who perhaps would feel more comfortable in them, and Franceska, who just possibly could stand to learn to be more comfortable!" Rosemund makes her away across the city to the west, jostling through crowds of mostly humans with a notable minority of dwarves and other, stranger sights such as plodding elementals.
<Julia> Eying the elementals, Julia finds herself wondering just how an undead elemental would turn out. With no bones and no soft tissue, would an observer even be able to tell the difference in appearance? "I'm sure Franceska appreciates the care you have for her self improvement on some level," she tells Rosemund as they try and make their way to the destroyed casino that was rather more easy to
<Julia> spot from high above. "But have you noticed," she begins, changing the subject, "Most people seem just fine walking here? I wonder how much stronger they are compared to us..."
<Cidward> "Well, they are accustomed to it," Rosemund says. "I would think especially the young folk who were born here? I am sure that if they were to move back home they could all perform impressive feats of strength at a carnival or some such thing, if so inclined." Following the thickest crowds gets you to a bridge, at least, one broad enough for people to set up market stalls along both sides of it. Before the bridge itself is a broad plaza ringed with restaurants and shops, and one building that has wholly collapsed. Too small to be the casino though, more like a personal residence. A squat dwarf with a heavy brown beard and the dutifully bored look of guardsmen everywhere stands by the rubble warding off would-be looters. Elsewhere in the plaza, a trio of familiar boxy constructs stands at a streetcorner idly scanning the crowd. One appears to have a mustache and monocle drawn on its face in charcoal.
<Julia> The modrons pique Julia's interest, but first of all she approaches the dwarf. "Excuse me, sir? We two are new arrivals here and couldn't but notice the destruction hereabouts. Is there anyone requiring healing services, do you know?"
<Cidward> He scratches his head. When you get closer you see he has a little jade badge of a flame pinned to the chest of his gray uniform. "Well, not that I know of. We poked around a little this morning, and if the lady of the house was home when this happened, she's so well buried it's too late for healing anyway. I heard she had cats? Maybe one of them's still alive in there somewhere?" He shrugs.
<Julia> "Ahh. A shame," Julia bows her head and backs off. Giving Rosemund a little shrug, she approaches the three modrons, addressing the one with the monocle and mustache. "Hello," she continues without any preamble, the last modron she met not having cared for social pleasantries, "I can't elude the suspicion that you might know something of what transpired here."
<Cidward> On approach, Julia can see that someone has scrawled LORD BOXWORTHY in white chalk on the modron's side. It somehow manages to convey the impression of attending to Julia whilst still monitoring the flow of traffic around it. "Confirmation," it states without intonation.
<Julia> Making her question directly, Julia asks, "Who was responsible?"
<Cidward> It focuses on Julia for one brief moment. "You are not an authorized recipient of that information."
<Julia> "Who could authorise me, then?" the necromancer challenges.
<Cidward> "You are not an authorized recipient of that information," it repeats. Rosemund sighs and palms her forehead.
<Julia> Momentarily at a loss, Julia rallies with, "How do you know I'm not authorised, Boxworthy?"
<Cidward> "Countenance not recognized. Uniform not recognized. State appellation?"
<Julia> roll 1d20+11 I am rolling knowledge planes to think of the name of an important/powerful modron
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d20+11 I am rolling knowledge planes to think of the name of an important/powerful modron and gets 15."12 [1d20=4]
<Cidward> Julia is not aware of any famous name she could try and exploit here. She does recall that the modrons follow a hierarchical command structure and that the next step up in the chain from Lord Boxworthy here would be a pentadrone, but whether or not that's the same as providing an authorized commander's name remains to be seen.
<Julia> Flailing a little bit inside, Julia puts on an expression of steely calm and declares that she is, "King Pentagle Superior."
<Cidward> "Appellation not recognized. You are not authorized, your majesty," the modron presses on.
<Cidward> "Who would be authorized, can you tell us that?" Rosemund asks. As the construct rattles off its standard response, Rosemund waves it away with a frustrated, "Okay, we get it!"
<Julia> "Bah, useless bag of bolts," Julia huffs, walking away. "Lets go look for the casino now? Hopefully Stephanie and Franceska will have better luck finding news."
<Cidward> "What an irritating creature!" Rosemund agrees. "They are much more personable when they are broken." Rosemund wanders across the bridge, attention constantly diverted by exotic food and jewelry on sale, all of it lit in the perpetual green glare of the city's crystal lamps. She steals one glance over the guardrail at the side of the bridge before scurrying on, a little paler than before. Immediately across the bridge to your right, overlooking the chasm, is a sturdy, three-floor townhouse in the familiar style of Solata. Colorful curtains at each window shield the interior from view and a red lamp flickers at its door, in sharp contrast to the city's regular lighting. Once across the bridge you can also see, several streets down, a pile of debris that must surely be the casino. A considerable crowd loiters around the ruin.
* Julia doubts any of their group would have call to visit the red-lamped building as she passes it, heading towards the casino now in sight and trying to make her way to the front without getting in shoving matches with undoubtedly much stronger natives.
<Cidward> It was once a great dome, you can tell, though the roof is now caved in and the walls razed with such a ferocity that only fragments stand more than ten feet high. The ragged edges of the ruin are limned with...ice, you think? A multitude of city guardsmen, humans and dwarves, are posted here to keep the crowd back whilst others pick through the rubble for survivors. There's a small line of bloodied, battered men and women leaning against the wall of a nearby tavern, dressed in similar black and gold uniforms. Nearby, notable for the broad distance even the curious bystanders give him, is a greying old dwarf dressed in a tunic of fine gold silk, practically boiling red with rage as he watches the cleanup effort.
<Julia> "Ah, look Rosemund, there's some wounded we can help," Julia tells her companion, "And hopefully garner information on what happened from. I'll triage them so you can prioritise your spells to best need?"
<Cidward> "Of course!" Rosemund agrees, threading her way through the crowd. On the ground is a woman dressed in a city guard uniform that just has too little of her head left for anyone to help her by this point, but the others--probably casino employees? They don't have the poise of security personnel and all have the same gold crown sewn on their uniforms--are in various states of distress. One man is slumped against the wall on the ground with a leg bent an unnatural angle; one woman, covered in a blanket, is pale, shivering, and frostbitten; one man has an arrow through his shoulder; the other three suffer mostly from cuts and bruises.
<Julia> Like an angel of death, Julia threads her way amidst the wounded and crippled, her keen eye and instincts for anatomy and vitality letting her pick out who is most in need of Rosemund's grace, sorting by need and by what particular grade of healing spell is best used. Once all have had their fates assigned she uses her own more mundane healing skills on those who either need to be stabilised
<Julia> long enough for Rosemund to reach them, and then on merely taking care of minor or simple injuries.
<Cidward> Rosemund chants and prays and soon has that broken leg back to its proper shape, and those frostbitten extremities healed up before they can claim any part of the woman permanently. The arrow is best removed by someone familiar with surgical practice, Julia knows, so that one is a collaborative effort--Rosemund attends to closing the wound magically once the arrow is drawn. After that, it's just a matter of binding wounds and applying poultices to the three with minor injuries. The few who aren't too shellshocked to know what's happening offer profuse thanks. One man insists Julia take whatever money he happens to have on him.
<Julia> "No, please kind sir," Julia presses the money back to him, "We are only doing what any healer would. But may I ask exactly what transpired here?"
<Cidward> He doesn't look all that upset about being able to keep his money, actually...but he is quick to reward Julia with information instead. "Butchery, it was, plain butchery," he says, shaking his head. "They just swaggered in and took what they wanted, cut down anyone who got in their way. All this for a few coins! A lot of coins," he has to admit. "Then that girl with the white hair pulls the roof down when they leave. Why do that?"
<Julia> "So it was a robbery?" Julia asks, disappointed it's not revenge against the Dao for their slaving ways. "Did anyone recognise any of the robbers?" she turns to address all the wounded, those who aren't shell shocked at least.
<Cidward> "Never seen their like around," the chilled woman says, still with a minor stutter from the cold. "We'd remember." Everyone nods to that in dull affirmation. "There was this bitch of a demon," the man says. "Big Stew tried getting in her way, she just grabbed him with those spiky hands of hers and ripped him into pieces. Think she was in charge, the others kept calling her 'Your Grace.'" He snorts at that. "Don't see why you go calling a brute something like that." Another supplies a half-heard name--Ismaela? They all agree the group weren't locals. There was an orc, and some bird lady, and a dark elf cackling as he burned people--the woman suggests maybe that means the drow camp nearby sent them. It was a motley crew, everyone agrees.
<Julia> "I see..." Julia frowns, trying to think if this is happenstance or could have any connection to their own quest. "And they just stole money? They didn't go for anything else?"
<Cidward> "Anything worth anything," the man says. "That means the vault, everything Ol' Breck had in his belly last night. Killed anyone got in their way, seemed the type to enjoy it but didn't much trouble those as didn't give them anyway. Came in 'round closing time, so there weren't customers to deal with. Then they pulled the roof down after them. Stupid thing to do," he spits. "Can't rob the place again if you wreck it, can you?"
<Julia> "Breck?" Julia's eyes widen. They ripped someone's stomach open and stole what was inside? What kind of person was this Breck?!
<Cidward> "Sure," the man nods to the ruins. "Ol' Breck's. Hear tell that boss Algus named it after his old man."
<Julia> "Oh. Right, the name of the casino," Julia nods in dawning understanding. "Wasn't it owned by Dao?" she asks, finding something else to be confused about.
<Cidward> A sidelong look. "Well, not in what you'd call an official sense," he says, with a nod to the fuming dwarf standing alone. "That's Algus over there. You could maybe think of 'em as partners."
<Julia> "I see. Well, thank you. You've certainly shed some light on the situation," Julia nods and makes to leave unless Rosemund has anything of her own to ask.
<Cidward> "Are you, ah...does it not make you feel bad to be employed by such people?" Rosemund manages to ask. "It is just, I have heard such stories of what happens to patrons that fall in debt and cannot pay..."
<Cidward> The man gives the universal shrug of If I Didn't Take the Job, Someone Else Would. "Not really a problem anymore, is it?" he notes.
<Cidward> Rosemund just nods, and steps away quietly. "Well, what shall we look for now?" she asks.
<Julia> "I'm not sure," Julia admits. "While we could approach the Dao tradehouse, it may be better to wait until after regrouping with Stephanie and Franceska."
<Cidward> "Yes," she agrees. "Yes, that is a good idea. We should go in numbers, so that they may think twice before making us slaves or anything unpleasant like that."
<Cidward> ~