Tales From Ferroveil - Arguz Aijk: Private Eye IC

[Capt. Infinity]

Change is a funny thing.

Sometimes, people will tell you that change is a bad thing, that rocking the boat and bringing about new ideas will inherently cause trouble. But this is a notion that is quickly dispelled when one thinks objectively, for for every new horror that innovation creates, it creates ten wonders in equal measure. And, when one looks at the state of things, they find that it is not the problems that have gotten larger, it was the world that grew in scope. The problems simply grew to fill it.

No, if there is any true hidden thorn to change, it is that it is only in a time of great upheaval, that one can see how easy it is for things to stay exactly the same despite it. And that, if you truly want things to be DIFFERENT, rather than simply new, you must fight for it, with everything you have.

To say the Steam Surge came unexpectedly is an understatement. To many in the heartland of the innovations, it seemed as though the world had shifted overnight. Suddenly feats that were once lofted as only the tools of the magi: bottling light, animated iron, and the unfathomable freedom of flight, were now in the hands not of the long-toiling Wizard, or the nth-gifted Sorcerer, but of the common man. Young and hopeful and bristling with ideas.
Electricity, steam engines, firearms. These and many more creations were turned out at a feverish pace by the minds of the world’s most prominent artificers, and there was little anyone could do to stave off their effects. For the most part, the change was seamless. The machines found their spots nestled in the old farmlands of cities, and the new tools of the trade were made at home in the smithies and the alchemy labs. No, if one was being honest, what the Steam Surge truly accomplished was in making the whole of the world louder, more exciting, and all the more grand.

And this notion was never more true, nor more readily apparent, than in the proud and ancient city of Ferroveil.

Borne atop an island off the mainland, Ferroveil had always been a bastion of forges and trade. The seers had done well to choose it as a spot for settlement, for lying beneath the craggy stone of Ferroveil there laid an ancient and powerful planar disturbance, a weakening of the veil between the Prime Material and the endless stone of the Plane of Earth. This planar bleed had done the city well for itself for many centuries, allowing it to serve as a grand exporter of metals and precious stones. Gifts bequeathed by the infinite plane adjacent.
But, what was once a mere boon suddenly became a godsend come the Steam Surge. For it is only when the bipedal races found want for copper, and silicon, and all manner of alloys, that the city of Ferroveil found that it not only had such things, but had them in great supply. And so it was that the city became a miraculous haven for all those seeking to manufacture and invent in the wake of the technological renaissance. A land where steel flowed freely, and artifice was the name of the game

It is sad, though, that the great gifts of the new era were so clearly favouring the rich in their givings. The aristocracy of Ferroveil, a long and storied nobility since time immemorial, found themselves in a perfect position to acquire ludicrous wealth in the wake of the Steam Surge. And acquire it they did, as the gentry and their ilk saw fit to buy out the lands of the poor, ripping farmland from its moors and placing factories in their place, scourging the Lowtown with a tumorous see of iron factories and forges in less than half a decade's time. The divide of the classes had always been apparent, but now, with the rich revelling in grandeur, whilst the poor swelter in their iron shadow, the gap has never felt so wide. This is not helped by the sudden appearance of a “middle class” between them. Men and women of either enough skill and savvy to carve out small amounts of success in the new world order, or those who found themselves “brought up” or “pushed down” the class lines through serendipity of circumstance.

The face of Ferroveil has shifted much in these seven years time since the Steam Surge began. Uptown delights in it’s dealings, its profits, and its many, many internal struggles. Midtown swings to an unending tune, as its grand artificers and daring-doers rub shoulders with its magnanimous entertainers and crime lords the likes of which the world has never seen before. And beneath it all, Lowtown suffers, brought to toil and suffer in the factories of the aristocracy, and suffer a painful change of industry in the wake of an end to their formerly rural affectations. And beneath even them, the Warrens stew, those races deemed to un-humanoid to even mingle with the downtrodden, poor folk amongst the poor, yet a breeding ground for the intrepid and the mystic alike because of it.

Much has twisted and reshaped in this city of stone and steel. It’s loud, it’s fast, and it’s quite frankly scary. But, one has to admit this much.

It’s anything but boring



Dear Mr. Aijk.

I am writing to you with the hope that this letter will be received in a timely manner, as the matter with which I wish to speak with you is of great import.

I have recently come upon a situation that is far beyond my capacity to deal with, but well within your purview to solve. Having heard of your past exploits, I believe you to be remarkably well qualified to deal with the task at hand.

I do so very much wish I could speak more clearly in terms of my predicament, but I believe the precise details to be rather sensitive, and I would rather not risk it, should this letter fall into the wrong hands. Just know that it is something only someone of your… Unique skill set is truly qualified to work to solve properly.

Please make haste to my address as soon as is possible, and I assure you you will be compensated in full for the inconvenience. Know that the job I intend to offer you may be dangerous, but that with said danger will come equal and appropriate monetary benefit.

Make haste, be discrete, and be ready for action the moment our meeting is adjourned.

Sincerely and with worried hope.

Dr. Pendleton Q. Abbersworth

14 Axiom Lane.



This is the contents of the letter which had found its way to the desk of Arguz Aijk, a young Ratlfolk of the Warrens-turned moderately successful detective-for-hire. And, even after his success in hunting down the mad Ogre Darguac, or his astonishing victory in the Clearsick Goblin fiasco, at the cost of personal loss, it was a wonder and a half that a Midtowner would seem to have such ready faith in the young, intrepid Gunslinger.

But, still, a job’s a job. And it is that promise of fair payment at the end of it (and perhaps in small part the minor praise of his skills) that brought the young Ratfolk to the front door of a little two-storey building along Axiom Lane, well-known to many as “the street of makers” for its lauded populace of masterful inventors.

The door is answered by a middle-aged Half-Elf woman, her shiny blond hair and bright blue eyes belying a face that was no doubt beautiful in its time, and is still quite pleasant, even as laugh lines and crows feet begin to take their place upon it.

“Oh, hello there dearie! You must be that Arguz fellow Dr. Abbersworth mentioned. Please, come in! He’s in his study on the second floor, you can head right on up there. He’s terribly anxious to meet you.”

Dr. Pendleton Q. Abbersworth is a name you've heard once or twice. Near as you can tell, he's a fairly respected member of the scientific community. Something to do with electricity, if you recall correctly.

Dr. Pendleton is a major spearhead in the field of Electroscience, and has quite a few inventions to his name. The man had a direct hand in the creation of many of the power generators and electrical conduits that the city runs on today. He made a minor splash some time ago in rescinding his once proper noble status in favour of simply being a wealthy inventor, evidently in an attempt to seperate himself from Uptown squabbles and focus solely on the art of inventing.

You can can take it from here! Hope I wasn't stepping out of line by having you already start at the house, but I wanted to get us started with our best foot forward, and get right into the fun! :smallbiggrin:

[Starsign]

"Lotta big words from this one."

That was Arguz's first spoken thoughts as he reads the letter on his desk. "Big damn flowery words," he chuckled. "That's 'bout what I expected from a Midtowner." The ratfolk's hardened Lowtown accent rang out as he spoke to himself. His voice and tone is worth mentioning. While ratfolk in their child and teen years can sound "cute" or "squeaky," as Caci and Doden have demonstrated, most adult ratfolk sound coarse. Arguz's isn't too different, though rougher and deeper than most ratfolk. His voice sounds something like an orc male whose throat has been covered in dust, yet still sounding cheery and confident enough like the dust isn't be a problem. There's also a small degree of venom in his voice. Most of his family has this tone that whispers of cynicism and toughness; Arguz's venom is more significant than other ratfolk voices, adding to any intimidating or confident attitude he shows.

The letter certainly was a surprise and far from the worst one Arguz has recieved. Usually he gets Lowtown people in here to help with simple cases; rarely did someone from the land of entertainment and wealth consider a ratfolk to help with their problems. Arguz has had too few of these to anticipate how a Midtown client might react to him; usually most "civilized" people look at warren-living beings in horror or disgust, sometimes with finger-pointing like they are some dangerous sight.

Yet the opportunity to work for someone in Midtown has always been significant to Arguz. Recognition is a enormous thing for a ratfolk and it is certainly not something which he should take lightly. After all, the last time someone in Midtown contacted him, he hunted down Darguac. In addition, Arguz expected the pay to be exceptionally better from Midtown clients than the honest-if-poor citizens of Lowtown could provide. The money was important after all; giving a piece of his cut to home and to the Giving Hand Society put a significant stab into his payment. It'd be a good step towards having a better home for Arguz and his family, at least once the damned permit issue is figured out.

A job's a job, as they say. Arguz wasn't going to delay a potentially grand offer as he quickly replaces his comfortable robes with his dark studded leather overcoat and puts on his wooden travel sandals. He might not dress the most ideally but it's welcoming enough for his budget. Besides, it's his skill that matters and he'd be sure to prove that as he makes his way out the door and walk his way to Midtown.



Walking down the streets of Midtown feels like being in another dimension. Arguz is used to the beaten and smaller streets of Lowtown; up here things seem way more open, almost like there's too much open space between buildings. It's just so... clean. If Arguz was more familiar with it he might have considered areas like Axiom Lane to be incredibly boring. Instead he's lived in the warrens and Lowtown for so long that he just wants to learn more about Midtown sometime.

Instead of wandering endlessly around Midtown's entertainment area out of curiosity, the ratfolk gunslinger simply walks his way up to Dr. Abbersworth's absolutely admirable house. "Appreciate it," he responds respectfully to the half-elf. "Ain't ever thought I be here. I'll do see the Doc right away." He steps into the house, letting his wooden sandals produce a constant *KNOCK* sound as wood clanks on the wooden floor. As he is from Lowtown, his the bottom of his wooden sandals are a bit unclean compared to the more-expensive shoes by Midtown civilians. Any mess he makes however is not intentional as he walks over to Abbersworth's study room.

Even now, Arguz wonders what a respected scientist asks of a ratfolk from the warrens. The mystery is all too delicious to the gunslinger.

[Capt. Infinity]

Arguz enters the house to find a pleasant-if-small foyer, with the right half leading to a sitting room along the right, and a kitchen down a doorway at the end of the hall, whilst the left half of his view was dominated by a large stairwell, evidently leading up to the Doctor's study. As the Ratfolk wanders up the stairwell, the Half-Elf maid, noticing the mess, makes a quiet tutting noise, before waving a gloved hand and, with a flourish of multicoloured sparkles, magically cleaning the dirt trail Arguz leaves behind, as well as his sandals for good measure.

Judging by the way the magic emanates from her fingertips, you can tell the magic is being conjured directly from the gloves, rather than from her own mystic power.

The Ratfolk's sandals nonetheless make a series of light thump noises as he climbs up the stairwell, and through the door at the top, into Dr. Abbersworth's lab.

Entering the lab is both an astonishing shift and a surprising breath of fresh air, at least in a sense. The refreshing feeling is one of familiarity, as not since Arguz had left the Lowtown city limits had he seen such veritable chaos in a single location. The room was large and chaotic, with the walls either lined with workbenches, writing desks, or bookshelves all the way around. The area went back surprisingly far, and every few feet inwards there was one mechanical device or another either on a desk, laying on the floor, or suspended from the ceiling, which stretched upwards into a domelike structure several feet up. At the head of the room was a relatively clean looking writing desk which had a series of notes and a switched off reading lamp, evidently serving as the man's primary station when not working. The Doctor himself was not at the desk in question, though his coat lay hung over the back of its companion chair. Instead, the middle-aged man was toiling away with a blowtorch and welding mask, sparks flying as he worked to shape some inscrutable device.

Arguz's entrance was enough to rouse the aged inventor, however, and Pendleton quickly stood up, switching off his blowtorch and raising his mask, revealing a round and friendly face, with a great walrus moustache, bushy, greying eyebrows, and a pair of round spectacles that hung on the bridge of a moderately large nose. The man had a friendly sense about him, but he also most certainly looked like the kind of man to make this sort of mess, with his attire matching equally, oil stains patching his pants, and his white dress shirt both partially unbuttoned and with rolled up sleeves. For what it was worth, he seemed to be in rather good shape for his age, and his midriff showed no sway as he made a brisk walk towards the young Gunslinger. "Ah! Terribly sorry! I must've lost track of time. I thought I wasn't to meet with you for more than an hour yet!" He takes off his gloved hand to shake that of Arguz. And, perhaps for the first time in his short life, Arguz felt like he'd be the one needing to wipe his hand off, with the tinkerer's hand laden with machine oil, another likely side effect of the work he had up till now been doing. Dr. Abbersworth, seeming to notice this, gives an apprehensive look before pulling out a rag hanging from his toolbelt and wiping his hands. "Oh, sorry about that old chap. Again, I really should make a day of cleaning all this up. Camaelia doesn't even bother to try these days." The man gives a deep chuckle, smiling a pleasant grin, before taking on a notably more serious tone. "So. I take it you received my message, Mr. Aijk? I pray you were not followed, as the work I have for you is rather sensitive in nature."

[Starsign]

Arguz admires the lab room, or study, whatever these Midtowners call this sort of room, before greeting Dr. Abbersworth. In a way the simple sight of the professor went against Arguz's expectations. He imagined most Midtowners, especially acclaimed scientists, would be fit to relax and bask in their wealth from all the inventions and advancements they have made. Yet just from a glance Arguz can see Abbersworth is still actually trying to create something... Or at least tinker with it. Whatever he was doing, he did make a hell of a mess in this room. Almost stands as a contrast to the rest of Midtown; this looks more like a typical Lowtown house minus the pestilence.

"I wouldn't wanna keep a job waiting," the ratfolk responds amusingly as he shakes the professor's hand. Arguz takes a quick moment to notice his hand being drenched in machine oil and casually shrugs at the sight. He's dealt with some pretty unclean situations at the warrens; machine oil by comparison may as well be clear water. "An' yep, I got yer message loud an' clear. Told me to make haste. Heh, funny way of saying, 'hurry my ass up.'"

Watching Abbersworth wipe his hands with the rag, Arguz attempts to mimic the motions as he tries cleaning off the machine oil on his own hands and bone-like fingers. He got about what he expected; machine oil now just coats his hand rather than drowns it. It's now more in line with what the ratfolk considers himself to be "clean." His family lacks enough water to wash themselves most of the time, much less their own clothing. It's often why Arguz wears robes when he doesn't have his coat, so it doesn't pick up a potential stench. He's not going to be truly clean but he'll certainly take steps to avoid smelling like a garbage dump.

"Never made a loud deal over a job; ain't 'bout to start." Happily, Arguz takes a seat on a nearby wooden stool of far better quality than most wooden chairs he'd find in Lowtown. He lips twist into a kind grin. "So what's been going on Doc? What do you need me for?"

[Capt. Infinity]

The Doctor chuckles at Arguz's mention of his writing style. "Well, despite them calling it "common" courtesy, I've seen it in astonishingly short supply these days. So I tend to exemplify it whenever I can, for others' sake, if not my own." He takes on a more proper air when Arguz moves down to business. "Good, good. I value discretion in these matters, and I'm glad I chose rightly when I chose you. If you're at all curious as to why you were sent the letter, and not someone more well-known, the simple answer is that you've displayed an astonishing aptitude for getting the job done, whilst still being rather green." The man passes Arguz at his seat on the stool, moving to the right side of the room. "This means that a job such as this is one you are invested in, not only for the money, but also the recognition. Meaning someone such as yourself is less liable to cut your loses should... less savoury parties offer you a better deal than mine. You can't afford the slander, and I can't afford losing my investigator, which may be possible, as I suspect my enemy to also be of a wealthy tinge, enough that bribery is a legitimate risk. And so, you are here. But now I'm rambling."

Dr. Abbersworth moves over to a table on the right side of the room, in full view of Arguz from his spot on the stool. The table is laid over with a white tarp, which Pendleton pulls away to reveal a strange tubular object of decidedly technological design. The device is about a foot and a half in length, and has the shape and definition of a cannon, though the full length of it was rigid glass, braced in bronze framework. Within this glass chamber was a series of glass tubing and electrical wiring, with a single, massive copper spool spiralling through its whole length. On what could be called the "firing" end, there was an elaborate framing for two thick crystal lenses, the one furthest out smaller than the one between it and the main machine body, giving the impression that it was meant as a focusing unit for... whatever this thing did.

"This is the Bifocal Electrostatic Amplification and Modulation Gun, or BEAM Gun for short. I won't bore you with the gritty details, but sufficed to say this device is capable of generating and focusing a massive amount of electrical potential energy into a single kinetic bolt of superheated plasma, directed at a single target." He strokes his chin, clearly worried that he'd lost the Gunslinger in his laborious diatribe. "Perhaps a demonstration is best. Do you see that teakettle over there?" Dr. Abbersworth points across the room to a large metal teakettle, placed on top of a small metal display pillar in a direct line from where the machine was aimed. Arguz's keen observational skills can't help but notice the black burn marks already present on the podium in question. "It looks sturdy enough, yes? Well, simply power the device on..." The Doctor fiddles with a few switches on the back end of the BEAM Gun, a distinctly electric *Vzzzzt* noise ramping up in pitch as the glass tube begins glowing whitish blue with captured electricity. "Aaaaaand... FIRE!"

Almost faster than the Ratfolk can react, the front end of the BEAM Gun emits a single, blindingly bright bolt of solid lightning, which streaks across the room in a straight... well, beam, and impacts violently with the teakettle. Upon impact, a sound eerily reminiscent of both a tiny thunderclap, and a lightbulb going out reverberates from the podium, as what was once the teakettle loudly detonates in a burst of light, smoke, and tiny pieces of metal shrapnel, which thankfully fails to break or damage anything of importance nearby.

"Splendid, isn't it?" The middle-aged man asks the Ratfolk investigator, a smile plastered across his face. Now, evidently this had SOMETHING to do with the job, but perhaps another little nudge might be needed to keep the man going rather than allow him to stew in his own wonderment at science.

[Starsign]

The ratfolk listens with a minor smirk as the professor explains why Arguz had been chosen of all people. It's definitely not an unreasonable explanation, though the way Abbersworth put it almost irked the gunslinger. It was like Arguz's low reputation is not only realized but being abused, especially on the assumption that it meant he'd come clean with the job. Didn't matter how much the professor felt confident in hiring a mostly-unknown investigator; a job's still a job and reputation doesn't have anything to do with double-crossing... as far as Arguz sees. He's never been one to start that and though he's invested in the idea of working for Midtowners, getting a job done clean is how he works. Unless he's really in a dire need for gold, something Midtown clients surely won't lack, double-crossing the original job isn't part of how he works.

His thoughts and self-confirmation on morals however are shot to hell as Dr. Abbersworth demonstrates his Biofo-whatever gun by obliterating the teakettle in an instant. Arguz raises his right arm to block the incredible flash of light as he hears a tiny bit of meta shrapnel whiz past his ear; a sound that he can only imagine being like a bullet should someone ever try shooting him. The ratfolk's verminous eyes flicker and twitch as he witnesses the kettle underwent the very violent chemical reaction of turning from solid to gas. His jaw drops to speak, breathing as wisps of smoke enter his mouth.

"The hell was that?!" Arguz's expression of surprise fails to mask the excitement in his own voice. He always did like seeing something new, even if this thing is a weapon of mass destruction. "I would'a called that a light show if you didn't tell me it was a gun." Though Arguz is familiar with some forms of engineering, particularly with guns, a weapon that utilizes energy in this form is beyond his own knowledge. "So you made a gun that replaces bullets with electricity? An' I thought this," he pats his pistol holster locked to his bronze chain belt, "Was the newest thing one could find outside the army."

Arguz walks over to the device and, if permitted, begins inspecting it. "'fraid I ain't got all day hearing 'bout how this works. Do wanna take a quick look to see what I recognize but I am here for a job." Arguz offers a friendly, if slightly confused smile towards the professor. "I think I get the gist of this thing though: big damn gun that kills other things with thunder... So what's gone wrong?"

If he can, Arguz will inspect the BEAM gun to see whether he can recognize any mechanical parts used for it that he's commonly found with other guns/weapons. Using knowledge (engineering) for this: [roll0]

[Capt. Infinity]

The Doctor lets Arguz inspect the gun without incident, the man seemingly eager to share his invention with the world. Well, I suppose that is a rather succinct way of putting it." He states, in regards to Arguz's description. "And I can assure you, the army would kill to have such a device on readily within their hands. Devices such as these are constantly being jimmied together, though the average astonishing invention usually has the rub of being either hard to produce, or hard to operate efficiently by the common man. This device however-" He pats his invention, clearly bristling with pride. "Is set for the races! And though, I call it a gun, it could function in so many fields. Stone masonry, demolition, even surgery, once the device can be compacted enough and the lenses to that degree properly crafted! Truly, this device is set to revolutionize any industry it is placed in."

Doctor Abbersworth gets an oddly embarrassed look when Arguz cuts to the quick on why he was sent, the man seeming suddenly rather meek, in stark contrast with his bombastic appearance up till now. "Er- Well, you see, that's the thing. As you might imagine, I was heavily enthused by this initial design. So much so in fact, that I almost immediately went to work on developing a scaled-up model prototype." The Doctor guides Arguz away from the device, and towards another table with a tarp over it, this one masking a distinctly rectangular shape. "And, might I say, I succeeded with flying colours! The device performed better than I could've anticipated, and I was just about ready to set the device up for a coming inventor's expo. However... Shortly after preliminary tests had proven successful, the device..." The man lingers, a hand gripping one corner of the tarp-covered object that now stands before him.

"Was stolen."

The tarp flies off the table, revealing what evidently was at one point an ornate glass display case, with a small bronze placard reading "Bifocal Electrostatic Amplification and Modulation Cannon" on it placed along one of its broadsides. Such ornate details are rather lost however, amongst the glaring factor that was the massive shattered pane of glass behind it, revealing a series of empty curved upshoots that seemed to have once been used to hold the now-stolen device in its display case.

The glass has caved inwards into the casing. It's why you didn't notice any shattered glass as you approached. Whatever hit this was done with enough force to blow the whole thing inwards.

...And, judging by the emanations of what remains of the pane, it was done so with a single strike from a broadsided, but small-faced blunt object, which still carried enough force to break through this fairly thick glass pane in a single shot. A feat which both required someone rather bulky and strong, and the right tool, like a sledgehammer, or the front end of a baseball bat.

...Or a humanoid fist. Yes, strange as it may seem, the irregularity of the fracture seems to imply that someone, or something just flat out punched a hole straight through the casing, taking the cannon and leaving. A feat that requires both astonishing strength, and a moderately sized fist, already settling down a suspect line

"I haven't the foggiest to go on here, so you can imagine my desperation. The thief snuck in through the rooftop skylight, which precluded any initial questioning of the neighbours. On top of this, the guilty party made sure to hide their action by timing their act such that I was out of the house on an outing with some colleagues and friends, and Camaelia was out getting groceries at the exact same time. Whoever did this is either far from daft, or has an intelligent leader behind them." The Doctor was beginning to look rather nervous.
"Now, make no mistake, I fear not so much for my idea's theft, as I do the theft of the actual device itself. I don't care if someone tries to replicate my design for profit, I have patents for that. What I truly fear is the misuse of this specific device. That teakettle was child's play compared to the level of devastation this upscaled BEAM Cannon can produce. And, in the hands of a malefic party, who knows what kind of abhorrent acts of chaos could be undertaken with such a device."
Pendleton looks at you imploringly. "Please, I know better than to make an appeal to one's morals in a manner of legitimate danger and threat, but surely you can see what's at stake here? People's lives are in danger, and that's something I'd rather not have happen on what is rightly my direct watch and responsibility. I'm a rather wealthy man, and I'm willing to pay handsomely to see that this job is done as quickly and with as little incident as possible. I'm willing to help in any way I can to see that whatever maniac stole this device is stopped. What do you say? The aged inventor leaves his palms forward, awaiting a response with baited breath and hopeful eyes.

[Starsign]

The ratfolk kneels down to observe the semi-shattered glass case the moment Abbersworth reveals it. The idea that a weapon of mass destruction is stolen and used for selfish motives isn't a unknown event for Arguz. Yeah, sure someday the BEAM can be used for means beyond blasting things into dust but as it stands, the device may as well be nothing more than a gun. There's a lot more that the ratfolk can think about such as, "who stole it," or, "why did they steal it?" Asking obvious questions don't get him anywhere however; he's done enough of that thinking about his life way back when he was juggling different jobs. His line of work actually requires a more analytical mind... or at least as analytical as a vermin with a gun can be.

His expression changes to a slightly more serious look as he examines what happened to the glass case. It didn't take a lot of guesswork to say that this was a literal smash and grab, though left considerably neater than Arguz expected. He keeps Abbersworth's explanation in mind as the ratfolk examines the glass case. Whoever came here went straight for the device, went in without making a mess, and likely got out through the skylight as well. No one's gonna make conclusions from that without desperately grasping for straws.

Observing the case for a few moments after the professor is finished speaking, Arguz takes his turn to speak up as well. "Well damn. Last time I knew something big got stolen, it got put to 'good' use poisoning people down in the warrens. An' that was 'just' poison. I ain't wanna find out what electrical explosions could do if it get down there." He turns his head to look up at Abbersworth before giving a friendly smirk. "Always happy to talk 'bout pay, but it ain't like I don't see the stakes here too." As someone who is with the lowest-of-the-low in status, Arguz is quick to assume that his own kind are the first to be used in any sort of dangerous experiment or test; not like anyone above the warrens are going to miss them. The Clearsick incident only certified that. That's only another reason why Arguz needs to help get his family out of Lowtown.

Until then, he just has to keep his confident persona present under the suspicion that the professor's blunder may bite Arguz right in the tail. "So yup, you got yerself a deal. Yer gonna have to tell me something though." He turns back to look at the somewhat-shattered glass case. "Yer telling me to whack the thief and whoever they're working for. Anything I should do 'bout the thingamajig itself? You still got the idea for it; is getting the thing itself back gonna be needed too?" Arguz finds himself tempted to say that retrieval of a important object, in addition to taking out the thief, is gonna cost extra. He does need the gold and there's no way Midtowners aren't starving for it. On the other, he's been rather pitiful at bargaining and he really can't be picky with his job.

...Nah. The normal reward should be worth a fortune anyway.

[Capt. Infinity]

Dr. Abbersworth breaths a sigh of relief. "Oh thank goodness! I'm so glad to hear you say that." On the topic of whether or not to capture the machine intact, Pendleton looks pensive. "Well, in a perfect world, I wouldn't like you to 'whack' anyone at all. But I'm well aware that someone maniacal enough to steal my invention for their own purposes likely wont go quietly, so I'm at peace with that notion. As to my device... Well, I'd like it back, obviously. If only for sentimental factors of it being the first of its kind. But, my chief concern right now is to simply see that such a dangerous weapon is taken off the streets. So, if you deem the situation such that the only way to ensure the device is prevented from being used for harm is to destroy it... Then I am at peace with that fact also."

The Doctor strokes his chin in thought. "Although... Were you to somehow manage it, I'm sure we could work out some form of monetary benefit should you somehow pull it off." The man's spirit's is somewhat returning to its former self as he continues. "You know, it really could have been a lot worse. The device, as it stood, had a series of limiters placed upon it that only someone with access to the initial blueprints would know how to disable. This not only stops the BEAM Cannon from being used to its full destructive potential, it also prevents any third party from further modifying the machine, as any attempts to do so would run the high risk of leaving the whole thing utterly inoperable." He chuckles to himself. "Thankfully, the blueprints are currently stashed safely away inside my record closet under the stairwell. Absolutely safe from any sort of rough housing ruffi-"

*CRASH*

"..."

"......"

"............Oh....Bother." Dr. Abbersworth grows pale after hearing the thunderous clamour from the lower level of the house, which sounded distinctly like someone knocking over a vase. The Doctor continues in a hushed tone. "That was most certainly not my maid. Camaelia hasn't dropped a piece of decor in over twenty years of service. Someone has infiltrated my abode." The man of science turns to look at Arguz. "Consider this your first task whilst under my employ. Head outside my study and deal with these intruders, whoever they may be. I advise that you use discretion and stealth from the outset though, they've most likely taken Camaelia hostage, if the haven't... Well, done her in already."

Pendleton looks imploringly at the Ratfolk Gunslinger, surprisingly calm for a man as unfamiliar with danger as someone of his standing, but nonetheless obviously worried. "Do be careful now. For all our sakes."

[Starsign]

Arguz doesn't take long to think over Abbersworth's response on the long-term goal of this job. The ratfolk is something of a on-the-fly guy. Sure he can be careful when the situation calls for it; stealth is one of his greatest skills. When it comes to a, "disable-or-destroy" situation however, he's not particularly invested in trying to save a device that is ultimately replaceable. Arguz has to do something with the BEAM gun when he finds it but the professor sounds like that's a secondary objective. Instead Arguz had a simple goal-line: capture the crook that stole it, hunt down whoever their working for, and the device will reveal itself. That's a mindset Arguz can live with.

His current mindset however is to twitch his head maddeningly for a moment as the thunderous clap roars from below. Normally most of his jobs gave him a chance to do some investigation of his own in Lowtown, lacking the competitive, high-wealth and high-quality lifestyle Midtown and Uptown have. Whoever is after Abbersworth's stuff sure doesn't like to wait around... That or there's a third party involved.

Then Arguz realizes he's thinking too hard with too little information. Now's the time for action!

The gunslinger doesn't offer much to respond to Pendleton beyond a snarky, whispering critique. "You Midtowners sure do brag a lot, y'know?" He keeps a small, friendly verminous smile as he pulls his little pepperbox pistol from his holster, holding it at its side and pointing it to the ground. "Yer probably gonna hear another kinda thunder soon. Yer best to take cover when it comes." He shows off his many tiny teeth, sharp as they are intimidating, as he heads to the door leading out of the study room. He leans on the wall next to the door, unlocking his self-made safety lever on his pistol before quietly opening the door. The dark brown dye of his coat dim to black, much like his rat fur, as he conceals his body like shadow.

Whoever barged in here, if they don't know where to look, will eventually check the record closet under the stairwell. That's the best place for Arguz to check off the bat, so long as he isn't seen right away. It's all the better if he can find Abbersworth's half-elf maid in the process rather than having to search blindly around a house he hasn't explored.

Alrighty, time to make good work on Arguz's skills.

Stealth so he doesn't get spotted: [roll0]

Perception to see anything out of place, and anyone in the house that's not Arguz or Abbersworth: [roll1]

[Capt. Infinity]

"Whattya mean 'my fault'!?" Arguz immediately hears upon exiting out the stairwell, as the situation downstairs becomes apparent. Evidently the vase dropping had actually been well a ways into a previously-very-stealthy intrusion upon the household, as the place was already in quite a state.

Down the flight of stairs, and smack dab in the middle of the foyer, two rugged looking men in dark leather coats were seemingly confronting one another. One was a short, lithe man leveraging a crossbow, whilst the other was a big and stocky man, who was carrying a rather hefty blunderbuss between two meaty hands. "Oh don't play innocent! You knocked over the vase, you dumb lug!" The shorter man hisses at the taller one, clearly furious. "What part of 'stealth job' isn't getting through that thick skull of yours? The boss'll have our heads if we mess this up!"

"Aw come on, Winslow, the job's going fine. We got in, we tied up the lady-" The larger man points a thick thumb at the Half-Elf maid, Camaelia, who was at present hogtied, gagged, and left cowering in a corner, fear clear in her eyes. "I'd say the jobs going fine, by my accounts."
"It WAS Arthur. It WAS going well until you went and alerted the bighead inventor upstairs! Now he's gonna come down any second now, wondering why the maid just knocked over a friggen vase!" The shorter man points accusingly at a vase down the hall, which was currently in several pieces across the floor. "Look. Stay here. Guard the entrance and the old lady. I'll see to it that the good Doctor doesn't get any bright ideas."

The shorter man begins his ascent up the stairwell, heedless of the Ratfolk investigator pressed against the far wall at its top. As the shorter man did so, hefting his cross bow as he moved in towards his objective. The stockier man moved into the centre of the foyer, levying his heavy firearm such that he had a good shot on both the front door, and Camaelia. "Heheh. Don't get any bright ideas lady. Nobody's getting through me"

As he says this, the man just so happens to move himself directly under the rather large and ornate chandelier overhanging the area. a chandelier which has a conspicuously ill-kempt and weak-looking chain holding it aloft...

You have the surprise round! The shorter man is one move action away from your position, just for reference, and the big guy... let's say he's two moves away, unless you think he should be more.

[Starsign]

Arguz freezes like a statue as he overhears the conversation below. His peek from the stairwell gives him a sense of the situation as he gets a good look at the two intruders. Their distant hissing and anger rings unpleasantly in the ratfolk's ears, though they've said enough for him to made a deduction: they don't know where the actual blueprints are, if they're actually trying to find those in the first place. That would have allowed Arguz to take things slower than needed. Too bad the smaller guy, Winslow, decided to come up the stairway. There's no way Arguz is gonna find a place to hide without retreating into the study room; he knows better than to think he'll be safe hanging from the side of the stairwell. Retreating isn't a part of his style either. Given the opportunity, he'd much rather take out an opponent now if he's gotta do it.

Thankfully Arguz's keen eyes notice the chandelier and the big human oaf that decided to stand right under it. The ridiculously Midtown-ish idea of a lamp seems like a pretty impractical design, all things considered. The ratfolk makes a mental note to avoid excesses and expensive items when he and his family finally get a home here.

Seeing that Arguz's concealment will be blown shortly, he takes a chance as he quickly leaps onto the stairwell's railing before performing a diving jump into the air! His body turns to its side as he eyes the weakened chandelier. It almost feels like he's in slow motion as his verminous perception targets the chandelier's chain. His free hand quickly grabs a spare bullet from the pouch locked to his bronze chain belt. With lightning speed he raises his pistol at it, gripping his weapon with both of his bony hands, and pulls the trigger. He hears his gun's great thunderous cry give out as gunsmoke explodes from the barrel and the bullet flies towards the weakened chain. Almost as quickly the gun's barrel chamber opens up, letting Arguz inject the bullet like he had never fired it. It's a helpful tactic when he needs all six barrels locked and loaded.

The ratfolk's dive ends with him making a quick roll down, stopping in front of Winslow as Arguz quickly points his pistol at him. "Looking for someone?" His tiny, numerous sharp teeth flash across his eager smile.

Move Action: Essentially dive and land adjacent to the smaller guy, Winslow.
Standard Action: Shoot the weakened chain of the chandelier so it can drop on the big guy, Arthur.

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Possible Crit Confirm: [roll2]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll3] (4x crit damage is a heck of a thing)

Lemme know if you need any confirmation about Arguz's damage/attack rolls

[Capt. Infinity]

"Hehe. That's right. Ain't nothin' gonna sneak up on me-"

*SNAP*

*CRASH*

In a flurry of broken wood, glass, metal, and wiring, the man known as Arthur is quickly buried in the torrent of chandelier that suddenly fell upon him. The utter silence accompanying the loud and thunderous crash was all the confirmation Arguz needed that the light fixture had done its job.

Winslow looks at the Ratfolk with a panicked expression. "You- I- Wha?- You BASTARD! You killed Arthur!" The man steps back, levying his Repeater Crossbow "He owed me 40 gold you dirty rat! Die!" He shouts, raring to place a crossbow bolt square through Arguz's chest.

Out of the corner of Arguz's eye as all this is going down, he looks down to his left and notices something strange. The door to the record room below the stairwell is already ajar.

It appears there WAS a padlock on it. A padlock which now lies in three or four pieces across the wooden floor.

Buuuuuuut, before he can do that, it's Arguz's turn!

[Starsign]

There is a quick, cunning smile on Arguz's face as the smaller human, Winslow, completely flips over the collapse of his partner. Fitting, given that Arthur clearly was a more dangerous enemy; any weapon like a blunderbuss is something no one would want to be shot at... well unless they're some sort of regenerating freak but Arguz has yet to encounter one. Instead he has Winslow right where the ratfolk wants him; up in his face.

The gunslinger quickly begins aiming his gun towards the repeating crossbow, realizing that there's not much the human can do without his weapon. The ratfolk's gunslinging style however hinges on risky, up-close firing, perfect for the target to get a free blow in. Once Arguz got a knife to his chest for his trouble. Here, Winslow's quick elbow-ish smack with the blunt end of the crossbow would more just knock back Arguz, enough to raise a short distance between the two. Most ratfolk however rely on evasion almost more than anything else. Arguz is quick to weave to the side as the crossbow strike swings wide, leaving it open enough for him to fire the darn thing out of Winslow's hands.

As per Arguz's incredibly nimble skills, the bullet in his barrel is replaced almost immediately as he tries then shoves his pepperbox pistol right into Winslow's stomach. "Trust me, you don't wanna join him," he says with a rude smirk as a response to Winslow's angry retort/ The ratfolk sure feels like he's got the advantage here. Normally he would have simply plugged this thief and be done with it, but Arguz lacks information. He's got too few leads to go on... and a quick look to his right signifies the blown-up padlock on a open door. Guess they did know where to look.

That... complicates things.

Arguz makes sure his weapon is lodged deep against Winslow's skin. There's no way the leather coat is going to protect against a well-placed bullet. "Looks like you found what yer looking for, maybe you can help a 'lowly' ratfolk now." He points towards the ajar door below the stairwell. "Who'd sign you up to this? And 'sides from the guy who didn't know a thing 'bout bad Midtown design, who else got roped up into barging in here?" Arguz isn't taking a lot of chances here. If Winslow pulls a fast one? *Bang*. If he tries to grip his crossbow? *Bang* If he's hesitant to answer? ...Okay maybe it's not worth whacking him solely for that. At least in this situation, Arguz can be persuasive.

Initiative 1:
Standard action to use the Targeting deed, aiming at Winslow's arms to knock the crossbow out of his hands.
Attack roll: [roll0]
Belly Shot Damage: [roll1] (this activates when I shoot against an adjacent enemy, regardless of damage so long I hit)
Activating Flash and Shock deed. +4 circumstance to Arguz's AC against Winslow.

The AoO missed so there's nothing to change here. I store 1 regained grit point into Arguz's ring.

Initiative 2:
Readying a Standard action for if Winslow tries running, attacking, or reaching for his crossbow IF it's knocked out of his hands. Using Powder Burns deed (costs 0 grit due to Signature Deed)
Attack roll: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll4]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll5]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll6] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll7]

[Capt. Infinity]

The bullet grazes the short man's hand as his grip on his crossbow suddenly loosens, the weapon clamouring down a couple steps of the stairwell. "Agh! You godsdamned-" Winslow's curse is prematurely cut short by the sudden presence of a pepperbox at his gut. "Hey hey hey! Whoah! Let's not get hasty here." The Ratfolk's words evidently strike the man deeply, as his eyes quickly grow worried and tense. "L-l-look man, I don't know jack who's payin' for this job. I just do what the boss lady tells me, honest! A-and she got me, Arthur, and the Mason twins to come along. Gods DAMN it! She said this one was gonna be easy!"

Winslow looks frustrated and worried, sweat forming on his brow. "She's down there now, searching the archives for whatever the hell to give to whoever the ****, that's all I know, I swear!" The man begins to look desperate. "Look man just... Just let me get out of here, please. If I run fast enough, maybe she won't find me until I can split this part of town. Please man, if she finds me after spilling this much, I'm gonna have a hole in me the size of her fist!"

[Starsign]

Arguz's expression doesn't change as the human blabbers his answer. Funny how much a gun helps make people scared of ratfolk. Winslow sure did spill out a good deal of information, though only about who else barged into the professor's house. Three others? A ringleader of the group and twins? That's a rather large group just to raid one Midtown house; that'd be more fitting for a aristocratic mansion in Uptown. Who the hell hired these people?

"Hmm..." Arguz pretends to consider Winslow's begging as the pepperbox remains stuck against the human's gut, separated only by the coat he's wearing. There is something cathartic to Arguz when he's, to use a human saying, "holding all the cards." There's nothing that Winslow can really do with Camaelia, still tied and gagged, since he lacks his crossbow. Right now Arguz can probably pull the trigger on Winslow and no one would particularly care much; knocking him out would take too long if there's still more thieves below the stairwell. Good thing he knows when to fold.

The gunslinger stands still before eventually saying, "Better hope yer legs are like lightning." He gives Winslow a push to knock him down the stairs, keeping the pepperbox aimed at him all the while. "Go on an' get out. Don't get involved in stuff like this again. 'Cuz if it ain't a fist through yer skull, it's my bullet through yer stomach."

Arguz keeps the gun raised at Winslow, waiting for him to leave. After that, Camaelia will just need freeing before going down to the door under the stairwell. Yes, the ratfolk has a job but no part of his line of work says that he should leave innocent people that are in trouble.

I get the feeling we're temporarily out of combat, so Arguz has given his response to Winslow and, if allowed right after, will go try and free Camaelia from her binds.

[Capt. Infinity]

Winslow gathers his composure rather quickly after his tumble, and he seems altogether too shell-shocked from the whole ordeal to put up much resistance, even after being unkindly shoved down a half a flight of stairs by the Ratlfolk Detective.

"Gah! You don't know what you've started, man. If she's gonna kill me, she's gonna obliterate you!" This equal mix of threat and warning is the short thug's final send-off, as the bolt-shooting ruffian makes a hasty exit out of the front door, but not before grabbing his crossbow from where it landed on the stairs.

Camaelia is more than grateful when Arguz unties her, though the stress of the whole ordeal still weighs heavily in her voice as she begins to speak, once the gag cloth has been removed from her mouth. "Oh, thank you dear! That was so... So horrible. Those men they- they held me at gunpoint! Their leader said something about searching the archives for one of the Doctor's blueprints, then she had those two ruffians tie me up!"

Her breathing is shallow, the middle-aged maid evidently unused to such stressful life-or-death circumstances. "You'll have to hurry. That brutish woman and her lackeys went down into the archives some time ago. I'm almost certain they heard the ruckus you just made, and there's a window in the archive room they could escape through if they get too suspicious. Please hurry! Before they get out with Dr. Abbersworth's documents!" She beseeches Arguz, a desperate look in her eye.

[Starsign]

Tying and untying knots and ropes is a common part of a ratfolk's life down in the warrens; they need something to help keep things held in place when their homes are small and fragile. Compared to that tedious housework, untying someone's binds is a casual stroll down the street. Arguz has enough hand-eye coordination that he can easily just unravel Camaelia's binds, though if they were any tighter he might have needed to either chew through it with his teeth or outright shoot the binds open.

"Being a hostage ain't ever swell," he reassures the half-elf once she's free. "Though hell, yer lucky they didn't have time to kidnap you, or beat you up or..." A quick pause shuts Arguz's ratty, flapping mouth as he realizes he's recalling Lowtown experience. A lot of kidnapped people there are held for petty ransoms against families that can't pay, or are tortured for the hell of it, or both. That's a part of life all these Midtowners probably haven't wrapped their head around. "Y'know what? I'm jus' gonna stop myself there."

He hides the embarrassment in his voice with his pleasant, cunning smile. He has to give the impression that he's not afraid of the three other thieves already down the stairwell. He's gotta show that it's "just" three crooks; sure he'll be outnumbered but when has that ever stopped him from his job? As he makes his way towards the door below the stairwell, he turns around and gives Camaelia a wink from his left eye. "You better find cover, cuz' I'm gonna make an even bigger ruckus when I get down there. I'll let you and the Doc know when it's all clear." He gives a quick shrug as he checks the barrels of his pepperbox gun. "Unless I'm dead... Heh. dying in 'peaceful' Midtown. Now that's something I'd never live down."

All set, Arguz quickly follows the path down the stairwell, taking care to be calm and quiet in the meantime. Once his guns go blazing, he doesn't go into hiding. Until then, he can count on the tactics he learned growing up in the warrens and get to his destination without being spotted

Making another Stealth check to hopefully not get spotted: [roll0]

[Capt. Infinity]

It was the simplest thing to head down the stairwell undetected. And, as Arguz slowly made his way down into the musty basement of the record room, voices began to become apparent.

"Gah. My hair's gettin' covered in dust and cobwebs and who knows what else." A distinctly female voice mutters.

"Oh can it, Mary. It's your own damn fault, keeping that crow's nest that long." A male voice responds.

"Oh screw you, Marty!" The female voice known as Mary evidently replies. "What I wanna know is what's going on upstairs. The hell was that crashing sound from a little while ago?"

"That was the sound of us running out of time. And I am not going to wait for you two to get your act together. So stop bickering and start searching these files. Or else." A third voice demands, all at once sultry, powerful, and terifying, commanding an air of power and authority that, for lack of a better description, sounded like it was that of a strong and powerful person.

"Uh, yes sir, ma'am!" The two voices respond in unison, followed by the sound of quietly shifting papers.

As Arguz rounds the corner, he chances a peak down the hall, and sees a long room lined on both sides with bookshelves, cubby holes, and filing cabinets, each in varying states of disarray (likely from the ransacking, but which could just as easily be Dr. Pendleton's idea of "organized"). Down at the end of the room, near a small, up high window which frames the room in a soft, noon-day glow, are three shapes. Two are of similar height, about the average between a shorter and a taller woman, both with thick black hair and similar rough posture.

The one farthest back is turned to a side, it's face hidden behind shelves and cabinets. The only thing Arguz can make out of the last figure is a long, grey cape draped over their right side, and medium length bright surge of shining blond hair. A surprisingly well-maintained one, as well, with the light combined with the comparatively slovenly appearance of the two others almost making it seem like the hair was glowing, framing the strong, obviously muscular frame in an ethereal golden light.

Call it a surprise round. Have at it, however you wish. Talk, shoot, dance, whatever. Your call, man! :smallbiggrin:

[Starsign]

Normally Arguz never really expected to find someone that he's know of before. After all this is Midtown, a place he's barely been to and whose inhabitants he usually never meets. He knows as much about Midtown's inhabitants as much as Midtowners know him: not much. While Arguz likes fame, it's not been his biggest goal as a detective and he's certainly happy to use his mostly-unknown status to his advantage. After all, none of these thieves know he was coming.

Yet the voice of "Flame-Licked" Adraena bleeds into Arguz's head. He's heard quite a bit about her and her Firebrands. Mostly rumors and fearful stories of course, but it's been enough to give him an idea of what he's up against. He tightens the grip on his pistol as he considers what he's actually dealing with. He's had his share of facing notorious criminals before but certainly not one as skilled and dangerous as she's been said to be. He hides a tempted *gulp* sound in his throat. How's he supposed to do this? His style of combat has usually been running up and gunning down someone in close range and how he's against someone who could probably sunder his own pistol with a good hit. And there's that damn blueprint as well. It's gonna be for nothing if Arguz ends up getting the **** kicked outta him or if they escape with that blueprint.

Giving a look, the room does offer him something of an advantage. It's a messy, long area that'd favor long-range shooting, or at least however far bullets can fly accurately. Weapons like Arguz's pepperbox doesn't exactly have the range to match a longbow. That one window however is their best way out... and hopefully their only way. If he can get to the other side and block it then that would make their escape plan harder.

...Which makes him realize now that he should've tried entering through the window first.

Instead he shrugs and begins moving forward to the three, getting as close as he can before aiming his weapon at the three of them. It'd help to get him closer to the window if he needs to block it. "Alright, that's 'nough searching from the three of you." He appears to the three of them with the usual smirk that he's given his persona. He's gotta actually look like he's confident and sure to succeed in whatever task is assigned to him, while having some fun with his gunslinger skills. "Didn't wanna interrupt the angel and her lil' helpers but yer putting me on a time crunch here." A quick glimpse at the two smaller people gives Arguz an idea. The twins, after all, are the main ones searching the whole place for the blueprints. It might take the aasimar a lot longer if Arguz can somehow talk them out of this. "So here's something I got fer the Mason twins. You two go an' take cover, or better yet jus' leave with what's on yer backs now, an' I'll make sure Adraena ain't gonna put you on ropes or 'round her grip." There's a distinct, focused look in Arguz's eye as he aims his pistol at the flame-licked aasimar, not firing but ready to do so if she tries anything.

Arguz will close in, so he can be roughly in ideal shooting distance (10 ft for most early-tech guns) and ready a Standard action to shoot Adraena should she try running or teleporting towards Arguz.

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll2]
Additional Crit Damage: [roll3]

On the chance that Adraena teleports adjacent to Arguz, he'd likely provoke an Attack of Opportunity from her but also suffer additional damage from being close range.
Powder Burns Damage: [roll4] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll5]

Should Arguz's readied attack be made and it hits, he'll spend 2 grit points to use his Bleeding Wound deed and deal an additional 1 Strength damage on Adraena.

Also, I know talking is a free action but I don't think it works for diplomacy checks, does it?

[Capt. Infinity]

There is a sudden, palpable stillness in the air as the Mason twins pause to address the sudden appearance of the intrepid Ratfolk before them. As they hear Arguz's offer, both their heads slowly turn to look behind them, half expectant, half terrified.

Adraena slowly stands to her full heigh of about 6'2", and turns to look at the interloping Gunslinger.

A less observant person might have called the woman before Arguz beautiful, with a proud posture, bright, iridescent blond hair, and deep golden eyes. A more observant one, however, would notice the scars.

That isn't to say she wasn't still a bearer of astonishing beauty, but the slowly curling red marks, faded and lessened by many years, which curl up the right side of her neck to brush along her cheek in gentle wisps of flame added a certain degree of power and menace that one simply could not ignore.

She spoke sternly. "Mary? Marty?" She asked, her voice calm and sharp.

"Y-yes?" The man and the woman replied.

"You have twenty seconds to find those blueprints. Am I clear?"

"Yes ma'am!" The Mason twins then begin frantically looking about for the aforementioned documents.

As her goons made haste to finish their work, the Blade-Breaker looked the Ratfolk Gunslinger up and down, before meeting his beady blue eyes with her own. "Go ahead, punk. Take your best shot." The Aasimar challenged, before taking a step forward.

Now, let's be clear here. Arguz was a master sharpshooter, and make no mistake that under these circumstances of extremely close quarters were where he usually shined his brightest. So it was perhaps the most utterly staggering moment of his career when, after lining up his shot and taking aim directly at Adraena, the Aasimar fistfighter simply sidestepped the bullet. As if it were some slow-moving arrow shot lazily against the wind.

She gave Arguz a lazy, condescending look. "...Is that it?" She asked, evidently unimpressed. "Well then, this'll be easier than I thought. Let's dance, rat man." The infamous woman declares, before springing forward, ready for action.

Adraena used her Counter Step Maneuver to dodge Arguz's shot, and succeeded! Arguz now has two rounds after this to take her out before the twins find the documents! (consider this round 0 for those purposes)

Initiative rolls will be made in the OOC.

[Capt. Infinity]

In a flash, Adraena is on the assault. The woman rushes forward, dodging to Arguz's right, before firmly planting her heel into the ground, using it as a point of rotation for her to swing around her left fist, aiming to strike Arguz's gun directly with an open palmed strike, intent on smashing it to pieces.

Swift Action: Enter Pugilist Stance. All Unarmed Strikes deal +1d6 damage.

Move Action: Canny Tumble into Arguz's threatened squares (DC 24): [roll0]

Standard Action: Iron Breaking Palm against Arguz. Sunder attempt against DC 24 (or, if Canny Tumble succeeds, DC 19).

Attack Roll: [roll1]

Damage: [roll2] + [roll3] + (if flatfooted)[roll4]

Edit: Got the math SLIGHTLY wrong here, as I goofed on the bonus effects of Canny Tumble. That's a 28 to Canny Tumble, and a 35 to hit. Same result though.

[Starsign]

There have been times where Arguz is impressed, and on rare occasions, times where he is very impressed. The latter requires one to have dealt a notably severe blow to the ratfolk in some form, in addition to completely catching him off guard. Usually when this happens, Arguz is left momentarily in a state of awe and surprise mixed with a good helping of fear. Moments like that are the ones which tell him he's in a lot of trouble and that he needs to figure out something, fast.

This is one of those times.

His confident expression swiftly changes to one of surprise as he watches the open palmed strike shatter his pepperbox gun in an instant. For him it feels like it all goes in slow motion, witnessing the many components of his gun simply break into dozens of pieces, leaving himself without a proper weapon. Sure he's still got his axe but that's not a weapon he's excellent with. Jia taught her brother how to actually use a blade but not with the degree of skill that she has; Arguz may as well lose his axe to the aasimar as well should he swipe her with it.

Instead he needs to figure out something better. He's lost his only real way of fighting Adraena and certainly is unlikely to last long against her. He needs that blueprint protected and she's not the one overseeing it. Instead its those twins who... Damn, he's really gotta get them out of the way, huh? It's either that or somehow snatch the blueprint out of their hands once they find it. Arguz didn't want to do this but he's being left with fewer choices now.

Backing off quickly from Adraena, the ratfolk assumes a quick defensive position, another trick Jia had taught him, as Arguz dashes over on top of one of the filing cabinets one of the twins, Marty, has been searching through. "I gave you an offer," he says, still trying to sound cool as he draws his axe, "You should've taken it!" The axe looks crude in design, being a warren-constructed weapon that can also be used as a climbing tool. Nevertheless its blade is sharp as he gives a quick, nasty swipe at Marty's chest to try and back him off from the cabinet. Arguz has to either stall or take care of the twins... then somehow get out of this alive.

Alrighty. So seeing how bad things are for Arguz now, here's what he's doing:
Initiative 1:
Move: Take a 5-foot step out of Adraena's threatened space.
Standard: Total Defense Action to gain +6 to my AC for this round (normally +4, but I have enough ranks in Acrobatics to make it +6).

Initiative 2:
Move: Run over to Marty in melee range.
Standard: Draw Arguz's boarding axe and attack Marty with it, preferably to make him back off from searching.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Capt. Infinity]

Arguz's axe swings true, cutting a decent gash into Marty's shoulder, drawing blood. "Agh! You little-" Marty begins, reaching for his rifle, until he is stopped by the roar of Adraena.

"Keep searching!" The Aasimar growls, immediately cowing her subordinate, as she rushes the tenderly perched Ratfolk. "Hey! Don't ignore me you stupid- Gah!" The angelic enforcer is caught off-guard by the Ratfolks sudden slash at her, though this only serves to anger her further.

Arguz is suddenly bereft of all footing, as the brutal pugilist grips the Ratfolk detective by the scruff of his collar, lifting him upwards. "I'M your opponent. Focus. On. ME!" She shouts, before swinging her arm upwards in a wide arc, hurling Arguz down the hall with great force, the Ratfolk impacting with the musty floor with a loud *THUD*, landing with enough force to send dust and cobwebs in all directions.

Adraena used Iron Monger's Throw to send Arguz 20ft down the hallway. Dealing [roll0] damage in the process.

Arguz is now on turn.

[Starsign]

Arguz feels something in his back, thankfully not his spine, crack as he is lifted and hurled across the room, crashing with a unfortunately painful impact onto the hard stone floor. For someone as evasive as himself, Arguz is quick to forget that ratfolk are easy to lift and toss by anyone with good physical strength. This also indicates how badly outmatched he currently is. Sure he may still have a weapon but he's not going to beat someone like Adraena in a proper hand-to-hand battle and Arguz's little axe isn't going to give him the edge he needs... Though he can potentially give the flame-licked one a beating and take one in return if needed.

There is a short, almost squeal-ish growl as the coat-armored ratfolk gets back on his knees, shaking off the impact as best as he can. He quickly bends down to pick up his dropped axe before considering his options. A head-on fight won't work... or hell, any kind of fight. Arguz needs those blueprints when the twins find it, and at this rate they're going to find it. His better plan may be to simply steal the thing once they find it... A task easier said than done. He's not gonna be able to do it here while the three can see him. His only way might be, ironically, through the window.

The ratfolk keeps his confident voice in midst of some frustration. "You? Well yer a hell'ova looker but ain't much of an angel." His attempts at wit are sometimes the only things he can do to keep his persona from breaking; not that this is the worst he's ever been in. Being tossed around sure isn't anything like being stabbed in the chest or poisoned anyway. Arguz then dashes quickly towards Adraena, bringing his axe up to deliver another horizontal slash while performing a diving tumble past her. "But 'fore we fight, you owe me a new gun!"

Deep down, Arguz is not taking the destruction of his weapon well; the same weapon he crafted and the first gun he ever owned just broke in an instant.

Using his agility to move past the twins and their ruthless leader, Arguz leaps up to the window and gives a confident wave to the three. "So you all better watch yer backs, cause I'm sure we'll meet again soon." With that, Arguz raises a tiny, grey ball in his hand as he takes a quick hop back and throws the pellet on the window's bottom border. The pellet bursts open as a thick smog pours out of it, covering the window and obscuring Arguz from the crooks' view.

Despite the ratfolk's rather collected "exit," this is not a tactical retreat for him. In fact this should give him the chance to hide nearby and wait for them to come out, hopefully with the blueprint. If he can snag that right then, right there, and get away from it, then he's solved part of Abbersworth's problem. If he can't... Well he hopes it doesn't come to that. He still needs to find the actual device anyway.


Initiative 1:
Move: Run up to Adraena again.
Standard: Attacking her once again!
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Initiative 2:
Move: Tumble out of Adraena's threatened spaces (with the Acrobatics check), and move to and just outside the window.
Standard: Throw a smoke/smog pellet at the window, clouding it with smog. (this is considered a ranged touch attack were I throwing this at someone, so I'm pretty sure this counts as a Standard action)

[Capt. Infinity]

Looking out as Arguz left the window, and even as the frame filled with pellet smoke, the piercing gaze of Adraena Zathura never ceased. And it did not take masterful powers of observation to tell exctly what she was thinking.

The woman was not even slightly convinced.

From his perch just outside the window, Arguz could hear the Aasimar converse with her subordinates. "Times up. Did you find the blueprints?" "Y-yes ma'am! Right here." The sound of a rustling scroll follows Mary's hesitant statement, as the blueprints were evidently handed off. "Good. Glad this wasn't a total bust. Now grab on to my shoulders. Both of you." The Ratfolk's ears could scantly hear the sound of the twins hands firmly gripping leather and cloth.

Adraena speaks out into the open window. "Arguz Aijk, right? I've heard of you. You've made quite a name for yourself in a surprisingly short time. People like you either make it to the top, or die fast trying. I'm honestly curious which way you'll go. I hate to tell you, but you just lost this round. But, tell you what. If you can crack this one, figure out who sent me and why, and get this whole mess wrapped up in one pretty bow? I'll pay you back for that gun I broke in full. And maybe then some. We'll see how much you've earned it. See ya, Rat Man."

And, with that, Arguz notices a second plume of grey smoke surge out of the window, even as the pellet's fumes begin to fade away. If the Ratfolk were to look back into the room, he'd notice no trace of the three criminals therein, aside from the mess they'd made of the room, and the slowly fading plume of smoke where Adraena Zathura no doubt stood a short while before.

Combat over! Sorry about the less-than-optimal conclusion. But, well, teleportation capes and such.

[Starsign]

Watching the flame-licked one teleport away, Arguz keeps a largely-calm expression on his face right up until he's sure the remaining Firebrands are gone. At that point, the ratfolk slumps over to a sigh as he has to admit defeat. Damn it! He screwed that confrontation up immensely. Now he has to somehow go tell the professor that they got the blueprint, even if this isn't quite the end of the job. Not that Arguz got out unscathed either; his coat is slightly wrecked from the impact he took and the back of his rat-shaped head has a notable bruise, along with the rather thick grab mark around his furry neck. That and his gun is wrecked. How can he still do his job when he has nothing to defend himself with? His axe is a emergency weapon and not one he can seriously fight with. He's gonna need to restock with a proper weapon before he sets out again.

His thoughts are cemented as he reenters the basement and notices the various parts of his pepperbox gun scattered around the mess of files and pages. He still quite can't believe it; one strike and it just got ruined. He collects the various parts, looking at them all and wondering if he can actually repair it. If it's too far gone then he'd need to get or make a new one... Or at least have something for when he goes back on the hunt. As of now, the ratfolk has been brought low and he is not going to sit with it.

Having too little to go on, Arguz takes his gun parts and exits the basement, heading back up to check on the professor and his maid. If there's anything the ratfolk should be proud of, it's that he managed to keep the two innocent people here safe, even if it might not make up for losing the blueprints.

[Capt. Infinity]

Arguz, upon reentering the building from its front entrance, sees Dr. Abbersworth tending to Camaelia whilst the two sit at the bottom of the stairwell. The man dabbing her forehead with a damp cloth, the women clearly pale and looking quite stressed.

"There there, Camaelia. It's all over now. We're both safe."

"Oh, I don't care about that. What about the floor!?" The Half-Elf gestures to the shattered chandelier, which at this point has begun leaking a decent amount of blood on to the floor from the broken man beneath it. "The stains I can deal with, but the wood panelling is RUINED!" She appears to grow faint again, and Pendleton has to stop her from falling backwards.

"Now, now, Camaelia. Floors can be easily replaced. Your life, however, is a far more valuable thing, and far more difficult to get back to a reasonable state." As the Ratfolk walks back in, the Doctor addresses him directly. "Ah! Mr. Aijk. What news of those ruffians? Did you?..." A quick assessment of the Gunslinger's appearance, combined with the shattered state of his firearm, was enough to tell the whole story. "Ah... I see." The man looks pensive for a moment, before giving Arguz another understanding look.

"Well, no matter. After seeing how you performed with the first two men, as Camaelia was so kind as to explain in between furtive sobs, you still seem to be the right man for the job. Please, if the blueprints have been taken, that means that not only is this job now on a strict time limit, but that whatever our culprit has planned requires further abuse of my machine beyond its already exceedingly deadly state. I'm ready and able to give you any evidence and testimony you might need to further your investigation. My mind and memory are yours to peruse. I only hope it can somehow lead you forward."

[Starsign]

All things considered, Arguz was expecting a harsher feedback from the professor as he made his way back up to the main floor. The gunslinger screwed up, lost his weapon, and failed to protect the blueprints; it's shocking that a Midtowner is willing to be so forgiving. That's a relief for the ratfolk anyway; he's still on a job, though now with a far smaller margin of error. Guess it'll be soon time to put on that game face of his.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," he says casually as he points to the broken chandelier. "Normally ain't one to bring stuff down but it made a damn good way to keep this," he kicks the blunderbuss on the floor lightly. "from firing." Perhaps it is a bit late now for him to address the obvious property damage compared to what happened downstairs, but he feels a bit better talking about something he did right than something he screwed up... Too bad he has to explain the latter now.

"But believe me, I ain't gonna be stopping now." He tries flashing a smirk as he tinkers with the shattered parts of his pepperbox gun. "Got an idea of who to search but I did have some things to ask. 'fraid you know more 'bout Midtown and Uptown 'ere than I do." The ratfolk can quickly figure out ideas and ways to search round when needed but he's got a wealth of knowledge right in front of him. If he doesn't ask Abbersworth what he knows now, Arguz won't ever get a chance to. Gonna take more time moving around than chatting anyway.

"Whoever's been after yer blueprints probably took yer device as well. Same group came in an' took both."" He gives a shrug of his shoulders as he packs up the gun parts in a large, wrapped up rag. "Ever heard of the Firebrands, run by some flame-licked aasimar called Adraena? Found 'em taking yer blueprints an' I know that Adraena's got enough strength to punch her device's glass case right outta its socket. She's a real crazy underground criminal. Can't imagine she'd pay cheap for her work. Could help us narrow down her client though." He gives another look at the very-dead Arthur, having been crushed by the chandelier. "Doc, you know anything 'bout the Firebrands I don't? Or any other wealthy docs in Midtown that compete with you on stuff like yer BEAM gun?" He gives another, calmer and shorter smile. "Y'know, if everyone in Midtown ain't wealthy of course."

[Capt. Infinity]

Abbersworth listens with cautionary thought as Arguz lays down the facts.

"Hmm... I can't say I'm well versed in the Midtown criminal element, so you'll have to forgive me if I lack much information on that front. I will admit the name "Firebrands" sounds familiar, but it's just another name you hear the upper folk say in generalities. They certainly sound dangerous, that's for certain."

He thinks pensively about Arguz's question of possible rivals. "Well, I can't say I hadn't considered that this was an attempt at corporate espionage. But once again, my legal papers are in full order. It would be altogether rather difficult to steal the design out from under me. However, that isn't to say such a person of wealth and intelligence isn't suspect. As you yourself said, whoever did this can invariably afford the services of deadly mercenaries in their efforts to steal the device. But this presents another dilemma." The Doctor speaks frankly. "I've told staggeringly few people about my invention in the first place."

Abbersworth continues, thinking deeply. "I've kept the device a secret from virtually every colleague and organization I work with. Not quite out of fear, but more so out of duty to complete the machine before any showboating, and to make its reveal all the more surprising. Off the top of my head, there are only two people I associate with who would know enough about the BEAM device to want to use it towards their own end. And neither prospect is all that pleasant." The man's brow furrows, his eyes darkening as he undoubtedly considers unpleasant thoughts. "The two people who would know about it are also in theory wealthy enough to set up this whole endeavour. The first is my Patent Lawyer, Bramsworth Langdon. He's a young boy, but I chose him specifically because he showed promise, and he showed a genuine understanding of the concept of confidence and privacy in one's work. He's an ambitious one, but I don't think he'd go to such endeavours for what amounts to simple burglary. After all, he already has access to my patents! As one of two primary suspects, he'd have drawn equal suspicion from simply asking for my blueprint schematics for proofreading, rather than robbing my own home." Pendleton continues, speaking in a terse tone. "The other possible person is even more of a troubling prospect to consider as the thief. My old childhood companion Franklin Cinderhaul. He's always been the person I turn to when I pitch one of my new invention ideas. He has been for years! The man is a tried and true confidant, and one of the greatest listeners I've ever known. To think that he'd betray my trust like this is... Well, I'd rather not sit upon the thought."

Pendleton sighs. "But... I must admit, if it were either of them, the means by which the device was stolen would make more sense from Franklin, as he does not have the amount of liberal access to my records as Bramsworth would." He looks at Arguz. "Any further questions?"

[Starsign]

Two people. That's all who knew about the BEAM gun prior to today.

Two suspects to learn. Two suspects to track down. Two people who may very likely know what had just happened here.

Arguz likes it when he's able to pinpoint his targets down, though he's never quite done it after making a gigantic error. Adraena knows he's on someone's payroll, even when she doesn't know who exactly. It's no doubt that her client, whoever it may be, will be warned about the ratfolk known as Arguz Aijk. He really lost the element of surprise; there's no way that Adraena wouldn't tell what happened specifically so her client can prepare for Arguz's eventual return.

On the other hand, Arguz will get quite a bit of recognition if he can manage to salvage this case.

"So a childhood friend an' a hopeful business partner? Well ain't that a backstabber if that's true." He replies calmly, though coldly as he considers both options. Friends can be hard to come by, especially when Arguz was growing up in Lowtown; he's lucky to have a big family. Having someone you trust backstab you? Yeah that'd hurt the ratfolk gunslinger more than a bullet. It's probably a bad idea however to assume that either one would be the obvious mastermind to this robbery. "Let's not jus' imagine it could be only 'em. I can look into 'em but they ought to have damn good reasons why they'd bite yer tail." The ratfolk's own, spiny tail swishes around slowly, small in size and length but nonetheless noticeable. "Jus' a figure of speech."

He leans over against one of the walls, accidentally greasing it slightly with cobweb and black gunpowder which has usually stained his coat. "I dunno how much this'll help Doc, but do you remember the last time you met yer lawyer and friend? Anything 'bout 'em that was different from how you usually knew 'em? Right now I could flip a coin deciding who to check out first."

[Capt. Infinity]

Pendleton thinks for a moment. "Hmm... Well, I can't say I've spoken to Bramsworth recently. He's a busy man and last I saw him I was handing off the finalized documentation on the modified BEAM gun, which I suppose could very well have sealed his opinion on the machine."

He pauses, attempting to remember further. "Franklin however, I haven't seen in even more time. Last I met him was about a week ago for tea. It was a make-up event for missing his latest party. The man loves to entertain, and I felt bad for missing one of his events." The Doctor stops, his eyebrows rising as he seems to remember something. "Come to think of it... He did mention something about me in regards to the party. Something about me being the "talk of the block" for some of the people there. Now, I hadn't paid it much heed at the time, as my name is often invoked by those at upper class events who want to seem enlightened on the modern era. But you don't suppose it means anything, do you? I had been discussing my latest invention with him for months by that point, and had shortly before the party told him of my nearing the finalizing stage of the upscaled model. In theory, it would have given him ample time to plan an assault such as this, though I still hesitate to blame the man."

[Starsign]

Arguz takes a listen to Abbersworth's explanation, noting what the professor's best friend had said the last time they met. Now the ratfolk has little idea of Midtown customs or gatherings compared to Lowtown. Whatever sort of "party" that Abbersworth went to, Arguz probably won't understand a single bit of it.

Yet his ratty ears twitch when he hears the worlds, "talk of the block." Arguz's eyes narrow as he finds himself quick to respond. "'Talk of the block?' Now that's some Lowtown slang if i ever heard it." There's a lot that Arguz can theorize just based off those words alone and even if he'd lack evidence it will also open up more ideas on who contracted the Firebrands. "Sounds like someone, possibly him, put a good word 'bout you. Can't say whether he thought there'd be no harm done or if he was drunk off his ass. but he could've slipped his tongue during that party you missed" Just on that theory, Arguz could be searching around damn near everyone in Midtown and Uptown, or ask question over question over question on every single thing Abbersworth knows about his best friend; Arguz can't tell which would be worse.

He gives another shrug as he wipes some of the cobwebs off his coat's shoulder. "Now this Franklin guy may not've sent the Firebrands here but he could've ended up squealing 'bout the BEAM to someone who got real damn interested in it." The more Arguz speaks, the more he realizes that Cinderworth is going to be a pretty important person to talk with soon

"You said he's an entertainer, huh? Throws lots of parties, corks out drinks, whatever those loud Midtown outings are like. Sounds like he's a hell'ova Midtown joyrider." Arguz changes his tone slightly to an eager friendliness over the thoughts of someone here being a Midtown party-goer. He has to admit, there's something appealing to going to a loud, raving party that's about having fun and enjoying the night; that's how some of Lowtown's parties can get. "I think I'd better give him a visit next. Anything you know 'bout the Cinderworths in general that I ought to keep in mind?" Arguz rattles his own brain in the meantime, trying to remember if he's ever heard of that name before.

Gonna make a Knowledge (local) roll to see if Arguz has ever heard about Franklin Cinderworth or the Cinderworths in general: [roll0]

[Capt. Infinity]

"It's Cinderhaul, actually. Try to get that right for when you get to his estate. Franklin's accommodating, but the average butler or maid tends to colour a sour opinion of you rather quickly with that kind of slip-up. ...Oh don't look at me like that, Camaelia. You are far beyond simply average!"

Pendleton does, however perk up at the possibility that his lifelong friend did not, in fact, outright rob him of his latest achievement. "I suppose that would explain it. Though the idea that the man's lips are loosened with mere spirits is a different matter entirely, but it is one that can be dealt with at a later date." He considers Arguz's latest question. "Hmm... Well, first and foremost, the man lives on 42 Westcrook Lane, up near the border to Midtown. He doesn't directly aid in his family fortune, and thus tends to himself on a private personal estate in the "Middle Class" district, as his relatives call it. He enjoys the freedom from responsibility, and uses the close proximity to fellow traditionally-lenient-yet-still-affluently-rich fellows to host a number of galas. Which are both likely too extravagant for the average soul, and yet not extravagant enough for the Uptown ilk."

The Doctor shrugs his shoulders. "Other than that, there's not much to tell. He's in-between parties at the moment, likely still cleaning up after his latest event, so he should be free to talk. I can give you a signed paper with my signet emblazoned upon it, if you feel that would ease your ingress into his estate."

[Starsign]

Arguz keeps Abbersworth's knowledge in mind as the ratfolk recalls what he remembers hearing about the Cinderhauls. Big-time charcoal-producing family. There's a bit to admire about Franklin if he'd rather go to Midtown and mingle there. Heck, Arguz is really curious what these "galas" are like... which is a really fancy word for a party; these Midtowners really like using their flowery vocabulary, don't they?

"Appreciate the signed paper," Arguz says with a small smile as he gets his back off the wall. "Rather not deal with another ruckus meeting him. Shouldn't be much more than a friendly greeting an' some questions anyway." He takes a look down at his empty holster, swinging lightly as it stays attached to his bronze chain belt. "...But I also gotta get a new gun first. Don't got the time to make another one myself. They got 'em stocked in weapon stores by now, right?" There's a small wave of relief flowing though Arguz as he's glad he's made enough over his prior jobs that he can simply purchase a pepperbox replacement rather than scavenge up a new one. Buying a new gun shouldn't be a long detour.

Before Arguz forgets, he quickly squeaks up another warning to Abbersworth. "An' one more thing. The Firebrands that came here don't know who hired me. They offered some sorta pay for helping them 'wrap it up in one pretty bow.' Fancy way of saying, 'rat 'em out.'" He frowns slightly, considering whether Adraena just might return here for more "answers" if she feels it necessary. "You two may wanna hide in case they return 'ere. If their client knows you at all Doc, then they're gonna bet you had something to do with it." He tries smiling again, whistling out, "An' I'm probably gonna be too busy getting yer device back to save you both right away."

[Capt. Infinity]

Pendleton nods, and makes quick work of signing up a short letter to his friend and handing it to Arguz. "Yes, I think that would be best as well. I have quite a few acquaintances with whom I could stay with for a while. But I think it would be best if I simply hire further security for my abode, as I hesitate to leave all my documentation and work unattended. For now, I'll hire some form of bodyguard and watch for the building until you can notify me that the threat to my work, and the whole of Ferroveil, has been neutralized. Godspeed, good sir." The Doctor and Camaelia see you off, leaving themselves to deal with the authorities on the matter whilst Arguz continues on his mission to get to the bottom of all of this.

The trip to the home of Franklin Cinderhaul is pleasant, if uneventful. Whilst Arguz is used to being moderately out of place in the more respectable portions of Midtwon, even he would start to realize just how completely he sticks out of the scenery as he approaches the unwritten, yet nonetheless obvious threshold of class and wealth that is the border between Midtown and Uptown. The cleaner streets, better-maintained buildings and roads, and generally ramping up of quality as the Ratfolk approaches the border is all the indication Arguz needs to know that he's headed in the right direction.

Little can be said of Franklin Cinderhaul's manor. It was a mansion, as so many other buildings were along Westcrook Lane, one of the final streets one must pass before hitting the lowest portions of Uptown. IT was large and extravagant, with a gothic feel that is brought into the new era thanks to a bright coat of daisy white paint along it's exterior.

The gates were left open and, as Arguz enters, the Ratfolk could make note of how staff members appeared to be cleaning the whole place up to a great degree. Washing windows, clearing hedges, and skimming a pool that Gunslinger could catch vague glimpses of from behind a series of hedges behind the house proper. Judging from the state of restoration, it would seem the man had just recently had a party, possibly even the night prior. There weren't exactly alcoholic beverages strewn about the place, but the degree of trampling on the front lawn, combined with the occasional Image result for Hors d'oeuvre tray laid out on a patio table as he climbed up the quite unnecessarily long driveway was enough to let him know that some degree of fun was actually had at the wealthy man's galas.

After a swift knock upon a bronze knocker placed upon a rather extravagant door, an aged Gnome man, likely in his late 130's to 140's, and dressed in an impeccably well-kept butler ensemble opens the door. His bushy moustache and equally bushy eyebrows obscure his face to a certain degree, with the pure greyness of all of it lending a further degree of class to his look. But the quick furrowing of his brow line, combined with a sudden uplifting of his chin in an attempt to look down upon the Ratfolk before him (despite Arguz having over a half a foot over him) was all the indication that was needed to elicit an understanding of the sense of marginal bemusement towards the Lowtown resident.

"Yes? Can I... Help you?" He speaks, with no small amount of confusion in his voice at the mere presence of Arguz upon his master's front porch.

[Starsign]

Arguz's trip to the Cinderhauls had been slightly sidetracked by the need to reacquire a gun; he wasn't going to continue this case without a proper weapon of combustion to defend himself with. Thankfully Midtown is not without its stores, better-furnished and richer than those borderline-stinks down in Lowtown. The ratfolk was amazed when he went inside one of those Midtown gunsmiths. It took the human smith there some convincing that Arguz knew how to use a gun, and that he had the gold to pay for it. He only needed one pepperbox gun but when it came down to it, Arguz will want a backup in case he runs into another weapon-shattering stunner like Adraena. Quickly he found his second, technically third pepperbox gun in its new holster, linked to the left of his bronze chain belt while the old holster remains at his right. He had no need to use both guns at once, though he felt the temptation to try. He's always been best using just one; the second is his backup.

It doesn't take him long after before Franklin's mansion absolutely stuns him. He's never quite seen an Uptown mansion before; usually he just hears rumors of their exemplary beauty and dazzling construction. Franklin's mansion however may be the closest Arguz gets to seeing a proper Uptown aristocratic house. GodDAMN this is massive! The whole thing screams, "I am rich, glorified, and amazing!" The ratfolk can't imagine living in a building like this. How much did this cost? And how much did all the staff cost?! There's so much to look at, from the hedges to the walls to the pool. He can't figure how one can keep track of the wealth spent in these parties.

Living like this must be paradise; much like paradise, there's no way Arguz is gonna live like this. He's struggling just trying to get a simple lot and house in Midtown for his family.

Arguz's legs feel slightly sore as he finally makes it to the door, having walked a long way under a time restraint. He expresses no sign of aching or tiredness as he is greeted by the gnome. "G'day, here to see Franklin Cinderhaul." The ratfolk, unquestionably Lowtown in his accent, shows the gnome the signed letter that Abbersworth gave him. "Here to meet him with respect from his friend. It's important business from Abbersworth." The ratfolk hopes that the servants here are as accommodating as Camaelia... Though given the mess around the mansion, Arguz doubts it.

[Capt. Infinity]

The Gnome man quickly grabs the letter out of Arguz's hand and reads it over, holding it up to the sun in an attempt to get an absolutely perfect look at the contents.

After a few moments of this, the man shrugs and sighs. "Another one of the eccentricities of Mr. Abbersworth. Mr. Cinderhaul's friends do so often lead such... Unorthodox lives. Right this way, but do try to wipe your feet before you enter. The help has its work cut out for them as-is."

The gnomish man leads Arguz down the hall and up a flight of stairs as they move to the far back west wing of the manor. The Gunslinger is given a full view of the three story mansion in all its glory. A ceiling full of fresco art, and topped with astonishingly complex chandeliers. Every hall leading to a plethora of rooms with some new wonder in each. The entire house was a testament to wealth and the benefits it affords, though the whole display was made slightly less as a legion of maids and cleaners worked to mop floors, clean out entrees, and just generally do the place back up into a presentable state.

Evidently the house's galas spread to every room, as the third floor had equally as much work being done on it, with maids in every corner dusting the place top to bottom, attempting to reset the entire manor such that it was ready for next week's event.

The Gnome butler stops at the end of a particularly lavish hall with a large set of ornate double doors at the end. He knocks cordially four times upon it in strange long-long-short-short pattern. "Come in." A muffled voice permits from far off within the room, acting with enough authority that the butler permitted himself to open the double doors and waive the Gunslinger in.

The butler accompanied Arguz into yet another lavish room, this one clearly a master bedroom of some sort. With a hallway leading to a walk in closet and full en-suite lavatory to the left, a frankly ludicrously fancy king-size bed to the right, and a large set of open glass double doors leading out to a veranda with a (quite beautiful, and exceedingly rare) view of the Ferroveil pier as it peeks up over several other buildings, whose roofs are far overshot by the uppermost floor of this massive abode.

Sitting on a reclining chair overlooking the balcony, with a small glass end table bearing a bottle of brandy and two shot glasses (one of which was half full of the light brown spirit), was a remarkably handsome light skinned Half-Elf man, whose midnight blue hair was combed into a very gentlemanly short side part, and whose eyes remained closed even as the two diminutive figures entered.

"Yes, Reqwin? What is it?" He asks, not moving from his chair. "Well, sir Cinderhaul. This young Ratfolk man has come to speak with you, on the behest of your friend, Dr. Pendleton Abbersworth." At these words the lord of the manor's eyes open, the Half-Elf sitting up in his chair to turn and look at the two men in his room with curious evergreen eyes.

"Well, now. I can't say I was expecting this. Thank you, Reqwin. I'll ring if I need further assistance." "Yes sir." The Gnome butler named Reqwin bows, giving one last questioning look to Arguz before exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

Franklin Cinderhaul greets the Ratfolk warmly, smiling whilst absentmindedly stirring his glass of brandy as he sits on upright in his recliner. "Now then. To whom exactly do I owe the pleasure? And what exactly brings you to come to my humble abode on Pendleton's request?" He asks, seemingly genuinely interested, almost to the point of childlike, gleeful curiosity at the matter before him, whatever it may be.

[Starsign]

If Arguz thought the exterior of the mansion looked dazzling and enormous, then the interior is beautifully alien. Never before has he truly seen the lavish standards that a Uptown family member might have and it is absurd. The red velvet walls, the chandeliers, the wealth and variety in each room, the carefully-crafted smooth wooden floor; this is practically the life standards of a rich king. Arguz considered that this Franklin Cinderhaul had been living in paradise but it's slowly coming to the ratfolk's realization that one does not know paradise until they go in and experience it entirely. And while Arguz probably will never experience it, he's certainly all too eager to take more of a look around the mansion if he actually had the time for it.

Instead he has his mind set on Franklin, mostly. Arguz has to admit, that's an incredible view of Ferroveil from the pier, at least where the gunslinger is currently standing. It'd probably be more astounding if he actually walks to the pier and takes a look but he probably does not have the time nor the authority to do so... Granted, he hasn't asked but enjoying the view is not why he came here.

Instead he eyes the rich, Uptown partygoer with a curious, eager look. Arguz feels like he's almost a merchant here, except instead of offering a deal of goods it's a deal of information. How'd his merchant of a father work these deals again? Darug once mentioned that he had a couple strategies to really get a customer's attention; foot-in-the-door and head-in-the-door. Arguz never got why they're called that but he remembers the gist of both: go in with a small offer and dig in from there or go in big from the start. Maybe info can be used or traded like that? Arguz can be subtle and hint at things or be blunt and straight up with Franklin.

Deciding not to show hostility and express suspicion, he goes with the former. "Arguz Aijk, Lowtown detective. Here on business to help the Doc." He smiles, showing Franklin the letter should the gnome have given it back to Arguz prior. "He's been busy with something. Needed me to check up on something he's been planning. 'fraid that the message mighta gotten out." If Franklin happens to be innocent then he might not expect to immediately know what Arguz is talking about. "In yer last party or two, and it looks like you all had a damn good party 'ere, the Doc was apparently quite the topic there, something 'bout being, 'talk of the block.' Do you remember what 'bout him was being discussed?" Arguz isn't exactly being straightforward or to-the-point, but being straight-up could mean Arguz is in a lot of trouble should Franklin really be guilty of stealing the BEAM device.

[Capt. Infinity]

Franklin stands up from his recliner, receiving the letter and reading it thoroughly, though it evidently didn't explain much. "Hmph. For a man of science he can be awfully hard to pin down in a conversation sometimes. Something he's been planning? That's awfully strange. The only thing he's been willing to talk about has been..."

The Half-Elf trails off as Arguz continues, mentioning his idle gossiping. "Uh. No! Not that I can recall. Well, er, at least not at this last party. The party before this, about a week ago, might have had the man come up in casual conversation. Nothing really that special. Why do you ask?"

The man is clearly and obviously nervous about something.

[Starsign]

There's a slight frown from Arguz as he realizes that Franklin's reaction is not very helpful. The ratfolk can't get a gleam on this half-elf's expression. He sounds surprised but at the same time there's nothing Arguz can see that indicates there's something "off." If there's anything that he has trouble with, it's trying to figure out what makes people tick, especially Midtown and Uptown people. Arguz can do scene investigation, tracking, and gunning; talking to people is not one of those skills.

Once again Arguz is at a minor social dilemma, except trying to make a comparison with mercantilism is now out the window. Telling the truth sounds like the way to go but how does he present it? He might not have the time to visit Abbersworth's lawyer if Franklin turns up nothing and Arguz certainly doesn't have the patience for a case that's become very dangerous. He could very well draw his gun and begin an interrogation and the temptation is considerate, if only because he's on the clock. If he was sure that Franklin is completely responsible, the temptation would go from considerate to staggering.

Yet Arguz is taking a big risk just talking with the half-elf and trying any sort of hostile action would just make the risk far greater. Besides, the ratfolk hasn't hit a dead-end in this conversation yet. "Because," he began, suddenly frowning as the ratfolk's serious, venomous tone takes hold, "Recently the Doc's little BEAM device up an' got stolen by a merc group called the Firebrands. Doc had told only two people 'bout it, his lawyer an' you, and now I'm here to get the device back." There goes the news and any sense of secrecy with it. "Doc told me that he'd been quite the talk in that party a week ago, an' now he's worried sick that you might'a hired those mercs."

Arguz doesn't give the half-elf time to speak as the smaller creature continues talking. His dust-covered, venom voice certainly helps indicate where he draws the line at being snarky and incredibly eager even as his eyes fade slightly towards a hint of concern. "Now we ain't assuming it was you all 'long but I got the feeling you slipped something to someone 'bout a week ago." Arguz imagines the party might not have helped. Sure seems like chaos reigned last time and who knows how crazy these Uptown and Midtowners get when they can really let loose. When put that way though, it does sound like a hell of a time. "So I need to know who you were chatting with back then, an' I'm hoping you don't leave my tail hanging long for an answer."

[Capt. Infinity]

The expression on Franklin's face quickly turns to one of deep worry and regret. "S-stolen!? But that can't- It couldn't have been- Oh goodness it's all my fault!" The Half-Elf exclaims, cltuching his head in his hands as he turns to look out over the balcony, though a quick look at his expression as he turns is enough indication for Arguz to know that the man is suddenly in great distress.

"I... I may have a confession to make." The former Uptowner takes a deep breath to compose himself, before turning around to face the Ratfolk before him, though his eyes still glimmered with worry. "You see, whilst I like to lavish my home with great testaments to wealth, and while I am known to host raucous galas, I myself... am... exceedingly boring." The Half-Elf's shoulders droop, looking defeated. "I fill my house with all this stuff in an attempt to hide the fact that I lack anything interesting in my personal life. I own two grand pianos, but I never play. I have more books than I could count, and I've read next to none of them. But, as luck would have it, I have quite a few friends who have hands in various fields of Economics and Engineering, and it is through osmosis of their lives that I have things to talk about."

Franklin avoids eye contact as he speaks. "A week ago, at one of my galas, I... may have let slip some information in regards to Pendleton's BEAM device. It was well into the night and I had perhaps dipped into the fine liqueurs a bit too much by that point. You must understand, it seemed so innocent at the time. I had never considered that what I would say might lead to something like this! Oh heavens, a gods damned burglary! How could I let this happen!?" He finally looks Arguz in the eye. "Please. If there's anything I can do to aid your investigation, do not hesitate to ask."

[Starsign]

Arguz keeps himself from rolling his eyes as Franklin's confession comes out in full. At least the half-elf is innocent... mostly. There's going to be arguments between him and Abbersworth once this is done but at least it's not an outright betrayal... Now if only Franklin didn't slip the info way back. How drunk does an Uptown member need to be to slip something like that? A good deal of Lowtown people can hold their liquor a lot better than that, even if they are using some of their hard-worked savings on alcohol. He has to admit, Uptown people can really seem as irresponsible as the ratfolk gunslinger sometimes imagined. He does, at least, give points to Franklin for being worried about a friend.

"Well that 'bout explains it," Arguz responds, loosening his sharp attitude as he almost begins smiling. He doesn't like being serious or angry for a long period of time; that's not how his persona rolls. "I wouldn't say worry 'bout what you did, though yer gonna have to meet an' kiss up with the Doc once this is all done." His muscles ease up as he finds any serious conversation or interrogation will no longer be needed. He's got Franklin's attention front-and-center and the half-elf seems like he feels bad that this all happened.

"I;d Like to stay fer a drink, an' I bet you got stuff better than some of the crap in Lowtown." There's a very subtle sign in Arguz's voice. "Though I can't imagine how you Uptown an' Midtowners can live like this. But there ain't any time fer that. I need to know who you were talking to back at yer party a week back. Can you remember what this person looked like, or does he got a name? The more info I got, the sooner I know where to look an' the sooner I can get that device back." The ratfolk folds his arms, giving a relaxed smile to the half-elf.

[Capt. Infinity]

Franklin nods his head. "Yes... I believe apologies will be in order between Pendleton and I. I'm just glad someone's working to fix this madness." He acknowledges Arguz's plea for a drink and moves over to the bottle of Brandy, pouring two new glasses. "I hope this vintage is to your liking. My peers often say it's much too strong for their tastes, but I doubt that's a problem you in particular will have."

Franklin hands the Gunslinger the glass and then proceeds to sit down sideways on his recliner, facing the Ratfolk whilst looking down at his own quietly stirring shot glass, his face mildly pressed with the effort of remembering.

"A name won't do you much good. Thinking back on it, though I can't quite recall the name he gave, I do remember being unable to recognize the family. And let me assure you, I KNOW my fellow gentry. I suppose at the time I had enough inner doubt to believe him foreign or something to that effect. I suppose I wasn't as properly paranoid as I should've been..." He pauses, clearly struggling to recall details from the night. "He was tallish. Perhaps six feet, or even six foot one. His hair was some degree of black, though the style was obscured by a large top hat. He... I believe he had a moustache. I made a note at the time that it was awfully thin, and brushed up into one of those new-age swirly handlebars that men like to put on when they want to appear fanciful. His eyes are a mystery to me, as so many eyes are when you pass them to such a large degree as I. And his clothes were so generically civil I can't even remember details... Goodness this is frustrating. The man seems so abysmally average and generic, it's hard to suss out details."

The Half-Elf downs the brandy in one shot, attempting to clear his head, though he coughs a little thereafter. "Guh... The taste can be readily acquired with this vintage, but the smell is something entirely-" The rich man pauses for a short moment, seemingly catching himself on his words, before his eyes shoot up with a sudden revelation. "Wait. A smell! That's it!" He gets up quickly, and grins at Arguz. "I remember now! The reason why there's so little of his appearance in my memory was because I was overwhelmed by his odour! Thinking back, I recall that the man carried the disquieting odour of blood, raw pork, and machine oil. At the time I couldn't figure out the origin, but now I realize it was coming from him!" The Half-Elf nestles his hand on his chin, thinking. "Bloody pork and machine oil. Now where could such an odour come from..."


If I'm being too obtuse with this, feel free to roll a raw Wisdom check to see if Arguz can acquire an answer through concentrated deductive reasoning.

[Starsign]

Arguz gladly takes the glass of brandy, almost ready to down the liquid before thinking about the half-elf's explanation. If there's anything that hurts information, it's the lack of a name. Names are important; it's how Arguz managed to find both Abbersworth and Cinderhaul. So when he fails to get a name for whoever Franklin had been a week ago, the ratfolk makes an effort not to give out another sigh. The potential culprit might be some Uptown man who smells of bloody pork and machine oil? What kind of crazy Uptowner actually works at those sort of factories?

...Wait, factories?

There's a silent pause from Arguz before swiftly raising his eyebrows as he puts twos-and-twos together. "Well hell, if yer cutting meat then yer a butcher, but if yer using machines for it then yer working in a factory. This Uptown guy you met probably was working down there..." An aristocrat working as some Lowtown worker? Yeah that doesn't click. "Wait, no not working, owning. Whoever you were talking to probably owns at least a pork factory somewhere down in Lowtown; but an rich Uptowner probably gotta own a hell'ova lot more than that." That helps center things down a bit, though not terrifically. Maybe that rattled Franklin's brain enough that he can recall now but Arguz doesn't have much of an idea... excluding the information he's heard around Lowtown and through his knowledge of engineering.

"Hah, whad'ya know," he continues, stopping Franklin's response as the Ratfolk continues. "Do the Aldercains ring any bells for you? 'nother one of those Uptown families; owns the whole damn meat-making process in Ferroveil. Probably have more to compete with if Ferroveil's main food wasn't fish. Think you talked with one of 'em a week back?" That should really narrow down Arguz's suspects should his guess be correct. He even remembers the biggest damn factory the Aldercains own down at 18 Murlock Avenue. It was one of the factory buildings that Arguz's deceased brother, Beas, passed by back when he could still work. Maybe that place should be the gunslinger's next visit if Franklin doesn't have any more leads to give.

[Capt. Infinity]

"The Aldercains? Hmm... Come to think of it, the Aldercains have a single primary heir to their fortune, and his age lines up with that of the man I saw."

Franklin nods, growing more sure. "Yes. It all makes sense now. I make it my business to know the hallmarks of a familial line within the gentry. And, now that you've put it so plainly, the façade of his fake alias falls away completely. The hair, the the smell, that tawdry affectation of the voice that only a man who deals in constant swill can put on to mask it. There's no doubt in my mind. The man I met on that night was Malwick Aldercain, heir to the Alcercain meat processing empire!"

[Starsign]

Arguz can't help but chuckle a little as he hears Franklin go off on some grand cheer. "You Uptown and Midtowners are all so flowery, ain'tcha?" He speaks with no sort of anger or frustration, though he'll never understand why these people sometimes talk like that; must be a part of their culture... His family better not start talking like that when they finally have a house in Midtown.

"Least I got the name; Malwick Aldercain, right? Those factories are gonna be a hell'ova gift for him when he's in charge." The situation comes a bit clearer as the ratfolk is now stumped on how the crime connects with the man. "No clue why he'd want that device if he had it stolen. He ain't got any competitors 'sides his elders and he ain't need a big, plasma-spitting to rid 'em off." He makes a large shrug, unsparingly keeping the glass of brandy carefully held in his bone-thin hand, though he hasn't given that much notice yet.

"I know one of his family's biggest factories down near Lowtown. Could check if he or that device was brought there. Might help if both of 'em are there but I don't got much else if they're not." He walks over to get a good look out the veranda, taking a casual glimpse at how much of Ferroveil's buildings and factories can be seen from hre. "Know anything else 'bout this Malwick? Not sure whether he'll be at his factory or his home or some other arrangement he's got today."

[Capt. Infinity]

Franklin pauses to think. "Well, while he is yet to be named the full proprietor of the business, he has been given a high-ranking managerial position at the plant which you just spoke of. That means that, whether or not he is the grand mastermind behind this whole affair, he will be at the factory should you head there. If this man is the one behind all this, then I wish you all the luck in finding him and bringing him to justice. I just hope the help I've provided can in some way absolve some degree of my shame in my fault in the matter." The Half-Elf pours himself another shot of brandy, and then lends it forward, offering a cheers with the Ratfolk before him.

"In any case, I wish you well. Godspeed, Detective Aijk."

[Starsign]

Arguz gets enough from Franklin that there probably isn't much more to talk about the situation. Last week, the half-elf got drunk one party and told Malwick Aldercain about Abbersworth's BEAM device, which later promoted the pork-processing heir to hire the Firebrands to sneak into Abbersworth's home and steal the device... Yet they left enough time for Abbersworth to hire Arguz before realizing the device needs the blueprints in order to tinker and unlock the whole thing. So now Malwick is probably working as a manager down at the factory on 18 Murlock Avenue and the device might be there as well.

...That's about the rough gist of it if the ratfolk is correct. Too bad he doesn't really have any real evidence to actually pin the whole darn crime on the Aldercain heir... Not yet anyway.

"Guess that does 'bout do it," he mutters loudly as he turns away from the veranda to look back at the half-elf with a smile. "With any luck I ain't gonna turn up dead in the next couple days." He gives a ratty snicker as his thin mouse tail stays still behind him. He was very serious when he first brought up to Franklin what happened with the device. Now he finds that there isn't much to worry... at least when he's not being attacked or shot at.

Arguz notices the glass of brandy still in his hand as Franklin pours himself another glass. No point to ignoring a drink before he heads off. He raises the glass in the air as he happily says, "Here's to good luck," and then downs the entire cup of brandy in one go. The taste is as he expects: bitter and strong. It feels real good to have when he needs to numb some sort of pain. He really can't afford alcohol most of the time; stuff like this is a premium for him. "An' Godspeed," he concludes, mentally wondering what that higher-class slang is supposed to mean as he gives a quick wave and takes his leave down to Murlock Avenue.

[Capt. Infinity]

The transition is just as stark going down the city's slope as it is going up, though it is decidedly less pleasant. The city slowly grew "lived-in". With signs of wear and tear on the buildings, and the occasional bit of detritus on the street acting as a reminder that people actually lived here and did things, not all of them necessarily on the moral up-and-up. Though it was still undoubtedly Midtown, what with the buildings having space between them and the occasional breeze hitting the Ratfolk's face as he wandered down the various lanes, it was plainly apparent that this part of Midtown was its own beast entirely. Just dark enough for the sullied to rise to prominence in less-than-savoury acts, and just rich enough for the worst of them to get away with it.

18 Murlock Avenue isn't technically in Lowtown, but it's close enough. The factory itself sits on a hillock of mostly stone from which one could plainly see the slums below. The fumes of other, less overseen factories framing the building from the front in a near constant spew of light-to-dark grey smokes.

The processing plant at the address, for what it was worth, seemed moderately well-maintained. The building looked structurally sound and, aside from the odd chip in the stonework here and there near the bottom, was in a decent condition, smog-discolouration aside. The front of the complex was embossed with a large wooden sign, which read 'ALDERCAIN MEAT PACKAGING INCORPORATED' in swooning, block capital letters that, whilst once likely a bright red, have now faded to a more piddling colour akin to rust or dried blood.

Aside from the occasional soul milling about the street, and the occasional clamour from inside, the entire area seemed deserted. Although a steady stream of smoke from the smoke stacks is a ready indication that work was being done within the factory proper.

Looking about the side, you see a small, unmarked entrance in the back corner of the building. The door seems to be conspicuously left ajar.

You swear you just saw someone walk into the door as you got there, and they didn't seem to be a factory worker.

With your keen observational skills, you just manage to make out the corners of a grey full-length cape fluttering into the entryway before the figure slipped inside.

Arguz is at the factory! Do as you will! :smallsmile:

[Starsign]

The utter dreariness of the factory wilts Arguz's spirit slightly as he looks on at the giant building. Manufacturing sure is an odd thing; it's supposed to be more productive and more convenient but the lack of safety regulations make them more dangerous than fighting a war. The Aijks have already lost one of their children working in these places and Arguz made a promise to himself that he will never find himself working in one of those giant metal machines. Then again, he'd rather stay in the business he's in now than ever turn to some other occupation. Ratfolk don't tend to live long so Arguz doesn't have to think a lot about retirement.

An advantage with scavenging ratfolk is their keen eyesight, something Arguz makes good use of as he notices the unmarked entrance near the back of the factory building. Walking right through the front door is destined to end badly, not just because, he imagines, that managers here might not appreciate Lowtown people coming in just to look around. All Arguz really needs is to find Malwick and figure out how to get back the blueprints at least... Though the gunslinger probably should do something a little more... permanent with Malwick. After all, Abbersworth wanted the culprit stopped first; the device and blueprints come second.

So Arguz waits just a brief moment as some non-worker enters through the back as well so that-

...That person had a grey cape of some sort, wasn't it? That absolutely was Adraena, wasn't it?

The ratfolk feels his heart making slow, loud beats as anxiety briefly swirls through his head. On one hand this almost confirms that Malwick has a big role in this case. On the other, having to fight Adraena again isn't something Arguz wants. She wrecked his gun last time and she'll easily do it again if given the chance. He can't stand the idea of losing the very thing that he needs to defend himself, even if he brought a spare just in case. He'd much rather get his job done and avoid encountering her again. If she's gotten paid by now then maybe she won't particularly care what happens to her client.

Taking a deep breath, Arguz sneaks up and enters the unmarked entrance. He has a simple goal in mind: get in, don't get caught, deal with Malwick and the device, get out.

Nailed a 30 on my Perception check. Now to roll Stealth to try and avoid being caught: [roll0]

EDIT: Whoops! :smalltongue:

[Capt. Infinity]

Arguz slowly inches through the doorway, and enters what must be a backroom storage warehouse for the factory. The room, caked in shadow and with only a dimly lit skylight above, has a fairly open centre area, but is lined on all sides by crates full of everything from canned meats to spare mechanical instruments. Along the walls high above is a boardwalk perimeter, likely to allow easier access to the series of pulleys and chains above, which were most likely used to move large crates onto transport carts.

All of this information was gleaned by Arguz in the few seconds he had to himself. This time was drastically cut short when, out of the shadows and too fast to fully react, a familiar hand reaches out, once again gripping Arguz by the neck, and hurling the Ratfolk into the centre of the room.

The sensation that followed upon Arguz's landing was similar to before, to a point. Whilst the impact upon the ground was no less painful, it was a sort of background noise to the sudden, all-around seizing sensation that overtook the detective's body, as if some spectral force were trying to seal him stiff in a frozen shell. The feeling was brutal, but Arguz was strong willed enough that he was mentally prepared to fend off the mystic assault.

The second one? Not so much.

This time, Arguz felt the magic (because let's face it, this was magic) take hold, seizing his muscles and joints, and forcing him prone where he lay, unable to move.

As Arguz lay there, paralyzed, a sound which could only be properly described as a maddened cackle arose from deeper into the warehouse proper.

"Nyahahaha! Veeeery good, Ms. Zathura. I dare say you helped spring my trap quite nicely." The disembodied voice sneered, as a body to attribute it to slowly appeared from the shadows. Arguz could just about move his eyes down enough to see the towering form of Adraena wander out from the shadows on the opposite end of the room.

"Don't get cocky, Aldercain. This almost went completely wrong. You're lucky I caught him wandering up the street, otherwise this might've gone worse." Adraena spoke evenly, though Arguz could almost make out the lightest hint of malcontent.

"Oh nonsense, my dear lady. There was never any doubt that the poor lowborn fool would fall into my trap." The figure wanders out from the shadows, revealing a sharply dressed man, in a three piece suit and wearing a rather large top hat. His hair a slick black with a thin, curly moustache swirling upwards in a spiral on both sides of his face. A small viper coils about his left shoulder as his hazel eyes glint menacingly. "For none can best the magical guiles of I, Malwick Aldercain! Master Warlock!" He spreads his arms wide, as if in awe of himself.

He turns to glower at the Ratfolk before him. "Now then, would you be so kind as to subdue him. The spell only lasts thirty seconds."

"Heh. So much for 'Master Warlock'." Adraena chides, before producing a chair from a far end of the room alongside a set of manacles, and forcing Arguz into it, tying the manacles behind the chair's backbars so as to keep the Ratfolk seated.

As Arguz finally regains feeling in his limbs after a short while, Malwick cackles to himself once more. "Greetings and good afternoon, my greasy-furred friend. Arguz Aijk, is it? My compatriot Adraena has told me much about you, apparently you gave her some trouble back at that oaf Abbersworth's house. It's lucky you didn't best her, otherwise not only would she not have been paid the other half of her dues-" He glares at the woman to his left, who returns the stare in full. -But you also would have put an immediate end to all of my wondrous plans." He smiles a grin that Arguz, perhaps for the first time in his life, could only describe as "megalomaniacal" as the Human magician continues on.

"I'm intrigued though. You seem to have tracked me all the way to my hiding spot, so colour me curious as to exactly how much of my cunning plan you managed to uncover. Don't worry, I'll be sure to fill in any gaps in your investigation. After all, genius is only truly enjoyable when it is appreciated by another. And Adraena and her band of ruffians are truly lost causes when it comes to conversation."

"I don't care about your stupid plan, Malwick. I'm just here because you offered more pay if I helped you see this through." The flame-scarred Aasimar retorts, giving the loud and egotistical man a sidelong glance of disdain.

"See what I mean? No love for the masterful art of dastardly ploys! So tell me, Ratfolk, what exactly do you know about my grand design thus far?

[Starsign]

There were always hints and signs that Arguz was going to have a day that he does not want to tell his family about; he made several mistakes that will worry those who don't support his work like Fahir and, to a lesser degree, Mirrud. But there was still a chance Arguz could salvage it, that he can twist it into some mythic tale of heroics that he could almost tell like a great, if violent, bedtime story to Doden and Caci.

After his "entrance" into the factory? Yeah not happening. He ****ed this up pretty well.

The ratfolk had little to say as he is thrown on the ground and paralyzed by the secretly-magical warlock. Not that he can get much out beyond a loud, crude squeak. He's sparsely been confronted by some sort of magic user and he sure didn't expect some Uptown manager to be a self-proclaimed warlock. It's not an exaggeration to say that Arguz is in a lot of trouble now, bound by manacles while being confronted by the warlock and Adraena. If there's one thing Arguz can confirm now, it's that all Midtown and Uptowners really do speak so darn flowery.

So what can one ratfolk gunslinger do when they are bound, mostly-helpless and asked for information? Keep up with the persona; don't look defeated. "Hah... Yer asking 'bout my exploits? Well ain't that a compliment." The ratfolk does his best to keep his lips smiling while his bone-thin tail is uncomfortably sticking out to the left of the chair. At least if Malwick is being full of himself, then maybe Arguz can work something with it if he can avoid being on the warlock's "mean" side. "Now you mentioned 'bout yer grand design? Well you certainly had a hell'ova plan I'll tell you that. You took a real, plasma spitting piece-of-work an' wanna go make modifications on it using those blueprints. An' you got quite the crew to get 'em fer you." Arguz gives a smirk to Adraena to hide his nervousness, "Real quiet group those 'ruffians' are," he snarks.

If Arguz can shrug, he would. As is his shoulder make some sort of passive "bump" as he continues talking to Malwick. "'fraid that's where most of my genius ends. You never quite had a diary lying around describing yer plan an', well, I ain't a mind reader. Would'a loved to figure out yer motivation 'fore I got a look 'round yer factory; I mean you manage it, right?" If nothing else, maybe Arguz can impress Malwick by indicating what info the ratfolk does know. "Yer gonna inherit the whole Aldercain business, heir an' all. Never heard anything 'bout someone else having a claim on yer family business. I could guess this whole matter's all 'bout wanting to inherit it sooner but I'm real damn sure you could do it without spending money on mercs and a device as big as the one stolen."

The ratfolk lets himself pause and await Malwick's, and hopefully not Adraena's, reaction. Arguz has never felt as helpless as he does now; even the one time he got poisoned he could at least blow away the criminals responsible for it. Right now he's doing everything he can not to break his persona. Underneath that is a very stressed and frustrated ratfolk who's almost scared to death of the situation.

[Capt. Infinity]

Malwick listens with a snide grin, giving a light chuckle at his mention of Adraena's team. "He has you there, Adraena. You weren't exactly stealthy either times. Especially not so the second time!"

The Aasimar remains cool. "The team I brought in was relatively fresh. I thought a simple job would be a chance to prove themselves. Mary and Marty proved competent, Arthur went and died, and Winslow..." The woman unconsciously clenches her left fist. "Was swiftly dealt with."

Malwick shrugs. "Oh well. Either way I got what I paid you for." As the Warlock continues to hear Arguz's spiel, however, he quickly grows sour in his expression. Not quite angry, but more so akin to a contemptuous teenager being reminded of their less-than-favourite parent. "Inherit it sooner? Inherit what? THIS miserable testament to squaller!?" The man gestures grandly in a circle, as if directing Arguz to truly take in the area around them. "I'd sooner inherit DIRT for how much it was worth to me. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble my family is in? I don't know if you've noticed, but the Aldercain family fortune has a rather heavy dependancy on farms which produce pigs for slaughter, a resource which becomes surprisingly hard to find when every miserable wretch with a glimmer of entrepreneurship in their eye gets the bright idea of TURNING ALL THE FARMLAND INTO FACTORIES!" The thinnish man roars with an impotent ferocity that makes him look equal parts dangerous and cartoonish.

"This damnable business's expiration date is sooner that the meat it's packaging! I'll be lucky if I can sell the factory for the price of the mortar it was built with once my oaf of a father deems it time to finally ease my annoyance and expire! I'd have to content myself with the scraps! Live off some paltry fortune we'd saved up in bonds and assets. Can you imagine that? ME, a master of the mystic arts, living a life of pennywise and savings!? No! I REFUSE to live that way! I, Malwick Aldercain, deserve BETTER than to live as the lower class does!" It... didn't take a mastery of the investigative arts to tell why Adraena showed consistent distinct contempt for the man standing before the Ratfolk at this moment. He exuded a level of affluent madness that would make even the most unabashedly gaudy and debaucherous of Uptowners blush at how over the top he is.

Malwick continues on, despite all the unspoken words against him doing so. "But I was not about to take such a thing lying down, of course. After all, I'm an educated sort, and it doesn't take a genius to realize that the end of ones woes can be found quite quickly in vampirism of the wealth of others." He grins... evilly. There was no other way to describe it, and it's best not to beat around the bush with this sort of thing. "I had originally intended to get in the good graces of some fellow gentry and, through either natural wiles or mystic subjugation..." He lightly pets the viper on his shoulder, which hisses happily in response. "Acquire a sizeable income with which to tide myself over. That all changed when I came across mention of Dr. Pendleton Abbersworth's device, after only moderate prodding from his compatriot, Mr. Cinderhaul." The man snaps his fingers and Adaena barks an order in response.

"Mary! Marty! Wheel it out!" The two henchmen from earlier appear out of the dark, wheeling out a mobile display table with a tarp over it.

"You see, whilst I originally merely heard Pendleton had a new idea in the works from a few casual sources, and thought I could somehow get my name on the man's device for personal profit, as Cinderhaul continued to spill out a deluge of information, a new plan occurred. Why gain money from the device's use... When I could use the device to gain money?" The Warlock sneered from under his top hat's brim as he reached for the tarp covering a large device on the table. "You see, my good fellow, most think that Darguac's folly was in poor utilization of the flood to his aid. But I know the truth. The real clincher to any good act of villainy... The man whips off the tarp in one swift motion.

"Is PRESENTATION!!!"

Presented before the Ratfolk was a device that, for all intents and purposes, was simply a largely upscaled version of the BEAM gun at the lab. However, the modifications thereafter were apparent.

It was a simply hack, it seemed. The back end of the device was decidedly bulkier, with a large mechanical block with two imposing electrical coils sticking out of it mounted to it's back end. It's front end was also altered, with the lenses no longer decreasing in size in a small apparatus. Now, they were mounted by a large series of metal spokes to the main body of the Cannon, with the two lenses now INCREASING in size, with the second lens looking about the size of a hand mirror, almost looking like a telescope without the shell casing around it.

"As you can see, I've made a few... modifications to Abbersworth's initial designs. It's not the cleanest job, no. But with it being done on such short notice-" Another glare at Adraena. "-I'm happy with what could be managed in the time I had. And I assure you, the device has been MASSIVELY improved to my ends." The Warlock snaps his fingers once more, and the Mason twins rush out ahead of the gun to wheel out yet another object, this time a mobile brick wall, easily a good three-quarters feet in width.

"I've altered the BEAM Cannon to spread plasma energy outwards in a large cone, utterly immolating anything and everything caught in the blast. Observe!" The madman moves to the side of the machine, prepping it for firing as the twin criminals quickly move away from the wall. The BEAM Cannon's new power block makes loud mechanical noises, with the two electrical coils on top of it arcing electricity between one another up their length, before dissipating in a violent *snap* upon reaching their apex. After a few second of calibration, the device begins glowing with an unnatural surge of raw energy.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand.... FIRE!!!"

If the last use of the device was impressive. This one was STAGGERING. The sheer volume of pure white energy spewing from the mouth of the cannon would have been impressive, if it wasn't terrifying. The wall on the far end of the warehouse floor catches the slowly expanding circle of plasma projection in full, with the effects becoming apparent as sparks, smoke, and fire spew out from the edges. Though it's hard to make out, the noise of bubbling stone are enough indication for Arguz to realize what it was doing. The BEAM Cannon was melting a hole clean through the brick wall. And indeed, when Aldercain finally deactivated the machine, what was left of the area affected by the blast quickly spilled into the floor around it in a yellowish-white hot slurry of molten stone, the ray gun having utterly liquidated the lot of it, though it did rapidly cool upon pooling on the floor with black plumes of smoke wafting off the area.

"See? With this device, every wall's a door!" Malwick cackles like the madman he is, before continuing his lengthy speech. "And the precise wall with which I'm going to make a door is the west-facing wall on the tenth floor of the Grand Gold Bank! Once this device is mounted swiftly upon my personal airship, I will fly it up to the bank, blast a hole straight into the vault, rappel my personal bodyguards in to swipe the wealth within, and then flee the city before a damnable soul can be mobilized to stop me! And, just like that, I, Malwick Aldrcain, will become the single richest man in the history of Ferroveil. Just as I rightly deserve! Hahahahahahahahaaaa!" The man's evil laugh was just like everything else about him. Insane, gaudy, and very, deadly serious.

"Hahahahaha... Hahahaha... Haaaa.... Now then. Was that all clear to you? Any further questions, comments, concerns? I really do want you to have grasped the whole plan, else that whole speech I just made would've been downright silly."

"Too late for that."

"Oh quiet you!"

[Starsign]

There is little time for Arguz to say anything as he found Malwick's temper tantrum trigger. Good lord Malwick becomes talkative when the right incentive presents itself; and Arguz thought he's met some really talkative folks before. In addition, Arguz just doesn't quite get Malwick's motivation. Sure the technological renaissance is going to put a strain on the factories and the business may falter but the Aldercains have a monopoly on their business; they should still have plenty of wealth to try and work up something new when, or if, the meat processing business collapses. Maybe it is those magic powers that fill Malwick with the abundantly obsessive ego; really can leave people speechless.

Though for Arguz, his silence was less due to Malwick's massive monologue and more the demonstration of the heavily-modified BEAM device, capable of some truly unbelievable destruction. the ratfolk's fur tinges and his mouth gazes wide for a split second as the staggering volume and effort of energy used obliterates the wall. The fact that a weapon of that caliber is being used strictly for a bank robbery is probably Ferroveil being "lucky." In the hands of someone who just wants to destroy stuff there'd be a lot more to worry about than Midtown and Uptowners losing their bloated life savings.

Still, this whole business has gotten Arguz involved personally even if it's just out of pride. Between getting his original gun broken and getting tied up, he's not really keen on actually letting himself end the day without redeeming himself in some form. "Well if anything, how long's it gonna take fer you to set that thing up on yer airship?" If anything, Arguz may as well get a time-frame on how long he may have to try and stop this mess. "An' in that sense, I suppose yer gonna let me hear of yer attempt once you get to it? Sounds like yer gonna get a good deal of fame outta this as well." If there's anything else Arguz wants to try, it's to make sure he's not at risk of being off'ed before he gets another chance to stop Malwick. "I mean, don't expect me to stop you. Still kinda chained up an' all." He gives a flimsy smile to accommodate his snarking. "Jus' curious."

Not my best post but I wanted to get it done. Hope you like it :smallsmile:

[Capt. Infinity]

Malwick pauses in his self-aggrandizing cackle long enough to address Arguz's question. "Well, since you asked so politely, my airship is being readied as we speak. It should be sky-worthy within the hour! As for the your current fate..." The Warlock looks pensive, giving the Ratfolk Gunslinger a once-over, seeming to make a decision.

"Well now, it would be ratehr a waste to simply kill you after telling you my entire plan. After all, what good is pulling off the greatest heist in history if you can't have a living witness to explain how great it was to the people at large? Tell you what, Ratling. I'm going ot leave you here, quietly sitting in that chair for the duration of my escapade. I'll have one of my subordinates in the factory collect a "misplaced parcel" long after I'm gone and done with my heist, and you can go home to your little brood nest and tell every one of your verminous little cohorts about how you were soundly defeated by me, the great and powerful Malwick Aldercain!" He sneers, pacing around the chair Arguz is strapped in. "News will spread like the diseases that riddle your home district, and soon, everyone in this blasted hellhole of a town will know of my absolute masterful greatness!!!"

The man gives a deep chuckle as he gets up in the Ratfolk's face. "And, just to make sure you don't get any funny ideas about tailing us the moment we leave the warehouse..." With a wave of Malwick's hand, a strange, ephemeral aura follows it, filling the Gunslinger with a sudden sense of drowsiness as the Warlock casts yet another magic incantation upon him.

"Sleep well, little rat..." Malwick's words fade out into the distance as the Sleep spell overtakes Arguz's body.

The next few moments come in little choppy sections. Malwick rushing the machine out the back door and the sound of the entrance Arguz crept in through slamming stood out more so than most things. But, even clearer than that were the parting words of Adraena, whispered into the Ratfolk's ears after everyone else had gone.

"Looks like luck wasn't with you this time, Aijk."Her voice, for all it's menace, truly did have an angelic ring to it, belying her divine heritage even as the woman cavorts with Devils and worse. "Can't say it's your fault. The odds were stacked against you from moment one. And you know what?"

"...I HATE unfair odds." Her voice is punctuated by the unmistakable sound of shattering steel. The last noise Arguz hears before sleep overtakes him.



All told, the spell didn't last all that long. Judging by the minimal movement of the sun upon awakening (and possibly by checking his pocket watch, if the Ratfolk owns one), it isn't hard to deduce that less than ten minutes had passed in all the time Arguz had slumbered (should he have a watch, he'd realize he was out for almost exactly five). Ten minutes was a short amount of time by almost any metric. However, in this case, it was damn near an eternity.

Just as Arguz leapt off his chair, quite easily due to his manacles turning out to be well and truly mangled (as to why, it wasn't hard to guess), and before the Ratfolk can completely reacquire his bearings, his mind is once again struck by a mystic force, though this one was immediately recognizable as friendly.

Through some magical nonsense that would be too esoteric to readily explain, Arguz recognized the intrusion as an attempt at sending an Arcane message, and it's sender was none other than Pendleton Abbersworth. Should the Ratfolk accept the hailing, he would see a suddenly appearing visage of the good Doctor himself, speaking thusly.

"Arguz! I heard about your capture. Not much time. Malwick is airborne, but I have a plan. Go to 17 Wayward Boulevard. Find Maximillian Valentine!"

The spell once again subconsciously tells Arguz that he has 25 words with which to respond, if he so chooses. But either way, the stakes were set, the path was laid out before him, and now, perhaps more than ever.

The game was afoot.

17 Wayward Boulevard is the address for none other than the Wayward Wyvern. The last Tavern and Inn in Lowtown before you reach Midtown proper. For years it's been the resting place of choice for fresh-off-the-boat adventurers looking for a place to stay in Ferroveil before seeking their fortune in quests, bounties, and other various missions. No matter the time, or day in the year, the place is a hotspot for master swordsmen, spellcasters both arcane and divine, and any and every intrepid adventurer or swashbuckling hero who finds themselves washed up on the shores of Ferroveil seeking both excitement and fortune. Why Pendleton knows about it is anyone's guess. But if there was ANY place in the city to find a man named "Maximillian Valentine" it would most definitely be the Wayward Wyvern.

[Starsign]

Arguz should be lucky that he didn't have any nightmares in the ten or so minutes he had been asleep. He sure had expected to find a lot worse waking up, given his circumstances left him ripe for one to commence torture or an interrogation. Instead the ratfolk finds his binds wrecked and himself free; the biggest surprise he's had since having his own gun ruined in an instant. He probably can do a lot now that he doesn't have to wait around, though there isn't much he'd be capable of doing. He screwed up enough that he probably couldn't make it to the Grand Gold Bank on time, if he could even be capable of standing up to whatever private army that Uptown aristocrats hire. Arguz can also try looking around for help but, again, he lacks the time for that. Yet there's also no way he'd let himself simply go home and admit his failure to his family and everyone else he knows in Lowtown. That's NOT how the gunslinger works. One way or another he's gotta redeem himself or fix things, even when everything else in this job goes wrong.

He doesn't have to go far thankfully when he is contacted by Abbersworth, somehow. Immediately the ratty gunslinger's mind races as he wonders whether the professor is also some sort of mage. Is that a common trait among wealthy scientists and aristocrats? Do they have the money to "buy" their way into learning magic? There's probably a really good magic school of some sort in Ferroveil's Uptown areas but that still raises the question of-

...Wow, Arguz is really overthinking things. He's should be a rat of action, not thinking!

"Yeah, Max, got it!" He responds quickly to Abbersworth as if the ratfolk is speaking to his client normally. "An' How'd you know 'bout the Wayward Wyvern? That's a house of crazy in a place some people call a hive-" Suddenly the message gets cut off. Whoops, that was 25 words.

Not that any harm is done. Arguz definitely recalls visiting the tavern back when he was looking for a new profession beyond his menial family tasks. He did consider becoming an adventurer a few times before realizing that he can't really afford to adventure; Ferroveil is his home and he'd get sick of being so far away from home. Besides there's enough to go around in the city that he'd probably never tire of it in his short life. Though he sure did learn a couple things about being a investigator and hunter there.

So with a great huff and a snarky, "Hope he better be gathering a crew," as he marches out of the factory and making his way down to the Wayward Tavern. Hopefully the smell of machine oil and bloody pork hasn't swamped over him in his short time at Malwick's factory.

Yeah I'll just take 10 on the Knowledge check.

[Capt. Infinity]

The path to the Wayward Wyvern was short and simple. Arguz was already close to the Lowtown-Midtown border, so it was a simple matter to reach the legendary tavern.

The Tavern ITSELF was a whole other beast.

The building was almost impossible to miss, in that it stood out like the testament to eccentricity it was. The Wayward Wyvern takes it's name from it's general shape, with the building having one major central spire, shooting up about four storeys, with two smaller spires shooting outwards in an angular Y-shape, before heading straight upwards again for another two storeys. The whole building thus evokes the sense of a great winged beast spreading it's leathery airfoils to the sky, when it wasn't outright confusing people by the sheer logistics of how it even remains standing (all-told? Probably magic).

Upon entering, the first thing people take in about the tavern is the sheer openness of it. Though the actual bar is stationed smack dab in the centre of things, the area above the bar is open to the upper three floors, with a many myriad copper tubes shooting upwards from the bar, disappearing into the ceiling under the fourth floor, which stores the copious amounts of alcohol that is then siphoned to the barman's taps.

The two floors above the main deck are two rings of railed barroom floor, with a series of round tables and booths filling and lining both areas, occasionally broken at regular intervals by stages upon which both scheduled and spontaneous performances are held both by and for the patrons of the bar. At four cardinal emplacements, emanating in an X-shape from the centre of the building are stations of manyfold pneumatic tubes, upon which plates of food and drink are placed and then sent shooting up to the floor they're intended for, ready to be picked up by servers on that level and brought to their intended table. Somewhere on the third floor across from one another are two giant double doors which open out to stairwells that lead up to the two lodging "wings" of the inn, where those intending to stay the night can book as many rooms to sleep in as they need, provided the tavern portion didn't syphon away all their coin.

The main floor itself is entirely dedicated to a barroom floor as well, with tables at regular intervals and booths lining the walls. Everywhere Arguz looks he sees a veritable menagerie of myriad races, from common to exotic to downright alien, talking, eating, drinking, and generally mingling with one another. All around the barroom floor, servers of all shapes and sizes carry around trays of food and drink to waiting patrons, occasionally disappearing into doors in the back to enter the kitchen to grab their next meal to serve.

Stationed behind the bar itself is a man who falls more so into the "downright alien" section of the typography of races in the building. Skrix Marshekk, a Kasatha from parts unknown, who's four arms and dextrous hands have made him somewhat of a legend as one of the best barmen in the whole of Ferroveil. He dresses in an immaculate tuxedo, custom tailored (obviously) to his rather exotic physiology. Rather than cover his mouth with a bandana, scarf, or wrapping of cloth like others of his race, his tuxedo instead bears a ludicrously large, cone-shaped collar, which shoots outwards from his neck and fully covers the whole lower half of his face from just below his eyes on downward. He pays Arguz no mind when he enters, nor does anyone else in the building, for that matter. The Ratfolk was far from the strangest person on this floor, let alone in the building, and if he so much as wanted a table, he'd have to flag somebody down. Though, in the case of information on a specific patron, it would be best to address Skrix directly, since everyone who's anyone in the tavern tends to pass by him at least once in search of some specific spirit of choice.

[Starsign]

While Lowtown has a reputation for being dreary, messy, and overall wasteful, a good deal of the place happens to house some truly amazing places; ones which can be admired in its own way which are staggeringly different from the more bigger, expansive styles of Midtown and Uptowners. The Wayward Wyvern is one such place, one that Arguz remembers pretty well since his last visit.

As the ratfolk enters and smiles cunningly at the entrance, he finds the sheer audience and ambiance of the place newfound yet familiar. His several visits here in the past hasn't made the whole place like home but it's a place he's far more accustomed to. Now this isn't because he thinks it's the best place to signify what Lowtown is; the Wayward Wyvern is bizarre, borderline insane. People like the Kasatha make the inside seem like the tavern exists in an entirely different dimension. Even with the relatively "normal" people in here, Arguz feels like the odd-one-out in that he's about as welcome here as he is anywhere in Midtown or Uptown.

The difference is that this is still Lowtown he's in and that some people here have either seen, heard, or met the gunslinger at some point; the chaos and variety of the place however might make one forgetful of a fellow patron. Not Skrix though; he's a sharp one. Arguz may not have a damn clue about what a Kasatha or why Skrix is here but there's no one better at their job and familiar with their patrons than that four-armed bartender.

Arguz silently but cautiously maneuvers his way around the main floor of the tavern, taking care that none of the bigger patrons and servers don't accidentally collide with the four-foot ratfolk as he arrives over at the bar. "Oy, Skrix!" Arguz uses a slightly rougher verse of his usual Lowtown accent in greeting, something he does when he likes to get someone's attention without actually being aggressive about it. "Business running good, huh? Ain't like I ever see it calm." He chuckles as he takes a quick look behind him to admire the incredibly busy tables. He wouldn't mind actually taking one of his siblings out here for dinner one night if he ever could afford the damn luxury. Given the rowdy chaotic nature of the tavern, the only one he'd probably feel safest to bring is Jia, if only because she can handle herself as well as he can.

"But 'fraid I ain't here fer any grub or drink." he continues as he leans his left elbow on the bar and looks back to Skrix. As always, Arguz maintains his confident persona down in the more familiar reaches of Lowtown... Though he's much rather do it with words rather than make some crazy bet that he'll take their strongest drink and down it without batting an eye. He can't imagine that ending well. "Here to meet Maximillian Valentine. Hope I ain't bothering him during his feast but he should be expecting me and it's real important I meet him."

[Capt. Infinity]

Upon hearing his name, the Kasatha gives a sidelong glance to Arguz as he approaches, finally taking stock of him. "Ah. Arguz. Always good to see a recognizable face amongst the crowd. The usual?" He motions two of his arms over to the bar taps behind him, even as two other hands are vigorously shaking two mixer jugs full of other drinks. He shrugs at the initial question whilst pouring out the aforementioned mixed drinks into the jugs of an Orc and a Dwarf off to the side. "Eh. Business is business. Doesn't matter if it's calm or rowdy or literally on fire. So long as there are people coming in and ordering drinks I'm satisfied with a job well done."

When Arguz mentions not being here for food or drink, he tilts his head and gives a questioning glance, now listening intently to the Ratfolk Gunslinger's request. When the name Maximillian Valentine is mentioned, the Kasatha leans back slightly, glancing down at the Ratfolk whilst crossing both set of arms. "Seriously?" He shrugs. "Well, if he's of some use to you. HEY VALENTINE!" The four-armed, broad-headed, humanoid shouts up into the rafters. "Someone's here saying they've got a meeting with you!"

The response is... Rather unconventional, to say the least. From somewhere up on the third floor, an exceedingly long hempen rope is thrown from the banister, slinking its end down on to a table below. From up above, what can only be described as a "battle cry" echoes from above.

"HUZZAH!"

Rappelling down from the banister, with one hand on the rope as they slide alarmingly quickly down towards the ground floor, is the visage one might end up described to them if they asked a nine year old human what they thought an airship pilot looked like.

Decked out in a dark brown pirate coat, wearing an old navel captain's hat, and with a set of, of all things, hot pink aviation goggles on his face, the blonder human who, with a loud clamour, manages to land smack dab on top of a table belonging to another adventuring party, most certainly looks like someone named Maximillian Valentine. With a firm and commanding jawline, combined with a rather thick set of side burns, the man evokes the presence of a determined leader as he strides off the table without missing a beat, and approaches the bar proper.

Skrix merely shrugs. "And people say I'm the one from outer space." He then gestures with two hands on each side to both Arguz and Max. "This young Ratfolk says you're expecting him."

At this, Maximillian perks up, before giving a hearty guffaw. "HaHAA! Ah yes! Arguz Aijk, is it? I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Dr. Abbersworth was rather light on the details when he contacted me, so please, do tell me what leads you to require the services of I, Skyyyyy Captain Maximillian Valentine! Captain, of the SKY!" The man raises a fist to the heavens whilst simultaneously resting a foot on top of a bar stool, so as to be in a more dynamically interesting pose.

Evidently, this day wasn't going to let up AAAAAAANY time soon.

[Starsign]

Sometimes Arguz wonders if he finds himself in a land of show business. Some of the people he's met in Midtown have been, to some extent, dauntingly high in their wealth despite being impressively friendly towards the Lowtown gunslinger. Others have been, well, still dauntingly wealthy but also insane or manic in some form. They're still people but they can be... crazy. It's an odd term to use for a ratfolk who grew up in the warrens but it's something that Arguz has stuck with. The dreariness of the slums and below are opposite to the atmosphere that Midtown and Uptown have and even parts of Lowtown like the Wayward Wyvern invoke a rather eccentric activity.

So if Arguz is supposed to pin down where in Ferroveil Maximillian Valentine is from... he couldn't do it. MAYBE Max is from Midtown but that's only based on that Abbersworth hired him.

Instead the ratfolk gives an amused and wild clap of his hands as the pirate swings down to the main floor. If there is something Arguz can say about pirates, it's that he's never met a ton of them directly. Sure he's heard of the tales and their exploits but when it comes to saying what they look like, he can only answer with, "damn well anything."

"Well don't you know how to make an entrance!" He offers to shake Maximillian's hand as the gunslinger continues. "Must be a heck of an adventurer, or at leas' some daredevil flier. Yer a crazy fellow either way!" The ratfolk chuckles while smirking at the pirate's outfit and attitude. "So yeah, I do need a bit of help. Got a guy 'bout as loud as you on an airship, an' I need to chase him. He's heading over to the Grand Gold Bank now. You got a ship fast enough to get there quickly?"

[Capt. Infinity]

"Many thanks, my good man." Maximillian tips his hat to the Gunslinger before him. "And I'd dare say I'm a bit of both! No shortage of adventure OR daring acts of flight in the high flying life of a Sky Captain!" He pounds a fist to his chest proudly, before listening to Arguz's explanation.

"Hmm! A bank heist? Well then, I am intrigued by the idea of tackling such an endeavour from the other side of the coin..."

"The Wayward Wyvern holds no culpability or responsibility for the incidental housing and feeding of any wanted convicts and/or criminals, and holds no association to any crimes planned, discussed, or partly executed within it's premises." Skrix reads off whilst occupying himself with cleaning a beer stein whilst pouring a glass of wine for a Nagaji in the corner of the room, seemingly as a reflex response to any discussion of illicit activity within his earshot.

Maximillian pauses at Arguz's question of whether he has a ship fast enough to catch Malwick's vessel, before giving out a hearty guffaw, nearly keeling over in laughter. "Hahaha! Do I have a ship fast enough?" He asks, the sheer astonishment clear in his voice. "Oh, my dear friend. Follow me! And prepaaaaare to me AMAZED!" The boisterous human begins quickly striding out of the room, with the intention that Arguz may follow.

Once outside, and a ways out on to the streets outside the Wayward Wyvern, Captain Valentine produces an item that appears to be a small, if oversized, handheld train whistle. With a large breath beforehand, the eccentric man blows into the bronze instrument, creating a nigh-ear-piercing blare of sound that is most likely uncomfortable to the Ratfolk's rat-like ears. What follows after this impressive screech, however, is even more staggering.

From seemingly out of nowhere, and descending from a large and obstructive cloud billowing out from the smoke pipes of the myriad Lowtown factories, appears a large, light-personnel class Airship.

http://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/steamtradingcards/images/8/89/The_goldfish-art.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20131018045548

This magnificent piece of modern machinery suddenly ejects a rope ladder, which rapidly descends until it hangs daintily directly in front of the Sky Captain himself. As he gets a firm grip on the ladder in the start of an ascension, he turns to extend a hand to the Ratfolk behind him, hoping for him to grab it.

"Hurry now, Mr. Aijk! We haven't a moment to spare! Let us show that foolish thief that they picked the wrong town to rob! Areee yooouuu with me?" The man shouts, beckoning the once-meager Detective in to an escapade of both figurative and literal high-flying adventure.

[Starsign]

While Arguz's ears are still ringing painfully from the pirate's large train whistle, his eyes catch a real treat as he witnesses the light-class airship. As a ratfolk who has never been on an airship before, the size and scope of this one up close is astounding. Even if his job keeps him in Ferroveil there's never a shortage of new or impressive sights to see. It's another reminder that while the technological renaissance hasn't been kind towards his family, it's never, ever been without its perks.

"Well ain't that a beaut!" The ratfolk says with a smile as he looks up. He tries his best not to look absolutely giddy over riding on an airship as he leaps to the rope ladder, swinging for a brief moment. "If this'll be the last day I live, at leas' I'm gonna get a good view of the city from up there!" The ratfolk, a couple feet smaller than humans, strains briefly before "merely" huffing his way up the human-sized ladder. Erg, one way to get exercise... he thinks to himself, trying to remain positive.

He holds off from speaking again until he actually makes it to the deck of the airship, then looking back at the captain likely just behind him. The ratfolk's curiosity seeps out of his mind as he begins asking questions to Maximillian at motor speed. "So how's fast this ship? An' how many do you need to man it? Oh, an' what 'bout fuel? Does it run under it's own power?"

Arguz can be a street-smart and savvy ratfolk, but encountering non-munition technology can really make his mind tick with questions.

[Capt. Infinity]

As Captain Valentine boards the craft, he make a wide, sweeping motion with one hand. "Welcome aboard the Steel Butterfly, Mr. Aijk! Fastest light-class Airship this side of the continent!" He smiles widely at the Ratfolk's intense line of questions. "Well, in the order you asked them: The Steel Butterfly has a topspeed averaging 55 knots, given average air conditions. It requires only a marginal crew. Only about six people, including myself, are needed to keep her airborne. It runs on two coal-powered steam turbine engines mounted on the stern of the main ship body. Water to boil has been a non-issue since we installed a pair of magic tank caps that constantly refill said tanks with water as needed. It also solves any dehydration issues! Which is more of a blessing than you'd ever believe!"

The Captain strikes a dramatic pose, a finger pointed skyward. "But enough idle chatter! There's ADVENTURE in our future! Everyone!" At Valentine's call, the crew, an assortment of ragtag engineers and gunnery crewmen of various races and ethnicities pause to hear the grandiose man speak. "Our dear friend Arguz Aijk has tasked us with a mighty quest! There's a villainous evildoer planning to rob the whole of Ferroveil by assaulting the Grand Gold Bank. But WE aren't going to let that happen, are we?" The whole of the crew cheers and nods in approval. "Thaaaaat's RIGHT! Because we're the crew of the Steel Butterfly, and we NEVER stand down when there's adventure afoot! So let's move!!!"

"YEAH!!!" The crew shouts in unison, as they all mount their stations in preparation.

The Captain calmly ascends the stairwell to reach his Captain's wheel, pointing and giving order as he goes. "Brook! Ready the engines! Markus! Ready the the guns! Cryanor! I want enough rope rigging to suffice a boarding GALA! Let's go people!" The man grabs hold of the wheel, and grips a throttle lever to his right. "I suggest you hang onto something, Mr. Aijk! Onwards! FULL THROTTLE!!!" And, with that, Sky Captain Maximillian Valenetine shoves the lever to it's max setting, sending the ship careening forward towards it's destination.



It isn't long until Malwick's vessel is in sight. The airboat in question is only slightly larger than the Steel Butterfly, but it's sinister black design combined with it's gothic structure elicits both a sense of grand wealth, and a sense of malice from it.

Captain Valentine gives a battle speech as they approach. "Get ready, fellows! Once we're parallel with the vessel, we open fire with the side cannons to give ourselves an opening, and then we take the opportunity to board the vessel and bring a stop to this fool's endeavour. But remember everyone, Arguz gets first pick of the villains. There's an etiquette to these things, after all."

As the ship sidles up to the enemy vessel, Malwick and his crew come into full focus, with the Warlock himself working quickly to ready his modified BEAM Cannon, whilst Mary, Marty, and the bodyguards ready for anything, and Adraena looks coldly towards the approaching dirigible.

"Ready..." Captain Valentine raises a hand, waiting for the perfect moment as the ships become staggeringly close and those on board the enemy airboat frantically set up a counter offensive.

"FIRE!!!"

From the Steel Butterfly, two large mortar cannons fire, temporarily engulfing Malwick's airship in flames and smoke, causing sizeable hull damage and, more importantly, creating a helpful smokescreen for what was to come.

Maximillian jumps down and grabs one of the nearby swinging ropes, and grabbing another one to hand to Arguz. "Godspeed my good man. And may fortune... Favour the BOLD! Onwards!" The man exclaims, before drawing a cutlass and rushing the edge of his boat, with his crew in tow, jumping ship in order to swing to the enemy vessel.

It was now or never for Arguz, holding the rope in his hands. This was likely FAR above his pay grade at this point, but it's not like there was any turning back now.

And besides that. Swinging form the rigging of the ship? It actually looked pretty fun.

Acrobatics check? What Acrobatics check? Just tell me what this looks like, man! And pick your showdown enemy of choice. This is your moment to have and I am NOT taking it away from you. :smallbiggrin:

[Starsign]

Having never been on an airship before, Arguz finds himself holding onto wooden stairs during most of the trip. He is not accustomed nor comfortable to heights when the whole deck is moving; falling off now would be an embarrassing way to go anyway. He does manage enough courage to look out and witness the view from the deck... and there is nothing that shows the grandness and scale of Ferroveil like flying just above it. If he could fly, he'd probably sight-see the city endlessly. As is, he only has a small time to enjoy the view before Malwick's own airship comes into view.

All things considered, Arguz has learned from following examples. He figured out how to make his own gun after watching or prying on numerous demonstrations and instructions. Swinging down over from one airship to another is little different as he watches Maximillian and his crew swing over. Seems simple enough, though absolutely exciting to watch. The ratfolk feels his trembling knees slow as anticipation picks up. This really has been well above his pay grade and above pretty much anything he's done... though that's partly due to how much things have gotten out of hand. He probably could've quickly and calmly done his job at Abbersworth's place, then at the factory, had he not been out-matched by Adraena and Malwick. Given Arguz gets to fly, maybe it was all worth it if he can just regain his pride.

He looks down at the rope in his hands before realizing he hasn't jumped yet. "Well I bet I ain't having another day like this," he says to himself, smirking as he coils the rope around his fur-ridden arms. With a deep breath the ratfolk takes two steps forward, makes a great leap, and swings himself off Maximillian's airship high above the ground. A release of the rope mid-swing propels the gunslinger past the rope's reach as he lands with a soft *thud* on the warlock's own ship.

The ratfolk's eyes dart amidst the smoke and flames of the ship's damage as he sneaks his way over to the front; it's called a bow, right? Arguz can leave Adraena and the other Firebrands to Maximillian's crew; our hero is going straight for the warlock and that BEAM device. That thing must run really hot just to fire. That's an exploitable weakness if it comes down to destroying it.

I'm assuming Arguz needed to have landed before he can get a potential surprise round, so I figured that comes next post. If it's now though, I can edit this.

Would Stealth matter here at all? :smalltongue:

[Capt. Infinity]

Arguz has little time to consider the sheer lack of ground beneath him as he swings between the gaps in-between the two ships. Before the thought even really has time to register, he's already hit the floor of the deck of Malwick's airship.

The scene around him was such a stereotypical pirate boarding assault, with the clang of steel cutlasses, the quick, daring maneuvers, and the smoke of black powder pistols working to perpetuate the now-dissipating mortar smoke ever further, that the average observer could be forgiven for assuming this was all taking place on the high seas, rather than 100 feet in the air over a city, floating directly in front of a massive bank tower.

As Arguz weaves his way to Malwick, the Warlock catches a glance at the approaching Ratfolk, letting out a surprised yelp at the sight of him, despite his presence having been made quite clear by the raucous assault up till now.

"Y-YOU! How!? How are you here!? Stay back! I will not have my work be ruined so close to the end. Adraena!" The man shouts in dismay, as he presses beside his machine in wariness of the Gunslinger before him.

The Aasimar mercenary queen notices her distressed employer through the smoke and, with a frankly annoyed-sounding growl, begins running towards their location... Only to be stopped dead in her tracks by a certain red-coated man appearing right in front of her. "Ah ah ah, my dear! You mustn't interrupt a final standoff between an adventurer and their foe. There's an etiquette to all of this, after all!" Captain Valentine cheers, levelling his cutlass in front of the cut-throat mercenary before him.

Adraena glares at him. "Screw your gentleman's honour, I have a job to do!" She lunges forward, attempting to break the man's sword and move forward, only for Captain Valentine to, in an astonishing display of dexterity, parry her fist's blow and direct it away from him with the back of his blade, causing Adraena to momentarily veer to one side before turning to face off agains the Sky Captain once more.

"Oh come now, dear lady. If you value this payment so much, then why do you look so annoyed? Trust me, Miss Zathura, I am quite familiar with your work, and let me say that this is nowhere near your best. Your heart's not in it at all! I promise, if you duel me, I will do everything in my power to give you a fight worthy of remembering." The man flashes a roguish grin at the Aasimar, who takes a moment to side-eye Malwick to her left, before turning her attention back to Captain Valentine.

"Worthy of remembering, eh?" For the first since Arguz first saw her, the Ratfolk witnesses the Aasimar smile. "All right, Sky Skimmer, you got yourself a deal." The Warlord enters a preparative stance. "Let's do this!" She rushes towards the Human Sky Pirate, who reciprocates in full, posing dramatically with his levelled cutlass before rushing up to meet her. "Have at thee!"

As the two master warriors duel, Malwick is left helpless, merely able to gawk at the scene as it unfolds, and then turn his attention back to the Ratfolk currently advancing towards him. He swallows visibly.

"I don't suppose we can work something out?" He offers meekly, knowing the answer before it was said, but compelled to ask for the sake of his own fear.

[Starsign]

Arguz didn't want to make this a situation where he'd have to deal with more than one opponent. He's a hell of a quick shooter and crack shot but he's not in a good situation when he's gotta shoot up a bunch of crooks at once. It's a lot worse when said crooks may be magic users or weapon-breaking fist punchers. He would not get far if he had to board the ship alone and certainly would have not have done so straightforwardly if that were the case. Swinging like he did is no doubt exciting beyond belief but a death sentence had he went alone.

Good thing he didn't.

The gunslinger gives a frightened look as Adraena is called forth, only for the sky pirate to interfere and begin his own duel with the aasimar. With any luck Maxmillian isn't going to end up dead. If there's a foe Arguz hasn't beaten then he can't say how well anyone else is going to fare. He's good at shooting people, not reading them. "Good luck with that Max!" His encouragement to Max is lighthearted and cheerful. No sense being drowned by the stakes which encompasses the entire ship.

He looks back to Malwick as the warlock attempts to wimp out by offering the ratfolk a deal. Could Malwick offer something big? That's a curious thought; what will an aristocrat be willing to give up when their life and plans are at risk of an imminent collapse? The gunslinger throws a small bullet up in the air, catching it in his left ratty hand while his right rests near his holster. "Wouldn't you love to know," he says in response, both curious and amused... yet almost annoyed. Malwick did help tie up the ratfolk back at the factory and needed the Firebrands to do all his work, ALL his work. Paralyzing Arguz is all that Malwick really did but boy was that a stink in the ratfolk's pride. At least Adraena is a fighter. THIS aristocrat?

"So here's mine!" Arguz quickly dashes in at the warlock, not letting him have a chance as the ratfolk aims his new pepperbox towards Malwick's stomach. It's reckless, like always; Malwick got the chance to swing his knife at the ratfolk's direction. Yet Arguz is fast, swiftly ducking the swing before pulling the gun's trigger at Malwick and letting hot lead and even hotter powder do its work.

Since this is a surprise round, Arguz runs in and shoots Malwick at point blank range. Triggers an AoO but as we saw, that didn't hit. :smallbiggrin:

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll2]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll3]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll4] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll5]

I'll add the extra grit to Arguz's ring of grit mastery.

[Capt. Infinity]

"AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Malwick's face had already contorted into a look of rampant pain as Arguz unloaded a pall of hot lead into the meek man's abdomen. And that look of pain only intensified as his exceedingly expensive looking cloth began to ignite whilst on his very person, quickly enrapturing his torso in a rapidly growing blaze.

It was all the man could do to stagger backwards from the Ratfolk that had just shot him and quickly make a series of vigorous hand motions, before pressing a hand to his gut wound, a bright light emanating from his hand as the wound begins to at least partially seal.

"Damn you Aijk! Damn you straight to the pits of hell!" The Warlock shouts, in between muffled cries of pain and panic as the man quickly tries to pat out the fire in the wake of his spell.

Free Action: Five foot step back.
Move Action: Too busy being on fire.
Standard Action: Cure Moderate Wounds on himself: [roll0] HP healed.

Reflex save to stop being on fire (DC 15): [roll1] No longer on fire

[Starsign]

There is a brief, cruel smirk forming in Arguz's lips before witnessing Malwick's torso quickly, if briefly, engulfing in a blaze. The ratfolk likes to customize his former gun to launch powder from his weapon when he fires to accommodate for his short-range gunslinger style. It helps to add on that extra bit of pain when someone happens to be stubborn enough to survive the bullet impact... He still hasn't quite customized his current ones to tone down the burning powder when needed. Get it hot enough and it can ignite people. Hell, the ratfolk could start a massive fire if he tried hard enough or was too careless in where he was shooting.

Thankfully...? Malwick closes both the wound and the flame before Arguz's gunfire became something of a gigantic barbecue. Actually kind of unfortunate; Arguz wouldn't mind some aristocratic madman's airship turning into a fantastic blazing cloud for all to witness below. Though that's probably something Arguz would only see in his crazier dreams; Max's ship will cause that sooner than a gunslinger will. Arguz has to think smaller in reality.

"Smaller" in this case being shooting up the villain.

The Lowtown ratfolk decides not to laze around once he notices Malwick undoing the bullet wound. Arguz opens up his left hand holding a bullet, quickly putting it into his gun's empty barrel as he makes a quick leap at the warlock and his crazy-swinging knife. There's still a hint of annoyance in the ratfolk's eyes as he makes a swift hip shot at Malwick, not really aiming at any specific part of the body. Like lightning, the ratfolk's nimble hands quickly turns the cylinder of pepperbox barrels as he fires a second shot right after. He doesn't have much to respond beyond a witty, if dark retort.

"You first!"

Arguz will spend his first initiative running up to Malwick, then shoots in melee range (triggering an AoO) at Malwick.

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll2]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll3]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll4] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll5]

Second round, Arguz is gonna fire again, but also use a grit point for Bleeding Wound to inflict 5 Bleed damage on Malwick should this hit (damage is based off Dex modifier)

Attack roll: [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll8]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll9]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll10] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll11]

[Capt. Infinity]

The two finalizing shots from Arguz's revolver echo across the deck of the airship, the two Pepperbox rounds finding their final resting place not in Malwick, but beyond him, clearing his torso like an arrow through a cloud. The bullets sail over the deck, embedding themselves in the wall of the Grand Gold bank, a trail of blood following them partway there, only to fall short and land in a smearing cone across the deck behind the villainous Warlock.

Malwick, for a moment, simply stands there, eyes bulging and clutching his torso, his entire form tensing from shock and pain. This state of agony is broken quickly when the mad aristocrat makes a beleaguered hacking sound, coughing up a sizeable amount of blood onto the deck in front of him, before falling to his knees, and then fully forward. The man makes strained, shallow breaths as a large pool of his blood forms around his two gaping entry wounds, and a smaller one around his mouth. The defeated man reaches out towards Adraena, a look of pure hate placed firmly on the duelling Aasimar.

"You... Were paid... To stop this you... You vile woman...!"

Adraena pauses for a brief moment, holding her hands up in a motion to momentarily cease at Maximillian.

"...May I handle this?" The mercenary woman inclines an eyebrow, seemingly sharing a nonverbal message with the Sky Pirate Captain.

Valentine smiles. "Oh, by all means."

With that, Adraena walks steadily towards the dying form of Malwick Aldercain, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar, and holding him up to her face.

She grimaces at the madman. "Malwick. You are the single most insane, self-centred, egotistical maniac I have ever met in a long, long career of working with this city's uttermost scum. ...But I've gotta admit, spending your last moments in terror after being thrown overboard? Well, that's a bad way for anyone to go."

Malwick gurgles a response. "Th-thrown overboard? What are you talking abouaaAAH!"

It happens remarkably fast. Adraena, in one swift motion, stretches her arm outwards so Malwick was at the end of her reach, whilst simultaneously digging her heel into a full, 360 degree spin. Before performing a titanic hammer toss on the now-dying man, hurling the offending Warlock clear past the railing, and down towards the cold, hard ground below.

"DAMN YOU AAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIJK! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" Were the final screeching words from the would-be grand thief, before the sudden impact with the ground at the base of the Grand Gold Bank put an abrupt and violent end to the madman's life and visions of grandeur.

Adraena turns to glare at Arguz, looking from him, to Valentine, and back to him again. Slowly, she holds up a rather well-filled coin purse. "I got my payment for the job. That means the two of us are officially no longer enemies. And it means this device..." She spares a side glance at the BEAM Cannon. "Is no longer under my PROTECTION!" The woman growls, before spinning where she stood to deliver a DEVASTATING left jab into the main body of the device, causing both a sizeable dent, and a massive explosion of mechanical components and sparks as the machine begins quietly self-destructing, shaking and glowing in several spots and blowing up in others, before finally going up in a moderately impressive fireball and surge of black smoke, which Adraena shields herself from with her cloak.

What was left of the BEAM Cannon was a smouldering heap. The main body now utterly devastted in the small but effective explosion, a steady fire accompanying a large stream of black smoke emanating from its now mangled form.

Adraena turns to Arguz. "...I don't suppose my men and I could hitch an exit on your friend's craft?" She intones, seeming genuine.

Captain Valentine laughs. "Worry not, woman of righteous fisticuffs! All great defeaters of villains are welcome aboard the vessel of Skyyyyy Captain Maximillian Valentine! Captain, of the SKY!" He poses dramatically, then suddenly eyes the Ratfolk nearby, seeming to catch himself and remember where he is. "Er... If that's alright with my guest of course. What say you Arguz?"

All around Malwick's vessel, the fight was quickly being won for Valentine's side. The guards who resisted were quickly dispatched, and Mary and Marty Mason were quick to surrender once they noticed their boss had done similar, albeit in a manner far more impressive an prideful than their own.

It was still going to be a task to clean up all this mess. But now, for all intents and purposes?

The day was won. And won in Arguz's favour.

[Starsign]

Arguz found his work done as he watches Malwick slump over and bleed out. A good, clean duo of wounds like that isn't usually recoverable and definitely not when the victim is a aristocratic warlock without any form of magical protection. The ratfolk simply smirks as the man falls over, though is very quick to move out of the way when Adraena moves to "deal" with the warlock. For Arguz, there is something very cathartic about taking someone you hate and throwing them off to their death; his physical strength, lacking like many ratfolk, usually prevents him from accomplishing such an action. Plugging foes with bullets still is a great alternative.

He takes a look down from the ship, putting one one his ratty, think feet on the railing as his tail laxes behind him. He checks where the warlock fell far down as an amused mutter came from the ratfolk's lips. "Whatta fall from Heaven."

Relatively tired after everything that happened today, Arguz rests on the side of the railing, wiping the sweat off his black-furred brow as he casually watches the aasimar, to put it nicely, obliterate the BEAM device under her own strength. He's sort of glad that the Firebrands decided to surrender, as loose as the definition is. Though he can't say he exactly welcomes her as much as Maxmillian is; that pirate takes a lot in stride. Arguz, by contrast, is just glad that a job's a job to Adraena and that she won't be holding grudges for what happened today... though the ratfolk is still a bit frustrated that she destroyed his first pepperbox gun. He doesn't get over stuff like that easily.

"It's yer ship, captain." Arguz responds with an uneasy smile as he tries putting his words nicely. "But my job's done 'ere; got what my client wanted an' all." There is a pause before he shrugs. "Well, almost. Could get those blueprints back too if they're still 'round." His eyes turn towards Adraena briefly. "That damned warlock didn't happen to burn 'em, did he?"

[Capt. Infinity]

Adraena chuckles at Arguz's question about the blueprints, slowly removing a scroll case from underneath her cape.

"The fancy-hatted idiot just left it sitting on a table. I'll be honest, I thought about selling it to the highest bidder to eke out some more profit from this mess. But, after seeing what an idiot like Malwick could do on such short notice, something tells me this machine is FAR too dangerous to fall into the hands of anyone I'd be likely to sell it to." The Aasimar hands Arguz the scroll case. "Just promise me you'll tell the old Artificer to be more careful next time. The glass in his display case barely left a scratch." As the Ratfolk was handed the case, the sheer amount of scars and marks on the woman's left hand told Arguz that she was a more than respectable authority on the integrity of objects and defenses.

Adraena gets a look of apprehension. "Oh. I almost forgot." The woman moves to her belt, and draws forth a small but heavy looking bag, which bulged at hard angles from what appeared to be rectangular slabs within. She moves to drop it in Arguz's other hand. "That right there is a bag full of raw, refined Adamantine slabs. Just about enough to cover the resources needed for a brand new version of one of those fancy pepperboxes of yours. If you sold those two copper-a-dozen peashooters, you might just be able to work up the raw material to make yourself a gun even I'd have trouble breaking. I was going to use it to make some knuckle dusters for myself, but structural integrity was never a huge problem for me anyways." She gives the Ratfolk a look that, even behind the constant presence of power about her, displays a sizeable amount of respect. "I was being genuine when I said I'd pay you back for a job well done. Consider this a gift for finally putting an end to that maniac. I would've done it myself if my pride in my work weren't so important to me, but I'm glad someone did."

The woman turns to Captain Valentine, who'd been busying himself establishing gangplanks to send his crew back aboard the Steel Butterfly (along with a few choice spoils of the conflict), and was readying to ship off.

"I think we're done here."

"Ah. Excellent! Now then, come on aboard you two! It's going to be a chore pulling this barge out to sea so we can safely sink it. And we only have so much daylight to burn. Onwards, crew! Towards the dramatic closure!"

Adraena smirks. "Honestly, Aijk. Where the heck did you find this guy?" The woman asks, half expecting an answer, before she too moves on to the Captain's ship, with Arguz likely in tow, lightly weighted down with the spoils of a job well done.



The Abbersworth residence was a little worse for wear, but nonetheless was an inviting sight after the events that had unfolded throughout the day. It was late evening now, and the bright and warm orange glow that peeked past the smoke clouds of Lowtown to bathe the Midtown and Uptown streets filtered through the Inventor's house windows to bathe the foyer in a soft and pleasant light. The dent in the floor was now devoid of the chandelier, which had been left by the side of the road to be shipped off elsewhere when Arguz had arrived. And the magic in Camaelia's gloves did wonders to remove any and all fluid evidence of the gruesome end which the mercenary gunman Arthur had met beneath it, leaving nothing but a mess of missing and broken floor boards, with the shattered splinters having been swept away by magic or broom in the interveining hours.

Pendleton congratulates Arguz a short ways into the foyer, the door having been closed behind him. He shakes the Ratfolk's hand with an air of absolute gratitude about him, and the blueprints to his BEAM device safely held in his opposite grip.

"Arguz, old sport! Words cannot describe the amount of raw thanks I have for your splendid work done over the course of today! Thanks to you, the people of Ferroveil can sleep soundly knowing their coffers and domiciles are safe from any and all intrusions by some madman with a weapon beyond the likes the world has ever seen. And I will well and truly do my best to ensure such a situation never occurs again. But, in the meantime you have the thanks of I, Camaelia, and the good people of this city for your grand and extraordinary effort to protect it. As well as a sizeable sum of coin for the effort." He points to the Ratfolk's chain belt, upon which now sits a more-than-generously filled coin purse, on top of everything else.

"Really and honestly Arguz. Thank you so much for everything. I would absolutely consider this a job well done."

The Adamantine in the bag can be considered as a substitute for the 3,000 gp necessary to finance the material and masterwork components of an adamantine pepperbox. The exact amount Arguz was paid for the job can be hashed out later.

For now, REJOICE! Case One is more or less finished now. I just need some final remarks from you and we can move forward with the game if and when you're ready. Good job, man. :smallbiggrin:

[Starsign]

What a ride back. Not that it was full of excitement for Arguz but instead it was having a half-crazy sky pirate captain and a brutal aasimar mercenary on board that made the whole thing a bit uncomfortable. He normally doesn't encounter people who hold grudges so lightly; a nice twist from what some of the nastier people in Lowtown can be like. The ratfolk himself isn't over the loss of his original gun though the adamantine slabs did heal some of the aching; he could make something really good out of that. He's never had any experience with the material before but he'll be really happy if he can use that for some new gunslinging stunts.

Having spent a long day, Arguz mostly lazed on the stairs of the airship until he arrived back to Abbersworth's place, letting Adraena see the Wayward Wyvern as the answer to her prior question while under Max's "care." There is a brief, uncomfortable moment where the ratfolk wondered if the professor was ready to reprimand the gunslinger for how bad things went. In Arguz's eyes, the case was far and away the wildest he's ever had and the clumsiest as well. Wouldn't Midtown and Uptowners expect the people they hire to be quick, efficient and clean in their line of work?

Not Abbersworth, as Arguz is given a congrats and payment for his work; no doubt pay for a job that wasn't supposed to get this out-of-hand. Though between the slabs, the pay, and shooting up the warlock behind all this, it feels like a good trade-off of effort versus reward.

"Got kinda crazy," he tells the professor as the ratfolk quickly checks the coin in his cloth purse. "You wouldnt've wanted to be there. Glad as hell it all worked out." He reattaches the purse coin to his chain belt. "Ain't gonna lie though, it got quite fun. Nothing like I'd ever see in Lowtown." He gives his sharp, ratty smile as he makes his way to the door out of the foyer. "'fraid I can't stay too long. Gonna get dark soon an' I gotta get home 'fore I wander into trouble again; I'm making a bad habit of it."

He chuckles to himself, giving off a squeaky laugh as he opens the door and looks back to the professor one more time with a smirk. "An' lemme know if you or Franklin ever need to hire me for a job. I'm finding Midtown a real exciting place, an' not cause of what the paper ads say." With a wave of his bony hand, Arguz makes his leave of the professor's place, now heading home after a crazy job.

He can't wait to tell his family what happened today.

[Capt. Infinity]

"Farewell, Arguz Aijk. May you bear the greatest of luck." Pendleton Q. Abbersworth adds as he waves the Ratfolk a joyous farewell, with Camaelia waving from the kitchen, as the intrepid Gunslinger exits the building, sure in a job well done, and eager for whatever the future may hold.



"Pff. Yeah right." Caci squeaks from her place on the floor. "Come on bro, do you really expect us to believe that crazy story? We're not babies!"

Arguz had returned home to a quiet house, though not an inactive one. His mother and father had already turned in for the night, having had their own sort of tiring day, though for much more pedestrian reasons than that of their Gunslinger progeny. Fahir was pulling his usual long shift at his foctory job, and wouldn't be back for an hour or so. And Mirrud had sent home a letter that stated he would be pulling yet another all-nighter at his job at the Giving Hand Society clinic. Only Jia was unaccounted for, and her varied job and hours as a courier meant she could show up any minute now, or not until dawn the next day.

Arguz was currently seated in his chair at the family meal table, with Caci seated on the floor nearby, attempting to fix the leg of one of the other chairs (which had been giving Darug some grief for a day or two at this point), and Doden standing behind Arguz, who's back was slightly to the side as his little brother pressed a strange little heated box (which the young Ratfolk states he scraped together as a side project) against his elder brother's bruised shoulders and back, attempting to ease some of his pain after Adraena had cruelly thrown him to the ground.

Doden speaks up, his little heated box continuing to do wonders to calm Arguz's flared back muscles. "Oh come on, sis. Cut bro some slack. You know he's not the kind of person to lie about his job." The boy assures his twin sister. "Although... I gotta ask if you're stretching the truth or not this time. I mean, the plasma cannon and the mercenary I can buy. But the bad guy's plan was to use the super evil death weapon to rob a bank from an airship? Come on, bro, you don't have to dumb it down for us. And I'm still not entirely sure I believe you were in an airship battle. Isn't that the kind of stuff you hear about from drunk sailors by the dockyard?"

"Oh you better believe it, Doden. Because it happened." Jia states, climbing in through a window from seemingly out of nowhere. The female Ratfolk was remarkably good at getting places both quickly, and stealthily, so much so that most people had a hard time proving she didn't just appear out of thin air (not helped by the fact that her job as a courier has slowly given her the odd habit of entering and exiting buildings via entryways other than the door). She slides into the main area of the house that contained the table for eating, and made herself comfortable on an unoccupied chair.

Caci squeaks happily. "Hi Jia! Wait, you know about Arguz's job?"

Jia chuckles to herself. "Of course I know about it! Heck, I saw the firefight myself! I managed to catch a glimpse through the fog from a rooftop on one of my runs, and you could see the fight plain as day! After that, I got curious, and took some time to listen around. Turns out Argie here is quite a name right about now. Now, not a lot of people said his name, sure, but when you hear people mumbling all across the Midtown limit about 'some Ratfolk Gunslinger' messing about in crazy shenanigans he has no right getting himself involved in, it doesn't take a genius to connect the dots." Jia lifts an eyebrow, and crosses her arms whilst giving her elder brother a playful smirk. "Since when did you hit the big leagues, big bro? And when were you planning on telling little old us about your new high-flying lifestyle?"

"Wait... So all of that was REAL!? Even the part about the Warlock and the Sky Pirate with the pink goggles? All of it!?" Caci's eyes sparkle, once again enamoured in the almost mythic veil of wonder that seemed to encircle Arguz in his life and profession.

[Starsign]

It's good to be home, even when it's quiet. Arguz never really expects more than a few of his family members to be home and awake, much less everyone. It's always good to see Doden and Caci anyway; so young yet to spirited. The warrens can be such a butcher on one's hopes and dreams. Arguz wouldn't have stayed so upbeat had he'd be stuck here and not started his own investigation/gunslinger job. It's so nice to see that some of Arguz's family are still, if not hopeful, not suffering from despair either.

The older brother doesn't respond as Doden and Caci largely shrug off his incredible story. He was a bit caught off guard, expecting the whole robbery attempt to have been printed in the headlines immediately. Guess there wasn't enough time for anyone to visit some coffeehouse in Lowtown to hear the news.

Arguz takes it all in stride though, giving a small smile while trying not to look strained as Doden's heating box tried easing some of the pain. For the purposes of the heating box, Arguz had taken off his coat and shirt, revealing his furry torso and arms as being well-built compared to most of his family; he still has the scar from the knife wound Darguac gave him way back. The bruises certainly made it difficult for Arguz to lean against a wall or sit upright in a chair. While the heated box brings some initial pain as well, it feels almost relieving to have it pressed on the older ratfolk's wound. Perhaps he should be lucky that he isn't worse off. A heated box doesn't cut it if Arguz had a bullet or knife wound.

He simply changes his smile to a smirk as Jia enters and confirms Arguz's story. "You jus' listened in up in Midtown an' learned the whole thing?" The ratfolk looks over his hunched shoulder to see his oldest sister. "I oughta hire you as some sorta info broker sis!" Arguz's accent, harsher than some other members of his family, comes from learning the language around the warrens rather than actually learning from his parents or from people higher up in Lowtown. He's never really made an attempt to sound more "sophisticated" either; there may be complaints but it hasn't resulted in less clients.

He gives a friendly, confident look to Doden and Caci, though appearing exhausted compared to the energetic attitude his persona always has. "It's all true, jus' like yer ol' sis said. I really can't say I planned it. Should've been quiet an' simple; no airships an' no robbery. Got outta hand but the high-flying stuff made it worth it." He chuckles again, holding back a groan as Doden's heated box stays pressed to his back. "Can't say I wouldn't wanna have more jobs like that. First time on an airship an' got some good rep outta it. If it gets me traveling more 'round Ferroveil, maybe I'll even run into yer ol' sis more often." He gives a wink to Jia, knowing that she tends to go around the whole city more than most other people in Ferroveil and has the skills to back it up. He's never quite seen her in action or actually doing her job, largely because that's how it should be; she's too quick and good to actually get in trouble and she is the one that taught Arguz how to fight well with an actual melee weapon. "Though I bet Farid's gonna panic when he hears 'bout what I've done today."

[Capt. Infinity]

Jia laughs happily, scratching the back of her neck as she attempts to humbly accept the praise. "Ah, come on bro. It was nothin' to it. 'Sides, information brokering isn't exactly my style. Unlikely some people I know, I don't really enjoy the whole 'gettin' caught up in things way out of your league' thing." She snickers.

Caci waves a hand dismissively at Arguz's worry about their brother's opinion. "Ah, Fahir can shove it." She huffs, finally slamming in the final nail in the now-realigned wooden seat, uprighting the piece of furniture and resting on it after a job well done. "Your job is awesome, bro. You get out there and you MATTER. You make a difference in this city, and you get paid a good amount for it too." She leans in on her chair. "Way I see it, you've gotta get out there and risk something if you want this city to give a damn about you. 'Swhy me and Doden wanna start lookin' into more tech-y stuff in our spare time. You gotta pounce on the times! Otherwise someone else'll beat ya to the punch. People like Fahir are important too, sure. But nobody should have to settle for it, when they can go do something more."

"Oh hush up, Caci. Fahir does a lot to keep this shack running, too." Doden intones, trying to defend their absent kin. He does however, sigh in concession. "But... I would get a knotted tail from lying if'n I ever said I wanted his job. What he does deserves respect, but he should appreciate what you do more, Arguz. You really do get a chance to be important."

Jia nods. "Doden's right. And let me tell you Argie, a chance like that doesn't come around to us Warrens folk too often. You takin' the chance with it was the best choice you could've made. Whatever the risks."

[Starsign]

Arguz rests his chin on his right bony hand as he listens to his siblings speak. He's always been glad to get the support of his siblings, most of them anyway, when it comes to his job. The family has always been about keeping everyone productive so they actually have a roof under their heads. With so many mouths to feed, there's no real way anyone can afford to laze around; it can make Arguz and Jia's jobs a bit tense in that their schedules are either highly varied or sketchy at best. They rely on clients which aren't always flourishing in numbers. Hopefully this day means the gunslinger might have more clients in the future.

"Aw hell, really appreciate it, all of you." He smiles to the three, attempting to sit up straight in his chair before groaning and hunching forward again; those bruises do ache by the end of the day. The job well done certainly has helped his mood. "Fahir's jus' helping out our family jus' like everyone else. I ain't gonna give him jack fer that or fer not liking my job. Leas' he's been careful. I'm glad hearing his squeaks an' complaints every day over..." He pauses, smile dropping as he remembers one of his youngest brothers, Bacr, who died in manufacturing work quite a ways back. It's why Arguz has been so distasteful of Fahir's decision to work in factories even if it does help the family. "...Nevermind."

He shrugs off his prior topic, putting a smile back on his face as he tries talking about his job again. "I ain't having any plans of ditching this job. Best thing I ever coulda found a use for these things." He pulls out one of his pepperbox guns, holding it by the six barrels as to not accidentally keep his thin, mousy fingers on the trigger. "An' yeah I could get shot or stabbed on the job but it ain't like it's something I can't recover from." He points down to his knife scar as he puts his gun back in his holster.

"Oh yeah, an' 'fore I forget..." He pulls out a small coin purse, putting it on the table. "Here's the family's share." The purse looks notably bigger and heavier than what he usually gives, accounting for the higher-than-normal pay Arguz received for his job. Normally he gives thirty-five percent of his earnings to his family and thirty-five to the Giving Hand Society, saving the remaining money for when it's needed; he's still trying to get a house and land up in Midtown. "Hopefully this is gonna help you, he gives pleasant glances to Doden and Caci, "fer the next lil' while. Gonna get the clinic it's share in the morning." He looks at the eldest sister now. "How 'bout you Jia?"

[Capt. Infinity]

"Yeah, Fahir's a good guy." Doden agrees, finally finishing up with his mechanically heated first aid on Arguz. Stepping away to sit next to Caci on Jia's side. "And I'm glad you're sticking to it, Arguz. We all are. Forgettin' all the extra gold you bring in, your stories are some of the coolest things we ever hear!" The young Ratfolk squeaks happily at his older brother.

The first person to grab the bag of gold is Caci, who quickly angles it so Doden can get a good look as well. Caci's eyes sparkle. "WOW! There's nearly 4,000 gold in here!" She cheers, clearly astonished to more than a slight degree by the sheer wealth before her. "I guess those Midtowners pay well after all. This is enough to pay for that new house we were making plans for. And then some!"

Jia grins at her two twin younger siblings as they bask in both the wealth before them, and a great deal of hero worship towards their eldest brother. Jia herself, ever the modest one, simply shrugs when questioned about her contribution.

"Ah, nothin' much on my end. 'Specially not when compared to you. A couple of decent buys here and there, but nothing quite like what you managed to haul in Arguz." The Rotfolk Courier punctuated her statement with a toss of another, noticeably smaller coin purse. "All in all, I managed to make about 800 gold. Not a crazy amount. But enough to be satisfied with. At least up until someone goes and saves over half the city's gold in one fell swoop." The girl smirks at her older brother, clearly being playful and coy.

Ah, don't be so hard on yourself sis. You're doing great!"

"Yeah. Your job is super cool too! You're like a delivery ninja!" The twins cheer, clearly admiring both their older brother and sister, and holding them to a level of regard that can only be attained by a well and truly astonishing set of elder siblings.

[Starsign]

The gunslinger keeps a soft smile as he sees Jia pull out what her coin purse for the family. Even if Arguz made a ton of money today it won't be enough to keep the family afloat; Everyone is working for a reason. "Still more than what most of us have made 'fore sis. Gotta be happy 'bout that!"

He taps a few of his bone-thin toes on the ground as he lets out a deep breath. With the heated box off his back, Arguz finally leans back on the chair, though softly. "We're still a ways from the new house anyway. That," he points at his coin purse with his finger, "Is so the rest of you ain't gonna starve an' keep medicine fer Farid. You gotta save some of it fer when things get real bad. 'sides, ain't I paying fer the new lot?" He gives a wink to the three, reminding them that he's been saving up his own share of the pay for a reason. "So 'less something happens, lemme take care of the lot an' the permit an' the pay." Getting everything needed for the new house is going to be a chore at best but at least his family can be happy.

"But I can't say I can stay over fer the night," he continues as he slowly gets up from his chair, showing his bare fur chest in full as he walks over to get his coat on the door handle leading outside. "Gotta get some rest 'fore the sun's up. Ain't wanna be sleeping on the job if I'm getting more work the next day!" He puts on his shirt before slinging his coat over his shoulder, then walks up over to the two youngest siblings. "Been great to see you again," he says quietly as he wraps an arm each around their shoulders in some kind of hug. Having to work every day does make him miss his family frequently. Coming home can be such a nice event.

Arguz makes sure to put on his coat before leaving, knowing its added bulk and protection has served him well. "An' good to see you too Jia," he smiles widely at his sister. "Hope to see you in the city sometime." With that, and hopefully a great future of jobs ahead, Arguz takes his leave of the Aijk residence, however small and simple it is. Even if the little place in the warrens won't be home forever, it's a good home for a family of struggling ratfolk.

[Capt. Infinity]

"Same to you, big brother." Jia waves off her older sibling, an equally large smile on her face in turn.

"Bye, Arguz! We promise to use the money responsibly!"

"Later bro! Be sure to come back next time something cool happens! We'll be waiting!" The twins cheer as the Ratfolk Gunslinger exits his longtime home towards his apartment/place of business, ready and waiting for whatever adventures were to come.



Two weeks.

A well and true fortnight passed by in the office of Arguz Aijk without a single major incident.

Oh sure, there were still cases. Theft, assault, intrigue, you name it. The cases came by quickly, but they also left just as fast, the increased work flow in the wake of the Ratfolk's (rather well publicized) success was mellowed out by the sheer mundanity of the lot of them. For the past 14 days, Arguz's job almost felt... boring.



And then the district shook.



It was almost kind of comical really. As if the universe had deemed Arguz to have had enough R&R recently, and saw fit to kick him back into a state of deep and sudden intrigue in the most violent and aggressive way it could conceive. The entirety of Arguz's office shook to its core, the very seeming to vibrate as a shockwave, punctuated by an impossibly loud *BOOM*, shook in through the office window behind the Ratfolk's desk, knocking him forward and unceremoniously colliding his face and head with the desk, should he be sitting at it at the time. A possible blessing in disguise, given that a chunk of unrecognizable smoking material, flying through the window and seemingly straight from the heavens, careened directly through the spot where Arguz's head would normally sit, before embedding itself in the floorboards of the middle of his office.

Once the ringing in Arguz's ears finally stopped, and once the foundation of the very building stopped its jagged rumbling in the wake of the massive blast, the young Gunslinger would finally be able to regain his bearings. The first obvious conclusion was that the blast was not only experienced by him, nor was it centralized on his building. The blast, though intense felt entirely like a shockwave, rather than an initial blast of some sort, and the shouting and screams from outside was all the indication the Ratfolk needed to know he wasn't the only one knocked silly and sideways by it.

The second thing that Arguz could assess after the massive cacophony was its actual origin. A feat which was made trivial, and its conclusion immediately obvious when, upon sticking his head out the window of his office and in the direction the smoking object (now identifiable as a piece of wooden floor panneling) had seemingly flown in from, Arguz could see the massive plume of smoke steadily rising from a lot the next street over. Scorch marks and the beginnings of fire on adjacent buildings, combined with the full on chunks of smoldering wood and detritus which had embedded itself even so far as along the the street in front of the Ratfolk's offices, and, evidently, all along the walls and through the windows of the building along it which faced the point of origin for this massive, unprecedented explosion stood as lasting indications that whatever pitiful wreckage remained at the ground zero for the blast were merely the shattered remnants of a much larger building, its previous form now scattered to the four corners of the surrounding area.

Needless to say, this was almost assuredly the start of something far, FAR flung from boring.

The building that was the origin for this massive explosion is none other than Madame Vel'thewenn's Home for Orphaned Little Girls, a longstanding orphanage in the Lowtown area.
Near as you can remember, the orphanage is (well, WAS) actually rather pleasant and safe, with the proprietor, Madame Vel'thewenn, being a kindly middle-aged Elven woman who has been dutifully aiding the parentless girls of Lowtown in their struggles for a life and family for over a century in the city of Ferroveil's penultimately poorest district.

[Starsign]

While Arguz got the usual cases, the past two weeks were the most dreadfully boring thing he ever went through. Maybe that's a consequence of the roaring job Abbersworth had given the ratfolk; everything else just becomes boring in comparison. Sure he had been raking in enough to make a living but that didn't have part of the joy of traveling and shooting criminals. Part of why he took up this business is because he got something more entertaining and surprising than the "mundane" jobs most of his family was doing. He even has this brand new pepperbox of his he crafted from the adamantine slabs and the other two guns he had bought before; he's barely got the chance to fire a single shot with it.

Which is why the sudden force and volume of the explosion quite literally threw him for a loop.

He came with what felt like an incredible migraine as he analyzes the situation from his office. All things considered, he had been expecting the whole place to be, at best, trashed. He stumbles twice with his bone-thin rat legs as he scampers to the shattered window, careful not to actually step on or touch any of the glass in the process. A sigh echoes from his mouth as he wonders briefly how much of a pain it'll be to clean up the place. Not that it's well-furnished or well-kept to begin with but at least Arguz's office is serviceable and somewhat tidy, though also barely big enough to accommodate for one ratfolk.

His peek out the window, ratty snout first, had one eye curious and the other concerned as he witnessed the fallout of an explosion that many less-fortunate buildings suffered, not to mention the obliterated wreck that seemed to have taken the worst of it. "Holy hell," his rough, awake voice squeaked out. "An' I thought this jus' was some riot gone real bad." His muttering refers to the wooden thing which he had so narrowly avoided from smashing into the back of his head. Normally riots can have a lot of stuff thrown and wooden planks and the like would be far from unusual. However riots usually never result in massive explosions that level large buildings and... wait, wasn't that building normally an orphanage? Something run by a Madame Vel'thewenn? He's only seen the sign and building a few times but he knows that building, even if little more than that. Why in the world did someone decide to blow that place to smithereens?!

As a detective who likes seeing opportunities, there's no way he was going to ignore this.

Figuring he could be worse off and attempting to think more of the opportunity than the danger, Arguz grabs a thick towel to cover his hands as he drags the burnt wooden panel to the front door and promptly out of his house. The gunslinger himself follows out the door, locking it (for whatever good that's worth) in the process as he, in his thick rough coat, pants, and chain belt holding his new gun, makes his way down towards where the explosion happened. He has no way of helping around with the potential fires from the other buildings; all he can do while making his way down is see if he can help lift any debris that may have fallen on some of Lowtown's residents nearby. He's more of a hunter of the guilty than savior of the innocent, were he to ever think of himself as that.

Taking 10 on Knowledge (Local) for the above for a result of 21

[Capt. Infinity]

The walk towards the shattered remains of Madame Vel'thewenn's Home for Orphaned Little girls a stressful one, despite how close the builidng truly is to the office of Arguz Aijk: Private Eye.

The streets of Lowtown, never truly devoid of people flowing in and out of various sections of the lower city, was now in a slight state of uproar as people all around recover from both the blast itself, and the raw panic it induced in many a simple soul. Nobody appeared to have been heavily injured in the flow of oncoming debris (Arguz was apparently oddly misfortunate in that respect), but cuts, scrapes, and bruises abounded as the Ratfolk passed through the throngs of people helping each other up and just generally trying to recover their bearings.

As Arguz draws close to the site of the explosion he is born witness to a very surprising sight amongst the annals of Lowtown. Ordinarily, the Lowtown area lacked any well and true fire brigade, and almost entirely relied upon volunteer efforts by local civilians in the event of a fire breaking out. The efforts were always valiant, but the constant humanoid conveyor belts of buckets to and from the nearest water source rarely managed to stop the encroaching flames quick enough to avoid massive property losses regardless.

This volunteer action was happening here as well, with men and women running to and from the burning wreckage from a nearby fire hydrant (one of the merciful few in this part of town, in a strange twist of luck), but the effort was substantially more successful than usual, it would seem. The fire itself was rapidly beginning to dwindle, with even the flames wafting the sides of the adjacent buildings being quickly dealt with. This massive amount of success was almost entirely thanks to the singular effort of one dutiful and focused Dark Elf woman, her long silver hair already deeply greyed from the soot, smoke, and ash in the air and land around her.

Salisveera Z'caerdin, or "Mother Sally", as a great many people in the people in Lowtown who owe her their life have come to call her, was clearly working on overdrive in light of the current situation. The woman was a blur, rushing to and fro around the area surrounding the burnt husk of the building, her Oracle's curse of mercy forcing her to pause in her mad conjuration of water every so often in order to tend to the wounded around her, laying a healing palm across those who could yet be saved, before quickly turning back to the task at hand, summoning great deluges of water on top of various fires in order to quench them entirely.

Also present at the scene, and attempting to do his part to carry water to the fire, was a face Arguz immediately recognized. Not the least of which because it too, like Arguz's own snout, stood out as a distinctly a-human face within the crowd.

Mirrud was trying his best to help in any way he could. The younger brother of Arguz was doing an excellent mimicry of his Dark Elf superior, pausing momentarily between water runs to apply general first aid to those who were more greatly hurt by the explosion due to their closer proximity to its epicentre.

After helping to splint a broken leg on a downed man nearby his older brother, Mirrud finally took notice of the familiar Gunslinger before him, and rushed over to Arguz, his eyes a mix of relief and exhaustion.

"Arguz! By the gods, thank goodness you're okay! I knew your office was nearby, and I could only hope you were safe from the blast, since I was needed here to tend to the wounded. Are you okay? Were you hurt in the explosion?" Arguz's most selfless sibling intones, looking the Ratfolk up and down for injuries, even as he himself looked ragged and stained from the smoke and ash all around.

[Starsign]

Sometimes Arguz thinks there's not enough who care about many of the tragedies that happens in Lowtown. It's a selfish thought but, as someone who ventures around Ferroveil's Lowtown for so long, he can feel like the only one who actually does something around town. So it's a pleasant surprise when he sees members of the Giving Hand Society here. Arguz always thinks of them as small enough that they'd have their hands full simply with the clients at the clinic. Good to see them out here, at least. Rare to see things get bad enough that Mother Sally is out trying to whittle down the fires. Even if Arguz isn't exactly one for treatment or healing, he's always been supportive of her work and the Society in general; his donations is just one way of expressing it.

Arguz's surprise is compounded by the appearance of his hard-working brother Mirrud. It's telling of how little Arguz sees his younger brother when the gunslinger didn't think Mirrud would be assisting Mother Sally in helping the injured and tending to the fires. What Arguz isn't surprised is that Mirrud is his usual overly-worried self, well... worded too. He picked up quite the dialogue at the clinic, like something out of a Midtown church. It's not an issue for Arguz just a bit off-putting.

Not that Arguz would let himself show weakness out in public, proudly responding, "Don't go worrying 'bout me, Mirrud." The older ratfolk sweeps off some of the apparent-looking dust on his coat, actually gunpowder residue which stuck to his clothing; he can't exactly afford enough water to wash his gear on any basis. "Place got a bit rattled, windows broken, an' almost got a wooden panel in my face but I would'a shrugged it off if it had nailed me." He gives a soft, quiet chuckle at himself.

"Bit more worried 'bout what happened 'ere. Not every day something blows up with this sorta force... An' you ain't doing so great either." Arguz eyes his younger brother carefully, taking a look at Mirrud's ratty, thin hands with a hint of concern. "Yer looking like hell right now." Arguz's eyes look up at Mirrud's face, smirking before grabbing a large empty bucket himself. "So lemme help out. Now I ain't much one fer damage control but I bet I can heave more to an' fro. We'll talk more after we get this fire doused, alright bro?" Arguz, the stubborn ratfolk as he is, recalls his knowledge of Lowtown's layout as he hauls water to the remaining fires using the bucket. While he considers himself the physically strongest member of the Aijk family, he's still a bit of a far cry from having the physical strength of any actual human or dwarf. He's a ratfolk, a runt, and nothing about his physical form changes that... but it's not going to stop him from heavy physical work when needed; sure didn't stop Mirrud after all.

[Capt. Infinity]

"Oh come on, Arguz. Cuts and bruises heal. The lives of the populace are what matters now. I'm just glad you're safe." Mirrud sighs, before reinvigorating himself at the sight of Arguz beginning to help. "Gods bless you, brother." Mirrud neds towards the Gunslinger's endeavours to carry water, as the two brothers move on to the action of cleaning up what amount of the destruction they could while the light was still upon them.



It was still the early afternoon by the time the cleanup of the surrounding area was more or less finished. This level of efficiency, once again, was very much thanks to the efforts of Salisveera, who's quick usage of cantrips and cure spells made short work of the vast majority of the damage control.

Arguz found himself standing on the curb once the cleanup was more or less finished, with only the final dregs of charred wood being thrown either back into the now only lightly smoking remnants of the orphanage, or tossing them on to carts to be transported elsewhere for disposal or personal use (waste not, want not, after all).

As Arguz stands there (only marginally dirtier than usual, all things considered), he is slowly approached by Mother Sally herself, who looks both determined and anxious as she does so. She speaks in a soothing, motherly tone. "Arguz. Thank you ever so much for your efforts to help in cleaning up after this... Horrible tragedy." A pained look crosses the Dark Elf woman's face as she looks upon the marred wreckage of what was once a home for orphaned little girls. She sighs, both breathless and compelled. "My only wish is that I could've reached this place sooner. My powers cannot save any but the most recently dead. And for that, I am eternally sorry." She looks downwards, clearly grieving, even for those she does not know. When her eyes come back up there is an odd glimmer of anxiousness within them.

"Detective Aijk. Mirrud has told me much of your escapades, and it was rather hard to miss the news of your latest grand adventure. I know such things have probably made you a busy man. But it is also stories such as those that assure me you would be the absolute best person for the job. Not the least of which because the people of Lowtown are your kin and your element, meaning you'd be suited best for the whole endeavour." She looks around, making sure nobody is nearby, before speaking in a low voice. "I cannot explain to you in exact words, for such things often fail me when describing my divine abilities. But I have a feeling, deep in the pit of my soul and violently gnawing within me, that the circumstances of todays catastrophe were no mere accident. No, somewhere in my deepest of inner senses, I know that there is malevolence afoot. I do not know if I can readily pay you to look into this, but I assure that, should you wish it, I could work together a payment from those connected to and affected by the orphanage and its destruction. Please, if not for me, then for these children's memories, could you please investigate this horrid affair?" The Dark Elf pleads, looking truly desperate in her hopes to see the truth uncovered as to the nature of the explosive events that took place upon this simple Lowtown avenue.

[Starsign]

Someone once said that one doesn't actually appreciate the effort one puts into a task until they do it themselves; that was what went through Arguz's mind as he had hauled water to and from the burning wreckage. Hauling water was more demanding than he remembers it being, though he hasn't had much heavy physical work to do since getting his gun and his new job. By the time he's done hauling water, his own hands blistered a bit. It's certainly nothing compared to getting stabbed or thrown but it sure isn't a fun feeling to have.

Arguz gives a calm smile when approached by Mother Sally, always glad to see her presence. He shouldn't be surprised when she asks of him to help uncover how this explosion occurred. Typically any job that begins like that will be one he investigates regardless of permission; it's just nice to have a client make it "official," even when one may not be able to pay for it. Getting a reward from a clinic he donates to? It's both backwards and senseless. This seems more like a charity job than anything if he can't find some wealth of his own on the way. That's not a bad thing; Arguz likes a little excitement to his life and he already earned enough in his last job to make up for a big, pay-less job or two.

"You didn't need to ask," he responds with a small, confident look to Mother Sally as he leans back against one of the less-damaged walls of a nearby building. "There's always something to uncover when something like this happens. Helped that my place was right nearby." He raises his right thumb to point out behind him down the street where he had come. "So you don't worry 'bout paying me right now. You run a great place and yer place has my brother working there, though he sure picked up quite the talk." He leans over to notice Mirrud in the distance resting a bit. That's Arguz's brother: hard-working even if he talks like he comes from a very different branch of the Aijk family tree.

"So I'm gonna stay hopefully that I can nab something outta whoever caused this instead, while making 'em pay fer blowing a place like that up." He looks at the former building again, frowning. "Cause hell, who blows up an orphanage in Lowtown? Most I can think of is some hateful thug-fer-hire." Arguz doesn't like the implications present, thinking that this is another case that's gonna go straight up the chain of command... though that's what made the big prior case so much fun.

"So don't go worrying 'bout leaving the wreck like this. I'll go get it cleaned up. He looks back at the dark elf, giving her a wickedly confident grin. "I'll jus' need to grab some info first, else I may as well be going out working machinery with my eyes closed!" He gives a shrug as the ratfolk looks at the building again, waving Mirrud to come over, should he want, before asking, "So anything you or Mirrud know 'bout what the orphanage an' it's owner, Vel'thewenn? Y'know, 'fore they got a first class trip to Hell. 'fraid I don't know nothing beyond it being a long-lasting place for lil' girls without parents." He thinks for a moment, considering how many people could be orphaned in a place as difficult as Lowtown... Jeez, that's potentially a ton. How many could've been living there? That's an awful thought and enough to make Arguz's fur tingle uncomfortably.

[Capt. Infinity]

Mirrud walks over upon Arguz's motioning, and listens intently to his brother's line of questioning. Salisveera nods at Arguz's agreement to help and looks wistfully onward as she answers his first question. "Yes, actually. I know quite a deal about the Orphanage, actually. Maleeria Vel'thewenn and I were actually well acquainted, though now I find myself wishing I could have called her 'friend' before her life was stolen in crimson flame." She frowns as she continues, but maintains a brave tone of voice. "She was an Elven woman of mild nobility. Early in her life, she ventured to Ferroveil on a galleon, as so many future residents inevitably do. She was always a charitable sort and, seeing the need for a place in Lowtown for the young and helpless orphaned girls to safely grow up, she gathered her moderate percentage of her family's fortune and put it towards building Madame Vel'thewenn's Home for Orphaned Little Girls. She kept it running to a standard of excellence for over a century, and would have continued for centuries more, had this calamitous event not occurred... The woman was an inspiration. A shining example of what one person can do should they devote their life towards it. I can only hope to one day hold a glimmer of the selflessness and kindness that she displayed in her every action. The girls she raised flourished into women of power and pride, and her death is a loss that affects us all deeply..." Mother Sally is clearly losing her composure, just barely holding back gentle sobs in solidarity for a fallen member of the seldom few saints amongst the people of Ferroveil.

Mirrud spoke up his knowledge as well. "Mother Sally is right. This place was a safe haven for young girls, and raised them better than many complete households in this city could hope to. Well over two dozen girls lived in it at any given time. Though one could hardly count them now... I can only hope to recover enough to not have to present empty coffins come the time for burial rites." Arguz's brother seemed similarly sad, but in a more principled and objective way than Salisveera, who clearly felt this loss greater than most, with Madame Vel'thewenn being a kindred spirit to her in the endeavours to save Ferroveil one soul at a time.

[Starsign]

The ratfolk gunslinger stands in contemplation as he listens to Mother Sally and Mirrud discuss about the formerly-functional orphanage and it's old, now-deceased owner. There's little in the way of leads or dots to put together but it does shed some background on the victims of this explosion. The whole thing currently just seems senseless; what did one earn from an act like this? Revenge? Blood money? Done for ****s and giggles? That all assumes the whole thing was orchestrated by one person and, given the size and effort of this disaster Arguz is quick to doubt that this won't involve a few hired thugs.

Keeping his mind from further considering theories without evidence, Arguz reaches up to put his slightly-blistered hand on the dark elf's shoulder. "An' I'll make sure no one forgets 'er." The gunslinger keeps his smile, though softening it, as Mother Sally looks like she's about to tear up over Maleeria's death. While the tragedy of the loss is not lost on Arguz, it certainly lacked the same impact other deaths have affected him. His own family has had three casualties already and each have affected his outlook on the world; it's why he's become so distasteful towards manufacturing work and concerned over his family living in the warrens. In addition he's made his own fair share of killings over the course of his job, though generally none of them being unjustified. So the death of a helpful figure who's never deserved such a fate does not hammer down on Arguz as much as it would on Sally or Mirrud.

"Jus' be glad 'bout who you both saved now, an' make sure they get better." The older ratfolk's voice, rough and confident as ever, now attempts speaking with a softer tone. "If any of 'em get better soon then I'd like to talk to 'em 'bout whether they saw anything related to the explosion. Until then..." The ratfolk walks over towards the wreck of a former building. His ratty nose sniffs the air, emitting a cringe-worthy look at the smell as his thin, ratty tail flicks and shrieks in motion. Boy, scavenging around this mess isn't going to be good for his senses. "I'm gonna go take a look 'round 'ere. See whether there's anything left telling how this whole place blew up." This will be a start at least; always good to investigate the scene of the crime when he can... and unless Mirrud or Mother Sally request to stop him, investigation is exactly what Arguz will do.

He's not a detective-for-hire for nothing.

Let's make some checks to see if Arguz can find anything out of place among the wreck of a building, like something that might have helped set the place off or some sort of incriminating item that offers up another potential lead. I don't quite know how long this would take, so while I'd like to take 20 on a Perception check, I can take 10 instead for a result of 21.

Lemme know if there's any other checks I should make :smallsmile:

[Capt. Infinity]

Sally nods at Arguz's encouraging words, and holds no objection when he moves to look through the wreckage for answers. Mirrud does however speak up as he does so. "Oh. Let me help, Arguz. I was going to search through the ruins later anyways. I hope to locate enough remains and belongings to hold a proper funeral service. That is, if you'd allow me time off of my work to do so whilst the orphanage remains unscavenged by others?"

Salisveera nods to her Ratling aid. "By all means, Mirrud. Please, let these children be shown a little respect yet, even in death."

And so, the two brothers begin their work, turning over the charred remains of the orphanage in hope of both closure and answers.



Timebombs.

That was what brought this building down, near as Arguz could gather.

It wasn't easy going, figuring such a thing out. But a clock face here, a spring there, and the occasional frayed bit of wiring were enough for the Ratfolk and occasional mechanical enthusiast to put together the pieces. Timebombs, likely about two or three placed at regular intervals up the building, were attached to the main access lines for the gas heating inside the orphanage itself (a rare commodity in Lowtown that was yet more evidence towards the love and care Madame Vel'thewenn showed all the girls under her care).

The effect spoke for itself, with the coordinated blast levelling the entire building in a sweep so clean, you might expect less out of a moderate demolition crew. This of course plainly placed the cause for this event in the camp of foul play. Though, honestly, sabotage was so likely a reasoning that a more surprising discovery would've been evidence to the contrary.

The second great discovery of the afternoon was actually one made by Mirrud, who did so whilst scavenging belongings and remains. The discovery in question was that the number of remains, no matter how you viewed them, didn't add up. Altogether, Mirrud was certain he'd found at least four distinct children's remains in the wreckage. This didn't seem to add up with what was known of the orphanage prior, which at any given time housed at least two dozen girls within its walls. What's more, the bones themselves seemed... Older than they should be. Not biologically older, no. The remains were those of young children. The problem was the level of decay on at least one of the bodies seemed to imply the child had been dead for months rather than mere hours.

In-between all of this was another discovery. Amongst the wreckage, Arguz managed to find a small, cast iron lockbox. The designs upon it were all but seared away, but what little pinkish paint and juvenile designs remained seemed to imply it was a former property of one of the girls of the orphanage. That would've meant it would go into Mirrud's hands by default, but Arguz couldn't help but notice that the key for said lockbox was, in fact, twisted and melted into the lock's keyhole, implying it was left planted within it when the building went up in flames. Whatever was inside the box, it was a safe bet that it was at the very least looked upon recently by its owner, which very well could make it evidence, and thus worthy of keeping.

The final discovery, and by far the greatest, would not come until the very end of the search, when the two brothers began looking around the ramshackle remnants of the main stairwell for the building. What was left of it was quite saddening, with a little under a dozen burnt steps leading up to nowhere standing as the final testament to a once proud and tall building. But it is here, underneath the steps in the absolute corner of this building which stood for over a century, where the two found the body of none other than Madame Vel'thewenn herself.

To go into the state of the corpse itself would be an affront to most senses. Needless to say it was burnt and broken, and only recognizable as the woman in question by dint of what was left of her ears and hair, and the fact that she was the only adult sized corpse within the ashen building's remains.

Now, it would've been a simple action to let the body be hauled away for its rites, with ceremonial wraps and an ornate coffin making up for the sorry state of her flesh. But, in those brief moments he felt comfortable looking at the body head-on, Arguz saw something astonishing. Something that suddenly made this whole case even more intriguing.

There, nestled straight in the centre of the woman's forehead, almost masked by the damage caused by the buildings explosion and collapse, was the unmistakable mark of an empty knife wound, set straight into the Elven woman's skull.

Needless to say, this made the whole affair much, much more complicated.

[Starsign]

Searching for what feels like over an hour is taxing for Arguz. It's enough of a tragedy that an orphanage got blown up for seemingly little reason; it's worse when one actively searches the scene and finds what little is left. The little evidence that remains is enough to draw up that this was a caring place before its explosive demise. Arguz eyed the skeletons and imagined how an explosion takes them from people to that... It's like a bad dream, vivid in imagination yet painful to believe; he'd be horrified if he hasn't been used to seeing, hearing about, or causing the deaths of other people. He is, however, more mentally taxed over how analytically he searched than psychologically disturbed at the evidence remaining. At least the explosion made their deaths quick.

...Or should have, had Arguz not noticed the varied inconsistencies presented from the evidence.

It'd be simple enough to describe this whole thing as a carefully-prepared explosion caused by someone or some people who know the layout of the building.At the very least this was planned out by a crew highly skilled in infrastructure and explosives... if Arguz isn't overestimating their prowess.

That didn't explain the child-sized skeletons Mirrud found. Those by itself would state that the girls had been blown up with the building. Yet just four are very few compared to the several dozen that's supposed to be at the orphanage. It's also a good thing that Arguz has also done some minor cases dealing with graverobbers in the past. Those cases had him generally get a good look at whatever goods and skeletons were dug up after he deals with the robbers in question. That's how he recognizes that the skeletons of these four children have been dead for awhile; their bones have simply decayed too much for how long ago the explosion occurred.

While the iron lockbox is a curious thing in itself, the potential contents of it are not as immediately critical to Arguz as what he finds later. He merely kept the lockbox on him for now as he kept turning over rubble after rubble, eyeing every corner available, and rechecking every smoldering bit of stuff that occupies the lot. It at least pays off with him discovering the corpse of Vel'thewenn. The simple confirmation of her skeleton is a good implication that whoever blew up this building wanted to take her with it... So why the knife wound in the skull?

All done the investigation, on crouching knees, and rather spent, Arguz wipes his fur and ash-covered brow with his dusted and dirty right hand as he shakes his head slowly. He's intrigued but no longer smiling. "Well this don't make sense," he begins, looking up at the likely-exhausted Mirrud. "So an orphanage got bombed but there ain't anyone alive to get caught in it. The ol' Madame 'ere took the knife 'fore then an' the only children here died plenty ago." This is an extremely odd situation. Forget "who," Arguz can't figure out why someone would've wanted to blow up the place after the only person living there took a fatal stab wound. Revenge doesn't really commit towards blowing up a person's valuables after that person is already dead. This is if Vel'thewenn's murder had any connection to the explosion in the first place.

"So someone came an' whacked 'er in a place that ain't housing any orphans, then probably got out 'fore the whole place lit up into warren rubble. An' there ain't nothing 'bout this orphanage telling me it was being normal. So wh-" Arguz pauses, finding himself going off making loud mumbling without considering Mirrud. The older ratfolk turns around to look at Mirrud, remembering that the younger one probably hasn't ever had to deal with these kind of revelations and situations before. "...You doing alright bro?"

[Capt. Infinity]

Perhaps it was all the years of being the big brother to his family that compelled Arguz to feel worried for his younger brother's health and sanity. A worry that wouldn't be misplaced given the current situation surrounding them.

That being said, Arguz wasn't really giving Mirrud enough credit.

Far from on the verge of collapse, Mirrud was merely sitting contemplatively on what remained of the stairwell, clearly pensive. Hell, Mirrud didn't even look all that tired, at least compared to Arguz.

He speaks up, his hand resting on his chin. "Brother. I work tirelessly day in and day out at a clinic for the ill and injured. I have seen horrors that would make this room seem tame. At least these corpses are silent. At least their deaths were swift." It may suddenly occur to Arguz what the job of Lowtown medic might actually entail, and what all those late nights at the clinic on Mirrud's part actually consisted of.

"None of this makes any sense. The bombs were planted within the building, which means whoever did this got inside the building unopposed. On top of that, what you said about the orphanage being empty seems like the only assumption available, and yet makes no sense. The orphanage was active as early as yesterday, of that I am certain. This place isn't a glass bubble; people come and go at various times. If it were empty for any longer than a day, somebody would've noticed. That means that, whenever this building started rapidly not having children in it, it'd have to have happened sometime between dusk of yesterday, and now. That lines up with the timeframe for Maleeria's death, but there are still so many questions. How? When? WHY?" The younger Ratfolk sighs. "I'm sifting through it all in my head, but you're the professional detective Arguz. What are you're theories?"

[Starsign]

Quite surprised as the younger brother's composure, Arguz walks over and takes a seat on the rubble next to Mirrud. The older one stretches out his legs and looks up to the smoke-filled sky as the younger one contemplates the situation. Mirrud's reactions come off as so unexpected to the gunslinger; Arguz expected that his brother would be deeply hurt by what they found and instead he seems to shrug the whole thing off. Arguz has never been one to actually explore the clinic Mirrud works at. Sure that please does give off this feeling of suffering and dread due to the victims there but it never occurred to the gunslinger that it could be worse than the rubble the two are sitting in now.

"Hell of a mystery, ain't it?" Arguz's words spew out of his mouth as he tries to relax... not that it's easy to do when he's asked to make theories. Given all the evidence provided and how much is still missing, there's not a ton to go on. "Well I guess I got something that ain't a crazy theory. This was either 'bout whacking Vel'thewenn or capturing those girls. That ol' elf was the only recent body 'ere when this whole thing went to Hell an' the girls had to have been 'ere leas' til last night." Trying to juggle two inconsistent "motives" is a nightmare for Arguz when he's going more off what he thinks rather than what he knows "If they wanted to whack Vel'thewenn then they probably did it quietly. That's why her skull's clocked a knife stab. Course they would'a dealt with the girls too. An' since they ain't 'ere then they either went out on a trip or were captured for **** knows what. That's a thing they would'a done at night too. Let 'em get away with it quietly." All so far, so good. If it was this easy, Arguz would be smiling... Yet he is not smiling.

"That don't tell why the whole place blew up. Might'a been the group wanting to cover up the murder Or maybe someone else finding this an' wanting no connection to it. Or... hell, anything." He shrugs. "The most I think works is that the explosion's a backup plan gone wrong and forgotten 'bout. Would be a damn easy case if it were that easy, but there's gotta be more to it."

He sighs, looking at the lockbox again before giving it a curious look. "This thing's probably the last we're gonna get outta this wreck. Whoever this belongs to, I'll be sure their family gets it after I take a glimpse." The ratfolk looks at his left arm, holding a rectangular wooden brace functioning like a buckler. He unclips it from his arm, revealing numerous small tools on its backside; he always had a feeling that the brace would work well as a tool-keeper. Taking out one of the several lockpicks on the buckler brace, Arguz attempts to fiddle and pick at the keyhole in the lockbox, trying to unlock it unless Mirrud intrudes on the gunslinger's work.

...Though when that fails, Arguz simply grunts, smirks for a frustrated moment, then pulls out his pepperbox and simply shoots the lock.

Lemme know which skill Arguz needs to use to try and open the lockbox. He has the Burglar's Buckler (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic-items/magic-armor/specific-magic-shields/burglar-s-buckler) to help him open it, should it apply. Nevermind. Just gonna shoot the lock. Will roll on the OOC. :smalltongue:

[Capt. Infinity]

With a satisfying flash of gunpowder and a loud, resounding *BANG*, the lockbox opens, revealing within it a surprisingly well-kept Diary. The diary itself was a simple, leather-bound affair. Well kept and of decent quality, perhaps a gift for a birthday or holiday. On the front of the reddish leather book was a name, written in neat-if-childish calligraphy.

"Arina"

"Oh! I remember that name. She's one of the youngest girls. Salisveera got a house call to see her just a few short weeks ago, when she had a sudden fit of coughing and needed treatment. She turned out to have a weak constitution in general, and needed vitamins prescribed. Poor girl is just barely into her second set of digits. And now the sky went an' fell down on her whole world..." The sudden shift in accent from Mirrud was a clear sign of how this discovery, more than anything else, brought him genuine sorrow. The pains of the dead and the dying he could handle with a brave face. It was the trials of the living that finally got to him.

Heedless of all this, should Arguz open the book within and check the final entry in the diary (as is standard procedure for any and all good detectives), he would find a short entry left there, written perhaps a bit more hurriedly than was standard for the others, upon checking. It read thus:



"Dear Diary. Zivalia says it would be good to write down one last entry before I go. The people moving us say that we can't take all our stuff and have to leave some things behind. I wanted to ask them if I could take you, but Zivalia says it'd be best if I left it here and kept it hidden, as present for whoever finds it. I hope whoever reads this likes it. I've worked reeeaaally hard to get my writing to look nice, and I hope it does!

A bunch of people showed up in the middle of the night. One of them looked rocky and had a weird cut over his nose, and hair that looked like blue gems. But he didn't talk much. Instead, this pretty lady in a hood started talking. Her hair was funny too, but more normal than the rock man's. It was coloured like wine. And she had REALLY pretty glasses. Everyone seemed to love them.

She said that we were being adopted by her, and that we needed to come quietly and quickly, or else we couldn't come. Everyone seemed happy, except Zivalia. She looked worried, but pretended to seem happy too. But I can tell when she's sad. Her tail twitches whenever she's hiding something! But that's a secret!

They're coming up now, so I need to hide you quick! I'm really excited to go now, and I hope I can come home some day and write about all the fun things I've seen. Bye for now!

~Arina"



"...Dear gods. They... They were kidnapped!" The terror in Mirrud's voice was palpable. "What do we do now Arguz!? They're out there! We need to find them! We need to-"

"Rantar Geodo."

Arguz was no stranger to suddenly finding Jia sitting by his shoulder, looking over it at whatever the Gunslinger Ratfolk was occupied with at the time. But here? In this situation? One could be forgiven for being surprised. The Ratty detective's younger sister stands upright on the steps behind which Arguz was sitting, looking serious.

"Heard whispers about him around my routes. You'd be surprised what you pick up wandering the city. Guy's some bigshot assassin for hire, but he does specialty infiltration work too. If he's involved, then that means there's some MAJOR money being thrown around." The younger Ratfolk looks thoughtful. "I might know where to find him, if'n you think it'll help you find those girls."

"J-Jia?" Mirrud looks astonished at his sisters sudden presence. "What in the world are YOU doing here?"

"With any luck Mirrud? Helping."

[Starsign]

Arguz holds the diary carefully as he reads through, on instinct, the last page of the diary. His bone-thin rat hands makes it easy to actually hold and turn the pages without accidentally tearing or damaging the various pages within; his job requires him to handle evidence with the utmost care even if it's not going to be on his hands for long. As a result, physically reading the diary's contents with his younger brother is a relative breeze.

Now taking in the actual content of the diary... Actually that's still not an issue for Arguz.

While the older one seemed a little more distraught at the wreckage and evidence, knowing the futility that things have happened and will stay that way, he's considerably more relaxed reading the diary than Mirrud is. The gunslinger still can't quite smile given that the girls are, at best, kidnapped. Yet the information is a significant step up from the tragic assumption that they perished in the explosion. Now Arguz has a chance to save someone rather than just hunt after the criminals for revenge; either option presents an exciting "shoot-em-up" of a time but the former actually means there's something more to the job meaning more pro-activity and more at stake.

Cause yes, Arguz does enjoy his job when the stakes are raised. He can blame Malwick for that.

Outside of a flinch and slightly-tingling rat fur, Arguz doesn't give a big reaction to Jia's sudden appearance; the flinch however is all she needs to know that she gave her older brother quite a fright. "Hell'ova good time to come sis," He says with appreciation as he turns to look at his sister. "You sure being an information broker ain't your style?" The sight of his sister is quite welcoming given the situation and Mirrud's increasing worry over the kidnapped girls. "Glad to see you out 'ere too. always good having someone I can trust out in this junkyard of a machine." The gunslinger likes to bounce between calling Ferroveil a mechanical playground or a junkyard, based on the kind of work he and his family does. Between all the scavenging, shop work and client tasks everyone is assigned with, he can't really say Ferroveil as a city is just one "thing." Though he can say that the city rarely gets boring.

Arguz puts the diary back in the box before getting to his feet. "Well y'know I ain't one who don't give a rat's ass when help's offered. What'd ya know 'bout finding this Rantar, Jia?" He turns around to look at Mirrud, placing a hand on the younger brother's right shoulder. "Don't you worry now. Cause I'm sure we're gonna find these girls, find this assassin... oh, an' put a half-dozen adamantine holes in 'im fer all this." It's not that Arguz holds a lot of ire towards this Rantar and whoever his assistant was; the whole plan of, "kidnap girls, stab owner, then bomb the place," is still not exactly an assassin's work in Arguz's mind. Yet there is something satisfying with gunning down criminals compared to gunning down... well, anyone not a crook. Hopefully that will be enough to encourage Mirrud; he still has faith in his older siblings, right...?

[Capt. Infinity]

Jia chuckles. "I keep telling you, bro. Intrigue ain't my thing. I'm happy being a courier who can swing a knife, thanks." She sits down, and begins explaining. "Rantar's got his men stationed in an old warehouse at the south end of the dockyard. You remember that section of the pier that got caught in a blaze a few months ago? He set up shop at the end of that strip o' sadness." She shrugs. "Couldn't tell ya what exactly they've done to the place, but I know enough to be sure that they've got it working as a full-blown safehouse, so I'd be careful going there. I wish I could be more helpful, but that's really all I got."

Mirrud nods at Arguz's coarse but caring remark. He lays a bony hand on top of Arguz's giving a slight but sure smile. "I know you will Arguz. No matter what, you always get your mark. Just promise me you'll be safe."

[Starsign]

Arguz listens to Jia's description of Rantar's "safehouse" while the older brother comforts Mirrud. While the information provided is less than what the detective hoped, it's still enough of the lead for Arguz to follow on; his job requires him to use and follow every small bit of information and hint that he is provided.

Though he keeps his ears open to Jia, his mind for the moment is centered on Mirrud's concern for his brother. It's not a surprise, given Mirrud's worry over those simply struggling to live and the amount of danger that comes with Arguz's job. Though it's not really like any job that the Aijk's have is "safe" in the first place. So how can Arguz simply make that sort of promise to his brother? Mirrud has never seen his older brother out in action and one hopes that Mirrud never has to.

"Mirrud, you know 'bout as well as I do that there ain't anything 'safe' 'bout my work." The gunslinger retains his ratty smile, still trying to present his confident persona to his siblings. "But it ain't like I'm scampering towards death. Wouldnt've lasted long as I did if I were." Arguz rubs Mirrud's shoulder gently as a way of giving reassurance. "So I can't swear on my tail that I'm gonna be safe but I can promise I'll come back alive. All that yer old bro can ask is fer you to accept it." Arguz doesn't make promises which he can't keep but he always does have to prove himself strong and indomitable towards his family. Given the stakes of this case, being indomitable matters more than ever. He hands the small box over to Mirrud. "So when I find and bring back those girls, make sure you give Anna 'er diary back."

Arguz then looks back to Jia, recalling most of what his sister has mentioned about the "safehouse." "So they made something outta that Hell? No wonder why I didn't know they set up anything there; that place's got 'nough ash and charcoal to make you choke. An' the whole damn place's a downer." The eldest ratfolk shrugs his shoulders before making sure his holster is connected tightly to his chain belt. "Well there's nothing said 'bout this job always being a joy. I'll jus' get in an' out 'fore I start getting used to the dockyard." He smirks for a brief moment before beginning to walk his way down to the dockyard, turning around to look at his siblings again and say, "Thanks fer helping. C'ya later tonight if I'm home on time." With that, he begins his way down to the dockyard, expecting Mirrud and Jia to, for now, go their own way. Not that he'd try stopping them if they want to follow but the former still has the clinic to help around and the latter probably has a package to deliver. The Aijks always have work to do after all.

[Capt. Infinity]

Mirrude can't help but smile at his brother's raw confidence. He gives a light chuckle in an attempt to lift the mood, and takes the box when it is offered. "I promise to keep it safe, Arguz. Now go give those monsters hell."

Jia, for her part, simply nods at Arguz's recognition. "Trust me bro. NOBODY gets used to the dockyards. 'Specially not in an afternoon." She chuckles. "Watch yourself out there. Dude's an Oread, but don't let that fool you into thinkin' he ain't fast. He's got ways of poisoning you without even coatin' his sword in dust. So watch yourself out there, okay?" She speaks in warning, before waving the Gunslinger off as he leaves. As Arguz exits the wreck of the orphanage, now almost devoid of smoke or even embers in the wake of water and time, he can see Mirrud waving goodbye to his sister and wandering back away towards the clinic, and Jia, in yet another feat of stealth, seem to stand momentarily in place before utterly vanishing from view behind what appeared to be an errant wisp of smoke.

Really, how does that girl do it?



Of all the benefits Arguz has gained from wearing his dark tanned jacket on missions, "camouflage" wouldn't have been one he'd have normally expected to receive.

The dark smear of ash and soot laid like a murky blanket over the entire burnt section of the dockyard, forever branding it as the testament to misfortune it truly is.

It had been the mother of all storage screw-ups that made this back end of the Ferroveil pier into what it was now. Some foolish quartermaster, eager to make an extra buck by using as much storage space as possible in one of his warehouses, made the frankly insane decision to maximize efficiency by sticking several barrels of lamp oil from a whaling operation right beside multiple kegs of dynamite bound for one of the many Ferroveil mines. The rest, as they say, is violent, horrific, and staggeringly loud history.

The big owners of the pier, having contained the fire to the back end of the dockyard, decided it was better to cut their loses and abandon the entire area than to spend the countless gold and man hours to clean the place up properly and rebuild. And so, the "black corner" of the docks remains, stuck in a limbo between people wanting to clean it up to get the space back, and being unwilling to spend the requisite effort to do it.

One solace, at least, was that the soot and ash was laid on so thick along the cobblestone that the light steps of Arguz approaching Rantar's supposed hideout were not only muted, but also almost completely concealed from visual tracking, the ash only lightly holding an imprint of his foot, nigh indistinguishable from the surrounding chaos. No wonder an assassin would want to make a base here, wear dark clothing and you're virtually invisible.

Arguz knows enough to stop a building or two short of the final warehouse, the building no doubt having some means of surveillance within its perimeter. For now, he stood a ways away, noting the sections of the scorched and smoke-stained building that appear newly built, with extra ashes smeared upon the patched roof and walls to make it harder to notice from a distance. For now, the long rectangular building with its massive swinging iron double doors lay rather quiet, no doubt holding dangerous secrets, and even more dangerous people, within.

Now was the time for plans.

[Starsign]

The excessive blaze that covered the south dockyard never ceases to astound Arguz as he treads into the area. He heard the story back then; he saw the massive plumes of smoke and fire that could've been seen on another continent; he still has no idea how one had the right mind to shove lamp oil together with dynamite and expect it to not go up in flames. Either way, the scorched area represents some of the uglier developments of the renaissance, if only through sheer ignorance. The ratfolk groans quietly at first as he begins venturing on the ashes of whatever burned down long back. It isn't long however before he finds himself breathing slowly as to not accidentally take in the ash and soot. Given his clothes dealt with plenty of gunsmoke, cobwebs and other residue, there's no harm with getting more stuff on that; if anything it'll provide a bit more help getting into the building.

Getting in the building looks a lot harder than Arguz thought, and he knows that will be the easy part.

Between the notable length of the building, the ash-covered walls and ceiling, and the massive iron doors, entry into the place will be a bit less simple than, "sneak up and walk in." If he attracts any attention, whoever's within will charge out and put down the ratfolk in the quietest way possible. If he goes in quietly, then he'd still have a large deal of people there. The ideal plan would be to get in and get out without anyone noticing him which... doesn't seem likely to happen. If anything, Arguz will want to have at least some people run out in suspicion to leave a few others inside. The ratfolk lacks a way to silently take down an opponent; his gun will attract everyone in the dockyard if he pulls the trigger. Best to be quiet and be quick.

Boy these situations get the ratfolk's mind roaring. Jia could probably just teleport in.

Considering a distraction, Arguz grabs a small garb of black cloth to cover it around his coat and pants; dark brown and dark blue are good colors but they don't match the blackness of ash and soot if he wants to really remain hidden. Peeking his head out for a brief moment, Arguz raises his right leg and kicks down into the ash and soot "ground," sending a bleak, not-so-covering cloud up in front of him so that it should be in seeing distance from the warehouse building. He then throws down one of his smog pellets at the cloud, furthering covering the cloud in thick smog as to make the cloud more visible and, importantly, able to stay for longer with a few more heavy kick-ups of ash and soot. Now to give the idea that there's someone in there, Arguz lights his hooded lantern, giving it a glow that is then placed within the cloud. So long as it's suspicious enough, at least someone will come out and check to make sure there's no one watching in the cloud.

This should, at least, provide Arguz with a little time and enough of a distraction as he moves around a few nearby buildings to approach the warehouse from the side. Here's what the cloth is for: keeping his clothes kept hidden as he gets down on his ratty hands and feet and begins crawling towards the warehouse. Between his black fur and clothing and the ground, he should have enough cover to get to and in through a window without being spotted. His mouth and nose are held closed during this. He's been in some messy places around the Warrens but it is nothing like trying to squirm and move through ash and soot like a tunnel. Hell, he probably shouldn't even need the black cloth.

Okay! There's the plan. Lemme know what other rolls to take but here's a Stealth one to begin with: [roll0]

EDIT: This... is gonna be a running theme each case, won't it? :smalleek::smalltongue:

[Capt. Infinity]

It started out so well.

The first piece of the plan went through without a hitch. The cloud of smoke was enough to alert whatever lookouts were posted inside, and within moments, the great big metal doors opened, and three black-clad figures ran out towards the direction of the surge of smoke.

Arguz's crawl through the ash was unpleasant to say the least, but the sheer volume of obscuring waste, combined with the black cloth, made the Ratfolk effectively invisible as he inched towards a pile of boxes which peaked at the exact height needed to climb into the window on the upper floor.

After swiftly clambering up the boxes and through a broken window along the side of the warehouse, Arguz Aijk landed daintily atop a metal boardwalk hanging above the warehouse proper.

It was here where things began to violently and rapidly go wrong.

See, fire doesn't just destroy goods and the surrounding area, igniting explosive and flammable objects as it goes. In conflagrations this big, it also creeps its way into the very foundation of buildings, cracking their mortar, and melting stone at various points throughout the structure, such that the whole thing is left structurally unsound. This fact was especially true for places in which metal and stone were bolted to one another, or places where wood was the primary mooring and support used. Like, say, a metal boardwalk bolted to the ceiling and held up by wooden support beams. Just as an example.

The elevated platform gave only a singular, whining creak before it's entire form gave way, caving inwars in a manner centred upon the Ratfolk that had just recently landed upon it. The actual DESCENT wasn't very damaging, though such a blunder was no doubt a blow to the Ratfolk's pride. The metal and wood fell downwards such that Arguz came out more or less unharmed, but with large piles of corrugated metal crashing down and making a massive ruckus as it utterly decimated what little of the crates and shelving remained below.

As the massive plumes of smoke finally died down in the wake of the impact, and Arguz was allowed to get his bearings, the Ratfolk suddenly came face to stony face with a lean, darkly-clothed, and menacing man, flanked on both sides by similarly dressed humanoids, all in various states of surprise. The stone man doesn't miss a beat.

"Arguz Aijk, I presume?" He lifts an eyebrow. "I appreciate you dropping in. It saves me the time of tracking you down." The Oread looks to his sides, his henchmen looking back.

"Get him."

Roll for initiative!

Ruffian 1: [roll0]
Ruffian 2: [roll1]
Ruffian 3: [roll2]
Ruffian 4: [roll3]
Rantar: [roll4]

[Capt. Infinity]

One of the men on Rantar's right is the first to move, stepping forward slightly, before drawing a pistol and letting a shot ring out towards the offending intruder before him.

Ruffian 3

Move Action: Step Forward and draw pistol

Standard Action: Shoot at Arguz:
Attack: [roll0] Against Touch AC
Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll2]

[Starsign]

What a wonderful way for him to "sneak" in. Arguz had accounted for many things but he never considered the structural integrity of the interior. It was simple for him to assume the whole place was durable; they had the large iron doors and they had to keep the rebuilt warehouse from crashing in on itself. Didn't work out that way. Now the gunslinger has himself backed up against a wall, met by nearly half-a-dozen people, the assassin and his followers, and it's all expected to light up from here.

Alright, Arguz thinks to himself, next time, I'm going in guns blazing.

He was still reeling a bit from the descent with a surprised, squeaky snort as he finds himself met by these individuals. It takes him a moment later to switch back to the persona he should be using. After that blunder of an entry, Arguz can't afford to show weakness. "Well ain't I got quite the rep," He retorts with a quick, flashing smirk as one of the followers pulls out a pistol. Now Arguz isn't exactly a ninja like Jia or capable of insane evasive feats like Adraena but that doesn't stop the gunslinger from swiftly leap to the side to nearly avoid the incoming shot, having it barely graze through his coat and the right edge of Arguz's coat as the black cloth flies off the ratfolk. It's a very mild wound, leaving a small tick of blood where the shot was made. It's nothing that will slow Arguz down.

"Alright, yer mistake!" He shouts proudly as he swiftly takes an evasive dive... towards the follower that shot him as the Ratfolk pulls out his adamantine pepperbox and, firing quickly from the hip, takes a shot at the follower's torso.

Being in melee range with about five opponents however is not ideal for Arguz; excellent as he is in melee combat, he's always in trouble if he has nowhere to make some distance. In addition the overly-weak boardwalk he had once been on means that there are plenty of other areas up top which may break off if a shot is placed at just the right time. So a quick leap away from the Rantar and the followers gives the ratfolk just enough time for him to switch barrel chambers, look up, aim up, and fire at one of the wooden supports holding another large metal object just above any of his potential foes-to-be-victims.

Alrighty. for Arguz's first initiative he'll run into a follower, get attacked by an Attack of Opportunity for his trouble, and shoot the follower that shot him in melee range. This'll put one grit point in his ring.

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll2]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll3]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll4] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll5]

Arguz's second initiative will be to move away from the followers and, if possible, shoot a support up top to bring something crashing down on one of the followers or the group (hey, the whole interior is structurally unsound :smalltongue:) Here's a roll to try and confirm it: [roll6]

[Capt. Infinity]

The Ratfolk's shot rings true, and Arguz need only stand back and watch as a large piece of the wooden support beams for the warehouse cave in on themselves, a cleverly placed shot in the right spot sending it and a small portion of the roof tumbling down upon Rantar and most of his goons.

The metal panelling and wooden supports smash into the ground, sending ash and dust everywhere. This is only a momentary distraction, however. The mooks, dauntless in their effort to slay the gunslinger before them, kick their way out of the rubble, righting themselves before making a blitz for their quarry. They could only move so fast though, and could only manage to surround Arguz, after being hampered by the rubble assault.

The one ruffian to shoot first however, having avoided the falling debris altogether, saw his opportunity at hand, and reloaded his weapon with an alchemical cartridge, before taking a shot at the now-flanked Ratfolk.

Rantar was slow, at least physically. And this measured speed was completely evident in his motions to free himself, the Oread calmly rising from the rubble to standing, before levelling an angry glare at Arguz.

"Congratulations, Mr. Aijk. You got one."

"You ONLY get one."

The Oread suddenly got very swift, very swiftly. The man's hand a blur as it rushes to his side, before swiftly bringing it forward, revealing a pepperbox all his own.

"I, however, will have several." There is a sudden wavering in the air, almost as if some invisible aura shifted within Ranatar Geodo, before the shot rang true, firing a pistol round straight forward towards Arguz Aijk.

Ruffians 1, 2, and 4: Move Action to rise, and Standard Action to flanks the front, back, left, and right of Arguz.

Ruffian 3: Move to Reload. Standard Action to shoot at Arguz: [roll0] Against Touch AC.

Damage: [roll1] + [roll2]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll3]

Rantar: Move Action to rise. Swift Action to Activate Deadly Insight. Deadly Strike damage added to all attacks for 4 rounds. Standard Action to shoot at Arguz: [roll]1d20+11[roll] Against Touch AC.

Damage: [roll4] + [roll5]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll6]

[Starsign]

Having made his shot true, Arguz is, for a very brief moment, relieved that the injured enemy crew struggled simply to move, though they now surround him like he guessed. There's a good reason why he tries avoiding a big shootout; on his own he has to deal with being flanked and surrounded which makes avoiding bullets kind of difficult. So of course, the follower he happened to set on fire managed to pull off a shot which, thanks to the ratfolk's keen reflexes, manages to graze the right cheek on his rat-shaped head; a long, if think trickle of blood drips from where the black fur grazed off or charred by the shot.

Trying to get into a better position now will be nearly impossible. Arguz is fast but his smaller rat feet can only get him so far; the others here are at least two feet taller than him and with legs that can cover more distance, It doesn't matter now how well Arguz can move if the others can just keep outmaneuvering him.

Which means it's time for some proper close-quarters combat.

The ratfolk drops down for a brief moment, held up by his free hand and his toes as Rantar's bullet harmlessly flies over Arguz's head. Sometimes it's good to be so small even if Arguz is bigger than most of his family. "Hah! I only need one," he chimes in, making sure his few grazes hasn't diminished his persona as he leaps back onto his feet and leaps backward right next to one of the followers behind him. The ratfolk takes a bullet out of his pouch with lightning speed as he locks his gun upward towards the follower's chest, dealing with the latter's inevitable panic and melee attack before firing. The flash of light and burst of sound emitted should be enough to throw off the follower's focus should the bullet burning powder not do him in.

Almost like a magic trick, Arguz plunges a bullet into his pepperbox barrel merely as he turns around to face the follower that's right behind him. As quick to reload as one can pull out a gun, the ratfolk gives everyone little time to react as he dashes to the other follower and pull a point-blank stomach shot on the other fool. Given how often he can fire from the same barrel he might have been a little worried about the condition of his pepperbox; thankfully adamantine is a very durable metal and, like its ratty owner, is very stubborn in the face of danger.

Arguz should also be concerned with the follower he first shot at... but that's what the igniting powder is for.

For my first Initiative, Arguz will use Lightning Reload to get another bullet in his Pepperbox, run over and shoot at the first follower; triggers an AoO from him. This gives Arguz a grit point that he'll also put in his ring.

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll2]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll3]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll4] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll5]

Spending 1 normal Grit to initiate Flash & Shock (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/races/other-races/featured-races/arg-ratfolk/gulch-gunner-gunslinger-ratfolk). In case the follower survives the shot, Arguz gets +4 to AC from that enemy's attacks.

Second initiative, repeating the same thing with another follower; Arguz however doesn't get grit from this and Flash & Shock isn't initiated.

Attack roll: [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll8]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll9]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll10] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll11]

EDIT: Ouch, made a good call on Flash & Shock as my first attack may not have even hit Touch AC.

[Capt. Infinity]

It happened remarkably fast. One moment, three of Rantar's men had surrounded Arguz, cutting off most of his means of escape. The next? Two of them were dead on the ground, destroying their flanking maneuver before it even had a chance to be enacted.

The two shots rang home. The first blowing a large hole in the man's front and back, spraying a light mist of blood in the air behind him, mixing with and staining the ash from the fallen roof to spread a maroon-tinted haze about the battlefield. Said cloud of gore merely expanded as Arguz's second shot had similar success with his second target, the thug keeling over and laying dead where he lands.

The third flanker, seeing a distinct patter, volunteered to avoid the Ratfolk's immediate range, backing up considerably, but not far enough to avoid his quarry's range as he fired a shot from his pistol at the Gunslinger before him. His fellow, the one who had previously been set on fire, pulls himself together, slapping out the flames on his person before levelling another shot at Arguz, attempting to at least graze the Ratfolk once more.

Rantar looks to his left and right, witnessing his henchmen fall left and right before the assailant before him. He growls, clearly annoyed. "I shouldn't be surprised, really. I knew this deal would never have gone smoothly. Too many variables. Too many chances to get the attention of little upstarts like you." The Oread's vocal jab is punctuated by yet another mystically-empowered shot from his own pepperbox, with the intent to strike true.

Goon 4

Move Action: Flee 20ft away.

Standard Action: Shoot Arguz: [roll0] Against Touch AC.

Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll2]

Goon 3

Non-action: Stop being on fire.

Move Action: Reload pistol with alchemical cartridge.

Standard Action: Shoot Arguz: [roll3] Against Touch AC.

Damage: [roll4]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll5]

Rantar

Move Action: Nah

Standard Action: Shoot Arguz: [roll6]

Damage: [roll7] + [roll8]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll9]

[Starsign]

Even if Arguz is being an "annoyance" to Rantar, the ratfolk is being quite the deadly annoyance. Though the fleeing follower makes a bare-miss shot that rings the rat's ears, Arguz makes a weave and a dive to avoid the shots fired by Rantar and the other follower. Not that their aim should be completely mocked, as Arguz knows. Shooting a gun, especially with one hand, takes a lot more finesse than one might with a bow though with considerably less strength needed; all the "strength" one needs with a gun is the ability to handle the recoil and that's easy enough for Arguz to deal with. Actually firing with reasonable accuracy however took a lot of practice, a good deal of experience, and ultimately working in the optimal range for precise shots.

...Which happens to be damn-near point-blank range.

"lil' upstart?!" The ratfolk responds in mocking contempt, almost holding off a quick chuckle as, though there's some truth to that 'title,' he's already accomplished more than what one might consider a newcomer. "You ain't gonna see me there fer long!" The ratfolk uses the maroon mist of ash to some cinematic advantage as he moves through it to, if only briefly, throw his enemies' aiming off. This shrouds his clothes and fur in said ash, mostly redundant as he had already crawled through black ash and soot earlier though now he actually seems like he went through a shootout.

He uses the brief opportunity to make his approach at the formerly-ignited follower and, given Arguz's smaller size, dead-aims straight ahead at level range, center-shot at the chest. With the retreating follower in his sights, the ratfolk swiftly reloads the barrel of his pepperbox and pulls a fast snap shot on the remaining thug. If that human is gonna stay away from Arguz's close-quarters distance then the ratfolk will sacrifice accuracy to emphasize a good, clean shot.

Initiative 1, run up, trigger AoO from closer follower. Shoot at melee range for max damage and an extra grit. Lightning reload as a free action:

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Potential Crit Damage: [roll2]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll3] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll4]

Initiative 2, perform a Full Action and spending 1 grit for the Dead Shot deed. Firing the rest of my shots at the distant follower (not sure if he's currently out of my 20 ft gun range or not). Making 3 normal attacks; dealing 1d6 damage before modifiers and an additional 1d6 for each success (this is more for variety and a bit of drama to try and make things more interesting. :smallwink:). If any roll is a nat 20 then critical damage is dealt.

Attack roll 1: [roll5]
Attack roll 2: [roll6]
Attack roll 3: [roll7] EDIT: This should be a 9 rather than 79. This also I think triggers a Misfire (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/equipment---final/weapons/firearms#TOC-Early-Firearms)

Normal Damage: [roll8]
Bonus Damage on Second Hit: [roll9]
Bonus Damage on Third Hit: [roll10]

Potential Crit Damage: [roll11]

[Capt. Infinity]

Arguz's attacks were, as always, swift and brutal. The first shot rang true, the Ratfolk bursting forth from the musty blood-soaked cloud like a bat out of Abaddon, and planting a chest shot with the proven amount of Aijk vigour, dropping the poor, singed assailant after so much toil against him.

The second thug, surprising everyone in the room, did NOT immediately fall over dead after having been shot twice in the torso by the guns-blazing investigator before him. Two out of three shots found their homes within the man's flesh, but it wasn't yet enough to drop him, the fury present in his eyes more than enough of a sign that he wasn't quite done yet. The ruffian holds fast, reloading his pistol with an alchemical cartridge, and firing one final swansong of a shot at his soon-to-be murderer.

Rantar, still impossibly stoic, merely held a stony gaze towards his Rat-like foe. "You're right, Mr. Aijk. I likely WON'T see you here long. With any luck, you'll be out of my sight and gone from this world before the next bell tower chimes." He states cleanly, before firing two shots at his foe, praying silently for a swift change in his luck.

Goon 4

Move Action: Reload

Standard Action: Shoot Arguz.

Attack Roll: [roll0]

Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll2]

Rantar

Full-Attack Action: Shoot Arguz twice.

Attack Roll 1: [roll3]

Damage: [roll4] + [roll5]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll6]

Attack Roll 2: [roll7]

Damage: [roll8] + [roll9]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll10]

[Starsign]

A quick duck and a swerve behind a metal support bar is all Arguz can do to react to the shots fired by Rantar and the follower (how is he still alive?). All three bullets barely manage to miss him with one glazing his coat hard enough to revealing the dark leaf packing in it. His coat may be studded leather but that sort of armor does little to help a bullet's velocity. The remaining two shots simply fly through where Arguz had been before and slam against the metal bar he briefly hides behind. With how much he's being shot at today it isn't long before they manage to get a clean shot; fortune has been toying with him quite a lot.

Hopefully it doesn't turn against him until after he's had his fill of lead for the day.

With so little cover behind him, the ratfolk stands still only to reload the barrel of his pepperbox at a speed most can't comprehend. He lacks the clever tricks or abilities that gunners like Rantar has but makes up for it with pure skill and speed. Arguz has that consequence for being self-taught rather than take up whatever training others may have. He also takes this chance to draw his little makeshift axe in his offhand, reminding himself that Rantar is potentially more dangerous up close than he is at a distance. Ideally, the ratfolk will be down to making this one-on-one.

He lacks any good retort to make to Rantar, focused on the only moment there is without gunfire before the ratfolk suddenly bursts out from behind the bar. With a focused grin, his right hand aims out towards the remaining follower and pulls the trigger to hopefully put down that last thug. Given Arguz's other hand holds his axe, he can't quite reload with it. Instead he releases his hand's grip from his pepperbox, keeping the ratty index finger stuck through the trigger ring, as the gun quickly swings upward and lets his hand instead grip the cycling barrels as his thumb turns it to lock in a loaded barrel. Just as fast, he flicks the gun forward to let his bone-thin hand right back on the grip.

Which means that in an instant, Arguz has his pepperbox loaded, his weapon now aimed right at Rantar, and a crazed, confident smirk on the ratfolk's face as he fires a bullet right at Rantar's leg. If Rantar can't evade any better than his followers did then he'll find himself on his ass, letting Arguz close in right after.

Initiative 1: Use Lightning Reload to get another bullet in Arguz's pepperbox. Draw his agile boarding axe as a Move Action. Shoot at the remaining follower as a Standard action.

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll2]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll3]

Initiative 2: Take a full-round action and spending 1 grit point to use Targeting on Rantar's legs to try and knock him prone should this hit

Attack roll: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]

Neither of these are melee-ranged since Arguz isn't moving atm.

[Capt. Infinity]

Headshots are a rare and fleeting thing in the modern era.

The Steam Surge may have bequeathed unto the world the gift of firearms, but said gift was still only in its infantile stages. Guns were, as they were now, only truly reliable in striking the centre of mass, and that was after you took into account the possibility of a misfire and the massive overhead of effort needed to be anything more than competent with them.

As such, it was both a surprising and momentous occasion when Arguz, deciding to finally put the poor, stomped-on, bullet riddled ruffian out of his misery, lands a clean and solid shot straight into the man's forehead. The immediate area behind his skull gets a sudden burst of red mist as the spherical bullet makes a hasty exit of his cranium. A far less gruesome display than if the shot had been point-blank, to be sure. But it was nonetheless an astonishing sight to behold, the dark-clothed goon falling backwards and lying on the ground limp. His body devoid of motion as all semblance of reflex was snuffed out as the shot cleared his brain stem.

This was to say nothing of Rantar's plight. The stone-faced man with jagged, sapphire hair suddenly found himself lying face-first in the rubble of the fallen roof, a well-placed shot from Arguz knocking the Oread down in one swift motion, the ki-wielding assassin grunting in pain as he does so.

He responds coldly from his spot on the ground.. "This... Is just not my day is it?" The stonetouched man slowly and deliberately rises to his feet. "I'm not even blaming you specifically, Aijk. I knew that woman was bad news from moment one. Trusting her on a job that big was a mistake, and I'm paying for it now." He eyes the Ratfolk, noting his hesitation at approaching the Oread. "It seems you're avoiding melee combat with me. You think you have a more significant advantage at range, and that I would dominate primarily up close. I'd say that's a good call on your part." He continues on, favouring his unshot leg in a casual and lazy lean, with an equally bored stare at the Ratfolk before him. "I would say, if it weren't for one crucial detail you appear to have missed in your investigation, my good detective."

"The knife that killed Madame Vel'thewenn was thrown."

Immediately after saying this and almost faster than the eye could track, Rantar's open hand rushes to his side, grabbing a dagger holstered along his belt and flipping it to grip it by the blade, before whirling around in a lightning quick twist, using the momentum to carry extra force as he swings the knife home, aiming straight for Arguz.

Rantar

Move Action: Get up from Prone.

Free Action: Draw Knife

Swift Action: Rattler's Feint. Attempting to Feint Arguz against his CMD: [roll0] If successful, Arguz is Flatfooted against Rantar's upcoming attack. Addendum. I goofed. I used CMB instead of Bluff. It should be 27, not 25.

Standard Action: Throw a knife at Arguz. Activating the Steel Fang maneuver as he does so:

Attack Roll: [roll1] against AC or Flatfooted AC, depending on if the Feint works.

Damage: [roll2] + [roll3] + [roll4] Also, if successful, Arguz needs to roll a Will save of DC 19 or be Dazed next round.

Possible Crit Damage: [roll5]

[Starsign]

There was no sound when the dagger was thrown.

Arguz saw it. He tried to move, he really did. His body reacted by trying to sidestep to the left, have the thrown blade simply fly past him. He's gotten used to avoiding bullets; small-yet-quick objects which can be, to some degree, indicated by the loud flash and shock of a gun's muzzle. It helps that a gun can be used by anyone but it takes a lot of skill to actually use it well. Daggers... are different. Arguz has tried throwing some of those before and he never quite cared enough to figure out how to handle things like trajectory. As a ratfolk, he also lacked the arm strength needed to seriously throw physical objects. Guns are just so much easier to use as the aiming and reloading of barrels is significantly more efficient to him than something requiring reasonably good strength.

Which is why Arguz is completely surprised when the dagger, thrown much faster than he expected, tore through his coat and into his gut.

He didn't see where the dagger landed, instead feeling an extremely sharp, painful sensation in his stomach as the ratfolk flinches and bumps right into the metal bar behind him. His reaction lasts only a moment but the wound itself feels like a slow, horrid pain lasting hours. This isn't the first time he's been stabbed but this one feels so devastating, so precise. It's easy to imagine how a throw like that can kill instantly if it nails the head... Yet even thinking that is incredibly painful to Arguz.

His left arm acts out of reflex, dropping his makeshift axe, holding the bladed end of the dagger and feeling a rushing liquid around it; blood, his blood is leaking out. He doesn't need to look down at his body to know how bad it is. A lot of other people might have been dead from such a throw, or at least utterly debilitated. It has to be repeated, the pain is ****ing insane. Whatever nerve Rantar hit, it really lit up Arguz's pain receptors.

Yet, despite all the pain, the most reaction Arguz shows from the knife wound is a rapid twitch of his ratty mouth, sharp, carnivorous teeth rattling in fear and frustration as the ratfolk suddenly lurches from the wall and begins charging forward. Arguz is a ratfolk, the lowest of the low among the warrens. He will not simply accept defeat just because some higher-up assassin got a good stab off him!

Fast on his feet, and just as so with his wit, Arguz releases his bloody left hand from the wound and plunges a red, wet bullet into his pepperbox, cycling it to reload another barrel, before pressing it against the Oread's chest. Right then, Arguz could've fired; he probably should fire, yet instead keeps his bone-thin, dry ratty finger on the trigger as the ratfolk looks up at Rantar. "You... ain't bad," he says with a bit of a sneer; the pain and the wound being well enough to break Arguz's constructed persona. "So I'll give you a chance to speak an' maybe we can work out what you know about yer job-gone-bad... Or maybe I'll jus' blow out yer organs an' eat 'em fer lunch. Yer choice."

Yes, Arguz is pretty pissed.

Given he's still trying to talk big, the ratfolk begins with the questions while he only needs a millisecond to light up Rantar's chest. "So how 'bout you tell me 'bout this woman who hired you? An' while yer at it, lemme know what happened to all the girls that were there, 'cause they ain't there when the whole place went sky-high to hell."

Initiative 1: Lightning reload as a free action, move to Rantar's melee range as a move action, perform Intimidate as a standard action to see if Arguz can rinse out any information at gunpoint: [roll0]

Initiative 2: Reload again as a move action, Ready to shoot Rantar if he moves at all or tries drawing a weapon of any sort. Attack and damage rolls below should he trigger the attack. (though Arguz's attack still provokes an AoO since it's at melee range)

Attack roll: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll3]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll4]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll5] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll6]

[Capt. Infinity]

Rantar... Looks utterly flabbergasted.

The Oread, who had so far been stoic to the point of seeming bored, now showed prominent, if subdued emotion. His eyebrows, themselves merely lines of sapphire crystal, are raised in genuine surprise as he stares down at Arguz, looking the Ratfolk in the eye despite the pepperbox levelled at his chest.

"You... You should be dead." He speaks slowly, disbelief clear in his tone. "I hit a nerve cluster and a primary grouping of abdominal blood vessels. I sharpened my ki to a razor thin point sharp enough to cut hair lengthwise. You should be dead." He continues, his eyes belying a genuine sense of surprise.

This surprise, oddly enough, turns not into fear in the face of Arguz's threat and general menace. But into amusement.

He even laughs. A deep chuckle resonating throughout his body that gives way to a mild guffaw at, it would seem, the abject lunacy of what was just occurring.

"You really are something else, aren't you detective?" The stone man smiles, a level of levity that was uncomfortably dissonant to what was seen up till now colouring his tone of voice. "I'll admit it, you've earned my respect. It's not every day I see someone literally fall into my place of business, then proceed to slaughter two thirds of my men, before enduring a direct blow from one of my knives. They weren't kidding; you really are a cut above the rest. I guess being a Ratfolk means you always have the benefit of being underestimated, huh?"

At that exact moment, the three assassins that had run out to investigate the smoke across the way finally return, the fight within having been so lightning quick that they were only just now arriving. Before any of them can fully draw their guns, however, Rantar raises an open hand in a motion to stop them. "Hold your fire. This man is no longer our enemy. He is an acquaintance, at the very least." Rantar turns to Arguz. "Alright, Mr. Aijk, you have my aid. I'll tell you what I know."

Assuming Arguz lets him, Rantar will back off and sit calmly upon the pile of rubble beneath him, resting on a twisting of steel that roughly approximates a bench. He begins to explain. "Her name is Meela Senderhaven. She's a minor noble from Uptown. She contracted me and my men to sneak into the orphanage, silently kill the proprietress, and then open the doorway to let her in. From there, she handled it, using some kind of magical set of spectacles to pacify the children. It didn't work on all of them, but it convinced enough that the rest simply followed her without fuss." He shrugs at Arguz's second question. "I couldn't tell you why she did it. I was never given the details on the afterwards. I was just a means to get her what she wanted. What I DO know is that she had me guard the carriage carrying the girls all the way to a mine on the other side of Lowtown. It's a ways out, nearby Stonewood forest, off to the right of Tinderrock lane. She bid me farewell there, saying my services were no longer needed and giving me the location of her second half of the payment. If I had to guess, I'd say the girls are still there, though whether they'll remain there for long, I can't say. I think she inherited the lot recently from a relative, though I can't see her getting any more use out of it than as a temporary safehouse. The place has been abandoned for years." The Oread shrugs. "That's all I know. I hope it was worthwhile information to you. Whether or not it was worth a knife in the abdomen, I can't say."

Rantar eyes the Gunslinger's still-bleeding wound. "You might want to get that checked out. I'd be willing to offer you some light healing potions. Costing as much as I bought them for, naturally. You're only an acquaintance, after all. And I am definitely not a charity."

[Starsign]

Arguz doesn't pull his gun away from Rantar's chest as the oread goes from perplexed to laughing amusement. There must be something about oread culture that Arguz doesn't get if they think the capability to take punishment is a good way to earn their respect. Arguz knew the knife wound was bad but he hadn't realized just how much until Rantar pointed it out... Somewhat. Arguz is not an experienced biologist; he doesn't quite understand what some of the stuff about organs and the like are supposed to be. He can make a simple judgement based on "nerve" and "blood vessels," to which he imagines they are vitally frail areas which cause a lot of internal damage when ruptured.

"That's where you threw it? Well ain't that why it all hurts like hell," he says as the remaining three assassins from outside enter. It doesn't take long for Arguz to figure out his odds; he was good with getting his info then simply blowing away Rantar for what he did to Vel'thewenn. Now there's a few more of the assassin's thugs and of course the dagger in the ratfolk's abdomen.

Now Arguz is many things, including a big risk-taker, but he knows when to fold as well as to not kick a gifted horse in the mouth. So when Rantar makes his followers stand down, Arguz pulls his gun arm down at his side... slowly. He doesn't like this outcome but he ultimately doesn't choose death just to put two in-between the eyes of an assassin.

So the ratfolk listens to Rantar's explanation while now trying to stop the bleeding from the dagger wound. Arguz doesn't have a lot he can use to actually "heal" the injury outside of a human-sized handkerchief. He wraps the handkerchief around the dagger's dug-in blade, letting the cloth absorb the blood and quickly turning the brownish cloth into an ugly red color. He's certainly been stabbed before but... not quite as bloody as this.

"Meela? Yeah I heard 'bout 'er once or twice." Arguz responds to Rantar's explanation. The ratfolk no longer speaks with a sneer, though he still gives off an agitated and slightly distrusted look. Now he's in the kind of attitude that usually wears off quickly. "She's gotta lot of influence fer being some bastard child. Real deal-maker, that one." He was going to say more on the subject, stuff involving how Rantar possibly roped himself in on her "deal" with the orphanage. He holds off only on the concept that he's got no proof to make such accusations. Plenty of assumptions can be made but not accusations.

Still somewhat agitated over the highly-painful dagger wound, Arguz gives a nod and tries to sound appreciative towards Rantar. "Well that's a name an' a place. Damn more than what I got goin' in 'ere." He looks down at the dagger in him again. "A lot more." Actually having to pay for some damn potions from the guy who just tried to kill Arguz does not spring forth a positive attitude. On a personal level, he should simply tell off the oread and grab some from the Lowtown vendors on his way to the mine... in most circumstances. "Sounds like I gotta get over to that mine quickly. Alrigh', gimme a dozen of 'em potions; ain't gonna need 'em all but they're all gonna come useful down the road." Arguz keeps a pouch of his own gold for a reason, which thankfully didn't get cut open in the firefight. As he pulls out the pouch to pay, he hopes Rantar actually purchased these potions cheaply.

Again, don't kick a gifted horse in the mouth.

[Capt. Infinity]

Rantar nods as Arguz speaks, snapping his fingers towards one of his men once the Ratfolk mentions purchase. The goon runs off to a section of the warehouse, opening a box and removing a small milk crate full of pearlescent, pinkish-red liquid, handing it off to his boss, who sets them to one side.

Rantar, whilst clearly having listened whilst Arguz spoke, eyes his bleeding wound with mild... Annoyance?

"Oh for the love of- Take off your jacket, you're doing it wrong. Here-" The Oread hands off a roll of clean bandages to Arguz. "Take these. Rip a small portion off to mop up the blood as you carefully remove your jacket and shirt around the wound. Apply pressure to the surrounding area, then, in one swift motion, remove the knife whilst still applying pressure, and then down this potion immediately thereafter." He holds out one of the healing potions, ready for Arguz to take at the necessary step in the healing procedure. "After that, hold down the area with more ripped up bandage cloth, before wrapping a sizeable amount of the rest multiple times around your torso. Make sure it's tight. Healing potions may be magic, but wounds can still reopen."

Assuming Arguz follows the Oread's strangely well-informed directions, the wound is well treated and the bleeding stemmed, with the potion of Cure Light Wounds serving to stop the bleeding and going a great deal towards numbing the pain.

...In the wake of the likely astonishing amount of questioning looks from Arguz in response to all of this, Rantar chuckles yet again. "What? The best way to know how to break the body is to know how to heal it first. Followers of the Steel Serpent usually qualify as trained surgeons just as well as trained assassins come the apex of their training. After all, anatomy is anatomy. And knowledge thereof can be used for both great good, and great ill. Luckily for you, I chose to use it for the former, rather than the latter."

He hands over the rest of the crate to Arguz. "Stow the potions where you will. That'll be 120 gold. The bandages are on the house." He sighs, looking around at the carnage that has befallen his base of operations. "I think Adraena might've been talking sense after that job at Grand Gold. People like us should start having standards. Lest we end up in deep trouble for the sake of the petty whims of the upper class." He shrugs. "Best of luck on your journey, Mr. Aijk. I think my men and I have some serious thinking to do in regards to what jobs we should and shouldn't take in the future."

[Starsign]

There is a minor sense of confusion and a greater sense of embarrassment as Arguz is shown exactly how to help heal and patch the dagger wound he received. He lacked the supplies needed to properly help heal his wound; generally he lacks bandages on hand to fully and properly treat an injury of his... Even then, his method treatment is greatly lacking compared to the way that Rantar suggested, something Arguz quickly works with. The method may be a bit more complicated but the ratfolk can't argue with results. The hardest part of the whole thing was getting his jacket and shirt off, once again revealing his well-athletic body and prior old wounds, as he quickly removes the dagger in the swift, quick motion suggested (and boy did that also hurt). He resists groaning or grunting at the dagger pull, knowing full well that he really needs to keep that confident persona of his up. If he were at home or on his own, he'd be unable to resist making a few agonizing squeaks when pulling that well-aimed dagger out of his abdomen.

When all's said and done, the dagger wound is remarkably treated and the pain of it swiftly dulls. It's still leaving behind one hell of a scar, much like the one that Darguac gave the ratfolk from way back. It'll sure make for an impressive "trophy" to show off... sorta. Fahir may be a bit distraught by the injury and Mirrud might be shocked if he also notices where exactly the dagger tore through. It's still a very impressive scar and something Arguz is rather proud of now that the pain has dulled.

In general, the ratfolk is feeling a lot better now that he's not bleeding from a deep wound.

"Well that sure feels a hell'ova lot better," he says as he takes the crate of potions and pays up the 120 gold in exchange. Usual prices, nothing much to argue about. He'll certainly need some of these when he's done his case. The wound of his may be treated but it still took a lot out of him. Not going to be enough to stop him from the job of course; Meela made a big mistake if she never expected Arguz Aijk to come after her for her explosive "accomplishment."

The gunslinger gets his shirt and jacket back on, both having the obvious, razor-thin and wide hole which the dagger so-easily pierced through. He chuckles a bit himself as soon as Adraena is mentioned. "Hah, so that's how you know 'bout me. Who would've thought?" Arguz hadn't expected Rantar and Adraena to have known each other given they're from different groups, or at least Arguz assumes so. Neither Rantar or Adraena seem like a "follower" among whatever group they each are a part of; they're leaders, though quite brutally so. Feeling a bit better now, Arguz can't help but make a passing remark. "She's got a damn good grip, that's fer sure." He rubs his right shoulder slightly, giving the hint of what sort of wallop she had given him back then. "Guess you know 'nough 'bout her that I don't need to say, 'don't get 'er pissed off.'" He chuckles again, though lacking the same heart he had going into this wreckage of a place. Sure didn't turn out like he expected.

So with the case in his hands, about ready to take it back to his house should there be time, Arguz readies himself to head out of the warehouse, giving Rantar one last look and a rather neutral, "I'll be seein' ya," before making his leave. While feeling better in body and mind, Arguz still has the temptation to simply pour two into Rantar's skull over the murdered elf. It wouldn't have ended well for the ratfolk had he done it, given Rantar still had a trio of followers that was just returned, but it might have offered a bit more closure... if Arguz managed to get out of that alive anyway. For now he should be happy to have a target, a location, and a still-beating heart.

So long as he doesn't have to go far out of his way, it'll be time for him to drop these potions off at his small home, take a few for good measure, then scamper his way over to the mine as fast as he can.

[Capt. Infinity]

Rantar gives a slight chuckle at Arguz's response about Adraena. "Oh believe me, I know. The two of us have clashed a few times to be sure. Though, were it not for the mutually assured destruction on both ends, I think we would've ended up slinging a lot more than words on more than one occasion."

The goons move to the side as they allow Arguz to pass, the sidelong glance at their fellow assassin's corpses giving off enough indication that, whilst there is likely little more than brothers-in-arms pride at stake in letting the Ratfolk go, a mix of fear over defying their boss and genuine wariness of the small but well-talented Gunslinger keeps the lot of them firmly in check.

Rantar waves Arguz off, dusting his clothes clean as they can get in the soot-covered surroundings as he rises to his feet. "Oh I'm sure we will, Mr. Aijk. If you keep going at this rate, you'll see people the likes of me a lot more in your daily life." He shouts off as Arguz rounds the corner of his warehouse lair. "You've opened the floodgates to the black gears of Ferroveil, Arguz! And believe me, that's a pandora's box that can NEVER be closed again!"



The path to the mine was a surprisingly pleasant one, all things considered. Stonewood forest, whilst mostly contained within its offshoot island of the same namesake, did have a moderate bleed onto the mainland via its earthy tombolo connection, its trademark slate grey and craggy trees making their way a decent way beyond the island itself, before thinning away the closer you get to civilization. The area of spread of this thinned out semi-forest has decreased in recent years. With moderately successful logging companies selling the exceptionally tough wood for use in new housing, as well as the simple expansion of Lowtown slowly but steadily pushing back the natural aspects of the city further and further into its designated island.

All that being said, it was surprising how underdeveloped an area this mine was in. The last genuine place of industry was multiple miles back, and the last housing area was about a third of the way from there to here past that. As such, the winding offshoot path leading away from the already underused dirt road of Tinderrock lane was lined on both sides by a moderate density of the nominally named stonewood trees. The raw presence of nature only serving to further exacerbated how out-of-the-way the whole building feels.

The factory itself was very much similar in the vibe it gave off. The building itself was in disrepair, with several windows being broken, and the roof having caved in in certain areas. Whatever words were on the sign had deeply faded over multiple years of disuse, but the name "Senderhaven General Mining Co." is still just barely legible amongst the faded paint and vine-laced overgrowth that was slowly retaking the plant as a whole.

The building can't be less than a decade old, as its structure and design are clearly post-Steam Surge. But the surrounding nature had done well to take back as much of the area it could in a surprisingly short amount of time. The large double doors of the factory lay slightly ajar, with no motion or noise from within giving the indication that anyone yet remained inside the dilapidated building. At least as far as one could see on first glance.

Near as it seems, whatever made people abandon this mine, they did so rather quickly, as there are tools and other random objects strewn about the outside of the building.

There are carriage tracks leading towards the building, and enough disturbance of the ground leading into the building to imply several feet stamping the ground down in rapid sequence and tight order. The tracks look fresh.

It was hard to hear at first but, upon closer attention given, you can just barely hear the sound of gearwork and machinery chugging away inside. Perhaps a conveyor belt or minor elevator system.

[Starsign]

Being in Stonewood Forest, especially compared to Ferroveil, is something of a paradox of feeling very soothing yet very unnerving to Arguz. So deep in, the forest is a rather nice nature walk where there's no metal, no smokestacks, and no loud and dreary sounds of the city. It's rather relaxing. Yet at the same time, he's not too familiar with the forest. He knows the city pretty well, particularly Lowtown. He knows how Lowtown works, what makes it click, and how he can get his job done there. Here? There's no work for him and there's barely anything he recognizes. Sure his mother heads out here to gather herbs and leaves, which is how she made his wonderfully-designed coat, but he doesn't know the ins-and-outs of this place. He isn't in the most comfortable mood walking down to the mine.

This isn't helped by his knife wound. The potion helped but he got a dozen of them for a reason. By the time he got home for a few moments he decided to down half of them. Yes, healing potions taste bitter as hell and have the worst aftertaste a Warren-person can imagine but there is nothing that heals quite as quickly as that. The remaining potions he now has tied tightly with rope around his chain belt. He's still not feeling as well as he did this morning and might just need the rest of these pick-me-ups to get through the day.

The factory-ish mine however is a bit more familiar to him even if it is well, well out-of-place in the middle of the forest. Perhaps that's why the whole thing looks like what was left after a tornado stormed and a rampaging ogre stormed through it. Good place to hide people but boy does it looks in worse condition than a house in the Warrens and those look like they'd collapse to a stiff breeze.

Though given Arguz is still covered in ash and soot, he may as well look as bad as the Warren homes do.

Looking down with his analytical eyes and keen senses, Arguz quickly observes the carriage tracks which lead to the factory. Yep, this is the place and it certainly seems otherwise to be a very "empty" place

Which leaves him the question, does he go in guns blazing?

He did consider it before back when his infiltration into Rantar's hideout went spectacularly loud. He'd probably have an advantage if he kicked the doors down and began shooting up the place... On the other hand, he would've been in big trouble if he tried that at Rantar's place as he only dealt with two-thirds of his group. In addition the girls here, if they're still here, are hostages. One doesn't go on a rescue mission and then fire like mad expecting the hostages to be perfectly safe. So... no, the gunslinger can't actually do gunslinging without being discrete.

Feeling happy on his own, Arguz shrugs off the fact that he needs to be careful and begins approaching the factory carefully. There is no way he will walk through the front doors and think he can get through safely. His best bet is to enter through either the roof or a broken window though neither is preferable; the former may break under his light weight and the latter's likely to give him some bleeding hands for his trouble. The overgrown vines might give him enough height to make it to one of those entrances... though this time not to enter immediately but just to look through and get a look and listen inside.

He does this because just trying to sneak immediately in has not been working out for him these last couple weeks.

Took 10 on Perception for 21

[Capt. Infinity]

Arguz climbs the vine-covered side of the building with relative ease. The vines of the stonewood forest, much like the rest of its indigenous fauna, was much firmer, stronger, and more durable than its normal variants. It's stone-coloured and rocky-textured surface belying a form forever changed by the elemental energies inherent to the mystic isle that is Ferroveil.

Upon reaching the window, the young Ratfolk leans in to view a scene that, at least initially, seems devoid of motion. The whole building seemed dead, with more signs of abandonment and general overgrowth within as was without. The whole place looked like it was once a moderate ore refinery, breaking down the base minerals uncovered by the miners into more manageable chunks. However, upon closer inspection, signs of motion could be found. A singular piece of machinery was still active. A large bucket elevator, in equal amounts of disrepair as the rest of the building, but evidently still well enough in shape to properly operate, was ferrying large amounts of glistening rocks from what seemed to be the unknown depths from the mine below. Upon gazing further at the rocks in question, Arguz could just barely make out the unmistakeable glisten of various, myriad gemstones, all of which were offloaded by the elevator onto the ground level of the facility. The elevator was spitting these rocks in intermittent batches down a large funnel chute, evidently collecting them all inside another large, blocky machine. The machine looked to be some form of storage container/macerator, loading itself up with the minerals, and idling in standby until it was revved up, grinding away the valueless shale and stone until only the gemstones were to be poured out of a main square output funnel in the front.

All of this motion, whilst surprising, was not something you wouldn't necessarily expect in a facility such as this. As such, this familiar motion contrasted heavily with what was, in no uncertain terms, an almost alien sight of absolute stillness. There, stationed in almost the direct centre of the facility, and standing resolutely in front of what must be the transitory building surrounding the mine elevator itself, was what looked like a full-out knight in heavy armour. The humanoid shape was massive and bulky, six feet in height but broad shouldered and with an impressive physique. It was fashioned in its entirety out of bronze and iron alloy sheets, and all along its body and form, bronze and copper-alloy gears were present on it, jutting out at various joints and gaps in its heavy full-plate exterior. It stands motionless, holding a deathly silent vigil before the elevator building door, its gears motionless and still.

If you look veeeeeery closely, you can just barely make out the faintest motion of minor, internal gears, self winding one another in an apparent standby mode.

[Starsign]

Arguz stays as still as he can as he pokes his ratty nose, then his head, through the broken window. Looks all pretty standard for an abandoned factory... Wait, no some of it is active. A bucket elevator and some blocky machine? For what's supposed to be an ore refinery there's not much going on. It's just being used right now for gathering gemstones. What did Meela need gemstones for, money? That wouldn't make much sense as she couldn't be hurting for funds. She hired Rantar and there's no way he'd have paid anything less than a premium for an assassination. Perhaps this is how she makes her crazy deals? After all, Ferroveil is run partly through money and economic growth; with enough money you can make someone do anything... If Arguz has it right. That could still be very wrong since Meela is still "incredibly" wealthy.

He can figure out her motivations later. The motives of aristocrats in crime never have yet to make any sense to him. He, however, needs to focus on the children. Most likely they were taken here to work in the mine. Child labour isn't anything new to Ferroveil and not new to Arguz's family; outside of how young the Aijks are when they begin work, Fahir has told his older brother numerous times about the hard-working but tiring children who work at the manufacturing factory. Children having to work isn't something which bothers Arguz. Orphans being forced out of their home, which gets destroyed moments later, then stuck working down in the mine? That's a different story and one Arguz won't leave standing after all the effort Meela put into killing an elf and blowing up an orphanage.

So how is he supposed to get down? He sees two ways; the personnel elevator and the much-less usual bucket elevator. He'd march quickly to the former if it weren't for that large, armored figure in the way and if he didn't notice that the thing's gears are turning... turning slowly but turning nonetheless. That thing seems bulky enough that it can crush the smaller ratfolk simply by falling on him. He can probably shoot it until it breaks but a straight-up fight is probably going to alert anyone down below who can hear it. So his best plan is to get down quietly and the bucket elevator is his best bet.

Willing to stay silent and careful, Arguz sneaks through the broken window, tragically unable to avoid having to grab some of the broken glass and promptly cutting his bone-thin hands open, as he makes his way over to the bucket elevator. Getting on shouldn't be a problem; all he has to do it just use one of the buckets going down as a platform. Above all, he doesn't want to awaken the armored figure, lest he be known as the ratfolk who can't sneak into anything without immediately getting caught.

Let's make these checks!

Stealth: [roll0]
Acrobatics: [roll1] Really?

[Capt. Infinity]

Once again, it all started off so very well.

Arguz vaulted the window with little more than superficial cuts, and used the vines on the other end to climb down, consciously avoiding sunlight as he did so in order to remain hidden. Quick as can be, the Ratfolk scampered across the facility floor, dodging into and out of cover, and sticking to the side of the building and the shadows of machinery in order to avoid detection by the clockwork guard within the building.

It all seemed to be going so well. And Arguz needed only meager effort to remain hidden as he began shimmying up a pipe on the refinery machine adjacent to the bucket elevator, intent on stepping into it, and down to the depths below.

...Needless to say, the pipe had other plans.

About halfway up his climb, the long piece of metal tubing gave a great, prolonged *CREAK*, before wresting free of its moors and breaking off at the upper end, swinging downwards like a toppling tree, and taking Arguz down with it.

Arguz lands unceremoniously on the cold factory floor, the pipe having mercifully shifted enough not to leave him under it when it landed. Arguz narrowly had time to stand back up and dust himself off before the inevitable occurred straight after.

The Clockwork Soldier, up till now deathly silent and completely devoid of motion, suddenly whirrs into life in reaction to this sudden burst of sound and movement. The gears jutting out in the gaps in its armour suddenly spinning with intense effort and fervour as the construct almost instantly animates, turning to the Gunslinger who'd caused the noise with immediacy, and staring it down menacingly, despite its bare faceplate lacking anything in the way of eyes.

Evidently to Arguz, his reputation as the least stealthy stealthy Ratfolk wasn't one that was going to die here. Especially if he does so himself.

INITIATIVE TIME!

Clockwork Soldier: [roll0]

[Capt. Infinity]

The clockwork warrior covers the distance with shocking ease, rushing at Arguz with deep, weighted footsteps. Each one punctuated with loud resounding *thuds*, and the constant grinding of gears as it charges headlong at the Ratfolk intruder.

As soon as the combat automaton gets within range of Arguz, it swings its Halberd in a mighty arc, before attempting to bring it down in a mighty diagonal slash upon the Gunslinger before it.

Clockwork Soldier

Full Round Action: Charge at Arguz, striking him upon reaching melee range.

Attack Roll: [roll0]

Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll2]

[Starsign]

Well isn't this one for the history books.

Quiet area, barely anything moving, only one guard who was on standby. It'd take a dramatic twist of fate for Arguz to screw this up. And yet there he is, worn-down architecture failing him again as he barely avoids being crushed by the giant pipe he had been climbing. And just like that, the big, large armored clockwork thing bursts to life and storms the ground like it can plow through Lowtown in a straight line. There isn't a moment of composure on the ratfolk's face as his carnivorous mouth and eyes open up wide at the sight. It doesn't seem fast but the way Arguz is going most-likely leads to a dead end. Even then, this thing as a reminder can probably just plow through an entire city with its massive frame and weight; it'll probably chase Arguz to the ends of the island if he dares try.

So yes, now he's really glad he has an adamantine gun on hand.

Even against a thing that isn't sentient, Arguz quickly works his persona back up if only to help him regain his own composure. "Well, ain't you a big on-"

WHOA that thing swings fast!

Arguz's reflexes work only enough to avoid the mighty swinging arc of the halberd before the horizontal slash. The latter somewhat succeeds where the first one failed as it is brought down just as the ratfolk attempts sidestepping. A swing so fast and clean does not give any volatile or painful sound as it barely makes contact with Arguz's left shoulder and cuts down to the forearm; no sharp spurt nor a icky rupturing sound is heard as the halberd so easily leaves a notable, though not life-threatening slice on his upper arm. Whether under adrenaline or that the blow failed to make any critical wound, Arguz fails to notice any immediate pain as his ratty head simply glances over to notice the cut. Though his tail weaves and curls embarrassingly at the near-miss, the ratfolk comes out more alert than distressed.

"Oh, THAT'S how you wanna be!" Attempting to put on a quick smirk, Arguz leaps back a brief foot to just barely get outside the halberd's most comfortable reach. He did have something of an advantage with his ranged weapon, though he isn't exactly a long-distance sharpshooter... Actually, that wouldn't help much either as Arguz is of one, and only one thing in a shootout: close-quarters expert.

He left hand, bloody from both the glass and the dripping blood from the upper arm, grabs a quick bullet from his pouch as he fires off a pepperbox shot at the knight's swing arm to rattle and disorient it. "Well yer learnin' this too late but never bring a pole to a gun fight!" Immediately throwing a paradox in his own words, Arguz immediately dashes at the clockwork knight, putting the spare bullet in the barrel before plugging a shot right at the left half of the chest where the heart of a human should be. The disorienting of the first shot is strictly to help him avoid the thing's inevitable counterattack, as that halberd will hurt.

Initiative 1: Take a five-foot step back from the knight. Shoot at it normally; spend 1 grit for the Flash and Shock deed if this hits (in which case, Arguz has +4 AC to this thing's attacks until his next turn)

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll2]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll3]

Initiative 2: Lightning Reload. Run in and shoot at the knight, inevitably triggering an AoO from the attempt (and I'll get 1 grit from that)

Attack roll: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll8] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll9]

[Capt. Infinity]

The machine may be deaf to Arguz's witticisms, but his aim was a very different story.

The first shot rang true, the blast striking it in the shoulder joint, a spray of sparks and minor metal components following it indicating that the shot did sizeable damage, on top of throwing the armoured automaton's swings off-kilter. Said bad balance was displayed clearly when the machine whiffs on its retaliatory strike against the oncoming Ratfolk investigator.

The Clockwork Soldier is helpless in the face of Arguz's second shot, the blast getting between its armour plating and doing direct damage to its internal system. The mechanized warrior reels beck slightly, its chasis smoking from the entry wound but still stubbornly refusing to catch fire, by dint of the lack of flammable components struck within it.

The robot evidently had some degree of gyroscopic awareness as, in its assessment of its current situation, it does not attempt another haphazard swing at Arguz. And instead opts to attempt to grapple the foe before it, its bulky, three-fingered hand reaching out to get the smaller Ratfolk into a combat hold of sorts, despite the awkwardness of it refusing to let go of its halberd with both hands.

Clockwork Soldier

Standard Action: Attempt to grapple Arguz with one hand, inducing no attacks of opportunity, but taking a -4 penalty for the hindrance: [roll0] against Arguz's CMD.

[Starsign]

Watching the clockwork thing somewhat shake off his shots, Arguz keeps an eye on the knight's halberd as he expects a swift counterattack from the giant blade. His eyes however manage to catch a glimpse of the knight's arms as it very awkwardly reaches down to grab the ratfolk.

As it quickly finds out, it would have better luck if it tried skewering him instead.

Instead of letting himself be grabbed, the ratfolk makes an agile leap upwards, landing momentarily on the clockwork's outstretched arm as he cycles the barrel in his pepperbox. "Hah! Now yer bringin' yer fists to a gunfight?" Arguz's smile appears and widens as he aims his gun upward to shoot the clockwork figure in the... face? The front of its head is closest thing it has to one anyway, though if it were human, it'd be missing its left eye where Arguz fires lead and hot powder at.

Fully aware that he can't stand still, the gunslinger continues his agile movements by leaping up and performing a hurdling vault over the knight's shoulder, pressing against the shoulder with his left arm as his body leans to the side to get around and behind the figure; Jia did a good job teaching her older brother parkour tricks way back.

Moving behind the figure, Arguz gets his opportunity as he cycles his pepperbox again and takes another shot at the clockwork's lower torso, then reloading while it's still trying to turn around. The gunslinger has been firing all over this thing's body in this bout and for good reason; this thing has no vital points or weaknesses that organic creatures would have. "Now where the hell's yer heart an' brain in this thing?!" He's just guessing where this thing's weakest sections are; something has to be combustible inside this mechanical mess of a being!

Initiative 1: 5-foot step around to its side and shoot at it melee range. This triggers another AoO. Flash & Shock is also activated AFTER Arguz's shot. Regain 1 grit point from AoO.

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll2]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll3]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll4] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll5]

Initiative 2: 5-foot step from behind it, triggering another AoO (this one is affected by F&S). Lightning reload at the end.

Attack roll: [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll8]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll9]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll10] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll11]

[Capt. Infinity]

It was abundantly evident to Arguz at this point that this thing was built to LAST.

Despite its best efforts to thrust its bladed polearm at Arguz whilst the Ratfolk was perched on its arm, the first shot pierced the Clockwork Soldier's faceplate, lodging itself within its cranial space. But the creature evidently had some empowerment of design that let it ignore damage to a certain degree, as not only did the bullet not make a hasty exit out the back of the Soldier's head as it very well should have, but the creature kept going in the wake of it.

Even with a bullet lodged where its thought centre really should've been, the thing endures, clumsily attempting to grab at the Gunslinger as he flips past its shoulder and over to its backside.The second shot hits hard as well, the bullet ripping a hole in its back plating and creating a bright surge of sparks in the process in a massive cacophony of rending bronze and breaking gears.

And yet the creature stood. Arguz watches in abject terror as the metal creature turns to face him, the clockwork within it screeching and groaning in motion, despite the horrendous internal damage it has taken by this point. The clockwork menace rears up its halberd once more, getting ready for yet another flesh-ripping swing.

...And then the Clockwork Soldier explodes from within.

It seems that Arguz's final shot had at last burned its way into something flammable, as the Clockwork Soldier immediately began gushing out jets of hot fire from all the open joints in its body. The construct stands motionless for a moment, as if in awe at its own spectacular display of pyrotechnic combustion, before finally giving way to the reality of the situation. The creature creaks from within, the metal components of its body already warping as the fire overtakes it, before finally dropping its arms to its side and falling to its knees, its entire form screeching in a roar of twisted metal as it finally falls face-down in the dust-covered floor, utterly defeated.

Arguz stands there, triumphant, the wound in his arm only know beginning to gush with blood as his opponent lay slain, idly burning as only an oil fire can, smoke wafting up the various holes in the ceiling, and off into the blue sky above.

[Starsign]

Arguz covers his eyes using his right arm as the clockwork knight proceeds to spontaneously explodes from the numerous bursts of burning powder from Arguz's pepperbox. While the technical combustion could've been a lot worse, such as the whole figure exploding so violently that its whole body and parts scattered across the factory. Arguz should consider himself lucky for getting out of that as is, though the figure would've been significantly more dangerous had he been equipped with some sort of gun. Good thing it got off only a couple swings at the ratfolk.

...Oh yeah, one of them nicked him pretty well.

The ratfolk looks over his shoulder again to notice the bleeding wound on his left arm. "Good riddance to you," he mutters to the now-nonfunctional armored knight as he takes a seat down on the floor and pulls out the roll of bandages Rantar had given him earlier today. "An' good riddence to you," he spits out as he takes off his jacket and shirt again to start treating his slash wound. This one, thankfully, lacks a need to pull out a blade; instead he tries following some of Rantar's prior advice by using a bandage strip to mop up the dripping blood before applying pressure on the wound itself. He does his best wrapping the bandage around his arm to cover the wound before downing some more of the potions he brought along. They were all undamaged during the fight, designed quite nicely to endure the force of gravity when he fell from the pipe. With his exhaustion however, he finds himself taking almost all the rest of the ones he brought, leaving only one left for emergencies.

It's not really apparent he used that much until after he was down to his last one, looking around frantically and futilely for another. He then looks at the remaining potion tied to his bronze chain belt, muttering, "Well don't this jus' beat all. I better not become addicted to these damn things." Hell knows the last thing he needs is to treat potions like easily-bought alcohol.

Once his first aid is applied and his pepperbox reloaded, Arguz puts his shirt and coat back on, knowing he probably doesn't have a lot of time left, as he tries getting back up to the bucket elevator and take it down to the mines. In spite of his wounds, Arguz is quite pleased with himself. Provided he gets out of here he'll have a good track record. He got a lot of excitement, got a lot of battle, and is really making a name for himself with these sort of jobs. He also can't help but snicker quietly as he imagines himself going down via bucket elevator; won't all those below be in for a surprise!

[Capt. Infinity]

As it turns out, the only one in for any sort of surprise was Arguz himself.

It couldn't even be described as a smell, really. As whatever the hell was wafting out of the bucket elevator was technically odourless to humanoid senses. No, whatever wafting cloud entered Arguz's nostrils as he approached the bucket elevator was felt. Almost immediately upon getting within the last five feet of the bucket elevator's entrance, Arguz's nasal cavity suddenly burned with a horrific intensity, a feeling of pain and nauseating stupor that quickly spread to his lungs, and then his entire body from there.

The feeling was that of injury first and foremost, with an acrid burning sensation striking the Ratfolk's nose and mouth, staggering him backwards as the somewhat familiar metallic taste of blood fills his upper senses. Next came a sudden wave of nausea. A feeling of deep visceral sickness that left the whole world spinning slightly, and threatened to force the young Gunslinger to pause in order to vacate his stomach of the recently consumed (if now nonmagical) contents of the healing potions he had just recently quaffed.

Arguz takes [roll0] acid damage and is sickened for 1 round. There's no threat, so this is just flavour, with the round counting as 6 seconds of feeling absolutely terrible inside.

Also, Arguz must roll a DC 18 Fortitude save to not be nauseated, spending one full round vomited and dry heaving from sheer nausea, incapable of acting in that round, on top of everything else. This is a Poison effect, and thus Arguz gains a +2 on the roll.

He can tell that whatever's doing this is some form of gas emanating from the holes into the mine which the bucket elevators lead down into.

[Starsign]

Sometimes the Warrens have been described by Uptowners in the absolute worst of ways. Some aristocrats have taken either a look at the place itself, and never for long, or heard about it from newspapers, and quickly proceeded to give the place very wonderful descriptions; these include, "a crass hole of pestilence," and "an acidic plague which bleeds away at your nostrils," and of course, "the junkyard whose scent corrodes your brain and obliterates the appetite and mentality of any stomach." There are many many other descriptions of course but all the smell-related ones are the ones Arguz recalls the most.

If only because those perfectly describe the **** that poured into him.

Clutching his stomach with his right hand, Arguz desperately holds on to keep himself from vomiting up in an embarrassingly sickening fashion; his experience in the Warrens has helped him with sickeningly poisonous effects but he's not used to this. He isn't sure what's worse, the horrid stench or the internal bleeding that it was causing; neither are sufficiently destructive in the long-term but it is the worst thing he has ever had to deal with. Where is this machine getting all these rocks and gemstones from, Hell itself? The Plane of Earth? Wherever it is, it's an utterly unlivable place. He figured before that the kidnapped girls had been brought down there to mine the rocks into the barrels... but with that smelly plague? They wouldn't survive at all. They gotta be somewhere else down in the mine.

Taking a few moments to compose himself and get over the sickening stench, Arguz slowly climbs his way down back to the ground level of the factory before moving to the personnel elevator. He didn't exactly get any "fresh air" given the factory is dusty and dark and overly unpleasant but it's still enough to clear up the ratfolk's nostrils. He's lived in the Warrens long enough that mostly bad breathing conditions don't bother him, only abominably bad.

He's not going to surprise those down below going this way, though he should be happy to just be going down in the first place. Hopefully the conditions down there aren't as bad as it is at the bottom of the bucket elevator. Just in case, he looks around in and just outside the personnel elevator in case of containment or protection suits. Yes they're tacky and bulky and needlessly frustrating to wear but they exist for a reason.

[Capt. Infinity]

The waystation room Arguz enters is spartan in it's appearance. To the left there lies a wall of various spare mining tools. Belts, pickaxes, headlamps, and torches line the wall, hanging off various hooks. To the right there lies a desk, with an old and worn chair to one side. On top of the desk are several writing implements and a large map, seemingly of the mine, with a candle burnt out near one corner of it.

Sure enough, just as Arguz thought, there lays to one side of the desk a long rectangular box. The box lays open, with a soft cushioned lower layer bearing two spots for holding what appears to be gas masks. The left spot, which seems to have once held a smaller, newer model, is missing. But the right spot still contains a more standard-issue model of full-face gas mask, with a wide, lengthened, and malleable face section, seemingly so as to allow for a wide array of humanoid faces to fit around it with relative ease.

Assuming Arguz takes the gas mask, the next thing he'd notice is the elevator itself. The thing was a massive construct of steel and machinery, easily reaching up past the ceiling of the 10'x10' room it was stationed in. It was incredibly large, and bore a large floor area, likely to accommodate the throngs of miners who once went down it in large shifts every day. The doors, which were a standard sliding grate design, meant to absolutely assure nobody could get past the threshold without considerable effort, lay closed. And it was now that an issue presented itself clearly.

The elevator was already called down.

Even if nobody had noticed Arguz's skirmish with the Clockwork Soldier earlier, they would almost CERTAINLY notice the primary lift for the mine suddenly being called down by an entity with FAR more self-awareness than that hulking machine ever had.

Arguz was left with a few options. But at least he now had a means of surviving the gas. And that perhaps made the choice a touch easier of one to make.

[Starsign]

Arguz doesn't exactly find a full-face gas mask the best thing he can have. Sure it's a lot better than some other gear he could find but it isn't something that'll cover his entire body. Who knows what lies at the bottom of either elevator? It is exciting in a way to delve into the unknown but he's pretty well aware when he may be going into something that he may not be able to survive in. Doesn't stop him from immediately putting on the gas mask however. For safety he also looks at the rips and tears made in his coat, some more significant than others, and proceeds to try covering up those open spots with bandages. To make sure he has his whole body covered, the ratfolk puts on a small pair of mining gloves and boots, leaving his wooden sandals on the factory floor. Finally, and perhaps the most uncomfortable part, he gets his ratty tail tucked into his pants and seals up the small hole it had stuck out of with a small bandage strip. With this he's well-covered and protected from the intense, awful smell and whatever else lies down there.

Miner gear, however, was not built with comfort in mind.

It has to be stated how bulky his mask and gloves/boots feels. The mask itself doesn't feel well-suited for someone as small as a ratfolk, having to tighten the mask enough so that it doesn't have any leaks. In addition his gloves and boots weigh him down significantly compared to the bare hands and wooden sandals he wore before. Attempting any acrobatic feats in this gear will take some incredible effort. In addition the gear is so warm. While Ferroveil's warrens can always be a bit uncomfortably warm, the mask, gloves and boots feel incredibly sweaty after a couple minutes. If he wasn't playing it safe, he'd not bother with the gloves or boots... but he really should be safe after that whiff he took next to the bucket elevator.

There's also the issue that the elevator is currently called down, meaning when he goes down he will undeniably be captured (at best) in a hurry. He's screwed up stealth a number of times before but that doesn't mean that he should simply forget it and literally run towards danger... even if he does feel like he's been better off going guns blazing.

Which means his best choice, tragedy aside, is the bucket elevator.

There is a mild shrug on the fully-covered ratfolk as he mutters, "Jus' took a bit of preparation. Hope the girls ain't scared of me when they see this." His voice filters poorly from the gas mask as he looks down at his rather ridiculous setup. Aware, somewhat, of the consequences the ratfolk climbs back up to the bucket elevator. He makes sure his body is fully protected before his descent down on one of the buckets... and hopefully doesn't get burned to ashes in the process.

[Capt. Infinity]

Fully decked out in protective gear, Arguz smells and feels nothing in the way of invasive gases as he descends the bucket elevator into the dark depths below. Nothing in the much of ANYTHING, really, as the long, slow motion of the bucket elevator spends multiple minutes in absolute darkness as it plunges the hundreds of feet down before finally reaching the mining floor proper.

The light in the cavern, while dismal, is more than enough for Arguz to see the situation. Especially after so long in the dark. As the Ratfolk descends, he can look down to see the utterly baffling sight of the kidnapped girls beneath him. Now, the girls being present wasn't what was baffling, that was expected. What was baffling was the fact that none of them, not a one, was wearing any protective wear to speak of. What's more, they didn't really seem that affected by it. They didn't exactly look like they were in the best of shape, but that was likely more so due to their physical circumstance than any apparent poisonous gas.

The girls were all seemingly drudging through a mining operation all their own. Their miserable faces were plastered with sweat and grime as all across the cavern they could be seen swinging picks into the rock face, cracking down upon the walls. Walls which were covered in various places by pockets and veins of valuable gemstones.

You didn't see it before but, given the circumstance and with lanterns glinting off it, you can now see that there appeared to be some sort of dark grey, shimmering metal rimming the gemstones in various places. A colour not to dissimilar from the colour of the adamantine pepperbox holstered at this very moment within your coat.

They looked as if they hadn't had a moment's rest since they'd arrived earlier in the day. And, judging by the terrible excuse for a series of sleeping bags off to one corner, and an empty stew cauldron beside that, it looks like they wouldn't have truly gotten one for the foreseeable future.

This conga line of slave labour was seemingly facilitated by the clockwork machinations guarding and keeping watch over the operation. Different from the previous Clockwork Soldier, these two automatons walked on three legs, and bore four arms equipped with a wide variety of maintenance tools, as well as what seemed to be a net launcher of some kind attached to one of their shoulders.

Image Link (http://www.killershrike.com/Fate/Fae/Pathfinder/Content/Characters/Constructs/ClockworkServant/ClockworkServant.jpg)

The clockwork machines appeared to be standing vigil over the girls, assuring their continued work in gathering the ore, dropping it onto a conveyer belt were it was stored in a transfer hatch, before being dumped out into the next oncoming bucket in the elevator.

Behind them, there was a small uplifted metal waystation surrounding what appeared to be the final endpoint for the personnel elevator. The waystation had a large glass window along the front wall looking out onto the working girls, with the clear visage of a tall woman with short, raven black hair, and dressed in a maroon, ankle-length dress standing proud before it. The woman was wearing an eyepatch over her left eye, though that didn't stop her watching on with intent and enthusiasm with her one remaining oculus. An emerald gaze sweeping over the crowd of enslaved orphan girls, so caught up in them that neither she nor her servants noticed Arguz as his bucket of choice finally reaches ground level.

Surprise Round! You have a full round of action to use as you please. Have at it!

[Starsign]

Relatively speaking, Arguz is glad that the bucket is big enough for him to somewhat-hide in. Going down the bucket elevator lets him get a good, long look at the mine below and the activity within. He's only partially surprised at the appearance of the young girls; of course Meela needs labor for whatever objective she has in the mines; of course girls from the orphanage would make for excellent slaves that no one would miss. It's completely insane however that they aren't wearing protection. Arguz couldn't stand this stench for a second and he grew up in the warrens. So how are they... uh, alive? There has to have been some chemical experiment involved.

More distressingly are the other clockwork figures. After dealing with one that has a giant halberd, the gunslinger has had enough mechanical warriors for one life. Now these ones probably can't do much more than pluck him with their maintenance tools but those net launchers are a big concern; any daring adventurer knows you're a dead man when you can't move; those have to go.

Aside from that however, he has a few options on where to go with this... but he should really find out about what Meela did to those girls and as much as Arguz would like to believe, the eyepatch woman behind the glass is not Meela; the diary described her as having a hood with unique glasses. This other woman however can potentially shed some light on the situation... when Arguz manages to get all the way there.

For now he's stuck having to make a long trek from the bucket elevator that he just got off of, landing on the rough and uneven stone ground of the mine as he quickly darts to the shadows. Though really, this place is abysmal; he very well well walk around casually and still not get spotted. No sense in that however. Instead he needs to get himself in a better position, inching slowly towards the two clockwork figures while avoiding detection. Oh he's going to go loud, no doubt about that and the small, fearless smile beneath Arguz's full-face mask says it all. The anticipation of surprising your opponent and immediately taking them down is as exhilarating as a long and loud shootout.

The opener is all about positioning, being in the absolute best place to deliver the first blow. The ratfolk failed to get the drop on Rantar and the halberd knight before... something Jia no doubt will chide him on when she hears that; he's not going to botch it a third time.

Surprise round in which... Arguz doesn't do much. :smallredface::smalltongue:

He will start moving closer to the two clockwork knights as a move action and will try to stay out of sight as his Standard. Next round though, it's going to get a lot more exciting.

Stealth: [roll0]

EDIT: Oh yeah, here's my Perception roll (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=21124598&postcount=79).

[Capt. Infinity]

Arguz may as well have been invisible for how stealthily he moved, and the robotic servitors had not chance in hell of noticing the leather-clad Ratfolk as he skulked around the dismal corners of the room.

There was a brief disturbance when one of the younger girls, a small, blond girl with a sickly pale complexion, began coughing up a storm, stopping dead in her tracks to do so. Many of the girls began moving over to aid her and calm her down, causing a disturbance in the process. One of the automatons moves in to intercept the ruckus, and a female voice blares over the intercom, almost assuredly the woman within the waystation.

"Step away from the girl and get back to work. She can do the same once she's over the coughing fit. Which she WILL do if she knows what's good for her." The sultry tone threatens over the primitive amplification system. The crowd disseminates in response, with the clockwork creature looking curiously at the still-coughing girl.

Suddenly, the blond child abruptly stops coughing, turning to her right and shouting at the top of her lungs. "Zivalia! Now!"

Far to one side, near the front of the now backed-off girls, an older child steps forward. She has greyish blue skin, though not sickly in tone, and bears a crown of four slick black horns and two curling ones at her temples. She steps forward and growls at her robotic oppressors, a slim and prehensile tail swishing angrily behind her.

"Eat THIS, you bucket of bolts!" She shouts, before waving her hands in an esoteric fashion whilst mumbling some odd, foreign phrase, and then jutting out one hand to release two shimmering bolts of bright white energy, which crash into the inspecting automaton with mystic force, sparks flying in the process.

Evidently, if Arguz wasn't going to make noise, someone was going to make it for him.

If you ain't gonna do much, she will! :smalltongue:

Zivalia

Standard Action: Cast Magic Missile to hit the robot that's closer to her, but a move action away from Arguz's first range increment. Dealing [roll0] damage.

Once again, Arguz has a surprise round, everyone is flat footed to him.

[Starsign]

As a ratfolk, and a gunslinger at that, Arguz knows when to and when not to get into trouble. Usually his job requires the former as there's almost always something that needs a bullet or a barrel pressed against one's back. However he knows when to avoid or minimize needless conflict... when things go his way of course. Now however finally seems like a point when he's actually capable of pulling the opening shot and gaining a full-fledged advantage against his opponent. Really, he's got the shot just about lined up at the clockwork figures' net launchers. Get those out of the way and hopefully they are left harmless. Maintenance tools can't be that dangerous. He just needs to make the first shot count and-

...Wait, did one of the girls just fire energy at a clockwork?

The ratfolk's immediate reaction is relief over the sudden action. Sure he doesn't like having his spotlight taken from him but when it comes down to it, having an ally around is better than going it alone. Besides, he can still show himself off as the leading man.

Taking the opportunity, Arguz suddenly leaps out from the rock he used as cover, planting his left foot down on it, as he aims and fires off an accurate shot at the nearby clockwork soldier. He cycles the barrel of his pepperbox again, starting to perform his one-handed trick quickly ever since trying it out on Rantar, before aiming at the other net launcher and firing at that as well.

This also means the girls get a good look at Arguz... somewhat. The only thing arguably recognizable about him is his coat and pepperbox gun; everything else about him is covered by the gas mask, the gloves and the boots. He might not even be a ratfolk to the girls and might just come off as a dwarf or a gnome or, of all the damned things, a child. He'd have to dramatically show them who he is when they all get out of here.

"Alright! C'mon!" Arguz calls out to the other girls, expecting his gunfire at the clockworks had won their favor. "You all look fer a place to hide or ride on outta 'ere." There is a tone of confidence and enjoyment in his voice, though both that and his warren-ridden accent is slightly masked under the gas mask's filter. "I'm gonna clean out the whole place fer yer sakes, so jus' stay safe an' stay alive!"

There's a brief pause in the midst of reloading as Arguz looks at the one courageous girl who launched out energy; the one with horns and blue skin that makes her seem like some sort of tiefling; that's the best guess he's got. "Wait, not you; Zivalia, was it? You got some real guts taking these on. Could use yer help if yer willing." He doesn't consider that asking a child to help in battle is an extremely dangerous thing. Part of this though is him thinking that he can defend her as needed. She lacks armor but he has that; she has no experience but he has a lot. He can be a shield for the innocent when needed... just not a long-lasting one.

Here we go! Initiative 1: Called shot on the left Clockwork's net launcher.
Attack roll: [roll0] EDIT: Should be 21 due to this being a Tricky called shot.
Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll2]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll3]

Initiative 2: Called shot on the other Clockwork's net launcher. Lightning reload after.
Attack roll: [roll4] EDIT: Should be 17 due to this being a Tricky called shot.
Damage: [roll5]

Possible Crit Confirm: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]

[Capt. Infinity]

Evidently, the robotic servants were maintenance machines first, and combatants second, as the ease with which their primary assault weapons were dispatched made clear.

Both shots made their mark cleanly, the bullets tearing a hole straight through their respective net launchers, the entangling cannons exploding in a bright shower of sparks which sear the side of the machines they were attached too.

The girls, astonished at the sudden heightening of the stakes, but desperately optimistic at the seeming helpfulness of this strange, lowtown-accented being that appeared, do their best to get out of the way.

Zivalia looks at Arguz with wide eyes, glancing between the crippled Clockwork Servants before looking back at the Gunslinger responsible. Her face hardens and she nods towards him, backing off immediately thereafter. "I'll cover you! I've only got a couple shots left, but they always make their mark!" The Tiefling shouts, before launching another two blasts at the machination before her.

Suddenly, the little blonde girl from earlier breaks from the pack, rushing up to Zivalia and hugging her from behind, seeming to hide behind her despite already putting herself in harm's way. Zivalia looks behind her in surprise. "Arina! What are you doing? You already helped, you don't have to put yourself in danger!"

"No!" The little girl named Arina exclaims. "I can help! You know I can! I'm here if anything happens, I promise!"

The Tiefling looks surprised, then confident. "Alright... But stay behind me. This could get rough!" The fiend-touched girl growls, just as one of the attacking machines moves up to strike her. The servitor swings, attempting to bludgeon the girl with one of its tool arms, though as it does so, a phantasmal shield rises up in defence of Zivalia, attempting to mitigate the blow.

The second machine, the one closer to Arguz, turns to stare down the geared-out Ratfolk with its eyeless gaze, before rushing him and making it's own swing.

From behind the glass viewport, the woman scowls, shouting over the intercom. "What the hell- Who do you think you are you little... Gnome? Halfling? Some kind of Goblin- Oh whatever! You are NOT getting away with this! Take him down!" She orders, a bit away from the microphone towards an unseen entity behind her, violently gesturing towards the door.

Sure enough, immediately after the order, the door to the waystation bursts open, swinging out wildly to reveal the imposing armoured visage of yet another Clockwork Soldier, halberd in hand, ready to fight.

Upon seeing Arguz, its gears rev up, the creature kicking up rocks as it barrels towards the Ratfolk Gunslinger, swinging sideways with its axehead polearm in an attempt to cut into the meaty flesh beneath his armoured coat.

Zivalia

Move Action: Move Back a bit.

Standard Action: Magic Missile Again for [roll0] damage.

Arina

Move Action: Run up to Zivalia.

Free Action: Be a hero in her own right.

Clockwork Servant 1

Move Action: Move up to Arguz.

Standard Action: Swing ineffectually at him.

Attack Roll (DC 32): [roll1] Sweet bejeezus he actually hits :smalleek:

Damage: [roll2]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll3]

Clockwork Servant 2

Move Action: Move up to Zivalia.

Standard Action: Swing slightly less ineffectually at her.

Attack Roll (DC 23): [roll4] This guy, however, doesn't. Miss

Damage: [roll5]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll6]

Clockwork Soldier

Move Action: For the sake of action/my own convenience, I'll say he makes it to Arguz in one Move Action. (I really hope that isn't too cheesy :smallredface:)

Standard Action: Swing at Arguz:

Attack Roll (DC 32): [roll7] OH MY GOD THEY BOTH CRIT :smalleek: :smallcool: :smalleek:

Damage: [roll8]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll9]

Mystery Villain Lady

Continue to be mysterious, villainous, and a lady.

[Starsign]

If only this clockwork soldier was like the last...

Arguz had never expected another knight down here. He kinda figured that they'd put their slowest and strongest clockwork up above to guarantee that no one would try to come in or out. He was terribly wrong on that count. His legs also failed him for a brief, yet critical moment as he is suddenly rushed at by one of the maintenance bots. The ratfolk's knees swing the wrong way as his head collides with the bot's mechanical claw-like hand like a hammer. The hand however is not exactly a weapon to attack with and though it nailed his head, it's nothing like being hacked or slashed by a blade.

Which is exactly what the clockwork knight does to him right after.

The first blow staggered Arguz, knocking the upper-half of his body back as he twists his body around to keep himself from falling over. This leaves him vulnerable for a brief moment as the ratfolk is simply only able to hear the kicking up of rocks as he tries orienting himself up right. Just then there is a loud swing and the feeling of a steel blade crashing into the upper-half of Arguz's back, tearing through the armored coat and drilling the sharp end into the ratfolk's black fur and muscles. He gives a loud, squeaky yell of pain as he is thrown forward towards the rocky ground. He can't feel the wound with his hand nor can he see it, but he knows it's there; he knows that knight got a good chop off on his back, even if he can't tell how bad it is. That wound isn't going away until he treats it but these knights aren't going away either until he crushes them.

The ratfolk quickly, though painfully gets up from the floor, hunched over as he looks back to the clockwork knight that had struck his back. Beneath his gas mask he gives off the closest thing a ratfolk can get to a death glare; one doesn't really tick Arguz off until they've given him quite the wound. A moment to breathe, or breath staggeringly in this case, is all he needs to get himself back focused as he eyes over Zivalia... Oh great, and someone else who has no apparent away of fighting.

Arguz does his best to not appear crippled, easier than usual given his gas mask, as he fully reloads his pepperbox before waving towards Arina. "Hey, you wanna be helpful! Grab one of 'em launchers an' see if you can fire it at these things!" The ratfolk keeps his confident composure as much as possible but he hasn't taken a long time to consider whether his idea is actually sound; it'd put Arina in more danger and he doesn't know if those net launchers still work.

He's given little time to think however as, knowing he's making a huge risk, he launches himself at the knight and attempts repeating how he did in the knight from above. He fires a mighty, point-blank shot at the figure's shoulder arm to throw off its aim, cycles the barrel, then fires point-blank at the thing's torso. Delivering a quick destruction to the halberd knight is crucial if Arguz or any of the girls want to get out of this alive.

Alright, since we're in melee range already... Initiative 1: Lightning Reload, Fire at the clockwork knight (triggering an AoO and giving Arguz 1 grit point). Using Flash & Shock to get +4 to Arguz's AC against it:
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll3] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll4]

Initiative 2: Same thing, minus the AoO (presumably), the grit point, and F&S being used.
Attack roll: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll8] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll9]

[Capt. Infinity]

The twin bullets ripped their respective holes through the Clockwork Soldier with relative ease. Both blasts were punctuated with showers of sparks and a sudden spray of small clockwork pieces into the area behind it, just barely managing to hamper its counter-swing to cause a miss. The Clockwork Servant doesn't even get an honourable mention.

The metal warrior staggers backwards, electrical sparks popping from its wounds, momentarily stunned at the amount of raw damage that it had taken in one go.

Zivalia gives Arguz a look of raw confusion and disbelief on Arina's behalf. "What are you, crazy? Arina can't fight! She's 14 and has chronic physical weakness!" The Tiefling looks incredulously at the cloth-covered Ratfolk, but the girl behind her gives a much softer look.

B-but I can help in other ways! I have magic too! Get behind me and I can heal you!" The blonde human girl chimes hurriedly, before getting behind her Tiefling friend, who fires off another arcane bolt at the maintenance machine before her, who yet again takes its own swing at the budding Sorcerer.

The constructs surrounding Arguz rare up once more for a strike, the soldier gathering its bearings just in time to swing out at the Gunslinger twice more, just as the servant gets ready to make a hopefully-not-futile swing of its own.

Assume Arina and Zivalia are back-pedalling every round as a 5-foot-step, just for the sake of rules completion.

Arina

Standard Action: Ready an action to heal Arguz with a CLW. If he does get beside her, here's the roll: [roll0]

Zivalia

Magic Missile!

Damage: [roll1]

Clockwork Servant 1

Standard Action: Attack Arguz.

Attack (DC 36): [roll2]

Damage: [roll3]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll4]

Clockwork Servant 2

Standard Action: Attack Zivalia.

Attack (DC 23): [roll5]

Damage: [roll6]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll7]

Clockwork Soldier

Full-Attack Action: Attack Arguz.

Attack 1 (DC 36): [roll8]

Damage: [roll9]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll10]

Attack 2 (DC 36): [roll11]

Damage: [roll12]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll13]

[Starsign]

Running with adrenaline and spirit, Arguz makes quick, sweeping weaves to avoid the clockwork soldier's wide-reaching swings. While his small size lets him lean down or crouch easily to avoid horizontal swings, the soldier's swing speed still can't be understated even when its sword. It's halberd swings just flies over Arguz's ratty head, still covered by the full-face gas mask. The servant, on the other hand, has no luck coming close to hitting Arguz again as it's claw-like hand swings wide at empty air.

The ratfolk has some difficulty trying to listen in on what the girls are saying as he avoids getting yet another mark on his fur-covered body. Instead he finds a very very brief respite to respond to Zivalia's large retort, though he doesn't have much to say except, "She's got what?!" He's never heard of chronic physical weakness before, and in fact can't recall the last time he's heard the word, "chronic" before; to the ratfolk that word may be gibberish. He gets the rest at least; frail and fragile, don't let her do any heavy work... Well at least she can heal; just now is a bad time when the ratfolk is surrounded and taking the heat of the clockwork figures.

Well aware that he's the only thing standing between the girls and the clockwork soldier, Arguz keeps himself from moving around or behind the clockwork knight and instead maneuvers himself to try and block the knight's movement as best as he can. He quickly reloads one of his barrels before delivering another delivery of two bullets and hot powder at the knight's torso. He can already see specks of fire from the small holes made in the figure; probably not going to take much more to blow it to hell.

Confident enough that it's staggered, Arguz turns his head away from the knight to look back at Zivalia and Arina... Well mostly Zivalia since she can actually fight. "Alright, if you got one more of those magic things, fire 'em at that," he shakes his pepperbox towards the knight, "An' I'll take care of the rest!" His words imply a lot of confidence in his abilities, though for good reason. These clockwork fixers can't swing to save their life outside of that lucky shot and the knight, if it's anything like the last one, can't have much more left in it. Once they're taken care of... actually he'll worry about that later.

Initiative 1: Move 5-feet to try and put Arguz in front of the knight but also in the way between the knight and the girls. Shooting at the knight in melee (triggers AoO and grit point) and using F&S to get +4 AC against the knight's attacks.
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll3] Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll4]

Initiative 2: Same thing on the clockwork knight, except without F&S since Arguz did that last round. Lightning Reload afterward.
Attack roll: [roll5] Ooh YES!
Damage: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll8] Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll9]

[Capt. Infinity]

There is a rather large degree of mysticism to steam tech in the modern world.

Oh sure, it's become commonplace. Especially in a city as modern as Ferroveil. But that doesn't stop the general citizenry, from the poorest drifter to the richest noble, from viewing the bronze plated chassis and clockwork mechanism of the modern machinery in every factory and street corner as a thing of nigh-incomprehensible power.

As such, there is more than a small degree of myth surrounding the very concept of steam-powered machines. Stories of them shooting gouts of hot steam apropos of nothing, making odd noises that mean this that or the other thing, and the more than popular fear that, if you hit it hard enough in just the right place, any clockwork mechanism was liable to just plain explode right in front of you.

And honestly? Given recent circumstance, Arguz would have very little empirical evidence to disagree with them.

The Clockwork Soldier's torso caves in slightly as the second bullet from Arguz's pepperbox causes the back of the bipedal weapon to burst outward, a massive gout of steam following alongside a loud *BANG* as a ginormous exit wound of heat-curled steel plate vents out what must've been several important and vital cogs and gears.

The construct steps backward slightly, grabbing at its torso, almost as if the unfeeling machine itself was in shock and pain at the raw structural integrity damage it had just received. The entire soldier's body jittered and shook, jets of steam shooting out of every available crevice in its form as the violent vibrations of its entire form grew to such a great degree that screw, bolts, and several small components began shaking off its body, falling to the floor in a pitter-patter of self-destruction.

A sound like a hot kettle boiling could be heard from the Clockwork Soldier as its shaking grew to a fever pitch, and its clattering a clanging finally came to an absolute end with a small, uncharacteristic *DING*, before finally and completely destroying itself in a MASSIVE pyrotechnic explosion. Jets of steam and flame accompany a slurry of scalding hot, high-speed projectiles as what was once a mighty clockwork machine suddenly and rapidly becomes a lightly burning, smoking wreck.


"...Uh. No thanks. I think you're good."

"That was AWESOME!!!"

The two girls suddenly remember where they are, and take another step back before Zivalia sets about firing yet another blast of arcane energy straight at their opponent. Hoping that this one, her last, would be enough to do it in.

The two Clockwork Servants... Try. And really, after all that just happened, that's really all they can do.

Elsewhere in the waystation, the voice chimes in once again.

"B-but that- You can't- That thing cost- WHO ARE YOU!? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!? And, most importantly, WHY ARE YOU RUINING MY PLANS!?!?

Huh... I guess constructs CAN take Massive Damage if you try hard enough. :smalleek: :smallcool:

Zivalia

Magic Missile!!!: [roll0]

Clockwork Servant 1

Attack Arguz:

Attack (DC Needsacrit): [roll1]

Damage: [roll2]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll3]

Clockwork Servant 2

Attack Zivalia:

Attack (DC 23): [roll4]

Damage: [roll5]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll6]

Mysterious Voice

Have her own little personal meltdown.

[Starsign]

It's almost comical how the timing works out. Arguz put two more in the knight then turned to the girls as if expecting the knight to merely stagger away. It's when he turns back that he notices the jet steam bursts, the falling pieces and the rampant embers that overtake the clockwork knight. The ratfolk's surprised expression fails to capture the eyes of others as his full-face gas mask gives him a silent statue-ish look as he witnesses the knight quite literally falling apart. His mind is all of one thought:

Well ain't that a rat's tail up my ass!

His feet immediately slam down on the rocky ground as his body jolts and dives away from the now-exploding clockwork knight, throwing himself away from the worst of the pyrotechnics as the gears and metallic bits fly over his prone body; the steam and flame that burst out merely char the back of his clothing a light "dark" color, though doing nothing to help his still-untreated hack wound on his back. Some pain aside, he ended up coming off remarkably better than he could have; another direct attack from that halberd would have been heavily crippling and he's been thrown through the ringer as is!

The ratfolk shakes off the explosion, literally for his head as he violently shakes it side-to-side to get himself back into focus, as he looks to his side and noticing one of the clockwork servents coming to bring down one of its thin, lousy arms at his head... which went about as well as you'd expect.

"Hah, you think that's one of those, once-in-a-lifetime sorta things?" The fully-covered ratfolk swiftly pushes his arms down on the ground and leans back, evading the clumsy arm swing as Arguz quickly gets himself back up on one foot, also giving him a moment to reload as needed. "These are the moments I live fer!" Then, as if in showy execution-style, he passes his pepperbox over from his right arm to his left, cycles the barrel, lifts it up at the clockwork servant and proceeds to, quite impressively, fire the rest of his pepperbox barrels at the servant in order to take it down.

He should probably start yelling at the woman who is having a complete meltdown over this, but Arguz is kinda enjoying the whole, "stranger comes outta nowhere to save the day" act, so he'll save the reveal for a more dramatic point.

Initiative 1: Lightning Reload; same usual action on the Clockwork Servant, though no grit points spent this time (should give me one though if I trigger the AoO :smallbiggrin:)
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll3] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll4]

Initiative 2: For fun, and for a change of pace, Arguz will use a Full Attack action and fire off the rest of his shots at the servant (though it might already be destroyed from the first shot :smalltongue:) Each attack DOES trigger Belly Shot and Powder Burns at melee range, though not Vital Strike.

Attack roll: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll8] Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll9]

Attack roll: [roll10]
Damage: [roll11]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll12]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll13] Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll14]

Attack roll: [roll15]
Damage: [roll16]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll17]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll18] Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll19]

[Capt. Infinity]

As Zivalia finally downs her mechanical opponent, Arguz quickly displays a full-contact demonstration that he was, in fact, more lethal than a small child.

The first shot rips a hole straight through the servant's chassis, leaving it staggering and sputtering on the verge of death in a single blow, and completely voiding its half-baked attempt at a counterattack. The being barely has time to rear forward once more before its animated existence is suddenly and abruptly ended by a bullet straight into its robotic skull. It falls forward inactive after the second shot. The next two shots were more so out of principle than anything else.

There's a long silence, and not a word is spoken in the dank depths of the cold, gas-ridden mine tunnels.

"I-is it over?" Arina pokes her head out from behind Zivalia.

"...No, dear girl. Not by a longshot."

The sound of shattering glass fills the room as, suddenly and without warning, the waystation's viewport caves outward. The hilt of a walking stick plainly visible as it rips its way through the flimsy glass window.

Stepping down from the broken viewport's opening is a pair of black leather heels with red laces. Both landing gracefully onto the cold, shard-scattered ground below. The girls quickly begin cowering in fear as the woman from the waystation, decked out in a fine, ankle-length dark crimson dress, and wearing an oddly fashionable matching gas mask over her mouth and nose stares down the contrastingly cloth-wrapped Arguz with all the fury that her one green eye can muster.

She speaks in a voice that is distinctly less muffled by her mask. The menace and barely-contained anger oozing out of her sultry, dulcet voice with absolute clarity.

"Congratulations, you simpering little dreck. You've successfully thrown a monkey wrench into my fabulous and grand operation. Before I take great pleasure in killing you, perhaps you should enlighten me as to your actual identity and purpose. I'd understand if you were some corporate saboteur. Gods know my extended family isn't happy with a "lower" Senderhaven climbing the social and economic ladder. But something about your attire tells me your below even their abysmal standards of employment. So, once again, I'll re-iterate: Who ARE you? And what do you think you're accomplishing in stopping my plans? I trust this wasn't all for something so trite as morality, was it?"

Suspension of disbelief time! :smalltongue:

I'm willing to have a "friendly" monologue here in which the case is laid out in clear, understandable terms. And, whilst I'd love to be able to write more evil people saying evil things evilly, I'd completely understand if you wanted to cut this short and roll for initiative.

[Starsign]

Arguz had just been ready to relax as he blows away the sole remaining clockwork servant; he thought he had a chance to catch his breath, fully reload his pepperbox, and even get some healing from that human girl. At most however he got off a thumbs-up to Zivalia for her own accomplishment of taking down the other servant; combat-viable or not she deserves some respect for being able to handle herself in a fight.

Too bad neither really are given a chance to rest.

Annoyed but not overly-worried, Arguz turns his head to look at the woman as she came out from her little metal room behind glass. Really, her? Here? Her words indicate that she actually might be Meela, though her look still seems relatively different from how Arina's diary had described her. Maybe this is just a subordinate of her's? Either way, she had a chance to escape while things were still hot. Now that she's done just the opposite... well, someone has to die; someone's gotta pay for the orphanage's destruction and the owner's death. After all Arguz has been through, he'd be mostly happy with simply escaping with the girls... but not with this woman around. Oh no she's not going to walk after throwing away her chance at escape.

He is, however, going to entertain himself by teasing the woman about his identity. "Damn, you really wanna know who I am, eh? Well can't say I'm come stuck-up big-time, Midtown hotshot coming in to ruin yer day. Really getting good at this 'corporate sabotage' stuff though. Maybe I'll take the whole thing up as my new job!" He chuckles loudly, if briefly, as his teasing helps calm himself. It's always good to have a bit of a laugh after a rough fight.

Though as he continues speaking, his feet walk slowly over towards the two girls, reloading his pepperbox in the process. "But if yer wondering who I am, 'fraid I can't say." He points his gloved hand to his gas mask. "This the only thing I got going down 'ere; you ever took a whiff of all this up yer nose? Whole damn thing boils you from inside! I even went wearing these brick-heavy gloves and boots jus' being sure that it don't melt the rest of my body." As he moves in front of the two girls, his head slightly turns to motion toward Arina. She has a good look at his rather nasty back wound; he can use a healing spell right about now. "So I could give you a name but being 'Mr. Mysterious' is actually kinda fun. So if you wanna know, yer gonna have to tear this whole mask off... Good luck with that." His last few words are said with as much snicker of contempt as there is comedic tease. As someone who has not been given the whole story he finds it fitting to make it the same for this foe.

His voice, attempting confidence as per his persona, fails to hinge or hesitate as he answers why he's here. This is the one thing he's always had a clear idea about; after all it was his decision to get involved in this. "An' lemme now be straight up; I ain't jus' in this fer the good of it. 'Course I wouldn't be 'ere if I felt there's something good that might come outta it; I did wanna find out what happened with these girls an' give that ol' orphanage some closure after it got blown up to hide Meela's tracks." He must be dropping one hell of a whammy on these girls by mentioning the fate of the orphanage. Better it to come out of his mouth than for this woman to twist the truth. "But trust me, I also came hoping fer something I can salvage outta 'ere. Something nice, rich, anything that could make fer a good bit of gold at the market. An' I like the excitement. You gave me a hell'ova wake up when that orphanage went sky high." He makes a slight scoff as he mentions that, still not quite happy that the explosion had been so needlessly big that it wrecked a part of his office. "An' the men I hunted down to find you sure gave me nothing less of a fun firefight." If the status of his jacket is not an indication of how many times he was nearly hit by a bullet, all the small marks and wounds covered by his mask and bandages sure would.

"So yeah, trying to do some good, trying to profit off it, trying to have a bit of fun with it all, and shot down a half-dozen assassins in the process. Ain't some bastion of morality 'ere but it's a damn better I'm 'ere than going home and letting these girls rot working in a place that would burn 'em from the inside-out." There still is a good hint of contempt in the ratfolk's voice, hidden slightly by the gas mask filter. It did feel good to get all that out of his chest... or maybe it's because Arina might be trying to heal his hacked wound? He certainly isn't going to turn an eye away from the woman who just threatened to kill him. If anything, he can still get a moment to ask someone very important to his task. "So now that I've been honest with you, how 'bout you do me a solid and tell me what happened with the girls? They don't got a mask or a suit or anything to keep 'em safe from the fumes as far as I can tell."

Hopefully this is another good post, especially given how much Arguz is talking. :smalltongue: Arguz will also try to reload his pepperbox as much as he can and hopefully get some healing from Arina before we roll initiative again.

[Capt. Infinity]

The woman looked deeply annoyed at Arguz's consistent evasion of her first question, glaring down at him as he reloads his gun.

Her one visible eye leans up in confusion at his mention of the explosion at the orphanage, paralleling the gasps of shock from the girls that surround them, but seeming to embolden Arina enough to give her absolute all into healing the Ratfolk of at least the most grievous of his injuries.

Or at least, her surprise seem in line with theirs at first.

"Wait. Cover up 'Meela's' tracks? Why are you-" The woman looks up at her hair, before scoffing at the realization and smacking her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Oh damnit. Hang on a second." The woman snaps her fingers absentmindedly, and a quiet, but noticeable change overtakes her visage. For one thing, she grew significantly taller, growing from 5'7" to bordering on six feet tall. Her face also changed slightly, arguably becoming more attractive, with better pronounced cheek bones and thinner, more sultry eyes (well, eye, but that was beside the point), though the change was hard to appreciate in full, given the presence of the gas mask upon her face. The most pronounced change, however, was that of her hair, which went from a simple black to a very distinguished and vaguely supernatural wine-dark red hue. "There. Perhaps my face is more recognizable now? You'll have to excuse the facade. We can't very well have Meela Senderhaven skulking about the boondocks now, can we?" She chuckles to herself.

The woman who has now directly claimed to be Meela gives a vaguely amused look at Arguz as he finished his explanation. "Honestly? All this for what basically amounts to simple fun and profit? Hmhmhm. And here I was, thinking we had nothing in common." She idly twirled her walking stick. "Oh yes, I do suppose that would be confusing to the outside, uninformed observer. I myself needed a fair bit of insight to fully understand the phenomenon myself." The woman briefly flashes what appears to be a small, portrait-shaped pocketbook with odd runes and a large opal inlay, before pocketing it in a small and tasteful side satchel. "You see, the mining claim here by Stonewood Forest was an astonishingly promising endeavour to my forebears in the Senderhaven Mining divisions. It was meant to be a great and profitable source of varied and myriad gemstones of staggeringly good quality. Imagine their surprise when they come to the discovery that the real treasure was what laid between them." The young female human raises from behind her a tiny shard of shimmering, dark grey metal. "Adamantine." She spoke with villainous revere as she displayed the prohibitively rare metal to her soon-to-be enemy. "The most elusive and expensive sky metals in the known world, right here beneath the grass and trees. It was a fabulous discovery, to be sure. But as it turns out, fate is a cruel mistress, and it wasn't long after the Adamantine veins were discovered that a hapless miner accidentally smashed in an entrance to a cave suffused with an impossibly, and uniquely toxic vapour."

The woman begins pacing back and forth, mirroring Arguz in that she never lets her eyes off her small, intrusive foe. "The gas burned the lungs and throats of all those who inhaled it, and the workforce was forced to rapidly vacate the building. Ideas to send in gas masked workers or clockwork machines to do the work were tossed about, but my fellows feared that a family, even one as affluent as the Senderhavens, dumping that large a sum of resources into what was, in theory, a simple mining job would draw too much suspicion, and incite others to begin encroaching on the Adamantine for themselves. After all, if there's one thing that a noble can stand less than not being rich off something, it's someone else getting richer off it than them." She sneered beneath her mask. "That, coupled with internal squabbles over who deserved what cut of the impossibly large profits the mine stood to gain, put the final nail in this strange and whirlwind coffin once and for all. ...Or so they thought."

The woman smiled. "You see, one of the things that set me apart from my siblings and relatives, aside from my "gift", was my capacity to seek wealth wherever it lay presented to me. And I would have been an absolute fool to pass an opportunity to reap the rewards this mine stood to offer." She gesticulated to the air matter-of-factly, one hand on her hip as she explained what was going on in full. "You see, I have access to some impressive knowledge in chemistry and alchemy, and what I quickly discovered was that this gas kills in a very special, very specific way." She continues. "You see, this gas here doesn't simply burn at one's interior self. No, what it does is it binds to certain chemical indicators that are found in the bodies of adult humanoids. "Sex Hormones", as they're called in scientific circles. In particular, the sex hormone most prevalent in adult males: Testosterone."

"The gas becomes exponentially more deadly to those who inhale it the more physically mature they are. But, by contrast, it has an almost negligible effect on those who have yet to go through puberty, especially young, prepubescent girls, who have less testosterone than even those of their gender at full grown maturity."

The woman crosses her arms. "So here I was. Having access to a mine that could only be efficiently, and quietly, mined by a legion of young girls. What was I to do? Well, the answer came to me quite cleanly. After all who, in the end, would truly miss a group of orphans? They are, by their very definition, unwanted!" Her words clearly cut deep to the cores of many of the girls present, and Arguz could make out in the corner of his eye Arina beginning to tear up behind him. "It was a simple matter to hire Rantar to perform the infiltration, taking out the old woman who fostered them in one swift move. And from there, all it took was a "misplaced" set of Eyes of Charming from my family's private collection, and the whole of the rabble was in my hands, and out the door."

The woman's eye perks up in realization as she finishes explaining her plan. "Oh! That's it, isn't it? The description you heard of me must've lead you astray with the mention of the glasses. Hmhmhm. Well then, my dear little interloper, allow me to clear things up. After all..." One of the woman's hands reaches up towards her eyepatch.

"I too can understand the benefit of mystery."

Meela Senderhaven rips off her eyepatch in one swift motion, revealing not an ugly socket where an eye once was, as Arguz would expect, but a second, perfectly functioning eye. The left ocular orb, however, differed form its twin in both colour and general form. Where her right eye was pleasant and normal, with a bright, verdant green hue, her left was downright hellish, with a burning, blood-red colour anointing the iris in its whole, and the pupil seeming to actually be slightly contracted, like that of some predatory feline, or demon of the Abyss.

"In case it wasn't obvious, the rumours you've likely heard have had a tinge of truth." Meela cackles lightly under her mask. "So, little upstart, knowing what you now know, have you anything left to say?"

Let's cut Arina and Arguz a break and say Arguz heals the max of 9 Hit Points.

Let's also be generous and say that monologue was enough to load up [roll0] bullets into his pepperbox. High numbers mean efficiency, low ones mean her fumbles in the process and she's too irreverent to care.

[Starsign]

Arguz listened in and listened well. Meela, as she's showing herself for real, sure did say a lot. It brought a lot of things to light about this whole cave. Adamantine is a rare product; he's only ever seen it once and that was the slabs he used to make his new pepperbox. Trying to get a monopoly on that should really be expected since it's way more than a simple, profitable metal. Being a supplier of the biggest, near-infinite source of adamantine in Ferroveil is going to give you an unsurpassed amount of influence in the city. Even Arguz knows that when you've got something unique, you've got a bit of power in this city.

This makes the horrid toxic vapors, the ones which had blisteringly burned Arguz's innards for a brief moment, an "accomplice" to this entire case. There's a lot that could've been avoided had this gas simply not exist. Life doesn't work that way though, does it? Nothing's quite ever sunshine and flowers in Ferroveil and the best laid plans always go awry; kinda speaks volumes about Meela's entire scheme. Now if only Arguz understood the whole chemistry behind this toxin. "Testosterone" is a word he's heard of before but never understood what it does; describing it as a sex hormone is about as coherent to the ratfolk as gibberish. He has to take Meela's word for it when she says that the only real people who can survive down here are young girls... and he's still not sure that these girls will be fine being in here for even a few hours. They gotta get to the clinic when Arguz gets them out of here.

Being in a gas mask helps to hide the ratfolk's stern and ruffled face as Meela just about finished her own explanation. He wanted to believe her whole plan as solid; there really aren't many who'd miss the orphaned girls. Yet killing the old elf and bombing the orphanage... how can he agree with that? There's a point to it all but Meela didn't seem to consider exploring other options. Sure, killing is sometimes needed; Arguz blew away a lot of Rantar's men when the ratfolk crashed right into his place. Yet that was because Arguz screwed up his infiltration. He tried to avoid the firefight and resorted to shooting when he screwed up. By what he's seen and heard, Meela never bothered trying something else. There was a quick and messy way and she took it. It would've worked fine if she didn't attract attention by blowing up the whole damn orphanage. That's her big mistake, and one Arguz will prove is fatal to her.

The reveal of Meela's abyssal eye runs a shiver down Arguz's spine... though his body shows no sign of it given he's obscured under all his clothing and gear. Bulky and sweaty this mining gear is, it is really damn nice for keeping his confident persona up. "You mean if I got any last words?" His words spit out as Meela finishes her monologue. No need to beat around the bush; she's not letting Arguz walk now that he knows the whole damn thing even if they may share some motives and interests.

He takes a quick glimpse at her walking stick, eyeing it just long enough to realize that isn't a walking stick. The metal rod is too thick to be a normal cane, looking more like a sheath, and the round end at the top is engraved strangely for a normal cane; it has a round, straight grip that curves into another grip with distinctive finger "slots." That's some sort of damn gun in her cane, isn't it? It's gotta be a gun, or a sword, or hell both. At least he now knows what sort of attacks he may expect as he lightly and subtly taps one of his gloved fingers with another finger on his other hand. He has a simple, yet special ring which had been given to him for good luck. Whatever luck there is in the universe, Arguz does always feel like bullets have had a harder time hitting him ever since he started wearing it. Nowadays he always wears that ring.

"Yeah I got some words fer you." The ratfolk's voice attempts to restrain the amount of contempt in his voice as he holds his pepperbox with both hands and raise them at the bastard Slenderhaven. "Yer family ain't gonna miss you when they find yer bullet-ridden corpse down 'ere!"

Without missing a beat, Arguz aims and fires a shot center-straight at her torso where one would have the most difficult time avoiding. He's definitely not going to let her fire the first shot.

Alright! Here we go. Initiative: [roll0]

EDIT: Actions for this round are here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=21144637&postcount=86)

[Capt. Infinity]

One had to admit, Meela Senderhaven was one tough noblewoman.

That blast to the torso would've killed a lesser noble twice over, but the only indication she was willing to give towards her injury was a small gasp and a slight bend forward as a small spray of blood lands on the ground in the wake of the bullet lodging itself deep in her torso. Further inspection reveals to Arguz that Meela's crimson dress is actually interwoven with a matching mithral shirt, coloured so as to blend in with her dress in full, without giving away the fact that she was wearing armour, or sacrificing anything in regards to style.

The woman speaks through gritted teeth. "That's... Quite an aim you've got there you little wretch. I suppose I can't let that happen twice, now can I?" All at once, Arguz suddenly feels a deep and unsettling chill befall him, as though Meela's abyssal eye were boring a whole through his very being. The noblewoman then speaks a single word with a level of absolute authority that was impossible to not recognize as downright supernatural.

"THROW."

Assuming Arguz fails to resist the mystical command, Meela will rush forward to where the pepperbox had fallen, and jump on top of it, covering the weapon with her body.

Meela

Standard Action: Use Command. Arguz must make a DC 19 Will save or throw his gun forward 10ft. He takes a -2 penalty on the save due to being affected by Meela's hypnotic stare (This penalty can be negated by being more than 30ft away. But, if you declare this, we'll have to recalculate your damage from Arguz's last shot, as I don't think one of the shots would go through with the range penalty at normal AC).

Move Action: Run up to the spot the gun fell on.

Free Action: Drop prone on top of the gun.

[Starsign]

Arguz swore that he didn't throw it willingly.

As someone with absolutely no magical potential, the ratfolk has never quite known what it's like to have your own actions quite literally dictated for you. As such he is utterly caught off guard as his shooting arm, once pointed at Meela, suddenly yanks backward and launches the weapon forward like it's about to explode. There's really no other way Arguz can describe the feeling; he felt and saw what he did but lacked any control or motion to resist it.

So just like that, he's without a gun, again.

There's a brief moment of shock as his gun effectively disappears from his sight as Meels jumps on top of it like she's dog-piling it. For a moment Arguz wonders whether he should've bought or made a second pepperbox for these situations; that's what he did the last time he lost his only gun. Then he remembers that he still has an axe for these situations, even if it isn't as good as actually shooting his enemy.

In a swift motion, and apparently undeterred at the loss of his weapon, the masked ratfolk draws out his boarding axe from the holster on his back. "Think yer clever, eh?" His mind flashes back through the numerous training sessions he's had with Jia about proper melee combat. He's got a lot to thank his sister for as he pulls out his own whammy of a line to Meela.

"I ain't gonna need a gun to kick yer Uptown ass!"

Putting his ratfolk agility to work, Arguz dashes forward at Meela and makes a wide, horizontal sweeping motion with his axe as he closes the distance. Meela made the big mistake of going prone to cover that pepperbox. The best way to hit a downed opponent is to swing wide side-to-side aimed at Meela's head, with a follow-up sweep deep at Meela's throat. A vertical strike can easily be rolled out of the way but a horizontal one requires the poor fool to greatly lean upwards or somehow slither their way backwards. For all she's clever, Meela doesn't seem like the most agile woman Arguz has faced.

Improvise time! Initiative 1: Draw boarding axe as a move action and run to Meela as another move action. Also moving as part of that action. Attacking as a standard action. Rolls are here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=21147738&postcount=89)

Initiative 2: I don't really have anything to do with a move action, so Arguz will perform a normal attack utilizing Improved Vital Strike. I think Meela also suffers from a AC penalty against melee attacks due to being prone.
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]

[Capt. Infinity]

Meela was not on the level of Agility as, say, Rantar. And she was certainly LEAGUES behind the bullet-dodging nonsense that Adraena was capable of. But the noblewoman was certainly made of sterner stuff than most.

She raised up her arms to defend against Arguz's strikes, the axe head cutting deep into her forearms, but sparring her head, even as blood spilled onto the battlefield. Zivalia covered Arina's eyes as their Ratfolk rescuer utterly marred the, admittedly evil and genuinely despicable, woman who had brought them here.

Meela attempts to stand, and gets yet another slice across her torso for her troubles, but a defiant gaze pierces Arguz yet again as the Mesmerist stares him down. The woman looked near death, but one couldn't understate the fire in her eyes, even from the one that didn't look like it was actually on fire.

"I am NOT... Going down... Without a FIGHT!!!"

The noblewoman screams, before her eye flashes once more with magical essence. Immediately thereafter, she lunges forward, her hand crackling with a dark red energy as she attempts to get a grab on Arguz, hoping to drain him of a significant portion of his life force in the process.

Meela

Move Action: Get up. Which incurs an Attack of Opportunity.

Standard Action: Cast Vampiric Touch and attempt to touch Arguz:

Attack Roll: [roll0] Against Arguz's Touch AC.

Damage: [roll1] Gaining this much damage as temporary hit points, should she succeed.

[Starsign]

Almost caught off guard, Arguz backsteps just enough to keep him from the reach of Meela's hand, almost demonic in nature. Even though it didn't get him, he can feel the energy from her hand; the cold, lifelessness to it drains some of the color beneath Arguz's gas mask and black fur. It's been so easy to hide his emotions and surprise with every sudden trick thrown his way which at least leaves everyone guessing how well he's been handling this. Granted, his evasive skills have helped him maintain control of the battle but, as he's come to learn, all it does take is one very good strike to suddenly change the situation. Arguz's mask definitely isn't designed for combat either. If he had the choice he would've torn it off for his duel with Meela.

The ratfolk, focusing so much on fighting Meela, figures the girls had already looked for a way out of here... or at least a safe place to hide. It doesn't matter how one fights; a battle to the death is always going to be brutal and painful; they wouldn't stay around to watch, would they? Nah he'll just have to trust that they're hiding and focus entirely on the marred and slashed noblewoman.

"Well now yer learning what's it like to be me!" Arguz speaks half-playfully, half-snidely at his foe when noticing the wounds he's inflicted. The ratfolk himself has been scarred quite a bit today and not just from that halberd hack he took in the back. Wouldn't Meela like to know how much he's been through. At least she's going to experience it instead as he lunges for another swing. Keeping his training to mind, Arguz makes a great, diagonal swing downward at Meela, using both the vertical and horizontal motion to make simple weaving or ducking inefficient as an evasion tactic. "An' how 'bout you gimme my gun back while we're at it!" he continues as he follows his first swing with another diagonal swipe with his axe. If Meela isn't going to give up his pepperbox then he'll make sure to cut her apart.

Initiative 1: Gonna strike at Meela again:

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]

Initiative 2: Same thing here (Arguz's options get a lot more limited without his gun :smallredface:)

Attack roll: [roll3] CRIT!
Damage: [roll4]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll5]

[Capt. Infinity]

Arguz was right, the girls had since fled behind several rocks around the perimeter of the room. But they nonetheless had a clear view of the utter devastation the Ratfolk was laying down upon their captor.

The first swing caught Meela off guard after her whiff with her magic spell, tearing a diagonal mark across her midriff. The second swing was even less forgiving, with all the mounting pain causing the young woman to stagger back a bit, giving Arguz the perfect opportunity to spin back around and deliver one final upwards diagonal swing, carving a blood red "X" across the Mesmerist's torso as he, both figuratively and literally, crosses out both her and her plans.

Blood stains Arguz, his coat, and the floor surrounding him as Meela Senderhaven spills the last of her life-giving vitae across the floor in front of him. She gurgles with her dying breath, slumping over slightly as shock slowly sets in.

"No... No you can't... After everything I've done, everything I've worked towards..." Meela falls to her knees. "Damn you... Damn you straight to HELL." She stares straight into the visor of Arguz, her eyes burning straight into his, before her body finally gives in to the cold now filling it, and she falls forward onto the ground. Dead.

There is a long silence as the overambitious noblewoman lays unmoving in a fast-growing pool of her own blood.

...He...He did it! We won!"

"We're SAVED!"

Zivalia and Arina start a cheer that fast spreads across the entirety of the crowd of girls, who quickly ran off out of their hiding spots to run up to their saviour showering Arguz in praise, congratulations and many, many hugs. Maybe it isn't as great as it could've been, what with the whole "bleeding from multiple points on his body" thing, but it's the thought that counts, right?

And Meela goes DOWN!!!

Battle over. Arguz wins. He is now swarmed by thankful children.

If I may be so bold, I'd ask that your next post not move them out of the room just yet. I'd like to do a bit in the cave first. Thanks in advance! :smallsmile:

[Starsign]

Arguz's moments of hard breathing calm down as he watches Meela Slenderhaven collapse and die in front of his eyes. Her eyes in the last couple moments of her life had been nothing short of breathtaking to watch and not in a beautiful way. However she got her power, it's a very fierce ability to literally behold; a social queen for sure. From what Arguz knows, she can switch from a welcoming visage to a frightening glare in a split second. Had Arguz simply met her under peaceful circumstances, she could've twisted her words right around him and he wouldn't have guessed a thing until it was too late.

Unfortunately she was the one who realized it too late.

The ratfolk, probably still not known as a ratfolk to anyone here, walks over to Meela and tears his pepperbox from her dead hands. "Don't worry, he says, speaking with a small smirk amidst his usual confident tone. "I'm sure I'll see ya there one day." He then aims the gun at Meela's corpse and fires a bullet into her head to make sure she's dead. If he had the physical strength to do so, he might've tried actually tearing her gas mask off and letting her choke to death in the mine. THAT would've made for an incredibly nasty death... actually that might have been too horrid even for some Uptown manipulator. A bullet may be quick, but it's also effective enough.

The small, masked gunslinger puts his pepperbox back in its holster before all the girls cheer and come to hug him. And he has to admit... it feels great to get such appreciation. It's not to say that he's never been hugged or cheered for; a good deal of his family cares and appreciates him and his work. Yet he is still a ratfolk from the warrens and there's plenty of people who don't really see him for much beyond some warren-living freak with a gun. He really can't help but feel like he's done some good with the appreciation he's getting from the girls. "Aw, thanks," He chuckles happily as he begins returning the hugs. "Always was glad to be so cuddly." He had wondered, for just a moment, whether the girls would change their attitude with him when they find out who he is... but right now he's just happy to have the appreciation. It's nice to hug others who are roughly around his size too; his back wound would give him some pain if he had to crouch forward to hug children of his own kind.

Eventually after the hugs are done, the ratfolk's smile beamed across his face, though still hidden under his gas mask. "Well I came 'ere to get you all out, so that's what I'm gonna do," he reassures then as he turns his head around to look around him. His voice adds a bit more seriousness as he asks a somewhat-important question. "This all of you from the orphanage? I never really thought 'bout it 'ntil I got down 'ere but I think I oughta do something about sealing this mine up. I don't wanna imagine this gas somehow getting outside an' I sure don't wanna have anyone else ever coming down to the mine. So I wanna be sure that I got everyone 'ere 'fore we go."

[Capt. Infinity]

Zivalia, evidently a de facto leader amongst the girls nods to Arguz. "Yeah. This is all of us. I don't think the gas floats, so I'm pretty sure it'd stay down here if we left it. But I think it would be best if we just break the elevator once we get up again. Nobody should have this much wealth."

There are murmurs of agreement from the girls who fully understood the situation, and looks of acceptance from those who were too young to fully understand.

Zivalia looks concerned. "Oh! You're hurt. Here we can help. Arina?" She calls out, and the blonde, sickly girl replies. "Right!" The young human girl presses her hand to Arguz, revitalizing him with healing energy. On top of the spell, she also begins radiating a quartet of bright white bursts of raw positive energy, also healing Arguz some on top of it.

There is a rustling amongst the girls, and a series of hand-offs eventually lead to Arguz being handed two more potions of Cure Light Wounds, which they insist that he quaff to clear up his physical damage.

After Arguz is summarily healed, the girls begin gathering to leave the mine, with Arguz safely shepherding them from the back of the group.

However, as the motion began, Arina and Zivalia pause, with Arina pulling at Zivalia's shirt. Arina speaks sheepishly.

"Uh, Zivalia?"

"Yeah?"

"You said we were gonna block off the entrance to the mine, right?"

"Yes. It's the only way to be sure nobody tries this again. What's your point?"

"B-but- but what about Koralia? She'll be stuck down here!"

"Wait, what? Really Arina? That imaginary friend you were talking about? Come on Ari. I already told you, we're too big for this!" The Tiefling assures her friend.

"She's not imaginary! She's real!"

"Oh yeah? Then where is she?"

The older girl's non-serious question is answered in a very serious way when, from deep in one of the darkest tunnels to the far end of the cavern, one which slopes down at a staggering angle to the depths below, the sound of a terrifying laugh echoes across the room.

"Hehehehe..."

The cackling grows louder and louder, as the sound of massive, heavy footsteps grows closer and louder.

The voice begins to sing.

"~Ding dong, the witch is dead. Because she didn't choose to flee. Ding dong the witch is dead...~"

"~Now the children stay with me.~"

To describe the creature rising up from the depths of the cavern, one must play through an exercise in their imagination. Imagine a craftsmen, forging for himself the visage of a dragon out of rocks and gemstones. Each scale a jagged piece of shining obsidian stone, with several of them, including a crown of spines on the head as well as several down their spine, fashioned out of the finest ruby. With wings made out of a rainbow myriad of stained glass plates, reflecting countless colours as the sides of the great beast glisten with yet more massive red gems.

Now imagine that sculpture bleeding.

The great imposing dragon that rises out of the cavern stood almost ten feet long and somewhere in the range of six or seven feet tall with its head erect. It's crown scraping the roof of the cavern. All around the beast's body, cracks in and between its scales spewed forth a slow, viscous drizzle of greenish-black fluid, trailing and pooling on the ground below as it stepped forward into the main cavern. Its maw dripped with similarly coloured, if brighter venom, falling from the series of jagged stone spikes that made up its teeth and jaw in dripping streams which fell to the ground like sickening molasses.

It speaks with a jarringly sweet female voice. "I really must thank you for setting these girls free, Mr. Rat Man. I was going to let them out soon, but I'm glad you did."

"I've been so lonely for so long. None of my kin wanted to be near me. They said my... My "condition" was a danger to them all, and they asked me- No. They FORCED me to leave." Her voice turns into a growl as she speaks those final words.

"I wandered for so long. I walked and walked and walked until was very, very lost. Far, faaar away from the Plane of Earth. I stayed here, in these caverns for so very... very long. I lost count of the days. I thought I'd found a reprieve when the miners found my cave, but they all ran away too. Just like all the others..."

The Crystal Dragon continues her lament. "I grew so lonely, never to know a friend, never to have a mate, never to bear children..." The black dents in her crystal flesh which were seemingly her eyes turn to the group of orphans. "But then they all came along! They came down here, and they could breath! They could survive being near me. They could be my friends. They could be my children!" Koralia cheers, in a way that dashes all hope that she was anything but unhinged.

"But... But you don't want that, do you? You want to TAKE them from me, don't you? You want to leave me ALONE again. Here, in this wretched hellscape of a mine! No! No no no NO! I WON'T let you! I WON'T LET YOU TAKE MY CHILDREN AWAY!!!" The Crystal Dragon roars at the top of her lungs, causing the whole of the ground to shake from the force of it, and several of the stalactites around the room to fall and crash to the ground.

The orphans hurried and hid inside the waystation, leaving Arguz standing alone before the mad, enraged planar beast before him.

Evidently with this case, adventure wasn't quite done with him yet.

Okay, first off, Arina healed Arguz for [roll0] hit points with her Cure light Wounds, and [roll1] hit points with her channels.

The two potions of CLW heal [roll2] damage as well.

I'd say roll a bit of IC talk, then we both roll for initiative, since it seems like Arguz would probably have something to say in the wake of all this before the action kicks into high gear.

Otherwise, have fun and enjoy!

And remember. You literally asked for this. :smallbiggrin: :smallcool:

[Starsign]

Arguz has seen quite a lot of things in his life, short as it may be compared to human lifespans. He's seen the usual, the unusual, and then the, "wow I can't believe that" things (thanks Malwick). He's expecting to see a lot of other incredible things too. That's part of why he became an investigator and gunslinger; he can use some surprises and excitement that can't normally be found anywhere in Lowtown.

Yet he'd NEVER expect to find a dragon here. A goddamned dragon! The stories Arguz has heard of these creatures spoke much of their majesty, power, and cruelty. While this Koralia is majestic in a very different way and notably smaller than Arguz imagined, this is still a very very terrifying piece of work. The ratfolk feels his stomach churn at the sickening ooze steaming from her mouth. In fact, the very sight of that ooze flooding out of the dragon's body is enough to make Arguz vomit. This thing brought the toxin to the mine? Whether it's of Koralia's own choice or not, being stuck with a condition like that really has to suck. It shouldn't be a surprise that she seems so unhinged, even though it is surprising on the account of a dragon being here.

...Oh yeah, it's unhinged, and now it wants to kill Arguz. Seems like everything wants to screw him over.

The masked ratfolk nearly stumbles as Koralia's roar shakes the whole mind; a stalagmite from above nearly crashes on his head and instead manages to crash into the rock behind him. He really has to fight a dragon, doesn't he? Can he even HURT her? Koralia may not appear in the greatest shape but she's still a dragon and Arguz has no idea if bullets will even puncture through dragon scales. Not that he's actually given an option to flee if he wants to get these girls out of here but he's not expecting his pepperbox to actually pierce through a dragon.

"Whoa whoa whoa WHOA! Wait a minute!" The ratfolk's persona promptly breaks spectacularly with this dragon in sight. "Hang on now, I didn't even know you we're 'ere. Thought it was jus' the girls an' that woman now drowning in her own blood," He waves an arm over to Meela, no longer relevant to this case. "Now how 'bout we talk this over 'fore you eat me. I taste like ****; you wouldn't want a piece o' me. An' I don't mean you any harm. This mine jus' ain't a home fer the girls and the toxin's gonna hurt 'em as they grow up. They can't stay 'ere forever." The ratfolk's unfortunate diplomatic attempt are alternated between that, a quick reload of his gun, and a series of waves and signals made to the girls in the waystation to encourage them to get to the elevator. He'd really rather they not be here to see this fight go down and not just because it'll get very ugly for Arguz.

Oh boy. :smalleek: Initiative early just to be safe: [roll0]

Do I get a quick chance to reload before battle starts?

[Capt. Infinity]

"Hurt... Them? But-but I would never-" The Crystal Dragon Koralia appears to waver for a moment, shaking her head, as if attempting to loose what semblance of a mind she had left from the endless fog of loneliness and sorrow that had plagued it all her life.

"I can't... I wouldn't... I wouldn't! I wouldn't hurt them. I wouldn't want to-"

*DING*

The telltale electronic chime of the elevator opening resounds across the ruined cavern as the orphan girls all pile into the personnel elevator and mash the button to send them up, the gate closing behind them.

"NOOOO!!!" Koralia shrieks, her voice a maddened screech as she watches her precious children rapidly ascend out of the cavern. "You TRICKED me! You MONSTER! How DARE you take my children away from me! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU DEAD!!!" The insane planar beast gives one more anguished roar, laced with madness and fury, before rushing at Arguz, attempting to rip into him with her jagged maw, which dripped with her wretched dark emerald ichor, as well as a separate, verdant green venom, dripping from within.

KORALIA

Move Action: Rush Arguz.

Standard Action: Attempt to bite him (DC 31): [roll0]

Crit Confirm Roll (Because I am NOT, in fact, a jerkwad): [roll1]

Damage: [roll2]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll3]

If the attack hits, Arguz has to make a DC 16 Fortitude save or take 1d2 Dex damage, as well as a SECOND DC 16 Fortitude save or take 1d2 Con damage.

[Starsign]

There's a flash of panic in Arguz's face as he notices the poisonous draconic maw coming right at him. Fast on the reflexes his legs propel him backward in a small leap. It's just barely enough to avoid Koralia's disgustingly venomous teeth, which no doubt will burn Arguz's skin and tear his muscles apart if the ichor ever got through his clothes. This really did signify how much trouble he's in. The dragon may only be as tall as an orc but she has far more power and ferocity than any being Arguz has ever seen. If there was a chance he could have talked his way out of fighting Koralia then he already blew it. Granted, it might not even be possible in the first place given this dragon is clearly out of her mind and would probably rampage through anything she can get her eyes on if she somehow escaped this mine.

He gives a loud squeak as he gets a better look at Koralia's maw before realizing he needs to try fighting back. He's gotta do it. He can try to simply make a run for the bucket elevator and escape but Koralia must be fast as a dragon. Even if she can't fly she can probably climb her way up the rocks like a god going mountain climbing. The only real "escape" Arguz is going to get is if he puts her down or seals her somehow.

He's going to be one hell of a person if he manages to pull that off!

"Aw hell, I'm jus' doing it fer their sakes! Stop getting my tail in a knot!" His attempt at wit is accompanied by a sling of truth. Getting the girls out of here certainly was the intention but more important is that his tail is really uncomfortable right now. He's had it stuck in his pants ever since coming down here and it now feels like he's got a third arm coming out of his ass and bent in a permanent flexing pose.

The ratfolk swerves in around the dragon's head, aiming his pepperbox at the right side of her face. He can't tell where her brain might be, partly because he's never seen a dragon before. The oozing ichor spreading down from the cracks in her scales do not help; he's basically making a guess to where he needs to shoot. Hopefully a dragon's brain is logically in the head and not somewhere insane like next to their heart. "I would'a been damn well happy to leave if you ain't trying to kill me right now!" he yells, futilely trying to put his motives in Koralia's head as it is followed by two very loud gunshots.

So here's hoping a dragon isn't immune to bullets. :smalleek: Assuming I'm already in melee range:

Initiative 1: Move 5-foot around Koralia so that Arguz has a clear run at the bucket elevator if an emergency exit is required. Shoot as a standard action; Koralia gets an AoO for this; Flash & Shock activates so Arguz gets +4 AC against her attacks; grit point goes into the ring as Arguz is normally full on grit already and the grit point was earned after F&S activated:
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll3] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll4]

Initiative 2: No movement, but shooting again for hopefully-good results. Lightning Reload after.
Attack roll: [roll5] Oh crud that's a Misfire
Damage: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll8] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll9]

[Capt. Infinity]

Arguz's first shot makes a mark, the flash from the gun dazzling Koralia on her right side as it does in fact manage to lodge itself in her scales, though the heavy angle means it doesn't penetrate nearly as much as it could have.

The second shot, however, was a different story. Evidently Arguz's sudden terror got the better of him, as a slip of the finger plus a mishandling of the gun whilst aiming causes the Ratfolk's pepperbox to jam, a large surge of sparks and smoke from the barrel and hammer signifying that something has gone very wrong within.

Koralia screeches, further incensed by the pain of the dazzling light.

"Gah! Shut up. Shut up shut up SHUT UP!!!!" The Crystal Dragon roars once more, once again causing the entire cavern to tremble as her maddened screams gives way to a DEVASTATING sonic wave shout. The deafening power and the raw pressure of the compressed air threatening to all-around bludgeon the Ratfolk relentlessly and without mercy.

KORALIA

Use her Breath Weapon to deal points of Sonic Damage. DC 16 Reflex save for half. After this, Koralia cannot use her breath weapon again for [roll]14 Rounds.

[Starsign]

Arguz didn't exactly have a lot of time to ponder what just happened to his pepperbox. He expected the second shot to come out clean; his old one never had a problem as far as he can recall and he made that with standard materials. So when his shaky hand slips and jams his gun, the ratfolk stares shocked at the sparks and smoke coming from within. He couldn't believe this; this gun is made out of adamantine. It's the toughest material known around Ferroveil as far as Arguz is concerned. It should not jam at all.

His surprise is promptly turned into horror as his ears are drilled by the screeching sonic roar that Koralia gives. This is the first he's ever seen any sort of sonic power or weapon in action and it clears any doubts he had on its effectiveness. Outside of what felt like Arguz's ears literally bleeding, the ratfolk is launched backward several feet into a huge nearby rock, crashing into it with a painful jerk while still being pummeled by the roar from the front. The damage is little evident on the outside; for the most part the roar crushed the front half of the gas mask which considerably shrinks how much space Arguz's head and ratty nose has in it. All his clothing however does little to defend him from the horrid, punishing roar; he can feel something in his ribs crack under the attack as once-treated wounds crack and open up again. He just got those healed earlier today! If his coat wasn't so thick, Koralia would notice the lower half of his coat growing a blood-red color patch.

Having been buffered and in pain from the sonic roar, the ratfolk impressively manages to stand in his own two legs, still holding the malfunctioning pepperbox in his right hand. There's a groan of pain through his gas mask that changes to a chatty groan of anger. "Yer telling me to shuddup?" His body fumbles for just a moment before getting back on his feet and charging back at the dragon. "Oh I'm gonna make you shuddup if yer gonna kill me!" While Arguz may not stay aggravated for long, one should really realize when they've pushed him that far.

The ratfolk, letting the adrenaline pump all through his body, smashes the pepperbox hard against his gloved hand in an attempt to unjam it before throwing fortune at the table and firing a shot at Koralia's torso. A swift dive and barrel cycle follows up as he rams the pepperbox barrel into the dragon's chest and fires off another round, hoping that the stagger is enough to quickly reload both barrels that he just shot with. Reloading quickly isn't a big deal for him but reloading barrels in rapid succession actually requires him to focus for a moment. The motion isn't hard; he just has to cycle the barrel quickly and carefully before loading the bullet. Doing so however can leave him open for a moment, hence needing the stagger from his prior shot.

If there's one thing he can say about his skill, it's that he is good at being finesse when using blocky, ugly gloves like these.

Initiative 1: Spend a grit point to repair the pepperbox as a move action. Shoot Koralia as a standard action; does trigger AoO; use Flash & Shock to increase Arguz's AC by +4 against Koralia.

Attack roll: [roll0] Another misfire...
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll3] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll4]

Initiative 2: KINDA realized I totally can reload as a move action due to Rapid Reload, so I'll do that and use Lightning Reload to reload for a free action too. Standard action to fire again.

Attack roll: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll8] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll9]

[Capt. Infinity]

One wouldn't normally call the finicky, archaic rotation mechanism of a pepperbox a "boon" by any stretch of the imagination.

Oh sure, one couldn't understate the unprecedented usefulness of having six shots stored at once. But the actual mechanism itself? That often left much to be desired.

But such thoughts were suddenly proven to be rather shortsighted when, upon yet another surge of smoke from his pepperbox (maybe reloading a fine-tuned and only-recently-invented device with big, oversized gloves on wasn't the best idea after all?) Arguz merely had to rotate the gun to the next barrel to be up and rarin' to go. This didn't stop Koralia from giving him a nasty bite on the shoulder, mind you. But hey, small victories, right?

Rushing up underneath Koralia's neck to fire on her underbelly was evidently a good plan. Whilst her underside was just as much made of literal stone as the rest of her, being up close and personal while firing meant that much of the mitigating nature of firing on her hardened body at an angle was all but negated. Koralia screeched in pain as the shot landed home, digging into her flesh, and releasing yet more spews of tainted ichor. Though the decidedly reddish tinge to this particular slow-pouring stream told Arguz it was at least mostly blood.

Koralia stares down at the Ratfolk that caused her such pain, and snarls. "Not if I kill you first, you scum!" She shouts, before going in for yet another bite.

It wasn't the best witty retort. But hey, not everyone's an intrepid investigator or a high-minded noble. Some people just REALLY want the other person dead.

KORALIA

Standard Action to bite at Arguz:

Attack Roll (DC 35): [roll0]

Crit Confirm: [roll1]

Damage: [roll2]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll3]

[Starsign]

As someone who has learned how to adapt to situations, Arguz quickly finds a "quick-solve" strategy as cycling the barrel seems to help fix his pepperbox. At the very least it keeps him from having to smack its adamantine cover against his hand; that's not as painful as being bitten by a dragon but it still smarts.

Speaking of which, getting bit by a dragon hurts!

He only gets a quick, brief bite from trying to shoot Koralia in melee range but the teeth pierce through his armored coat, though with some trouble, and splinters lightly into his shoulder. Even if it isn't a serious wound, the bite marks only add up with the other injuries that Arguz has received over the day. Were it not for the adrenaline he'd feel like collapsing right about now. If Koralia can inflict this with her size then Arguz doesn't want to know what a big dragon is like.

He makes a sloppy dive to the right to avoid her second bite, swerving behind Koralia's body, as he rolls over her tail, nearly tripping over it in the process. He's normally not slow and clumsy but his body isn't responding as smoothly as it has. These injuries have worn Arguz down for awhile but it's only now that it's having an effect on his maneuverability. He growls as he stands on one foot and one knee, aiming upward at Koralia's head as she inevitably turns around to see him. He pauses as if he had prepped something witty, only to say, "...Bah, alright I'm outta things to tell ya," before firing an accurate, aimed shot right at Koralia's head designed to disorient and knock her senseless.

The ratfolk takes this chance to, with some groaning, get up, reload, cycle his gun's barrels, and rush forward. His gunslinging style sure may be giving him no help here but firing in point blank range may be the only way a normal bullet will actually pierce through a dragon's scales. In an attempt to avoid the scales, the ratfolk aims at a crack on Koralia's side and fires off a second shot there. Maybe shooting through the crack will do more damage than usual; sound logic, right?

Initiative 1: Spend a grit point to repair the misfire as a Move action. Spend another grit point to use Targeting, aiming at the Head at Koralia. Does normal damage and inflicts Confusion for one round on a hit. Triggers an AoO from Koralia and gives Arguz 1 grit point.
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll3] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll4]

Initiative 2: Reload my gun as a move action, and Lightning Reload activates too. Shoot Koralia as a standard action.
Attack roll: [roll5] Holy crap, really?
Damage: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll8] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll9]

[Capt. Infinity]

Okay so, two things.

First of all, let's talk about dragons for a minute. Dragons are beasts of myth for a multitude of reasons. They're one of the largest creatures of substantial population once fully grown. They have impossibly long lifespans that would put even an Elf or Planetouched to absolute shame. And, on top of all of that, they have a powerful repertoire of sorcerous power that can even give lesser full-blown spellcasters a run for their money in sheer staying power.

But the one thing that people seem to sort of take for granted when discussing them is the simple fact that dragons are godsdamned terrifying.

They're giant lizards with wings that can shoot magic from their mouths on the regular. One could be forgiven for not thinking clearly in the face of one.

As such, it was no surprise that Arguz, having had "may fight a dragon today" on his list of possible outcomes somewhere around "the sky randomly turns purple" or "a house just spontaneously combusts in my neighbourhood" (...Okay, maaaaybe he should just expect anything these days), was getting a touch sloppy. And that's not even getting into the detrimental effect of all the mounting, continuous injury he's sustained throughout the day on his search for the girls.

His first shot, by raw guts and tenacity, actually manages to make its mark, striking Koralia dead in the broadside of her skull, sending chips of stone flying as her uppermost ruby head spine cracks slightly from the nearby impact. The blast completely throws Koralia for a loop. The raw concussive force coupled with the deep, visceral pain of light a cranial fracture causing the crystalline draconid to flail madly and grasp at her head in pain.

"Gaaaaaaah! Rhaaaargh!! GRARAAAGH!!!" The planar dragon continues to screech in confusion and agony, thrashing its form from side to side.

It was likely this constant, unpredictable motion, coupled with Arguz's aforementioned surprise and tiredness, that caused what happened next. Because, as Arguz went to fire his gun into an opening in Koralia's stone scales on her side, the thrashing, plus Arguz's less-than-masterful motor control in bringing the gun to bear, caused the Ratfolk Gunslinger to accidentally jam the gun full-tilt into said crevice, clogging it in a definitely unhealthy dose of the poisonous dragon's ichor, and causing yet another misfire, as the sickening fluid wets the black powder enough to induce yet another beleaguered flash of mishandled gunpowder, this time combined with a wet bursting sound and a more-than-disconcerting waft of greenish-tinted smoke from the barrel.

Not the best series of events, not the worst. Again. Giant, terrifying lizard. Mistakes aren't exactly unexpected here.

KORALIA

...Does nothing but flail around in a daze for a round. Back to you, Arguz! :smallbiggrin:

[Starsign]

Arguz really, really can't believe this. How does he jam his gun three times in short succession?! He's better than this; he normally never has issues with his pepperbox and numerous times now it's broken, jammed, and just stopped working properly. Now he is getting sloppy; normally one should never ram the entire set of pepperbox barrels into a dragon's crevice. He should be thankful that the gun is actually made of adamantine as otherwise he'd be worried that something in the dragon flat out melted the gun.

This doesn't do anything to ease his frustration, which is added from the pain he's dealing with from his prior injuries. He's got no idea how much he's damaged Koralia; seems like his last shot was actually the first one that seriously staggered her. Regardless of her insane state, the ratfolk isn't exactly going to last long either in the condition he's in and every shot he makes just seems to make Koralia more angry.

Guess that makes two of them.

"Aw you goddamned gun!" Arguz's voice reeks through the gas mask with his angry tone to speak with the angry voice of a demon as he tears the pepperbox out of the crevice and, in a violation of common sense, whacks Koralia's scales with his pepperbox. Given it's notable durability, the ratfolk simply slams the side of his gun as hard as he can against the dragon's belly, causing a loud *click* that snaps the jammed and misplaced pepperbox parts in place.

...Or at least Arguz assumes so. He quickly reloads two barrels in his pepperbox before throwing a big "sink-or-swim" trial at his pepperbox. He aims his gun at the crevice again and, if he could smirk under his gas mask, he would. Yet he's too damn frustrated and in too much pain to do so as he begins hammering down on the pepperbox's trigger thrice, rotating the barrel with lightning speed each time. This is what happens when you really tick off Arguz; you make him fire off every last loaded barrel he has in his pepperbox.

Initiative 1: Reload as a move action, Lightning Reload, and repair the Misfire as a Standard action.

Initiative 2: Performing a full attack action. Koralia gets an AoO and I get a grit point for it.
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll3] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll4]

Attack roll: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll8] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll9]

Attack roll: [roll10] Goodness...
Damage: [roll11]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll12]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll13] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll14]

[Capt. Infinity]

His hand seemingly levelled with ease, Arguz's first two shots cracked off through the dismal air with astonishing ease, lodging themselves deeply in Koralia's wretched and sick-coated scales, and eliciting a slightly more coherent screech of pain in the process.

The third shot... Did not.

There were no indications as to why this time. Perhaps it was continual pain and jitteriness, unabated by even the most ardent of willpowers. Perhaps it was something with the air, the toxins emitting off Koralia somehow inhibiting proper combustion within the immediate area surrounding her. Or perhaps it was simply the cruel hands of fate, twisting the strings of causality in a joint effort to give the Ratfolk Gunslinger the honest to goodness greatest fight of his career.

Whatever the reasoning behind it, the cause mattered little when Arguz's gun, once again, releases a flair of sparks and a trail of smoke from the barrel as it misfires yet again.

Just as this happens, Koralia shakes her head from side to side, drecks of poison flying here and there as she does so. She turns to her flank, noticing Arguz there, and snarls. "That HURT! But not as much as I'm going to hurt YOU!!!" The stone beast shouts, before eliciting yet another cacophonous roar, the raw force of the displaced air threatening to knock Arguz flat on his feet.

KORALIA

What can I say? It doesn't require an attack roll. Sorry man. :smalleek:

Koralia uses her Breath Weapon. Arguz takes [roll0] damage. DC 16 Reflex save for half.

[Starsign]

Unlike the first time, Arguz saw this sonic roar coming. It's hard to describe why he did other than out of instinct; ratfolk usually have a good sense of when trouble's about to come and how to avoid or get into it. He knew she would try that devastating roar again and had readied himself for it. Granted, his gun certainly isn't ready for anything having misfired for a fourth time. Dealing with this sonic roar, however, might actually be easier than dealing with his own pepperbox. So how does he avoid the worst of the sonic roar?

He falls over.

No, really. The first thing he does is immediately go prone, stomach-first, and use his gun to cover his gas mask-covered head (for whatever little cover that provides). With the angle Koralia roars at combined with the pose Arguz puts himself in he manages to avoid the worst of the blast. The worst he gets is his back being battered from above like a very uncomfortable massage. This really is doing anything good for his worn body but it's much better than being thrown across the whole place. Unfortunately he can't really play a game of attrition given how much he's already dealt with.

Giving a grunt, the ratfolk reloads as the sonic roar dies down, able to load in another two bullets before getting back up on his feet. His repertoire of wit runs dry as he finds himself hard of breathing. With the pepperbox in his right hand, he rapidly cycles the barrels in an attempt to fix it again as he dives in-between Koralia's long, clawed arms and fires off another shot at her draconic chin. He uses the muzzle flash of the gun to disorient her again before firing a shot at her neck. If Arguz is too short-of-breath and tired to speak then she may as well be too!

Initiative 1: Spend a grit point to repair the pepperbox as a Move action; shoot as a Standard action. Flash & Shock to get +4 AC to Koralia's attacks. AoO is triggered and Arguz gets a grit point in return.
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll3] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll4]

Initiative 2: Lightning Reload, reload as a move action. Shoot again as a standard action.
Attack roll: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll8] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll9]

[Capt. Infinity]

It seems that Koralia too was far beyond words.

The female Crystal Dragon was never exactly articulate to begin with, but her decades of forced isolation were made steadily apparent as her aggressive retorts gave way to simple growling and snarls as Arguz continued the assault.

The Ratfolk deftly avoided his opponents swinging claws, and firmly landed a shot underneath her jawline, the pain plus the powder flash throwing her for a loop. The second shot hit just as firmly, lodging itself deep into Koralia's throat and releasing a suitably sized gout of what was most definitely blood (albiet heavily poison-mixed) in response.

No longer indulging her opponent in whatever maddened ravings counted as banter for her, the stone draconid goes in for yet another swing, though the heavy disorientation from the powder flash hampered her much in doing this.

KORALIA

Attack Arguz with a bite:

Attack Roll (DC 35): [roll0]

Crit Confirm: [roll1]

Damage: [roll2]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll3]

[Starsign]

The disorienting flash does Arguz well as he swiftly weaves and ducks the incoming swing. It's good that he did; Koralia's size compared to his own means that she can easily wring her entire clawed hand around his waist. As he's learned long ago, you're a dead rat if you can't move in a fight... Granted, he may as well be a dead rat in the state he's in. He's never quite had to deal with someone like Koralia and will never want to fight another dragon if he makes it out of this alive. He still can't tell how much he's hurt her, though his bullets have clearly made her bleed. That should be enough of an indication that he's getting somewhere, right? She may be insane and full of ichor but she's still among the living; if she bleeds then she can be killed. This makes for a good reminder that this is the same for Arguz.

Having finally gotten off several shots without jamming his gun, the ratfolk readies himself by reloading while Koralia is recovering from her wide swing. Arguz can't quite recall how many bullets he has loaded in his gun; he's never had to fire off so many shots in a single fight before. He's just loading the barrels he knows he fired off. At this point, so long as he has bullets in his gun, he's still in the fight. Running with an empty set of barrels is like not being able to move at all.

He is sure as hell set to spend them all just to put this poor dragon into the ground.

Still roughly within Koralia's arm reach, Arguz sets up another shot at the head and fires. The shot itself goes wide, flying past the left side of Koralia's head with a loud *swish*. The bullet itself is a feint rather than a deliberate shot; anyone would be thrown off and act in reflex to a bullet. Arguz bets on this shot leaving Koralia focused on avoiding another headshot and leaving her stomach vulnerable as he rushes in and aims at her chest, just below the neck. "Alright, I wanna get the last word in 'ere," he says as he presses his pepperbox against one of the cracked, fragile scales. "An' since I'm outta things to say, lemme jus' tell you to drop dead already!" The ratfolk's tired voice shivers past any sort of confidence he can muster as he once again fires off as many rounds as he can in his pepperbox.

Initiative 1: Reload as a move action, Lightning Reload, use Startling Shot to spend a bullet and make Koralia flat-foot.

Initiative 2: Full Attack action on Koralia; she triggers an AoO and I get a grit point.
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll3] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll4]

Attack roll: [roll5] Oh brother...
Damage: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll8] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll9]

Attack roll: [roll10]
Damage: [roll11]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll12]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll13] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll14]

[Capt. Infinity]

Arguz's plan as he nears the end of his rope succeeds, for the most part.

Koralia is indeed thrown by the purposeful miss, the wide shot causing her head to swerve in the direction of the blast as her neck reels it off to the side, leaving her stomach open to Arguz's assault.

Arguz the unleashes yet another volley of gun fire into the beast before him. The first shot lands well, so well in fact that the wound elicits a deep and visceral gout of blood in response. The problem, however, was that, at the exact moment that Arguz was letting loose his first shot, the enrapturing nature of his distracting blast ran out on Koralia, and the Crystal Dragon let loose a bite that, whilst failing to save her from the first shot made, was enough to throw Arguz second shot wide and off into the far off cave walls. Undeterred however, the Ratfolk cycles the barrel to his third shot, and brings the strike home by lodging yet another scorching round in the abhorrent beasts throat.

Koralia moans and cries in agony, her blood pumping out her wounds in time with her screeches of pain and fury. She glares at Arguz, the black pits of her eyes suddenly shining with ruby light. "Last words...?" She breathes through ragged breaths. "How's THIS for a last word?!" She intones menacingly, before letting loose her third screeching roar, eliciting a surge of sonic pressure great enough that the backdraft alone was enough to shake her body loose of her lingering flames.

You know the drill here. Two DC 16 Fortitude saves against poison. One for 1d2 Dex damage, one for 1d2 Con damage.

On top of this, Arguz takes [roll0] damage. DC 16 Reflex save for half. What the actual **** is going ON?!

[Starsign]

There's no way Arguz is capable of telling how things ended up like this.

This was supposed to be an easy three-shot execution mark. He knew how to avoid counterattacks and was expecting one. He's avoided attacks many times, if not often comfortably. He's evaded both quick and slow attacks, big and small. He can't keep himself standing still so he always needs to be on the move. That's helped his evasion so much even when he's trying to put two between the eyes at point-blank range.

So it's simply astonishing to the ratfolk at just how brutalized he is here.

He saw the damn head coming down to bite him, moving to the side to avoid it. His tired feet simply fail to leap far enough as the lower half of his arm gets caught in the large maw.

*CRUNCH*

Arguz feels only a horrid pain for a brief second as he screams, not squeaks, echoed as silence in his ears. He has the grit to pull himself together and launch another shot but his arm is, all things considered, broken. Koralia's teeth chewed down on his left arm well, tearing through the coat and biting into the muscle, chomping deep on his forearm bone before letting go to do her ragged speech. He can barely make out her words before her sonic roar comes out again. Arguz knew what to do but he's too slow to react fully. His body leans down to avoid the worst before he tumbles backward into the rocky wall of a mine. He's conscious, but just barely.

Having his ass on the floor and a bleeding arm limp, Arguz looks up through his gas mask to see the insane dragon charging for him again. She's going to ****ing finish him, isn't she? He's in no state to keep fighting. He isn't even sure if he can stand at this point. All this love for shooting and excitement and THIS is where he ends up? Hell, this isn't how he wants to go, not without at least one resounding shot.

He looks down at his right arm, shaking but holding his pepperbox tightly. Hearing the dragon charging, Arguz smashes the gun on the ground to get it working again, popping one of the barrels open with his working thumb and grabbing a bullet between his gloved fingers, reloads the lone barrel and locking it in place. And not a moment too soon as Koralia begins descending upon him and as he raises the gun and fires with a flash and shock loud enough to echo across the mine!

Oh boy...

Initiative 1: Reload as a move action, Repair gun as a Standard action.

Initiative 2: Reload again as a Move (ignore the fluff :smalltongue:), Lightning Reload, and shoot as a Standard action. She gets an AoO, I get a grit point, and I activate Flash & Shock after.
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]

Powder Burns Damage: [roll3] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll4]

[Capt. Infinity]

The phrase "pyrrhic victory" comes to mind.

It's an old phrase. Nay, an ancient one. And one that has endured for countless centuries, for never has there been a war, battle, or erstwhile conflict that did not eventually come to sympathize with the term.

a pyrrhic victory is a victory, by all objective definitions. There is a winner, and a loser. But the lengths to which the victor had to go to achieve victory, and the trials and pains it took to do so, are so great and so numerous, that the victor is often left wondering if it was truly a victory at all.

These ancient themes ring silently throughout the cave alongside the resounding *BANG* from Arguz's handgun as the scene unfolds within it. Koralia, maddened by loneliness and pain, and driven to nothing but bestial growls as blood fills her larynx and her throat grows hoarse in the wake of her rapid releases of titanic shouts. As Arguz levies his gun, the pitiful yet horrifying dragon rushes her Ratfolk aggressor, and completes a horrid sense of duality as it lashes forward biting down firmly on the ratfolk's shooting side, gun and all.

Her greatest strike. And yet, her final mistake. For it was here, within her very maw, that Arguz had the opening he was looking for. And it was in that then, with no armoured scales or viscous toxins to dull the concussive and piercing force of the blast, that Arguz let loose his final, desperate shot.

For a few, arduous, unending seconds there is silence. And then, to no fanfare, no cheers, and certainly no sense of grand victory, Koralia finally falls. Without indication or motion, and with little more than a quiet and piteous gurgle, the poor, tainted, maddened dragon topples to one side, landing with a great and weighty *CRASH* as her whole body makes impact with the cold, hard stone beneath it. Her jaw loosens in death enough that she does not twist off Arguz's arm in the process of doing this, but her death pose is firm enough that he will yet have to pry off her jagged, stone-wrought incisors to finally be free of her venomous bite.

Arguz lays there, a half-dead man beside the corpse of a poor, lost soul, as embers of flame begin to overtake it from within its horrid, venom-soaked maw. He lays there a detective, a rescuer, a hero.

But a winner? Well...

Perhaps he'll feel like that another day.

...

...

*Final Fantasy Victory Theme(?)*

Arguz has finally, FINALLY defeated Koralia. Combat OFFICIALLY over.

Just for the sake of it, roll me two DC 16 Fortitude checks against ability damage. It's superfluous and easily healed, yes. But I gotta give the poor girl every respect in her death, right?

[Starsign]

If only he can see another day.

He was a wreck, a complete, utter wreck. If he can tell anyone the tale, he probably wouldn't even be able to tell how he got to this; it's just... so embarrassing! How does one put on a confident persona and then tell how this thing practically killed him?! Okay, it's a dragon made of poison but it still damn well killed him. He should be happy that he actually managed to put down the dragon; few can actually make that claim in Ferroveil. He should be relieved that he didn't go down being eaten alive had his gun misfired for what would've been the final time. He should probably be feeling even a little sorrow for Koralia, who had been brought into her situation and eventual fate strictly out of what she is rather than what she did.

But no, Arguz is miserable and suffocating inside a mine that's basically his grave.

Any pain he felt in his right arm didn't last long after he made his shot. The bite itself ran down deep just below the right shoulder. Bone very obviously cracked and muscle punctured as blood leaked from both of his arms. He feels something heavy slide off his right arm, obscured under the darkness of the dragon's maw and the ugly teeth. Not that he didn't need to see as he knows it was the leather sleeve that basically tore itself off. It really was just another indication of how much he's been put through.

Yet the worst part is that Arguz cannot leave.

The ratfolk had already been up lying against a wall when he killed Koralia with a broken arm. Her last bite essentially disabled his other one. He can't feel anything from it. Is it broken? He can't tell but it probably doesn't matter. His arm might be drenched in that ichor because it feels so numb. His right arm is trapped in the lock of a dragon's teeth and he can't muscle it off. Is he even still holding his gun? He can't feel it; he might've dropped the damn thing in the dragon's mouth and has no chance of getting it back while his arm is disabled. Getting this off should be a simple task; he can use his boarding axe to get some leverage and wrench the whole mouth open... Or at least he would if his left arm wasn't broken!

The ratfolk's breathing stuttered at a hurried pace. He still feels adrenaline flowing through him with his heart pounding intensely. Yet as he comes to realize his situation, the ratfolk's panicked look dies into sorrow. He can't escape. Despite surviving, he's not getting out of here is he? The girls got back up the elevator and they probably sabotaged it as they said they would. Hell they probably tried getting back to the city if they feel like they've been waiting too long. Maybe they can hear him if he yells? The ratfolk opens his mouth to speak... and gurgles. A small hiccup of blood spills out of his mouth, splattering on the filter inside his gas mask. He doesn't have the energy to yell. He has a will to escape but not the body to move.

As he comes to realize his fate, Arguz begins doing something he hasn't done in forever: cry. Tears begin dripping from his eyes, flowing slowly down his fur-ridden face as color in his face rots away. His gas mask at least hides it all; there'd only be some emotionless corpse in a disguise. Yet doesn't want to die like this. At least by blade or gunshot, it would be a quick death. But like this, he'd slowly bleed out in a place which no one would ever see again. What would his family think? They wouldn't fear the worst if they never find him but they'd still be devastated. He's never been one to abandon his job and run with his tail between his legs. They'd know something is up. He can't imagine what they'd think; it's the worst feeling to imagine.

So as despair begins overwhelming the formerly confident Arguz, all he wonders is whether his death had to happen this way.

[Capt. Infinity]

What happens next, at least to Arguz's senses, is a blur. A scantly cohesive series of events that slowly unfold across a fuzzy and smeared filter of waning consciousness.

Darkness envelops the majority of his senses as he hears footsteps coming from nearby. A moment of pure blackness later, and Arguz suddenly finds himself dropping to the floor entirely, the dragon's maw wrested free from his broken limb. Blackness again. Then, suddenly, Arguz is being hoisted up, his vision, cloudy and spotted with blackness all around its edges, just barely make out black and blonde hair as two individuals hoist him up, with multiple strange, serpentine black horns burgeoning from the raven-haired one's head.

Arguz fades away once more, this time for a much longer duration. The chilling numbness of the dark encroaching on his senses, his mind, and his very being. If this isn't the end, it's sure as hell close to it.



"Aaand PULL!"

Suddenly, there is pain. Raw, visceral, gasping pain as Arguz suddenly and immediately feels his arms again (alongside the rest of him) in the worst way possible. He hears cracking on both sides, but not in a crunching, bone-breaking sort of way, but in a popping-readjustment sense that lets him know that whatever's being done is helping, despite whatever his sense of pain might say.

The voice speaks again as the pain mixes with an a odd sense of comfort as the forces pulling his arms apart to reset them come to their absolute finish. "Arina, now!"

"Right!" Arguz then feels a sense of deep warmth and comfort as he feels a light wash over his being, more so than he sees it. This wave of healing energy washes over Arguz's form, easing his pain and reforming bone, ripped tissue, and torn and shredded wounds alike as it sets to repair, in whatever small dosage, what had been done to him down in that retched, horrid mine. The second wave comes just as strong, and it finishes whatever jobs the first one had failed to complete. Wholly reforming damaged internal components to at the very least a working state, and sealing all wounds to at least a degree that they ceased bleeding.

Arguz wasn't HEALED, mind. He still had a great many minor injuries, and he was still wracked with fatigue, internal pain, and a deep sense of being unwell that comes with strain and great amounts of blood loss. But the greatest threats to his health had been handily taken care of, and he was brought back from the brink enough that his senses returned to a reasonable state of faculty and use.

And what he saw would make any man cry tears of joy.

There, standing around Arguz's haggard, prone form on all sides, were the girls from the orphanage. They had waited, patiently holding vigil in preparation for their saviour's return. Then, when it was apparent something was wrong Arina and Zivalia (those two were definitely on their way to something great, as far as Arguz could tell) both ponied up and headed down the bucket elevator to avoid detection, found Arguz's limp form, then hauled him out of Koralia's dead jaws, and back up the elevator to safety.

Arguz lays there, gasping for breath as he pulls himself out of the silent, suffocating darkness and back into the land of the living. At some point in all this, it seems that the extraneous gear Arguz had put on to enter the mine had been removed, and he now lay in his standard dark coat attire, albeit sans one sleeve, and his tail was once again swishing free. His mask had also been removed at some point. Likely to allow him the fresh air he so gravely needed in the wake of that chocking abyss below.

Zivalia tentatively approaches the Ratfolk detective. "S-sir?" She intones, sounding wary and concerned. "Are you okay?" She kneels down beside him, and Arina quickly follows suit. "We're so sorry we didn't come sooner, mister! We were just... we were scared about the dragon. When we saw you weren't moving we were so worried! Please tell me you're okay!"

These girls cared about him. They came back for him and brought him back fro the brink of death when it would've been so easy to flee for their lives. Arguz couldn't tell if it was Vel'thewenn's teachings or something inherent in the children around him, but one thing was certain.

Lowtown's got some godsdamned heroines in its very, very near future.

[Starsign]

Arguz's limbs and body shudder violently for a brief moment as he finally comes to. His eyes open wide for a split second as he gazes up at the factory ceiling and the sky through the broken areas. His ratty mouth coughs and blurts out another small drizzle of blood which leaks gently down the side of his head. After that brief moment of panic, he begins to relax. Sweat had formed all over his face and bony hands and feet due to the equipment he had been wearing; the small breeze that blew through the factory cools his warm and wet body. After all he had been through in the mine he feels like he's in heaven.

Still weak and in pain, Arguz moves his head to see the girls surrounding him. They really came for him, huh? He really can't believe it. In a way he feels kinda bad that he needs their help; he can't always rely on others for help and certainly should not have gotten as hurt as he did today. Yet there is nothing that he can do to hide how relieved he is to be here. He can't exactly show his appreciation very well; his attempt to smile is met with agonizing pain. Yet the calmness in his body after everything he's been through should be enough to signal that everything has stabilized, mostly.

There's a pause in the air as Arina and Zivalia both express their concern and worry. The ratfolk slowly opens his mouth as to not force out so much pain to speak. "I'm... alive, ain't I?" His voice is weak, lacking the confidence and energy he's maintained for so long. He's not doing a great job hiding his embarrassment either. "I ain't okay but I'll live." He gives a grunt of pain as he attempts to sit up. He finds that simply trying to bend his upper back is brutal enough as he instead lies back down. "Urg. Jus' gonna need a min' 'fore I get up." He attempts to move his head downward to look at his arms. His left one still has the large slice from the halberd knight and the bite marks from the dragon but it's no longer broken. He can actually move it now. He can almost say the same for his right one which still feels numb, no doubt a long-lasting effect of the poison.

Trying not to strain himself too much, the ratfolk looks around at the girls, particularly Zivalia and Arina. It's amazing how young these girls are yet are roughly around his own size. He feels like an ant compared to them while he's lying down. "I really... owe you all one, don't I?" He attempts a mild chuckle, stopping halfway out of pain. "Never really wanted to be seen this weak. I'm s'posed to be... strong, confident, someone worth taking seriously. Was doing well 'til a bit ago." He attempts to smile at the two girls who went in and got him out. Whatever these girls were taught, those are good teachings; he probably owes his life to Madame Vel'thewenn if she was still among the living. "But... thanks. Glad to be back living... How long was I out fer anyway?"

[Capt. Infinity]

"About five minutes, near as we can tell." Zivalia begins explaining. "When we found you, you were in bad shape, but the fact that you were still semi-conscious and we got down right around when the shouts and snarls stopped means you had probably just beat her by the time we got down there." The young Tiefling chuckles as she considers Arguz's quiet reflection. "What do you mean you're 'supposed to be' strong and confident? Mister, you just fought a DRAGON! I don't care what kind of persona you're wearing, that courage? That genuine need to see a job through? That's one hundred percent real, no ifs, ands, or butts."

"Yeah Mister, you're a hero!" Arina enthuses. "We thought we were gonna be stuck in that mine forever. We didn't think anyone would care that we were gone, let alone know we were actually alive. But you showed up anyway. You twirled your gun, said a cool line, and then saved us all better than we ever could. Zivalia and I tried to escape because we had to do something, but there's no way we would've ever made it past all those machines. But you did it and THEN some. Say what you want, Mister, but you're the real deal." She, Zivalia, and the rest of the girls all grin and agree amongst each other, speaking various words of gratitude and praise. Zivalia chimes in once more.

"So what if you're a bit beaten up? Do you think any average Joe could do half of the things you just did and even live to tell about it? Don't measure yourself by where you are, measure yourself by how you got here. And how you got here was downright awesome! You rock mister... Uh... Huh. You never gave us your name."

"Yeah Mister. I can't just keep calling you 'Mister' and nothing else. You're not a store clerk, you're the Ratfolk who saved our lives! I know you wouldn't tell Meela, but could we please know your name?" Arina asks, hope shining in her bright blue eyes.

[Starsign]

There is another weak chuckle from Arguz. The words of encouragement from these girls sure can do wonders for one's spirit. He's always used his persona to shrug off insults or angry critiques to make it seem like he's undeterred. He can't quite keep that same composure however when he's given thanks and compliments by girls who, by all accounts, got his rat's ass out of Hell. It feels almost a little undeserved, though that may just be his pride talking; he did want to get out of that mine under his own power after he shot down a dragon made of poison. Since he didn't, he'll definitely take, "being alive and being thanked" over the alternative.

Having a few moments to rest, Arguz slowly lifts up his head to try and give a wide, toothy smile... which at the most is a small grin due to his aching muscles. "Name's Arguz Aijk. Jus' a investigator, hunter an' gunslinger down in Lowtown." He almost says that he came from the warrens given that's where he grew up and where his family lives... Yet he can't. He doesn't like admitting that he came from such a place. He still looks to the future where he and his family can actually live in Midtown where they don't have to worry about the appalling conditions of that cramped mess.

Yet his mind is trailing away from the topic at hand, so he returns to it post-haste as he continues speaking to the girls. "You two got quite the tongue there. Never thought I'd hear that sorta motivation speech from you." The old elf really must have taught these children about encouragement... She must have been a great woman. "Yer all gonna get a better future, an' I guess that goes fer myself, now that we're all outta that mine."

Figuring that he really can't lie down all night, the ratfolk slowly bends his back again as he sits up. The pain isn't as significant but still notable. He looks down at his mess of a coat and pulls out whatever is remaining of the roll of bandages. "'fore we get all of us to the clinic, I was hoping you could help me get some of this wrapped on that back wound the clockwork gave me. I gotta wrap up the bite marks an' patch up anything else that came off anyway 'fore I start walking again." So long as they don't object, Arguz slowly unzips his coat, taking it off to-

...Oh, that's quite a good deal of blood on the back of his coat.

He looks at his coat with a disappointing disbelief before putting it down on the ground and taking off his shirt as well so that he and the girls can get his wounds patched up proper. This also gives the girls a chance to notice the other scars and wounds he's taken in the past; say what you will about Arguz but he can last through some rough days.

As he bandages the bite injuries Koralia gave him, the ratfolk eyes the corner of the room where the gemstones had been filtered by the large, blocky machine. Like he had told Meela before, he's also hoping to make some sort of profit from this case and after nearly getting killed he and the other girls damn well should get something for their troubles. Besides, it'd be better than getting some payment from the clinic when they very well need the money too. "While we're 'ere, how 'bout we take some of those gems back? I think we're all gonna need some funds down the line an' there ain't gonna be any harm selling some the stones fer gold." Arguz always does have the eyes of a scavenger, if he doesn't have the heart of one.

[Capt. Infinity]

"Well, it's great to meet you, Arguz." Zivalia bows her head to her rescuer, her crown of horns glinting in the mid-afternoon sun. Arina follows suit. "Yeah. And thanks for everything."

They both look thankful and sheepish in response to his praise. "Miss Vel'thewenn always said the best thing you can do for anyone is to give them hope. Encouragement and chances are rare in Lowtown, so you've gotta be the one to give it, or else no one will."

"...I'm gonna miss her."

For a brief, crystal clear moment, Arguz is reminded of the fact that the girls in front of him are just children, as they all look sullenly downwards, with varying degrees of tears in their eyes, as they collectively remember and mourn their dead den mother.

That doesn't last too long, however, as the dynamic duo pull themselves together in order to address Arguz's request. Zivalia is the first to speak up, the Tiefling wiping away her tears. "Right. Arina, Maren, Saleen, help me out here." The two orphans, alongside two other girls, a dark skinned elder looking girl with half-elf ears, and a girl with pale blue skin, blank white eyes, and straight, back-length black hair, who all help Arguz remove his blood-soaked upper clothing and, with only brief pause to take in the raw punishment he had taken over the course of the day, get to work on patching him up.

Zivalia nods as Arguz suggests they make some profit off this whole debacle. "Good idea. Everyone with empty pockets and bags, Grab what you can from the gem stores! Try to get as much Adamantine as you can, that stuff's by far the most valuable." She dictates, with girls of all ages not currently helping patch Arguz up rushing over to the gem pile to gather as much wealth as possible.

"Madame Vel'thewenn would've wanted us to move forward in her absence. And we're going to do it, no matter what. The money from the gems and metal will help, but it's gonna be an uphill battle either way." The Tieflings tail swishes worriedly as she speaks.

"It's okay, Zivalia." Arina speaks in an assuring tone. "We've already been through so much together. I couldn't tell you why, but, now that we're safe, I get the feeling everything's gonna turn out alright." The young human girl turns to her saviour, a man technically younger than her, but to whom she owed her life. "Thank you, Arguz. Thank you for everything."

[Starsign]

To describe the amount of bandages that are on Arguz's body after he's been patched up is like describing what a mummy in those childhood horror stories look like. With what little bandages he had left in the roll, Arguz and the four helping girls patched up his back wound and the bite marks along both of his arms and right shoulder while also reinforcing the bandages he has from the cleave mark and knife stab he took earlier today. The smaller cuts and scrapes he has on his hands can be dealt with at the clinic. He would've downed the last healing potion he saved up had it not already been empty when he woke up; guess Zivalia and Arina poured its contents down his mouth while he was still unconscious. Still, he isn't going home in this sort of condition. Arguz needs to get to the clinic and recover there otherwise he'll never hear the end of it from his family.

"Thank you kindly," he says to the girls as they finish patching him up, getting his shirt and coat back on, and then slowly moves to stand. It's not an easy process; the pain isn't as severe but it still takes a good deal of stress just to get up on two feet. Slowly he flips his rat body around so he's on his knees, then getting his right knee up on its foot, then repeat with the other. It's a simple process that takes him roughly twenty seconds to complete and even after he's up, the ratfolk wobbles slightly until he's got a sure footing on the ground. His chain belt rustles slightly as he does so; the holster wobbles back and forth carrying his not-so-trusty pepperbox. Good thing the two girls managed to get it out of the dragon along with his arm.

Slowly he walks over to the gemstones, or at least what's remaining after the girls took what they can. Slowly he reaches down to fill his pockets up with gems and adamantine bits, slower than usual given he only has his left arm to work with; that right arm is really going to be a bother until he can finally move it again. His coat and pants pockets let him take more than any one of the girls but it's still not a ton. His money, however, isn't as concerning as what the girls will have.

Taking a moment to rest, Arguz gently puts his back to the wall as he takes a look at the other girls in the room. They don't have anything left than each other and that's all they got going forward. They're gonna need jobs; they're gonna need to work. That by itself is fine but to feed so many... Arguz wonders, can he help more? He could give them part of his funds, like he does for his family and the clinic. He's already spreading his money out as it is and it's already caused a good deal of strain on his savings. He can think of plenty of excuses why he could pay the girls on a frequent basis; the lot and house he plans to buy aren't coming until he gets that damn permit. Yet he still needs to save that money. There's just too much he'll have to give around if he wants to help pay for all the girls here. He's got knowledge though; he can probably find potential job areas for the girls. Maybe there's room at the tanning place Uijl works at, or perhaps the factory Fahir works in could use some more workers. This is Ferroveil, there has to be someplace these girls can work in.

So as Arina is thanking Arguz yet again, the latter appears a little absent-minded, thinking about the girls' future, before bringing his attention to Arina. "I'm sure it'll all be fine. We're all outta 'ere and still kicking; that's always something." Emotion begins returning to his voice, if slowly and weakly, as he gives one last bit of reassurance towards the similarly-sized Arina... and to give her a sense of familiarity with his own situation. "Listen... I ain't a rich guy. I'm still struggling to get up in the world. Been saving up fer something big fer me an' my large family." His ratty face frowns with disappointment, though at ease at his own honesty. "So there ain't much more I can do fer any of you. I mean if you ever need food or water or something then I could help but I jus' gotta do what I can to get by myself." There is another uncomfortable pause before he tries smiling again; his lips actually curve upward enough to show a genuine smile. "But I'm glad I did my job an' saved you all, and real damn glad you saved me when I needed it."

With that, Arguz perks up a bit. His smile widens a bit, his breathing eases up, and his footing balances out as he takes a look out of a nearby window. "Now I'm 'bout ready to kick it outta 'ere and take you all to the clinic, y'know, in a place people outta live in." He makes an amused jest as he walks over to the door, waving with his working arm before pressing it against the door.

"Ready to head on home?"

[Capt. Infinity]

Zivalia chuckles as Arguz's genuine concern shines through after she and the rest of the girls finish patching the Ratfolk up. "Arguz, I've read that Adamantine sells for more by the ounce than diamonds, we'll be fine for a while, at the very least." She grins, revealing a small pair of razor sharp fangs. Though, given their presence on an orphan girl in her mid-teens, it comes off more as endearing than threatening.

"We'll figure something out, I'm sure. The world ain't done with any of us, yet." The Tiefling assures, as she, Arina, and the other girls approach the entrance. "Yeah! The world's our oyster. And we'll be fine, so long as we have each other, right?" Arina looks hopefully up into Zivalia's eyes, who returns a warm smile. "Yeah, we'll be just fine." She states, without an ounce of deception in her voice, before she leads the girls out of the building, the lot of them following Arguz out of the forest. "Lead on, Detective Aijk. We're right behind you."

A short ways into the walk, Zivalia, who was walking beside the Ratfolk, makes a look of sudden realization. "Oh! Right, I almost forgot." She quietly notes, before rummaging in her side pockets for a while and eventually producing a small pocketbook with strange sigils and a large, flat circular opal on the front of it. "I picked this up off of Meela. She seemed to be checking it every so often when we were captured, and she seemed to taunt you with it during her speech. I don't know what it does, exactly, but I can tell you this: It's VERY magical. I don't really have a reason to hold on to it, but maybe you can find a way to get some use out of it."

Upon handing off the book to Arguz, the sensation of strange energies seemed to radiate from the book as it remained in his hands. Were he to open it on his walk in the forest, Arguz would find that, on top of containing seemingly infinite pages, the book seemed to subtly influence its motions to land on a specific page, in which there laid a concise, if basic description of the trees surrounding the Ratfolk as he read them, and of the mystic and esoteric properties therein. Whilst initially gibberish, the book quickly shifted the very words on the page to be more concise and in very easy-to-follow terminology. Even then, the book's magical nature seemed to allow the information to be absorbed freely into Arguz's more practical mind, giving him a level of understanding that even the simplistic wording couldn't fully account for.

Arguz has just received the Arcanologist's Field Guide!

Bearing the signature of some long-dead master spellcaster, thaumaturge, and scientist, the book has a seemingly infinite repository for all manner of Arcane, Biological, and otherwise esoteric knowledge.

As a Full-Round Action that provokes an Attack of Opportunity, Arguz can use the field guide to gain a +10 Circumstantial bonus on any Knowledge (Arcana), (Dungeoneering), (Geography), (Nature), (Planes), and (Religion) checks he makes. By spending 1d6 minutes perusing the book, Arguz can instead make his roll at a +15 bonus. By spending 1d3x10 minutes, he can instead make the roll with a +20 Circumstantial bonus. Arguz can "Take 10" on these rolls as well, but only when out of combat, and doing so doubles whatever length of time was required or rolled initially. Taking 20 is also possible, but only for the moderate and deep searches, and doing so requires Arguz to absolutely pour over the notes and esoteric language of the book, making each check take 20 times whatever length of time Arguz rolled initially.

Consider this magic item to be in Beta Testing stages, and this use of it to be a trial run. As such, I reserve the right to alter its rules and capabilities, should the current setup prove too powerful, not powerful enough, too complex, or otherwise unruly in its functionality and usability.

After handing off the strange magical tome, Zivalia and the other girls remain mostly quiet, sticking by their saviour as they make the slow but calm trek to the Giving Hand Medical Clinic.





"Seriously? A godsdamned Dragon!?"

Jia sat on the bed adjacent to her brother Arguz, clearly flabbergasted as he rounds up the tale of his nigh-deadly confrontation.

It had been a simple, if painful walk to the clinic. There were surprisingly few problems along the way, perhaps because the strangely unorthodox sight of a Ratfolk in a ripped overcoat leading a gaggle of orphans down the Lowtown city streets was so utterly out there that those who laid witness to it were capable of only giving it a sidelong glance of confusion, before quickly brushing off any ideas of getting involved and moving on with their lives.

Arguz had been welcomed warmly, as always. But Mother Sally quickly went into a flurry of action upon seeing him and the girls in the state they'd arrived in, her Oracle's curse forcing her to descend upon Arguz and his wounds with a ravenous flurry of healing hands and jets of positive energy, the Dark Elf doing everything in her power to set right what had been done to him.

The girls also required moderate attention, but they merely required Mass Cure Spell to bring them up to a state of external wellness. Arguz, however, took multiple doses of healing and intensive care in order to fully revitalize. At some point in the process, Mirrud had entered the scene to tend to his brother's wounds more directly, and Jia had swung in through a roof (as was her signature entrance at this point) a short while thereafter. Having heard of Arguz's return, and wanting to congratulate him on a job well done, as well as get an earful of his adventures as soon as physically possible.

Salisveera had just finished up her last dose of required healing by the time Jia had relaid her explanation. His arm had regained feeling within it at some point along the flurry of healing blasts, wholly due to the restoration blast the dutiful den mother had reflexively cast upon him the moment he mentioned the lack of feeling within his previously bitten extremity. This meant that Arguz was able to gesture as widely and emotively as he wanted during his retelling of the story, which likely added to the mystique, and explained Jia's enamoured response.

Arguz sat up dutifully as Mirrud took the time and care to properly clean Arguz's wounds, and once again reapply a set of clean bandages. The Ratfolk's medically inclined brother added in a personal response himself. "Well, I would normally have my doubts about something that far-fetched. But that certainly does explain some of your more egregious injuries. Good gods, was this things mouth full of teeth or jagged spearheads?"

"It was a Dragon made of stone, Mirrud. It's probably safe to say it was both."

Mirrud sighs. "Yes, I suppose that does make sense." The younger Ratfolk looks up at his elder brother. "I'm sorry you had to go through this. I can only imagine the pain you went through getting those girls back." The young nurse states, worriedly.

"'Pain' doesn't even begin to describe it, Mirrud." Sally explains, wiping her brow from the raw exertion all her healing magic took to perform. "I've seen men fall into processing machinery who've come out with less cuts, stabs and, breaks. Detective Aijk, I must say, you are very lucky to be alive. And the level of resilience you put forth in getting here is nothing short of staggering."

"Yep! That's my brother. A regular force a' nature!" Jia grins, proud beyond measure of her brother's sheer gumption and fortitude.

[Starsign]

It feels like forever since Arguz has gotten a chance to properly rest as he sits on the clinic bed. For a bed it lacked an ideal sense of comfort, being the best which the clinic can get on its budget, but it's merciful breather compared to the rocks and steel he's walked and sat on prior. All the walking Arguz did prior to arriving at the clinic didn't help either; his bone-thin feet blistered lightly while he walked with his wooden sandals on, echoing slight doses of discomfort with every step. By the time he actually got to the clinic he forgot that Mother Sally would treat him through her magic and miracles; he figures she would've been spent helping the others who had been badly injured from the explosion that started this whole mess. Her bursts of positive energy gave him energy and eased the discomfort on his hands and feet but it certainly isn't enough to put him back in tip-top shape. That's why he's so glad he can sit down so he can have his muscles eased and his right arm working right again. Given all the time he had while telling his story, it sure did recover well enough.

"Yeah, still can't believe the whole thing myself," he says to the comments made both about the dragon and about the grievous wounds he's received. "They say anyone 'lucky' 'nough to see a dragon only ever sees one. An' hell if that Koralia sure tried making that true fer me." His voice still wanes of tired agony, though more calm and at ease than before. "But," he grunts, "y'know me. I'm damn well never gonna stop a case I start. Jus' like you said Sis; I'm a damn force a' nature. Jus'... don't wanna deal with another dragon again. An' not one as crazy as that."

He lets his younger brother finish wrapping bandages around the dry wounds before getting a chance to lie down on the bed. Sweet, sweet comfort. Arguz looks more exhausted than ever as he finally gets a couple, restful breaths in. "But after all that, I sure feel like I can take a hailstorm of bullets an' walk out peachy." If Arguz feels like that, he sure doesn't look like it. "Gonna be some real work getting my gear fixed." He points over to the ragged and torn overcoat of his which is hanged up on the wall along with his shirt. "That dragon jus' tore through it like melted rubber. Should've expected nothing less." He pauses, in concerning thought before speaking again. "Come to think of it, what kinda dragon was she? I mean I figure she's some stone or poison dragon but she looked... wrong. S'posed to be from the Plane of Earth. I dunno; I ain't done much homework on 'em."

He takes out the small tome in his pocket, the one once belonging to Meela, as he holds it upward. "Maybe I oughta look through this sometime fer answers. Some crazy do-all piece of writing. Gonna be good learning more from this. An' hey maybe i'll know more 'bout stuff than Fahir when I'm done with it." He gives a small giggle. He's always felt Fahir is, if not smart, more knowledgeable about the more arcane and divine elements of the world than Arguz. That's probably a consequence to all of Fahir's religious devotion to Tulis. Understanding the arcane or the divine never came off as a big thing for the gunslinger; he figured his cases would be exciting, if mundane jobs at most. He may wanna rethink that now that he had his near-death encounter with Koralia. "This thing could've been written a long time ago though. I dunno what it could say 'bout creatures from that earth getting some sorta poisonous disease..."

[Capt. Infinity]

"You can read about it whenever. 'Cause you sure as HELL ain't gettin' a second look."

Fahir was never one to enter a room quietly. It was a trait about him that was likely a byproduct of his size and stature. At 4'5", the younger brother of Arguz was a veritable giant amongst his kin, easily out-classing even a tall dwarf in height. His height, along with his thick black fur, general fitness and bulky, muscular frame was the cause of many a misconception growing up in which many mistook Fahir for the eldest of the family, rather than the third born he truly was.

His frame was once imposing and terrifying, with rippling muscles and the physique of a man who proudly excelled at his job in the factories. And, whilst the majority of his bulk still remains, and his force of presence is still rather strong, the signs of his illness had visibly taken their toll. Fahir's shoulders sag often, seemingly weighed down by an invisible force at nearly all hours of the day. His eyes, once hard and resolute, now had bags upon them, and a clear look of fatigue lay everpresent on his ratlike face, as if he were perpetually in a state of lacking a full night's sleep.

His fatigue did little to stop his conviction, however. And it was with a powerful, and resolute low baritone (astonishingly deep for a Ratfolk) that he spoke his next few words. "Arguz... There ain't no words. I don't have the words to describe how furious I am with you right now. A Dragon? A goddamned, sound rippin', poison drippin', straight from the depths of the earth Crystal. DRAGON!? Are you INSANE?! Do you have any idea how dead you should be right now? It's a wonder you came back in ONE PIECE, let alone with just a few breaks and slashes. Those things resist anything that isn't magic. They can shout sound so loud it shatters STONE. And, if yours weren't so goddamned overzealous, it probably woulda blinded you with Glitterdust too! You have NO idea how lucky you are." Fahir was clearly riled up beyond the point of reason, but that didn't stop Jia from trying.

"Aw, come on, bro. Ease up a little! It all worked out okay, didn't it?"

"Yeah. THIS time. What about next time, Jia? What about the next time Arguz here gets thrown in front of some monster from beyond the veil? I had ma' patience tried back when it was jus' him shootin' up some criminals. But this? Fighting goddamned magical beasts? No. Nu-uh. No way. I will not stand for it. I am NOT about to let my brother go out and KILL himself for a quick buck and his name in the papers!"

"Fahir, please. You're being unreasonable." Mirrud attempted to calm his brother down, making no sudden movements as he dabbed Arguz's forehead with a damp cloth. "He risked his life for good reason. He saved over two dozen children!"

"I know that. And Tullis be praised some poor souls get a chance to rise in their standings in the world. But I cannot in good conscience condemn my flesh an' blood to go out and risk his life on the daily for someone else's sake. Damnit Arguz, we can't lose another one!" Fahir's voice was growing coarse as he spoke, clearly chocked up by what he was saying. "Deas, Bacr, Vallix. They all took pieces of us with them when they left. But you? Arguz, you're ma and pa's golden child. If they lost you... It'd destroy them. We can't risk losing you. I can't risk losing you! If anyone has to risk their life for this family, it's gonna be me. I've already got half a foot in th' grave, what've I got to lose? I just... I just can't lose anyone else on my watch. I just... Can't." Fahir's final words hold still in the air above the room, as all within it go silent, and turn to Arguz, desperate for his response.

[Starsign]

It's about this point that Arguz really wants to groan loudly.

He's always had to put up with Fahir's complaints, however selfish or sound they end up being. He was never on board with his older brother's job as an investigator and this day isn't going to help in the slightest. Arguz was dreading on the inside about eventually meeting the large-yet-younger brother.

It starts out going about as well as the injured gunslinger expected, which is to say: poorly. Fahir is in a rage which no soft word from Arguz can deal with. This is one of those situations where the best thing to do is actually to give the silent treatment... Usually. Normally Fahir objects in response to one of Arguz's accomplishments. Here, the bigger ratfolk is actually making a good point; Arguz really should be a lot more dead than one expected. HE wasn't even sure he should've fought Koralia back then. Fahir's point is emphasized further by his knowledge of that dragon. What a show-off, knowing Koralia was a crystal dragon, not stone or poison, and that she could shatter stone and use glitterdust, whatever that is. Fahir sure as hell does know more than his older brother and that's not something Arguz can simply ignore.

He knows when to speak however and stays silent with a "yeah, yeah," look slightly obscured by his head pointing upward to the ceiling. It isn't this, however that truly gets on his nerves but Fahir's mention of their family. Mentioning Darug and Uijl cut Arguz, who knows well that he's their "golden child." He's the one that's been giving the most effort and arguably the most successful as the family. He really would deal a ruinous blow to his family, especially his parents, if he does die. Given how close he actually was to death, Fahir's words sank deep into the ratfolk's slowly-recovering body, singing his neutral look into a sullied frown.

The last part, however, is what suddenly drives Arguz to sit up, glare into his brother's eyes and say, "Aw shuddup Fahir!" There's a lot Arguz could say in his thrown-out anger but none moreso than Fahir's sudden implication for Arguz to quit and for Fahir to take up this dangerous work in his place. "Don't go telling me I oughta do something else. I've done that already. None of it worked! Having a gun and doing these cases has been the best damn thing that's happened fer our family, an' you know it!" Arguz believes his words to be fact; he is making the most money of any Aijk even if everyone's contributions are essential to the family. Fahir has to realize that even if he doesn't accept what Arguz does.

His speech, however, does not end as he begins throwing accusations on his younger brother. "An' what you know 'bout my job?! Bro, yer a damn heavy hitter but this ain't something you can jus' pick up an' go." It's an uncommon occurrence for Jia and Mirrud to see their older brother so frustrated and angry; Fahir's timing has not helped Arguz's mood. "An' don't you think you can go an' get yerself killed jus' cause you got that disease. You ain't settin' the rest of us an example if you think you gotta right to be expendable." Arguz isn't entirely in the mood to function fully on reason. The simple message he got is that Fahir wants to take Arguz's place so he is safe while Fahir hastens his own death, even though the medicine has helped starve off his illness from getting worse.

"So don't go looking fer another thing I can do 'sides from this. I didn't even know I'd be fighting a dragon! Everything else was all crooks an' Uptown nobles. I'll tell you that I'll watch out fer any magical beasts in my way but there ain't nothing I can promise you all on that.

[Capt. Infinity]

Fahir stops dead in response to Arguz's outburst. Taller or not, Arguz was his older brother, and he did not take said brother's sudden outrage lightly, nor in stride.

He stumbles over his words as the Gunslinger continues his speech. "I- I wasn't saying I should take over yer job, I just-"

"Well, yeah you bring in the most money. But maybe I could..." He trails off as his older brother states pure fact. There wasn't a load of jobs in Lowtown that Fahir could stack together to match Arguz's frankly absurd gold haul per meaningful case.

He pipes up upon mention of Fahir's continued defiance against disease. "Well, if I ain't expendable then what am I? What am I good for? My life can't possibly matter as much as yours..." He quiets down until Arguz finishes speaking his promise of caution. "I... I guess you're right. Ya couldn'ta known about the dragon. And I guess a promise is all I can ask fer, really. I just... Feel useless sometimes, you know? I'm not as strong as I used to be. Being ill doesn't help anythin', 'specially when I'm forced to see my older brother go out there and do fifty times the effort with half the body weight."

It was, in fact, Jia who spoke up next. The elder Ratfolk sighed slowly as she leaned back on her hands on the adjacent clinic bed. "We all get dealt hands in life, Fahir. Some are flashy and impressive, others are small and simple. But one thing's for certain: It's never the hand you expected or wanted." As Jia speaks, there is a hint of deeper meaning in her voice, the Ratfolk pensively looking down at her hands, as if lost in thought. "Arguz never chose this life, but you aren't nearly pigheaded enough to see that his life didn't choose him. This is what he was meant to do. I can FEEL it. And I know you can too."

Fahir looks sadly at his sister, sighing to himself. "...Yeah. Yeah you're right." He turns to look at Arguz. "I still don't approve of your antics, but I know I ain't got no means or reason 'ta stop you. Just... Just keep to that promise, alright? I'm gonna hold you to that. Through this life, and the next."

As Fahir finishes speaking, a volunteer nurse motions for Mother Sally to follow her to the waiting room. A short while later, Sally returns, looking strangely confused.

"Arguz? It appears there's someone here to see you. She's a tall brown-skinned human with dark hair. She says she knows you, and would like to speak with you in private. She doesn't seem to mean any harm, at least not at the moment. I don't know if you're fit to stand yet, so I was wondering if you were, or whether you'd like me to usher everyone out for a moment. We'd be in the hall in case anything happens, of course. But I need to know your answer first."

[Starsign]

Arguz takes the opportunity to rest his mouth muscles and Fahir and Jia speak between each other. The eldest brother would be in more of a mood to comfort and confide in Fahir had there not have been a certain dragon involved today. Arguz is probably going to need a little while in the hospital to recover before he's capable of doing anything optimally again. After all he's covered in bandages and damn near died back then. He's not sure if even the most resilient of trolls can recover fully from that in half a day, much less a ratfolk. Even if he's stabilized, treated and alive, Arguz still needs his rest.

At least Fahir has some sense knocked into him, or as much sense as can be made out of this whole day. There's something in Arguz that feels pity for his younger brother. Fahir is physically bigger and stronger than Arguz yet nowhere near as capable due to that illness. Operating factory machinery, at least as Arguz has heard, takes a good deal of physical strength and dexterity. There's no doubt Fahir has both and if he was fit he could probably do better in a physical fight than any of his siblings. Damn, the whole thing is frustrating and not just to Fahir. If he was healthy and fit then he and Arguz might be on better terms. Hell, the two might even be partners or rivals depending on whether Fahir took up any more ambitious work. Arguz never considered himself a lone wolf in his job, even if he does usually do jobs by himself. He's always welcome to have help even for the simple tasks in a case.

Sadly, Fahir isn't getting that sort of life unless a miracle occurs. Arguz would've scoffed at Jia's whole comment on fate if he didn't have an overabundance of respect for her. Was she really talking about fate? That's a concept he's never believed in. Sure the way of the gunslinger may be the best fit but he didn't have to choose that route; he could've worked with any of his parents or taken up courier work with Jia or some other task. Instead he chose this job, even if it's "earned" him a straight path to the clinic for recovery. He isn't sure if he's meant for his job, but he's certainly good at it.

It's at this point that Arguz is about to respond to Fahir until Mother Sally interrupts. Brown-skinned human with dark hair? If Arguz met her, he sure as hell can't recall. He can use a rest... but on the other hand it wouldn't be him if he were to simply shut out someone, especially if it may be a future client. "nother one 'ere to see me?" His voice, while attempting to have wit instead suffers under his exhaustion. "Yeah, sure she can come in. Don't think anyone's gonna mind if they step out fer a sec." His legs show little sign of movement; he'd really rather lie down in bed than stand up in the state he's in. He does however put the pillow of the bed up on the bed frame for his back to lean on. This should give the impression that he's lounging rather than resting; anything he can do for his confident persona is usually beneficial.

Before Fahir leaves, Arguz gives a short whistle sound to get his brother's attention. "An' Fahir? I'll keep that promise however I can. An' if I don't, you can come smack yer ol' brother one next time we meet." He slowly moves his hands behind his head, as if using them to give his lounging pose some more comfort. "An' no more dragons; that's a promise I bet I couldn't break if I tried."

[Capt. Infinity]

Fahir listens to Arguz's statement, and the Ratfolk Gunslinger can hear a light chuckle escape his younger brother's throat. "Thanks Arguz. That means more than you would ever believe." He nods to his brother, before joining the rest of the group as they file out of the room.

A moment later, the door opens once more, and the aforementioned woman walks in.

She was as described. Tall, moderately muscular, and with a brown skin tone that blends well with her raven dark hair. He body from the neck down is wrapped in a luxurious blue cloak, which looks rather expensive and well kept. She approaches Arguz's bed with a stern expression, saying nothing, but eyeing the Ratfolk's current state up and down with forest green eyes, before stopping at the foot of his bed. She makes a "hmph" noise, before leaning into the bed post. Oddly enough, she did so with her left hand only, her other seemingly entirely hidden behind her cloak. This gesture alone seemed incredibly odd to Arguz, even in his heavily battered state.

Completely strange that is, until she opens her mouth to speak.

"Hello Arguz."

In a short span of moments, a great change occurs across the woman's entire form. Where one moment, her skin was a light chocolate brown, it rapidly bleached into a deeply fair tone. Her hair, one moment straight and black, suddenly turned bright, almost shimmering golden blonde, with waves forming along the length of it. Her eyes shifted from a calming green to a deep and mesmerizing gold, and her height, already impressive, grows to the staggering 6'2" that Arguz remembers all too well. The scars take their place as well, snaking up her right side until it rose up her neck to lick at the sides of her chin, but at this point, such a trait was unnecessary to identify the woman's true name.

Adraena Zathura looks down upon her former foe. "You've certainly seen better days." She gives the Ratfolk a neutral expression, before pushing off the railing to stand and begin pacing the left side of Arguz's bed, keeping her visible arm towards him at all times. "Relax, I'm not here to hurt you. If I were, I wouldn't have paused to talk. I'm not here to goad you, bribe you, or threaten you either. All I'm here to do..." The woman turns to face Arguz at his side, before casually falling back to land sitting upon the adjacent bed.

"Is talk."

Adraena pauses for a moment, clearly letting Arguz react to all this before speaking further as to her true reasons for appearing before him on this, his toughest of days.

Oh. And her cloak changes back to silver too. Sorry, couldn't really organically fit that in there, but it's still pertinent to know! :smalltongue:

[Starsign]

There is a loud *gump* echoing from Arguz's throat as he realizes who he just invited in to speak privately to him. Boy did he not think better. He was expecting someone new; a potential future client which may offer him new jobs that pay well and preferably not involve dragons. He really didn't think that Adraena is capable of temporarily disguising herself so she can walk right into the clinic to meet the ratfolk at one of the worst possible times. The surprise and slight horror of it all is painted on Arguz's face as his smile strains and his whole body uncomfortably, if briefly, flinches out of shock.

How did she find him? He wasn't making that much of a scene on the way back, did he? Sure him and a group of girls walking through Lowtown isn't exactly common but he couldn't have made a showing that roared all across Ferroveil? Maybe Rantar told Adraena what happened? That's the most likely result but at the same time he couldn't have heard about Arguz fighting a dragon and then having to recover at the clinic. She must have got her sources elsewhere... that or Arguz is completely wrong and she just happened to follow a simple trail of clues here.

"You wanna talk eh?" The ratfolk's arms shakily move away from the back of his head, down to his side where they are visibly unarmed. Not to say he is truly without a weapon; his pepperbox is kept handily under the bed sheet in case he needs to reach in and take it out. Actually doing so, however, is unadvised. Adraena still unnerves Arguz a bit though less due to her attitude and more that she can simply shatter his best form of attack. He'd definitely want to avoid this becoming anything other than a chat.

The ratfolk gives off his usual, confident smile, blatantly shuddered by his nerves, as he keeps talking. "Sure, why not? I got time and it's nothing compared to the rest of this day... Heh, I sure did end up picking a hell'ova fight." His shoulders shrug upward as his lounging pose slouches down to him simply sitting up, eyeing Adraena with a curious look. "So how'd you hear 'bout all this> Learned a bit of it from Rantar?"

Still adjusting to school but so far I think I'll be able to get once-a-day posts out. Hope this won't be a problem. :smallsmile:

[Capt. Infinity]

"Rantar told me the basics, yes." Adraena shrugs, aware of Arguz's discomfort but paying it no head, as the Warlord leans backwards onto her hand on the bed she was sitting on.

"He told me where you went, and from there I tracked down your movements to the factory. It was simple enough to follow the footprints out of the forest, and question a few pedestrians about what they saw. From there, I tracked you to the clinic. Though, I'll be honest, I never would've expected you to be in this sorry a state." The Aasimar speaks with a sort of calm fluidity that makes all of this seem strangely casual, like two coworkers or moderate acquaintances chatting about the weather more so than two former enemies having an exceedingly strained exchange of words.

She leans back in again, returning to her standard level of stoicism as she does so. "But this isn't about you. And it isn't about me. This is about the children, the ones that you brought back with you, the ones that are resting up in the room adjacent." She points a thumb to the opposite side of the room, where there laid a door that led to the next section of the clinic.

"I'm here because... Because I want to take them in. I want to be responsible for their safety, to give them a home again." Adraena grew... Strangely somber as she spoke, looking down at her hand with quiet contemplation in her eyes. "I grew up in the slums. Through some cruel twist of fate, I didn't get Madame Vel'thewenn. Hell, over the years I was lucky if I got a roof. I learned a lot of things over those years, but one thing I learned for sure is that, when the chips are down and the stakes finally matter, no one is coming to rescue you." The women's arm semi-consciously moves to her concealed shoulder, absentmindedly clenching her burnt side, as if reliving a bad memory.

"...But it didn't have to be that way. These girls, the world they've seen, it's better than the one I lived in, the one I was a part of for so many years. I can't allow myself to risk them losing that view by fending for themselves." She sighs, then continues. "I have many unoccupied buildings in my circle of control. One such building is an old, would-be apartment complex near the border between Lowtown and Midtown. It's close enough to the bad parts of town that girls from there can find a chance, but close enough to the better parts to be safer than most. Combine that with the moderate fortune I'm currently having my men shovel out of that mine's output conveyor belt, and the one those girls no doubt have in their pockets, and I can promise to have that place well-staffed and well-maintained for years to come."

The young mercenary stares Arguz down, for almost a moment seeming personable, almost soft in her expression, though her words remain serious and to-the-point. "The underground of Ferroveil has rules. And one of those rules means that I can promise you that, so long as these girls are under my care, no one, but no one is going to lay another hand upon them, or else they're gonna get the world dropped on top of their heads."

"The girls trust you. They see you as their saviour. If you give me your blessing to take care of them, I'm sure they'd listen to you more than anyone else. So, what do you say, Arguz? I know you may not have a high opinion of me or my work. But I promise you: I am a woman of sense and a woman of standards. And I swear that I will do everything in my power to give these girls the future they deserve."

Sounds fine by me! And yeah, I think something like that is going to be my schedule too. So it works out fairly nice in the end. :smallsmile:

[Starsign]

The normally chatty Arguz stays silent as he listens to Adraena's lengthy response and explanation. His silence is partly out of respect, partly out of fear, and mostly out of curiosity. Arguz can sympathize with Adraena, somewhat anyway. He's lived at the literal bottom of the barrel; there's no real place worse to live than the warrens. The slums, by comparison, are only a little better. Growing up there on your own? That's going to give anyone a bad few years. Arguz is probably lucky he has a big family that salvaged some form of a home, otherwise he might have gone mad just trying to get out of that nightmare of a place. With Adraena's current condition, she's probably lucky to have survived childhood in the first place. No wonder she's been so hardened.

At least for all that, she does have a point Arguz can agree with; you gotta rely on yourself when the stakes matter. It's a slight variant of Adraena's meaning but it's stands just about clear. Out in the warrens and out as a gunslinger, Arguz never went into a situation believing that he has help. He can look out for others but when it comes down to it, there's no real "help," only fortunate twists of fate. He really has the girls to thank for the latter. Next time he'll need to actually be able to walk out of combat on his own two bone-thin feet.

The wounded ratfolk chatters his teeth lightly, only barely able to make a small sound under his closed mouth, as Adraena offers to adopt the girls. What is he supposed to think? He and Adraena don't exactly get along, as she's already stated, and there's few others he'd be comfortable with putting his trust into. There's gotta be better opportunities for the children then let them be under Adraena's care and protection, right? ...Right?

...

...If there is any, Arguz doesn't know them.

He takes a few moments to ponder the question, seriously considering both the offer and any other options he can think of. Truth then dawns on him as he takes a deep, slightly painful breath before finally responding. "I don't think there ain't much more I can do fer the girls." His voice, quiet and calm also lacks a lot of the confident emotion he had puffed up before. "'fore you came in all I got was searching fer a couple job opportunities fer 'em an' maybe finding some big, abandoned building for 'em. Could've taken me a damn long time since I ain't in the best of conditions. I wouldnt've even been sure they'd be safe fer 'em. I had a lot I gave to save 'em but not much after."

Arguz leans back on the pillow, letting it cushion his furry back as he continues speaking. "If you really got something better fer 'em, jus' like what you said, then I'll trust yer word on it an' let 'em know there's someone willing to take 'em in an' give 'em a good home." He takes another deep breath and leans his head upward for a moment, sadly chuckling, "Sure as hell more than what I can give 'em now." He gives another look at Adraena, one with a cold-edged eye as he says, "Jus' don't forget what you said when they're under yer care. If I hear something bad 'bout 'em an' I don't hear from you 'bout it, I'm gonna be comin' right in an' finding out. An' you can bet I'll be shooting up every fool that tries to stop me." His warning ends with another soft chuckle. Though truth be told it's not really much of a warning; his tone is laced with a calmness that sounds more like him trying to play up as confident and the smile he produces during it can only be described as "playful" rather than truly threatening. Adraena and her Firebrands can do a much better job guarding the children than he ever will.

Continuing to lean back, while feeling more relaxed about having a conversation with a (hopefully) former enemy, Arguz closes out his long speech with a simple question. "So how shall I introduce 'em to you? If I should do so at all? You want me to call 'em by yer real name or should I let 'em know you by that alias of yer's?" Arguz can only imagine the awkwardness of introducing children to a battle-hardened mercenary like Adraena.

[Capt. Infinity]

"Well, "Miss Bladebreaker" doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, now does it?" The hardened mercenary permits herself to make the lightest of chuckles at the sheer absurdity of the idea. Though she quickly returns to a stoic disposition. "You have my word that I will keep them safe. Trust me, there are certain... Rules to the darker sides of Ferroveil, and one of the benefits is that I can be certain that any attempts on my territory will be met with swift and brutal offensives." She rises to her feet as she continues. "You also have my word that you'll be the first to know if anything ever goes wrong. There aren't many people you can trust in this city. And, at the very least, I can be sure you won't hold a favour over my head like a sword if I ask for one."

She walks over to the foot of the bed again, looking pensive. "As for how to introduce me... I honestly don't know. How do you tell someone you're in charge of their growth now? What would they say in response to me being a part of their lives?"

"Well, I think it'd start with 'nice to meet you, Miss Adraena. My name's Zivalia'"

"And my name's Arina, and I think it's nice to meet you too!"

A quick turning of heads reveals to Arguz and Adraena that the door to the girls' beds, at some indeterminate time, had been opened, with Arina and Zivalia's heads sticking out of them.

"We heard everything." The young Tiefling explains, as she, Arina, and the rest of the girls file out into the room. "I'm not going to pretend to know who you are. And something tells me you wouldn't call yourself a good person. But I trust you. It's a tough world out there, and if you're honestly offering to take care of us, who am I to say no?"

"Yeah. And besides, if Arguz thinks you're good, that's good enough for me." There was a murmur of agreement from the other girls, who all look expectantly at Adraena.

For a brief moment, the Aasimar woman looks stunned. She evidently hadn't expecting things to turn out this way, and she was going to need a second to process it all. But, in due time, Adraena's face suffused with an emotion that was all but foreign to it: Joy. A small smile plays out across her lips, and stays there as she continues to speak. "Well then. If you'll have me, then I'll be glad to take you in. Hello everyone, my name is Adraena Zathura, and I would be honoured to take care of you."

The orphaned girls cheer, before rushing over and giving the mercenary woman a massive group hug, the whole lot of them clustering around her knees. She looks up from them to Arguz, her eyes having softened immensely. "Thank you Arguz." She nodded her head in honest gratitude. "I promise to keep them safe."



The next 3 days were fairly fluid, if moderately eventful. Adraena quickly got to work setting the children up in the building she described, and in just a few short days the place was in full working order and the children had a home again. Arina and Zivalia specifically took the time to send letters to Arguz every so often, intending to be his lifeline to the entire operation, so as to keep him informed on the subject, whilst also keeping touch with the man that they quickly grew to consider a genuine friend.

The pleasant monotony was briefly broken up by a message to Arguz's Detective's office. The letter was made of a high quality paper, and seemed to have been lightly perfumed in transit. The sheer level of rampant nobility on display was completely validated upon reading the return address, written out from one Delphinia Senderhaven, straight to Arguz's front door.

Delphinia Senderhaven is the current Chief Proprietress of the vast majority of the Senderhaven family's most wealthy holdings. In many ways, she's what Meela would've been had she been born on a higher branch of her family tree. A young, ambitious woman who swiftly rose the ranks of her dynasty to stand on top. She's known for being intelligent, charismatic, and one of the most savvy businesspeople in Ferroveil history.

The letter read as follows, in a flowery handwriting that more so bordered on artform than it did simple calligraphy:

To Detective Arguz Aijk.

Dear sir, allow me to cut the pleasantries. I know who you are, within reason, to a more than satisfactory degree. And I must say, your work is quite impressive, especially for one so young and freshly minted in the private sector. However, I would imagine you are well aware that your surprising success is not my chief reason for writing to you.

Allow me to be succinct. I know you are the one responsible for the swift and sudden death of my cousin Meela Senderhaven. And let me be the first to say, in a rather curt manner, good riddance. The woman was a true upstart, and she stood to have a genuine chance at clawing her way up our line. Much as I am to laud the accomplishments of a fellow savvy businesswoman, I tend to find dislike in those who would seek to steal my job.

As such, allow me to formally congratulate you on ending her attempt at usurping my position. Whilst I didn't exactly appreciate the fact that the mine she had rediscovered seemed to mysteriously collapse shortly after her passing, I will think nothing of it. That mine was poison, and that much money in one place was more trouble than it would ever be worth.

I do value the aid that is given to me by others, and I do well to thank and congratulate those who aid me in my endeavours, however accidentally. As such, I have enclosed in this letter a small thank-you gift from my family to yours. Having done some digging into your recent endeavours, I have it on good authority that a present such as this is exactly what you have been looking for.

Many thanks, and many adieus.

Delphinia S. Senderhaven.

Arguz, upon checking the further contents of the envelope, found stored within a folded sheet of paper that, when opened revealed itself to be none other than a fully legitimate and legally sanctioned land ownership permit from the midtown zoning office. Arguz, and by extension his family, were now henceforth allowed to legally own and build upon Midtown land.

Say what one will about the rich, one does not maintain nobility by scorning those who do them well.



From there, it was more of the same. Arguz quickly became reacquainted with a dull monotony for another two days thereafter. A theft here, a burglary there, all so utterly dull. Yes a drunken assault turned inadvertent arson a little ways in brought some colour to the week, but everything else was almost dreary, leaving Arguz in a position of having genuinely nothing interesting to do.

Until, of course, business started booming.

Literally.

It started as another freak explosion, this time without the pretence of kidnapping. A small banking office in Midtown was caught in a blaze of flame and pyrotechnics which levelled the place in seconds. Questions of a gas main malfunction were dashed quite quickly when local authorities (moderately competent in the lands of Midtown proper) discovered the telltale signs of a bomb having been placed near the buildings foundation. Yes, such a large display was strangely out of place, especially since the city's resident bomber, Darguac, was currently buried multiple feet below the surface of the earth. But the truly strange thing was a twofold discovery at the crime scene.

The first oddity was that, near as anyone could tell, nothing was stolen. The money, near as anyone could tell, had been blasted and melted alongside the rest of the building. While much of it was incinerated and thrown across the scene, enough was recovered to make the safe assumption that this was done for apparently no better reason than to simply blow up a building. The second oddity, however, was somehow even stranger, despite it having to follow such a nonsensical premise to begin with. The truly odd thing was that the criminal, the one responsible for the explosion, had had the utter gall to leave a calling card.

For there, nestled in the middle of the utter bedlam and destruction, and encased in a lead-lined box so as to withstand the blast, was a thin slab of corrugated steel, seemingly ripped off some piece of a factory, with an acid-burned drawing of a heart with a knife run through it.

The Heartknife Terror, as they were quickly titled by the populace, did not stop there. For over the course of the next four days, two more buildings, one a small factory near Lowtown, and the other a schoolhouse bordering on Uptown (which well and truly terrified the noble populace nearby) were also hit attacks, both of which bore the calling card of this new, and dangerous villain.

They bore no motive, they left little evidence (eyewitness reports ranged from a male, bearded Halfling to a tall female Half-Orc, leaving local authorities to assume either magic or a group conspiracy) and most of all, they showed no remorse.

And Arguz was on the case.

The first person to commission him for the job did not really matter, as several other calls came in shortly thereafter. Multiple people were fearful of the Heartknife Terror, and Arguz's reputation had evidently spread far enough for his office to be the first many people called.

It was a tough job, to be sure, as frequently the crime scenes were swarmed with varying amounts of local policemen, and even then, there was little evidence left, as was the problem with explosive acts of terror.

It was on the fifth day of the attacks, early in the morning and near dawn, that Arguz suddenly hit a massive break in the case, in a way that no one, especially not him would've expected. For there, on the centre desk of his office and facing the door, partially in shadow in the early, pre-dawn light, was a simple, hinged wooden box, with the image of a heart being run through by a knife emblazoned upon it.

[Starsign]

After that incredible near-death experience, Arguz felt pretty good, if surprised, at the next few passing days.

The many rough patches and spots he was expecting by letting Adraena take care of the children didn't happen. They comfortably moved in and he's got a connection on their latest news through the letters. This is better than he imagined; at best he wasn't going to hear from the girls again and would have to had taken Adraena's word blindly for it. Here he's actually been getting responses from the children he saved. This not only means that Arguz hears back from the girls but that he also doesn't have to ever consider going into Adraena's territory just to catch up on what's going on. This leaves one big worry out of his mind which helps as his body recovers from the lasting aches and pains. It lets him worry less about stuff out of his hands and more about things in his hand.

For example, the land ownership permit which he received a couple days after. Now this was a surprise, especially considering who it came from. He had a feeling that the Senderhavens would have some reaction to Meela's death; you don't normally kill an Uptown noble and have the whole world shrug and forget it. Arguz was surprised, however, because the letter's writer thanked him for killing Meela. He really shouldn't be surprised; he always figured the rest of the Senderhavens never particularly cared much for her. Yet it seems like she threatened the positions of many, including the writer, Delphinia. It certainly did seem like Meela had all the makings of an underdog too, or at least one among Uptown nobles... Too bad she had to meet Arguz; too bad she went with the loud and explosive path. It's impressive that Delphinia found that Meela was such a thorn and a risk that she personally wrote a letter to Arguz and gave him a gift for his efforts.

And boy, oh boy was it ever a gift!

Arguz had a momentary freeze as he held the land permit in his hands. He never knew how he'd be getting his hands on one of these but wow did he luck out on this one. This was his biggest hurdle to actually having a lot and a home in Midtown and now he's finally got it. He checked his deposited money later that day and put away what we needed to match the cost of the lot payment, taxes included. He still couldn't believe it; he has almost everything he needs. He has the money and the land permit! All he's missing is the funds needed for supplies and the overall cost to build the house in Midtown; he could pay that after another big case or do. He could actually pay for it; he just needed a little more...

For safekeeping, Arguz puts both the permit and the deposited money in a lead box and puts it in the Aijk house for safekeeping. Arguz can't really keep it in his office where he's not there half the time; the Warrens may be an awful place but there's always at least someone living at the Aijk residence, or at least whatever one "counts" as a residence in the Warrens. It'd be better for Doden and Caci and whoever is there to hide and keep an eye on it, especially if anything were to happen to Arguz. At the very least, the family has the funds for the lot, and hopefully the house, if Arguz were to kick it in the near future.

Of which, potentially, could happen with the latest big twist happening in Ferroveil.

The ratfolk tried following the Heartfknife Terror for a bit once the messages and requests came in but the first few days were fruitless as hell. No real leads to follow or anything left enough for him to follow up on. This seemed nothing more than entertainment brought to you by random acts of violence. It was a little frustrating, though at the same time he knows he can't be too upset over it. After all part of the fun is actually trying to be the hunter in a long-standing game of cat-and-rat.

As of today, he's no longer acting as the cat.

A spine runs down Arguz's spine as he sees the image upon the wooden box. Someone, probably the arsonist, sneaked in and planted the box and then got out. He, assuming the crook is a man, probably did it without witnesses either. Yet it's Arguz who's being targeted now, no doubt due to his searching and reputation. It's a little scary that the arsonist actively knows who is going after him. On the other hand, this potentially is Arguz's big breakthrough. It's the most he's been given on this case and it's an exciting turn of events. There's no way he won't open it... At least, y'know, so long as it isn't a bomb.

The ratfolk wears his studded leather jacket, patched and repaired over the week thanks to Uijl. His ratty tail drags gently along the ground as he walks over to the box. For a moment he considers whether to open it or whether to try and gauge what's in it... Actually the latter is the sensible thing, even if he has no idea what might actually be in there. Not like he's ever figured out what the Heartknife Terror's bomb design is.

Overtaken by curiosity, with a bit of a smirk as he tries looking at the positive, Arguz takes a silent observation of the wooden box, lifting it slowly, moving it back and forth, and listening carefully to see if he can hear any odd sounds from it.

Once that is all done, the ratfolk takes a deep breath, hopes it's not some sort of explosive, and opens the box.

Not too sure what check is needed for what Arguz is doing but I imagine it's either Perception or Appraise, so here's a standard d20 roll: [roll0] +11 if Perception, +13 if Appraise. So either a result of 15 or 17.

[Capt. Infinity]

The inside of the box, upon opening it, is astonishingly sparse. The box itself appears to have been made for looks, as all that was placed within it was a small folded piece of paper, once again bearing the mark of the Heartknife Terror.

Upon unfolding the piece of paper, Arguz finds a letter scrawled upon it. The words are written jaggedly and haphazardly, with a handwriting that, whilst legible, was a FAR cry from the outright calligraphy of Delphinia Senderhaven. The letter read as follows:

Hello Arguz.

I'm sure by now you know who I am. And yet, I'm certain you honestly have no idea!

That's fine though. It doesn't matter if you know who I am. What really matters is that I know who YOU are. And believe me, Aijk, I know PLENTY about you.

I know you've been chasing me for a while now, and I gotta say, I'm flattered. You really managed to move up in the world recently, and seeing you put time and effort into little old me really brings a tear to my eye.

I know you'll never catch me, though. No one can. But that's not FUN now, is it? What's the point in doing all of this if nobody even stands a chance? I don't want futility, I want FAILURE. And you, mister Rat, deserve to fail more than anyone.

So, I've devised a little game for us to play. Just the two of us. Won't that be fun?

Now, the game only works once I've started it. But don't you worry, I've planned it out immensely well. Just stay right here on this line until you've heard the big, loud BANG.

To say "as if on cue" would be disingenuous towards the raw coordination behind the explosion that suddenly resounded from far off to one side of Arguz's office, sounding as if it had come from a good distance to his right. This attack, in all its finery, was planned to happen right then, and not a moment sooner or later. One would assume the Terror had tracked Arguz's path to the office, and then eyeballed it from there. The fact that it had happened so precisely, could only be accounted towards the raw serendipity that followed Arguz like a miasmatic haze.

The letter continues:

Back now? Good. Now, unlike last time, that explosion is going to have a little more left for you to find. It's in Lowtown, and you're close enough that you'll be the first one there. At the epicentre, you'll find a clue towards my next big job. With any luck, your keen investigative skill will point you to me, and actually give me a fair chance of losing. That is, if you're as good as you think you are. And don't think you'll have time to plan Detective. This is a race. You're clock's already ticking, so you better get going. After all, it's no fun if you don't put up a good fight.

G.H. The "Heartknife Terror"


P.S. Oh, and by the way. You REALLY should have been more careful opening this box. Toodles!

The last word read on the page was immediately punctuated by a raw burst of flame, the box in front of Arguz completely obliterating itself in a blazing conflagaration as it auto-detonates in his office. The Ratfolk Gunslinger is suddenly slammed with a shockwave of flame and bits of charred wood as he is hit by a moderately disastrous explosion, likely meant to taunt him, more so than kill him.

Though, such intentions didn't help it hurt any less, that was for sure.

Arguz takes [roll0] Fire Damage from the explosion. DC 14 Reflex save for half.

[Starsign]

The ratfolk gunslinger quickly backs up before finding himself flat on his ass and lightly charred by the sudden explosion that came from the wooden box. He had some feeling that he was going to be caught in some sort of explosion today and very much figured that there'd be one placed right in his office. Of course if it was a bomb, he would've expect it to go off the moment he opened the box. Instead Arguz had gone through the whole letter and heard a different explosion go off before getting a spontaneous combustion to occur right in front of him.

He gets himself back on his feet in a flash as he notices the combustion hadn't done much to light the whole place on fire. The explosion here mostly charred wood, though it did also send a corner of his desk aflame which was dealt swiftly (if questionably) by smothering it with a very dirty broom; cleanliness is not one trait which can describe Arguz's office. Arguz himself is fine despite the explosion; the front of his overcoat darkened to an ashy black while parts of his face turned into a different shade of black due to some charred fur. It didn't take anything more than a quick shot of healing liquid to fix that.

"Well ain't he a cheeky one," Arguz says to himself, maintaining a positive wit as he tightens his chain belt before heading out the door. He'd spend more time getting ready but the note made things very clear; he's in a race and not one of his own choosing. On one hand, this arsonist has proved himself to be a real pain. He or she has already been dead-set on toying with Arguz for what feels like amusement or to make some claim about superiority. Arguz didn't exactly like to be played like a fiddle either; something about this little game is rigged against his favor.

On the other hand, this is exactly the breakthrough Arguz is looking for. Finding a lead on this case is one thing but literally twisting it into a big cat-and-rat chase adds a lot of excitement for the ratfolk. Heck he probably can't really call it cat-and-rat when both sides think they're the cat in this game. Now doesn't that bring a lot of tension to this case? It's going to have one hell of a payoff if Arguz succeeds today. Besides, this whole "game" seems to have happened to Arguz due to the rep he's built up; that should be a victory in itself right there. If he's going up in the world then he should be getting these sort of cases to prove himself. That's exactly that; he'll be more well-known if he pulls this off.

Keeping that positive outlook, Arguz heads over to where that other explosion happened moments ago. Let's see what "clue" the Heartknife Terror is referring to.

[Capt. Infinity]

It was a quick walk to the origin of the explosion, which happened to have been centred upon an old and dilapidated light bulb factory that was left abandoned years ago. The building had been left to disrepair after the carbon filament bulbs they made were swiftly outmoded by the march of progress did away with them, instead opting for tungsten filaments, as such bulbs gave off a greater glow (Arguz, of course, knew and cared for little of these facts. He simply knew that the building was abandoned after other people began building better bulbs).

The explosion itself, as a result of the empty nature of the factory, left little injury. The devastation was visible and jarring yes, as smoke billowed in various places from out of the collapsed roof and into the dismal air, and the streets immediately outside the factory lay blackened with soot and had bits of brick and mortar strewn about it, but all of it amounted to little physical damage to even the buildings adjacent.

However, Arguz quickly understood why the Heartknife Terror chose this location to start his game, a reason even more simple than the fact that it was near Arguz's office: It was close enough for people to notice.

For here, on the same street as the factory and only a dozen or so meters from the blast zone, was a popular and thriving Lowtown bazaar. Littered with carts, stands, and all matter of bargaining locales, the entire street was noisy, though this time not with the sound of commerce and community. All around and within the area, people were in varying states of shock from the blast.

Some were still hiding under tables and clinging to stalls, the threat of further blasts seemingly paralyzing them with fear. Others were looking around and trying to ease the former group, still staggering from the event, but with enough sense in them to remain in a state of motion. Still others were more panicked, with some looking about terrified, a select few making their way home out of fear, and a worrisome majority approaching the demolished factory, morbid curiosity driving them close, but a deep, self-preservationist fear keeping them from drawing too near to the premises.

As Arguz pushes passed the awed masses, and towards the building proper, he can't help but notice that, for all the rampant destruction, the building's doorway appears to have caved in in such a specific way, that the sides of the door remained standing, and the area directly behind it funnelled in on both sides, as if paving a rubble pathway inwards. A less informed person might say it was as if the rubble were trying to point the observer somewhere.

Arguz however, knew that was exactly what it was doing.

Somewhere in the smoke clouds, you can make out a clearing in the centre of the explosion site.

As you approach, you notice that there appears to be something on a pedestal-like structure in the centre of said clearing.

Near as you can tell, it appears to be another box.

[Starsign]

An abandoned light bulb factory isn't the first thing Arguz would've imagined as a target to blow up. When he actually does reach it, it all makes sense; no one would really bother wandering around there and would certainly not accidentally stumble upon a bomb about to blow up. Does make for a perfect way to hide something without anyone else catching it first, especially given how close by Arguz is.

"Alright, 'cuse me. Coming through, coming through!" The ratfolk makes these passing remarks as he moves past the various groups of people who were watching. Moving through these groups would be easy if he were something like an ogre or half-giant; he could walk in a straight line and people would just rush out of the way like they were about to be run over by a bulldozer. Instead he's a ratfolk just over four foot tall and has to navigate through a lot of humans, elves, orcs, and other beings several feet taller than him. Sure there's also the gnomes, the goblins, and other ratfolk who are around his size and it's generally easier to push past them but this is like a child trying to maneuver past a wave of adults.

...Actually that's a really strange comparison that came to Arguz's mind; normally children don't solve crimes of extreme arson.

Getting to the building, Arguz can't help but wonder whether the Heartknife Terror considers his arson to be works of art seeing as the whole explosion has left parts of the building and rubble in a specific way. Even without the pointers he can tell there's something in the distance, like a clearing or an "untouched" spot that was kept safe from the rubble. Good chance the Terror hid something there.

Feeling in control of the situation, Arguz waves the crowd to get back as he begins moving forward into the rubble of the abandoned factory. With only wooden sandals for footwear, Arguz does not wear the most protective gear for traversing rough, jagged "terrain" and a lack of gloves doesn't help for when he needs to crawl around. Given many things he's been through before, moving around rubble is relatively laughable for him as he makes his way over to the clearing.

[Capt. Infinity]

The bystanders surrounding the rubble do as Arguz says, backing away from the area as he enters the blown out factory. Some make murmurs of confusion, wondering who this Ratfolk that just pushed his way into the blast site is, but several of them are shushed as others whisper the circumstances. Evidently Arguz had gathered at least a moderate reputation, as whatever the people who knew of him said was, it was enough to get the more curious folks to heed his words of warning.

The approach towards the clearing was short and foreboding, as the crumbling architecture continued to fall apart and smoke from the still-recent explosion. However, true to Arguz's perception, there lay a clearing amongst the wreckage. About 30 feet in any direction, the land was more or less clear, likely due to some trick of the demolition. In the centre of the blasted clearing, there was a strange pedestal, upon which there laid a strange, dark metal object of sorts. Upon approaching it, however, Arguz quickly realizes that what he is seeing is yet another box, once more marked with the insignia of the Heartknife Terror.

What's more, there were two things very strange about the box. The first was that the box was locked, but not with just one key, but seemingly four, with a quartet of separate keyholes down the line across the front of it. The other strange thing, and perhaps the more worrisome one, was that along the front of the thick metal box, scarred in with what seems to have been acid, is a short and threatening message, once more written in that strange and ragged handwriting.

GAME ON, AIJK!

Once again, as it seemed to have been on cue yet a third time today, Arguz hears a strange sound from four seperate sides of the clearing. The sound was a ragged mix of clanging metal and bestial snarls, a sound Arguz quickly connects to angry, wild dogs just in time for the metal clanging to give way to the sound of something large and metallic snapping off, followed by the sound of multiple gates being rammed open.

Slowly, from four corners around the clearing and centred upon the box, there approached what looked like wolves, as imagined by a madman's most terrible nightmares. The horrid canines were the size of young bears, with matted, dark fur that came away in ragged pieces across their forms. The flesh that could be made out beneath was a sickly, pale grey, giving it the look of some animated corpse, hauled out of a ditch and brought back to life, specifically to reign terror and fear upon him. Their eyes, despite being a stark and blank white, all turned to face Arguz dead on, the creatures rearing back to snarl at him in unison, revealing that, upon each of their necks, there lay a collar, with a single brass key linked to each.

Game on indeed.

INITIATIVE! :D

Wolf 1: [roll0]

Wolf 2: [roll1]

Wolf 3: [roll2]

Wolf 4: [roll3]

[Capt. Infinity]

One of the wolves took the initiative above the rest, rushing forward at Arguz. Despite the massive size difference between the two, the creature is astonishingly agile in its movements, rushing at Arguz with bared teeth.

It attempts to tackle and maul him simultaneously, using its overwhelming size to knock him down as it goes in for a bite. If the bite should succeed, Arguz will also feel a raw, sickening chill emanating from the wound, possibly rendering him stunned from a mix of nausea and pain.

Wolf 2

Move Action: Rush at Arguz (no charge because their position was already kinda GM fiat, so I'll play nice on that end.

Attack Arguz: [roll0] On a hit, [roll1] Damage plus a free Trip attempt. [roll2] Against Arguz's CMD or be knocked Prone. In addition, if it hits roll a DC 18 Fortitude save against Paralysis for [roll3] rounds. ...Oh

[Starsign]

This wasn't the game Arguz had been expecting, though he really, really should have.

He got the gist of this "game" in an instant; take out the four wolves and insert their keys into the box. Granted he can't really call them wolves. These things are nasty to look at. At first Arguz thought they were simply undead wolves until he gave another look and noticed they're about twice his size. This makes them less actual undead and more like mutated freaks that give off an undead look. Who the hell is Arguz dealing with? Normally necromancers, or at least the ones he's read up on, don't tend to enlarge the creatures they bring back to live. This is one for the field guide to help Arguz with.

At least, if he's given the chance.

Caught off guard, the ratfolk gunslinger is firmly nailed on his right side just as he turns around to face the wolf tackling him. Like one might expect from a ratfolk, Arguz does not exactly stand well to physical force and promptly topples over as the wolf sinks its teeth into his right shoulder. To describe the pain of the wound other than, "extremely painful," is difficult. Whatever thing is on its teeth however caused a brief moment of desperate flinching from his right arm.

Finding finesse and courage however, Arguz reaches under the wolf's belly to grab his pepperbox holster. Ignoring the injury as best he can, Arguz pulls out his hopefully-trusty gun and aims at the creature's underbelly. "Arrg, you git off me!" He makes his proud demand with three painful shots from his pepperbox, cycling the barrels rapidly to keep his fire rate swift and decisive.

Arguz uses the damage caused by his bullets to wrench himself free of the teeth on his arm, hurrying to his feet before the rest of the wolves begin dog-piling on the rat. With his right arm able to relax again, Arguz quickly inserts another bullet into his recently-fired barrel before plunging it down at the wolf. He's got no idea exactly how effective his shots are. Though if they can kill a dragon then they should damn well be able to take down a couple mutated dogs!

Alright, hopefully things turn around. Initiative 1: Perform a full attack on the wolf that tackled Arguz. It gets an AoO on him and I'll put a grit point into my ring.
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll3] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll4]

Attack roll: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll8] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll9]

Attack roll: [roll10] *sigh*
Damage: [roll11]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll12]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll13] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll14]

Initiative 2: Stand up as a Move action. Shoot the wolf again as a Standard action. Using Flash & Shock for +4 AC against it if it somehow survives Arguz's attack.

Attack roll: [roll15] Here we go again...
Damage: [roll16]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll17]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll18] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll19]

EDIT: Using another grit point for Expert Loading so my misfired gun doesn't explode.

[Capt. Infinity]

From underneath the wolf's mildly decayed belly, Arguz had a clean shot lined up with which to let loose multiple rounds into its exposed abdomen. The creature tried to bear down on him in response to this, but Arguz managed to deftly dodge its bite, using the close quarters as a means of making direct melee more difficult. In making his attack first two shot went off without incident, lodging themselves deeply in the Dire Beast's gut. However, on the second shot enough blood and bits of rotting flesh went wide from the blast that a small sum of gore managed to splatter its way onto the pepperbox. This blood burst snaked its way down the barrel of the Gunslinger's second shot, and the slight wetness of the gunpowder utterly betrayed him in response, the gun sparking massively, and the bullet flying wide from the disproportionate recoil.

Arguz manages to climb out of the beast's belly and make another shot into its face this time. But it seems as though there was yet more blood in his gun, as the Ratfolk notices yet another massive blast of gunpowder and smoke from his pepperbox, the bullet flying wide once again, with the intrepid Gunslinger just barely managing to keep a handle on the recoil and blast such that the gun didn't explode in his hand.

Seeing their moment to strike, the wolves converged, the nearest one making another pounce on the Ratfolk, though Arguz could easily see that the creature had taken significant damage, and was on its last legs. The other wolves however, still dauntless and unharmed, also rushed the Gunslinger's position, the quartet of wretched beasts attempting a literal dog pile upon his unsuspecting form.

Wolf 2 Move: Be severely wounded.

Wolf 1,3, and 4 Move: Rush Arguz.

All Wolves: Attack Arguz.

Wolf 1: [roll0] On a hit, [roll1] Damage with [roll2] possible Crit Damage, plus a free Trip attempt. [roll3] Against Arguz's CMD. In addition, if it hits roll a DC 18 Fortitude save against Paralysis for [roll4] rounds.

Wolf 2: [roll5] On a hit, [roll6] Damage with [roll7] possible Crit Damage, plus a free Trip attempt. [roll8] Against Arguz's CMD. In addition, if it hits roll a DC 18 Fortitude save against Paralysis for [roll9] rounds.

Wolf 3: [roll10] On a hit, [roll11] Damage with [roll12] possible Crit Damage, plus a free Trip attempt. [roll13] Against Arguz's CMD. In addition, if it hits roll a DC 18 Fortitude save against Paralysis for [roll14] rounds.

Wolf 4: [roll15] On a hit, [roll16] Damage with [roll17] possible Crit Damage, plus a free Trip attempt. [roll18] Against Arguz's CMD. In addition, if it hits roll a DC 18 Fortitude save against Paralysis for [roll19] rounds.

[Starsign]

Back up on his feet, Arguz sidesteps to get out of the little circle the wolves have him trapped in as his swift, bone-thin feet get him back moving again. This is where the wolves, if they actually have sentience, realize the tricky part about fighting a ratfolk. If they catch Arguz, he's very likely a dead rat; but they have to catch him first!

On the rough rubble, Arguz makes several sidestepping leaps to avoid the trio of dogs who first come after him. Evasion actually isn't too difficult for him on this sort of terrain; he mainly just needs to think on his feet whenever his feet land in in an unexpected position. His two leaps help him propel around two of the wolves who outright leap at him while the third, bringing up the rear, scrapes its teeth on the ratfolk's overcoat as he takes a step back. That rush would have killed any normal commoner who wandered their way into this place; good thing Arguz warned the crowd to back up.

His evasion, however, does little when his step back leads his right foot into a large sharply-curved piece of metal which his heel collided unexpectedly with. One slip later and his right leg falls over as the ratfolk ends up on one knee, allowing the wounded-yet-dangerous fourth wolf to march its way over with its teeth wide open. Arguz gets his leg up just as the wolf's teeth chomps down, leaving a fanged cut just before Arguz pulls away. He should consider himself fortunate that it didn't get to dig in on his leg.

The ratfolk clutches his right shoulder with his left arm as he passes his pepperbox to his right hand. He was more concerned with the bite mark he got than the cut in his leg. "Alright, alright I get it! yer bite's worse than yer bark," he says, still using his wit to ease himself (and for anyone who dared come closer to hear) as he clanks his gun up and down to wrestle the remaining blood out of the gun before firing a finishing shot at the wounded wolf. "But so's mine!" He considers this a good moment to quickly reload his barrel before turning around and shooting at another wolf behind him. If he can just take them out one-by-one, he'll be fine. Besides, this is the action that he enjoys having; at least the Heartknife Terror is entertaining his opponent.

Initiative 1: Spend a grit point to reload as a move action. Fire at Wolf 2 in hopes of finishing it off. Triggers an AoO and Arguz gets a grit point for it:
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll3] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll4]

Initiative 2: Lightning reload. Reload as a move action. Shoot at Wolf 1. Does trigger another AoO:
Attack roll: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll8] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll9]

[Capt. Infinity]

The wolf that Arguz had hurt the furthest makes a leaping bite which digs into Arguz's leg, but which leaves it wide open in the process. A sharp yelp is all the sound that manages to exit the wounded wolf as Arguz's pepperbox lays in a devastating point blank shot to its skull, killing it instantly in a small shower of blood and rotting fur. The second wolf caught in the Ratfolk's sights faired slightly better, if only that it still yet lived. In the process of turning to face it, that wolf too got a good bite into the Ratfolk's flank and bringing the young Gunslinger to the ground with it. This was only a minor setback for Arguz, though, and the shot nonetheless clearly dealt devastating levels of damage once fired. The bullet ripping its way into the creatures left shoulder, before blasting its way out its right back flank, a shower of gore behind it spewing forth as a result.

Such trauma would have and should have killed any living animal, but the wolf merely staggered for a moment as the ammunition shook its very being, before returning to an aggressive stance and snarling. Whatever had been done to these creatures, it held their flesh on the precipice of death, and it would take far more than simple trauma to give them their final reward.

Arguz quickly realized that, despite their decaying forms, these wolves did in fact possess a moderate degree of intelligence. They may not have been able to understand his words, but the renewed fervour with which they attacked more than proved that they knew when they were being insulted. The remaining three wolves rushed forward at Arguz, any one of them hoping to knock the Ratfolk down and leave him stunned with the bone-chilling sting of their bite.

Wolf 1:

Move in and Attack: [roll0] On a hit, [roll1] Damage and [roll2] possible crit damage. Plus a free Trip attempt. [roll3] Against Arguz's CMD. In addition, if it hits roll a DC 18 Fortitude save against Paralysis for [roll4] rounds.

Wolf 3:

Move in and Attack: [roll5] On a hit, [roll6] Damage and [roll7] possible crit damage. Plus a free Trip attempt. [roll8] Against Arguz's CMD. In addition, if it hits roll a DC 18 Fortitude save against Paralysis for [roll9] rounds.

Wolf 4:

Move in and Attack: [roll10] On a hit, [roll11] Damage and [roll12] possible crit damage. Plus a free Trip attempt. [roll13] Against Arguz's CMD. In addition, if it hits roll a DC 18 Fortitude save against Paralysis for [roll14] rounds. What the hell is GOING ON? :smalleek:

[Starsign]

Ouch. Ouch! Ouch!

Something Arguz had said must have riled them up, or at least rethink their actions before reacting with further ferocity. Normally the ratfolk doesn't have an issue with making an opponent angrier out of his wit but today seems like a day that wants to give him a ton of surprises and a massive heap of blood loss to go with it.

Having been knocked down prior, Arguz is too slow to roll away as he is suddenly jumped and feels two very painful bites in his body. The first is obvious, seeing as there's a mutant wolf on him which just opened its massive jaw and chomped down on the ratfolk's smaller-frame chest, leaving behind a "wonderful" set of bite marks that spread around the front half of his body. The other, more-painful bite comes from his right leg as one of the other dogs must've chowed down on it. He'd try and see but, on his back, he's only really able to peek up and see the menacing, blood-showered mutant wolf right in his face.

Well this is a fine way to go, isn't it? He was enjoying this a moment ago but battle certainly stops being fun once you're on your ass and about to be wolf food. At least he has a chance to make one final shot and-

He can't move.

Arguz feels every muscle in his body fizzle out in a horrid, cold chill, like he's out in a winter wasteland without any clothes. This extends to his face, which fails to change from a surprised look that hides his current frustration and anger. His right hand, once holding his pepperbox, now shuddering wide as the gun lies in the rubble. Now this really is a fine way to go. He'd love to get in one more shot but he needs his body to move. C'mon, move you blasted, fur-ridden body!

Paralyzed here, so can't really do anything for the next 6 or so rounds. Sorry this isn't a lot. :smallredface:

[Capt. Infinity]

There are many thoughts that might reach someone when they fear they're about to die.

Some, may grow pious, praying to whatever deities they'd neglected in life in the vain hope of salvation in the great beyond. Others may grow fearful, crying out in horror at the oncoming, suffocating blackness of death. Still others would grow angry, raging in raw fury at the perceived injustice of their untimely demise.

But what of Arguz? What thoughts pervaded him now? Here, in these final moments, the wolves menacing, and with one caught in seeming slow motion as it makes a final leap to the exposed nape of his ratlike neck?

Well, it seems today is not the day to find out.

As Arguz's trapped form watches the Ghoulish Wolf make a leap for his jugular, the entire world explodes with a flash of blueish white light, as a bright shimmer of an indescribable careens from out of nowhere and collides with the wolf, the creature being taken with it, before colliding harshly with the ground, lifeless and dead.

Arguz couldn't adequately describe what just happened, and it was very likely he'd chalk it up to his current physical state come his revisiting of the moment, but what he immediateley knew was that standing there, atop the now-dead wolf and with her short sword wrenched free from its flesh, was Jia Aijk, poised and ready to fight.

"Get away from my brother!" The young Ratfolk shouts defiantly, goading the wolves in her direction. The beasts, intelligent yes, but nonetheless beasts, took offence at her sudden appearance and killing of their kin, and began advancing on her, ready to strike.

And then Arguz was blinded once more.

The light that shone through the room then was different than the one that Arguz seemingly hallucinated with Jia. For one, this light was far warmer, a deep, golden hue in stark contrast of the cold blue light from earlier. Furthermore, rather than a large surge of light, this one was small, and laser focused, creating a steady beam which shot through one wolf, then bounced off the floor and one of the walls before running through the second wolf as well.

Both canines shrieked in agony as the light bolts ricocheted straight through them, leaving burning, smoking wounds where the entered and exited their bodies. The wolves looked about for their aggressor, for the one that dared to wound them so gravely.

They looked left, right and all around. And it was only until the sound of a sharp whistle spread across the area that anyone thought to look up.

There, standing on top of one of the crumbled bits of the building, stood a figure framed in sunlight. Their features were obscured in shadow, but they stood with what almost seemed to be a halo of sunshine as they posed amidst the early morning sun. Not much could be made of their appearance as a result, apart from a tall physique, a loose fitting poncho, a wide brimmed hat, and hair like thin-spun gold.

The figure speaks with a man's voice, bearing an accent that was, for perhaps the first time in Arguz's life, entirely new, and utterly foreign.

"I'll have'ta agree with the little lady on this one, you low down, dirty excuse for a mongrel." The man speaks with a drawl, before raising his left hand to bear what looks like a pepperbox, except with a heavily stunted series of barrels, and a single, long barrel at the top. "Ain't nobody gonna take that boy's life on my watch."

The beasts snarl in rage at the sudden interruption, rushing at the stone the figure was standing on and attempting to clamour up it, to little avail. The man pointed his firearm and let loose a blast of light once more, though this time, he deliberately missed on the first shot, letting the... whatever it was ricochet into the first wolf, before reflecting into the next.

This time, the shots rang true, piercing through the back of the first wolves head, before ricocheting into a direct shot through the second one's heart. Both wolves fall dead at the foot of the stone outcropping, their undead bodies smoking from the burning left running through them. The man, seeing his work done, brings his firearm's still smoking barrel to his seemingly-covered face, and blows out the smoke, before spinning it on one finger and holstering it at his side.

For a moment, their is silence, as the man does not speak, and Jia stands dumbfounded at the supernaturally shooting she just laid witness to. It is the man who speaks up first. "Pardon me, ma'am. But somethin' tells me yer brother may be needin' a kick in the pants right about now."

Jia looks confused for a moment. "Wait. Who th' heck are-" She cuts herself off as she realizes where she is. "Oh gods, Arguz!" She rushes to her brother's side, the Ratfolk shaking her Gunslinger brother until he fully returns to his senses, the sun-backed man standing in vigil all the while. Looking down with unseeable eyes at the proceedings below him.

Arguz can regain consciousness whenever. Assume nobody moves from where they are or converses until he does.

[Starsign]

The horribly-wounded, half-conscious Arguz can't exactly do or express anything as he watches his saviors come in from, quite literally, out of nowhere. He was expecting this to be a solo job and never figured that Jia, his own sister, would have gone out of her way to find and rescue him. Not that he can nor will argue with that but it does come as a surprise since she has a usually-busy courier job. More surprising however is the sudden gunslinger that hides himself in the sun, ironically, and poured down two shots that took out the remaining half of the wolves. Now that is a trick which Arguz wish he knew. He's a crack shot but he sure as hell can't ricochet bullets off walls after going straight through an enemy. Now he's rather jealous at this unknown man's skill.

Arguz's paralyzed state roughly wears off once Jia starts shaking his still body. His breathing jitters in a squeak before his muscles return to functional order. "Urg! Oh... Hey Sis." His mouth awkwardly changes to a smile, recovering from the paralysis like he's only learned to smile for the first time. His own voice is weak to begin with, not helped by the numerous bite wounds which are found on his body. "Hell'ova time you decided to come. How'd you find out 'bout me being here?"

The ratfolk attempts to stand up, knowing he should not really rest in the middle of rubble, much less in the middle of an arsonist's game. The most he manages is to sit upright as he strains from the pain of the bite marks. His tail is perfectly fine as it swishes freely behind him; it would've really sucked if the wolves actually tried biting it off.

"Good to be still among the living, aye? Jus' gonna need some patching up." The ratfolk takes some deep breaths, eyes full of energy if weary from the beatdown he just took. He can't say he's happy to be looking like this; Jia's never seen her older brother so badly beat up since his last trip to the clinic. At least he's not dead, right? "I owe you one fer this Sis. Really do." His voice fills up with gratitude as he attempts to get back on his feet.

While doing so, he locks eyes with the mysterious gunslinger; the guy with the really bizarre clothing and accent. Arguz can't help but make a jab at that. "An' I guess I owe you one as well, crazy fashion guy. Yer a real hotshot but I ain't ever gonna be caught dead wearing that." He chuckles, hunched over as he tries covering his large torso wound with his left arm. "So what'do I call you? Yer not a regular in Ferroveil, are you?"

[Capt. Infinity]

Jia breaths a sigh of relief as Arguz returns to a state of motion, clearly having been worried for her brother's safety in the wake of that brazen assault upon him. She chuckles when Arguz questions how she knew where to find him. "Arg, a building blew up. It ain't exactly hard to spot, even if the city's got enough clouds to drown the sky. An besides, ya' may not realize it, but ya' have a knack for showin' up where trouble brews. I just took a shot in the dark. And it's a good thing I did." Jia smiles bashfully at Arguz's praise for her timely arrival. "Ah shucks. It was nothin'. You woulda done the same fer me. I'm just glad you're okay."

Jia's eyes follow Arguz's as the Ratfolk Gunslinger begins questioning the similarly armed interloper. The man looks down at the pair of humanoids, and lets out a warm chuckle at Arguz's jibe about his fashion sense. He speaks with a smooth, low tenor, and a deep vibrato that very nearly bordered on a purring growl for how strong and full his voice was. "Weren't nothin' to it, but a' thank you kindly fer the praise. And a' ain't surprised that you wouldn't go around wearin' this." He points with his thumb towards his poncho and hat. "Y'all here in Ferroveil ain't got much sand to worry about in yer day-to-day."

The man jumps down, out of the sun and, paradoxically, into the light. Now that Arguz could see him clearly, the Ratfolk can make out the man's attire in full. His poncho, hat, and shoes, were a foreign style, all composed of a dark, tanned leather that looks like it's seen more than its fair due of wear and tear in its time. The man wore a simple long-sleeve shirt and pants beneath the poncho, and at his side, upon a leather belt, was the leather holster for the strange, alien-looking pepperbox he'd used to dispatch the wolves. The man tips up his wide brimmed hat, and his face was finally revealed, perhaps to some surprise. For one, the man's face, though masked from the nose down with a piece of greyish brown cloth, looked exceedingly young. He couldn't be older than twenty, and yet his voice was of a much older man, smooth and warm beyond his years, like fresh molasses.

Even despite his youthful appearance (and, admittedly, his impressively good looks), perhaps the strangest thing about the man was his hair and eyes. His hair was almost luminous, a gold so bright that it shimmered and almost seem to tangibly glow in the early morning sun. His eyes were something altogether more impressive. Not simply because of their colour, a bright, shining blue which held within it the colour of the desert sky, but also because of their anomalous shape. For there, in the centre of his eyes, where the average man would have mere dark holes in towards his eyes, this golden-maned Desperado, now clear as day an Aasimar, had pupils with angles and edges, finely and definitively shaped into the recognizable visage of a five-pointed star.

"The name, Aijk, is Josiah Vex. And a' came all the way from Frontera Fuego jus'ta meet you." There was a degree of seriousness in that final sentence, a sense of deeper meaning which held in the air the question of why this strange man had traveled so far, simply to meet him of all people.

Whatever else is going on, you can at least confirm that his accent is that of someone from Frontera Fuego.

Frontera Fuego is a large country to the far west. It is largely composed of sweltering desert plains and large, sun-baked mesas. The only real reason it has much in the way of a population is the occasional oasis and, much more importantly, the presence of diamond mines, gold deposits, and large areas containing a rare and powerful resource with a rapidly growing demand across the world: Crude Oil.

Frontera Fuego actually appears to mirror Ferroveil to a certain degree, albeit on a larger scale, and under different circumstances. The entire country is moderately coterminous with the Elemental Plane of Fire, which is the reason for its sweltering climate, as well as the presence of oil therein, as opposed to the large sums of coal which Ferroveil digs forth from its various planar foldings.

Josiah Vex is a name that sounds vaguely familiar, and you seem to recall him being spoken of as a vigilante gunman and moderate hero of sorts in the lands of Frontera Fuego. Though in what capacity you cannot be sure.

By some dint of fortune, you've heard tale of this man's exploits from those who have known of his homeland. Josiah Vex is a wandering Desperado. A man with no home or claim, simply wandering the dunes and planes in search of wrongs to right. He is a man of the people, and he has fought everything from wandering gangs of thugs to corrupt oil barons to even the occasional beast from beyond the veil. He uses an obscure and ancient shooting technique that was apparently drawn from tribes of bowman who mastered the sun, and used its power with their very hands. Josiah has translated this art to the gun, firing bolts of fire and sunlight from his strange weapon in order to fight back against those who would harm the land he calls home.

[Starsign]

Arguz took off his overcoat and shirt and patched himself up as the gunslinger, Josiah Vex, walked forward and introduced himself. The ratfolk's own wounds weren't as significant as, say, a dragon's maw but they still needed to be patched up right away. Thankfully he thought ahead and brought bandages which hid in his coat pocket, along with the numerous healing potions tied around his chain belt. The only real issues were the wounds on his leg; can't exactly save dignity while taking his pants off now. Instead he tore off the damaged area of his leg to give him more room to clean up the blood and bandage the bite marks. Sure it doesn't look good but it's sure better than leaving the wound bleeding.

"Frontera Fuego? Think I heard 'bout that once." Arguz finishes his bandaging and puts his shirt and coat back on before taking something out of another pocket: The field guide which had once belonged to Meela. He is given a quick and immersive flood of knowledge when he opens it up. He can't describe how it worked; the info all just kinda appeared as he opens the guide to a random page. It's like the thing simple reacts to what his mind is thinking and fills in the blanks. Like the first time he read the guide, it all started out in utterly complex gibberish that changed and shaped into language that the ratfolk can clearly make out. This is an ingenious tool; no wonder Meela had been so successful until her untimely demise.

...And while Arguz is actually at it, he reads up on the now-dead mutant wolves. These aren't normal creatures. Are they really just undead?

"Well ain't you from Hell," Arguz jokes as he puts the guidebook away and as his smile fully recovers from its paralyzed state. "Lotta oil an' mines you got over there. Don't think it hit off the Plane of Fire as we did with Earth but it ain't something to yawn at." He offers to shake Josiah's hand, using Arguz's right given his left has some blood on it. "Never heard yer name, but it's good to meet'cha. Has my name really been getting 'round over where you lived?

Lemme make a Knowledge: Arcana and a Nature check on the wolves. Arguz wants to find out what he can about them. Using the guide, but not taking any additional time for them.

Arcana: [roll0]
Nature: [roll1]

[Capt. Infinity]

Josiah's right hand comes out from under his poncho to shake Arguz's, and he nods at the recognition of his homeland. "It ain't got the benefit o' being one small place. People from all around are tryin' ta stake a claim there. And every now and again, someone like me has to show up to put 'em down before they can cause anybody too much harm."

"So, what, you're some kind of vigilante?" Jia inquires, her head tilting with curiosity.

"I believe the term they use is 'Desperado'. I ain't gonna complain, mind. It's a pretty nice name, and at least it gets their attention."

Josiah gets more serious as he speaks, clearly getting to a point in response to Arguz's question. "...Not exactly. Yer name's as foreign to them as mine is to yours. But that don't mean you didn't leave a mark er two on lands across the sea."

"What'dyou mean? What could Arguz possibly do that could get you guys to notice him?" Jia asks, confused

Josiah grows quiet in the wake of Jia's question, and is clearly caught in thought before he speaks next. "...Yer Arguz's sister, right? Jia Aijk?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Could you do the both of us a favour and check around to see if there'r any more of these wolves anywhere? And just make sure nobody gets any bright ideas about wanderin' into the crater in search of adventure er profit." There was clearly some ulterior motive to Josiah's words, an unspoken request that Jia leave him and Arguz be for a short while to themselves.

Jia looks hesitant for a moment, but acquiesces in the end. "...Sure. I'll be back in a bit." The young Ratfolk states, before running off and over a pile of rubble, disappearing behind it.

Josiah looks seriously at Arguz, and there is a degree of coldness in his eyes as he speaks Arguz. I wasn't lyin' when I said you left a mark on Frontera Fuego. But that mark ain't exactly what you'd call a pleasant one." The Desperado's hand moves slowly to the back of his belt, behind his poncho, before drawing forth a small vial and presenting it to Arguz.

To the untrained eye, it looked like a vial of ordinary water, completely and utterly innocuous. But the degree of irreverence behind it, the statements of Josiah, and the faint, barely visible rainbow glimmer from within the vial made the true nature of the fluid all too obvious.

"Clearsick." Josiah spoke with a mix of sadness and disappointment, as if holding up a child's report card, revealing nothing but failing grades.

"Some nasty oil baron go a hold of this through some unsatisfactory channels. Son of a gun thought he could use it to clean out a town that was built on top of an oil well he wanted to dig. The town came fer' me when people started dyin'. It hadn't been that bad by the time I got there, just the old and the lame had died, and the young were getting ill somethin' fierce. Those that could work were tryin' to figure out what had gone wrong, and asked me to check the possibility a' some kinda foul play. I managed to catch some thugs poisonin' the well, and I managed to get outta them the location of the baron's hideout. Needless ta' say, that man ain't botherin' no one anytime soon. Luckily, the dog managed ta' figure out some kinda antidote to the stuff, probably to sell to the people who were left in exchange fer their houses and homes. The town survived, but the spectre of this devil's spit still lingered." Josiah's eyes grow dark. "I have been wanderin' fer months. Scouring the plains in search of this stuff, and destroyin' it wherever I could find it. All the while, I started tracking it backwards, figurin' out where it came from so that, after I'd finally taken out the last of it, I knew exactly where ta go ta find the source."

"The trail of clues led to Ferroveil, and I headed here fully expectin' ta find some blackhearted drug runner, twistin' some chemicals in a lab ta his whims. So imagine mah surprise when the boys at the dock tell me the shipment came from some semi-famous detective, a bigshot in his own right, doin' good in a way that I could damn well agree with."

Josiah sighs, clearly having thought long and hard about this. "I figured it out a little while later. The whole Clearsick debacle. The sickness, the deaths, and yer hand in stoppin' it. I figured out why ya did what ya did afterwards too. Ya needed it outta the city, and yet ya' also needed somethin' outta it ta pay for the reparations the city needed in tha wake of it all. So ya shipped it off into the ol' blue yonder, hopin' and believin' that it'd never come back ta haunt you."

"I'm not gonna condemn ya fer what ya did, an' I'm not gonna shoot ya down for it neither. It weren't right. Not by a long shot. But it was mortal. It was a failin' a character, a moment a weakness where you didn't know what ta do and ended up doin' what you thought was best fer the people that were important to you. I just want you to acknowledge that it happened. To live and die knowin' the consequences from yer actions, and to carry that weight around yer neck till the very day you die."

"A man's sins always come back ta haunt 'em sometime. It's what we do after they find us that defines who we are."

"So tell me, Aijk. Who the hell are you?"

[Starsign]

For awhile, Arguz liked Josiah. He seemed like one hell of a badass if he actively goes around, hunting crooks left-and-right. That's a lifestyle that Arguz can agree with if he didn't have any responsibility and commitment to his family. Josiah must have seen a ton of action, well more than Arguz even excluding their different ages. Arguz may be 13 years old but he's a ratfolk; most ratfolk are lucky to make it past 20. Aasimars, assuming they're anything like humans, are gonna live quite a lot longer. That's a lot of action that'll be in Josiah's life. That almost seems like a dream for Arguz to have. Hell, this foreigner is even called a Desperado; how awesome a name is that?!

...And then Josiah reveals the Clearsick vial. Something in Arguz's body feels ill as he notices the vaguely-rainbow colored liquid in it. Already he's remembering what it's like to be poisoned by that awful liquid. That's all before Josiah tells his story and why he's really here, which makes Arguz feel more ill.

The ratfolk brings his right hand to his face, rubbing his forehead and covering his eyes so as to try and hide his rising sense of anxiety. If not for his sense of pride, Arguz would've covered his ears as to try and reject the whole thing. He knows what he did; never for a single moment, at least until now, did the ratfolk feel like he did something he regrets. It was a simple decision; sell the poison out of the city and it'd be out of his life forever. Nothing beyond the water's edge really matters to him as everything he cares about lies within Ferroveil itself... Or at least that's supposed to be the case. Never did Arguz believe that a foreigner would come all the way from the mainland, to here, just to haunt Arguz's decision. It's very clear that the effort Josiah put in coming all the way here is paying off, as his words bleed well into Arguz's brain.

"I..." Arguz attempts to give a quick response, getting about one word in before pausing. This isn't something he can simply blurt out, as much as he wants to. Answering the question, "Who the hell are you?" should be easy. Yet... isn't. It's only after a significant pause and an anxious look that Arguz finally manages to speak. "I'm... jus' a ratfolk looking to get 'round in this city. Ain't nothing more than some runt from the warrens 'til I learned how to make this." He points to his pepperbox, happily not admitting that the adamantine pepperbox is the second gun he's made, not the first. "The world ain't big to me. Hell I bet most people living 'ere in Ferroveil ain't ever seen life outside this island. This detective job's been great fer doin' good as much as it fills my stomach with rep an' action. But I've also been in it fer money; getting my family outta the warrens. When I see a chance to make a big buck outta something then I'm gonna take it if it ain't threatening the city." He folds his arms as he speaks, attempting to keep the illusion of his confident persona up. "I never really thought 'bout what sorta impact they would'a had on the mainland. Hell, it was Jus' the last few vials I sold. Figure you can't reproduce it with jus' what was left." He neglects to mention exactly how much he made from selling the Clearsick to the mainland, which was rather significant. Though given Josiah's well-traveled experience, he probably would've figured out how much Arguz got from that anyway.

He gives a small sigh as he continues. "Guess my world's bigger than I thought. I have to say, I don't know those people that suffered over there an' I sure as hell might not've cared 'til you came 'ere an' told me it." The ratfolk takes a seat on a large lump of rubble, his tail no longer swishing around with energy. "Hell, to me they're probably nothing more than a number... but they mean more to you, don't it? You wouldnt've come all the way 'ere if you didn't care 'bout those who died from that. That sure bears some thinking on my part." Arguz's neutral face slowly changes to a frown. He's probably given quite a good deal of disrespect to Josiah over what the ratfolk has said about all those who've died.

"So as I said, I'm jus' a ratfolk looking to get 'round, solving crimes an' stopping crooks as I do." He waves one of his arms around the area. "Like these crazy acts of arson going 'bout. An' yeah I'll end up shooting a bunch of crooks an' assassins, likely leaving a trail of criminal blood in my wake. But I've already told a couple few of 'em that I'll see 'em in Hell. If that's where I'm going when I die... well, then I hope my family's doing well in Midtown by then."

He sighs again, trying not to hunch over as he concludes with what's likely the message he's probably supposed to take away from this. "But that ain't no excuse fer going 'bout thinking that my world's so small I can get away with whatever happens on the mainland, ain't it?"

[Capt. Infinity]

Josiah listens carefully as Arguz spills out his heart, and, when he's finished, closes his eyes for a moment in deep thought, then sighs as he opens them again, revealing his starred blue irises as he begins to speak. "Arguz, when I started on this crusade, I feel no shame in sayin' I had planned ta shoot you dead." The Aasimar continues. "At tha time, it felt like my job. Like it was my responsibility to take down whatever vile person started this whole mess. But, as I got closer to th' truth, I realized I wasn't trackin' some corrupt official, or mad chemist bent on doomin' some poor folks a lifetime away from 'em. I was chasin' a person. A person who made a mistake. Yer right that you should always know that yer little pond is actually just part of big, wide ocean. But I'm not gonna blame someone who grew up in the poorest hole this city's got fer thinking that the borders o' this town are the beginnin' an' end o' the world."

"Tha point here is, you know it now. People like us? We've got power. The power ta change things, ta make er' break the plans o' people who to most folks seem untouchable. Whether we own up to it, and use that power fer good, er' let that power run away with us off a cliff is what separates us from the worst folk around. What makes us Detectives and Desperados, instead of some two-bit monster with a gun an' a god complex."

Josiah tips up the brim of his hat, looking Arguz dead in the eyes. "I can't speak fer tha dead. An' I don't think you'll ever be rid of the damnation of a soul er two in the Great Beyond. But Hell? Arguz, there are way worse people ahead o' you in that line, I can say that fer sure. Hell's fer people who never cared, fer those who step on the little guy out of convenience, fun, and fer the heck of it. You've done everythin' in yer life hopin' it'd help yer family, and you've done things in service o' them, yer clients, and the whole god dang town that'd make any man's eyes pop straight outta their heads in disbelief. If the gods ain't gonna read the intent and the end result when yer' judgement day comes, then the world's been fresh outta mercy fer way longer than either of us have been kickin'" Josiah finishes. "Keep yer sins in your soul. It'll make ya stronger for it. But never ferget that you do good here. And, now that ye'r aware of the world, you can be sure that, from here on out, you do good everywhere."

The Aasimar Desperado chuckles to himself. "Been a hell of a mornin' huh? Heck, I never woulda even found you had it not been fer that helpful tip from that- ...Wait. Hang on a sec'. You weren't here at the market fer groceries. By the look a you, you came here ta see this." Josiah gestures vaguely to the smoldering surroundings. "But if that's true, then why the hell did-" Josiah freezes as he notices the emblem on the box in the centre of the clearing. "...No." He approaches the mark of the Heartknife Terror, the Aasimar's star-pupil eyes wide in disbelief. "That greenskinned son of a gun. He set this up. He was probably hopin' I'd finish you off if the wolves didn't do tha job." The man's voice, whilst even, had a growing tenseness to him, as he was evidently unravelling the clues in his head.

"Arguz, grab those keys. Somethin' tells me that whatever's in here is meant for both our eyes ta see."

Jia manages to show up from behind a pile of rubble just as Josiah finishes his request. "Hey guys, the coast is clea- ...Did I miss sumthin' important?"

[Starsign]

There isn't much of the usual, upbeat energy in Arguz as he listens to Josiah Vex's response, which turns out to be softer than what the ratfolk expected. In hindsight, he shouldn't have expected anything less. Josiah had every chance and plenty of reason to put one in the ratfolk before or after the aasimar's explanation... and didn't. It takes a calm and rational mind to go halfway across the world to hunt down someone and not do so after finding out the truth; Arguz can't say that he would've done the same so easily. He really has to be thankful that the desperado is so merciful as Josiah has had complete control of the whole confrontation given the state Arguz was in... That basically makes two aasimar that Arguz now fears crossing with.

The ratfolk keeps his rather somber-looking expression until Josiah puts several pieces together which Arguz had never seen before. The change in topic swiftly perks up the ratfolk as the topic strays from his own decisions and back to the case at hand. "Wait, you know 'bout the Heartknife Terror too?" Arguz's cheeky response reflects the wide-brimming smile that came around his rat-headed face. "Now THAT sure ain't expected. Hell'ova twist right there. Guess I now really owe you one, aye?"

The ratfolk bends down to grab the various keys from the re-dead wolves. The field guide gave him enough detail about these things: dire wolves that were reanimation as some sort of ghoul, with the ghoul's distinct bite as well. It wasn't through magic that they came back but by some... alchemic method. The exact method of it is lost on Arguz but he's pretty sure that the info will come in handy to tracking down who the Heartknife Terror actually is; and Josiah sounds like he knows even more already. "So who was this person that tipped you? This a greenskin orc or goblin?"

As Jia returns, Arguz merely waves over to greet her with a large smile. "Nah, we jus' talked a bit. Turns out our arsonist is a cheater," he says casually as he collects the keys for the box. "This game's not 'bout cat-an'-rat but 'bout who can be a bigger cheater. Well I'll tell you Sis that he sure ain't expecting you 'ere. Bet that's gonna really surprise 'im when it counts." He winks to Jia, merely glad to not have to think about the older brother's past decisions when he's got a crook to stop.

[Capt. Infinity]

"Sounds good to me!" Jia smirks, laying a hand on her short sword proudly.

Josiah watches as Arguz gathers the keys, elaborating on his deduction. "Well, I knew about the Heartknife Terror. Son of a gun's been throwin' the whole city inside out for a while now, near as I can tell. I guess it just never crossed my mind that that title fit well with mah helpful tip-giver's name."

The Aasimar continues as Arguz begins turning the weighty keys. "The man was a Goblin. A strangely sharp one goes by the name o' "Gibblejack Heartstabber". In hindsight I shoulda seent th' writin' on th' wall. But you know how it is. A mission blinds ya'. I just hope I get another shot at the little bastard. He called himself an "Apothecary Expert". But, if mah gut's got any level o' trust behind it, somethin' tells me 'mad Alchemist' is far closer ta th' truth."

The box finally opens with an audible *CLICK* as the last key is turned, and inside there lays yet another parchment note. Which reads as follows:

"CONGRATULATIONS, YOU SACK OF **** COVERED IN FUR.

Hats off to you, Aijk. You managed to survive my wolves. Something tells me that the fact that you then proceeded to survive my insurance tells me that the illustrious Josiah Vex is there with you. I don't mind, of course. The more the murdery-er, I say!

Now, I'm going to guess you know who I am now. At least in name and face. But what still tears at the ends of my brain is the fact that the best is yet to come! I'll spoil it a bit, as I honestly can't wait. I'll tell you this much: I didn't make this game for you just because your famous, Mr. Aijk. Not by a long shot.

Now then, I suppose you deserve a clue, don't you? Very well, here it is. There's a little dance hall up in Midtown. The Midnight Roc Theatre. Lovely place, just wonderful. But it's just a downer in the day time. So I thought I'd spice it up with some fireworks, you know? I was thinking around 7:00 AM sharp. You know, to get the blood pumping early?

Josiah flips open a pocket watch as he reads over Arguz's shoulder.

"5:53. To the second. We got ourselves a sprint ahead a' us."

I won't be there to greet you, of course. But it's okay, I've sent some of my most trusted friends AND pets to oversee the proceedings. I'm sure they'll LOVE the company as they blow that miserable speakeasy sky high. I'm sure it'll do WONDERS to Midtown morale, don't you?

Ta-ta. You miserable excuse for an underfolk.

The note ends on that sour note, leaving Arguz, Josiah, and Jia to stew on the words that are written, and the time limit they just put upon them.

Best bet? It's a half hour sprint to the upper section of Midtown where the Midnight Roc is located. It's set up on Wonderrock Lane, and in theory isn't even open until sometime around 8 in the evening.

[Starsign]

There is a squeaky laugh emitting out of Arguz's mouth the moment he reads the first sentence of the letter. "Hahahahahaha! Oh... oh ain't this rich. I already gone an' pissed 'im right off." The ratfolk sounds surprisingly prideful of this accomplishment, thinking that this game could just be test to see how much the goblin arsonist can be ticked off before he calls the whole thing off. Now angering the villain might not be the best idea, especially if taunting the wolves had been any indication. On the other hand Arguz has fortune's gift in his hand and something that gamblers call a "trump card." If he does have any reason to gloat, it'll be for the decisive move he makes against this Gibblejack Heartstabber. Fitting name, really. Must have taken pride in what Arguz figures is the tribal name.

"Well I could've 'pected a hell'ova lot worse than this," Arguz chimes as he finishes reading the letter, crumples and tucks it visibly into one of his coat pockets, then takes out his pepperbox, holds it by the barrels and whacks the box as hard as he can with the adamantine end, hoping to send the thing away from the three. "An' that was fer the last time I got a box from 'im. Damn thing blew up in my face." He points to the bits of charred fur that covered some of his black-furred rat head. He can still smell the charcoal from that with his experienced sense of smell.

The path set before the three is at least clear. "Well Gibbles better hope I actually move as slow as he thinks," he speaks with a smile. Being positive is the only way have any enjoyment of this; same went for his past couple big cases. "Never been to Roc's but heard it's somewhere 'bout Wonderrock Lane. Been there once in my job; can probably rush there 'bout half the time we're given." He looks and winks to Jia, "An' yer a speed demon compared to me Sis. How 'bout you get going yerself an' we'll catch up. Scout out the Roc's, see what you can find that'll help us when we get there. Jus' don't get caught. The less our crook knows 'bout you, the better."

With the plan settled, Arguz finds a moment of inspiration and experimentation as he digs into the field guide once more to see whether it has any information about Ferroveil's streets and alleyways. It's likely not possible given the recency of Ferroveil's rise but hey, take any chance you get. "Alright desperado," he speaks towards Josiah, putting the field guide back after a scant few seconds of looking, "Race you up to Midtown!"

Sorry, didn't have my post done last night due to being so tired from school and work. Got it done today though. :smallsmile:

So if possible I'd like to make a Knowledge check (either Geography or Dungeoneering, not sure which fits better) to see whether Arguz knows any shortcuts in Ferroveil that'll get him to the Midnight Roc quicker. I'll use the field guide in the case of Geography, if that can apply at all (if Dungeoneering fits better, just minus my result by 1): [roll0]

[Capt. Infinity]

"Can do!" Jia enthuses, before quickly running up over a pile of rubble and disappearing behind it.

Josiah tips his hat up to watch the younger Ratfolk head off ahead of him and Arguz. "Heh. That sistter a' your's is somethin' special, Arguz. It seems the Aijk family blood likes spittin' out some very interestin' folks now and again." Josiah's brow furrows, though one of his eyebrows goes up inquisitively, eager at the challenge. "This is yer' rodeo, Aijk. Y'all gotta point me in th' right direction first. After that, though?" The Aasimar grips the top of his hat, lowering it to meet his brow. "We ride."



It isn't exactly surprising that the race through the sewers is astonishingly close. Josiah had the clear advantage with longer legs, but Arguz's body was more or less built for cramped, difficult terrain, and he took to rushing through the sewers like a seal to water. In the end, the two "touch base" on the ladder up to the area outside the Midnight Roc at more or less the exact same time. Josiah is a kind sport about it, for what it was worth, the man simply happy with how the day had turned out, come the end of it all.

Rising up out of the manhole, relatively clean, but nonetheless worse for wear, the two gun wielders climb out of into a back alley to one side of the Midnight Roc theatre and bar. A rather large, three story affair with brown a brown brick exterior and a series of windows along the upper floor, likely to let a little moonlight in between shows. Jia drops down shortly thereafter, appearing from seemingly nothing, as was her way of things.

"Looks simple, if heavy duty. A handful o' angry-looking goblins with a couple more of those dogs. They're gathered around some kinda big mechanical thingy on the roof of the building. Best guess is that's our bomb."

"Your call, Aijk. I'll follow yer lead."

Through a mix of tiredness and want for creativity, I'ma leave this open-ended a little bit. You ask me what's in the immediate vicinity, if you need it. But otherwise you can assume that stuff that would be there, is there. Have fun! And don't be afraid to make me move things forward if you got nothing. I'm nothing if not here for your benefit. :smallsmile:

[Starsign]

The energetic ratfolk finds himself panting on crouched knees when he pulled himself out of the sewers. He knew it was going to be a sprint at least and found himself in quite the race across what might have been the least viable track of "land" (if you can call the sewers land) to run through. He's been through the sewers quite a few times in his life, long enough for him to judge that being there is almost as bad as living in the warrens. The sewers may not be a literal clog of tainted sewage but no one in their right minds would choose to live down in the extremely cramped, dark, and remorselessly-lonely area beneath the city streets. If anything, that race was more a challenge to see who can get out of the sewers sooner.

Arguz leans over by a nearby wall for a bit of support as he rests in the shadows of the back alley. A quick indication of time told the ratfolk that there is plenty of time to disarm the bomb thanks to his and Josiah's mad race to the Roc. If Gibblejack wanted to make this a close race then he may find himself outpaced in record time. That's likely the best chance Arguz is going to have at winning anyway; get ahead of the goblin's plans and catch up with him before he primes his next big explosion.

Arguz gives Jia a quiet high-five with his bone-thin fingers as she arrives from the windows. "Great job Sis," He says with ratty appreciation as he is filled with a brimming confidence. "Guess we got a quick bit of time 'fore going fer the bomb. If it's like Jia said then I could jus' climb up the place to the roof. 'Course though that's just gonna get me some angry looks an' a few more bite marks fer my trouble." He points at the bite mark on his chest which bit through his overcoat and shirt quite easily. "An' I'd rather not get bit by any ghoul'ish thing again. Hell knows how someone manages to alchemize necromancy." If there's anything Arguz has to respect about Gibblejack, it's his presumed alchemical skill over what he's done with the wolves and the bombs. That's not something anyone can do, much less with seemingly no effort. Damn shame he decided to become an arsonist...

Thinking of somewhat subtly unsubtle ideas, Arguz whispers with a keen eye to Josiah and Jia. "They're probably betting that we'd be coming through the front doors, that or that they'd spot us 'fore we even got close. Bet we could drive their green-skinned ears up in a panic if we caused a distraction right below 'em." He takes a moment to pause and look down at his pepperbox before looking back up at his partners. "Jus' not with those. We don't need or want any sorta person distracting everyone. I bet all three of us are gonna need to be up on the roof. Rather we give 'em something that'll scramble 'em all over the place." There's another moment of thought going through Arguz's mind, thinking about the technology of a Midtown building, before it hits him. "Hey Jia, you saw any of those crazy-new fire alarms there? Maybe we can tamper with 'em, set some of 'em off. Make 'em think that there's a fire or that we set off a fire that never happened. That'll get 'em moving around thinking we started something below 'em, an' they'd have to go 'round the whole building looking fer a sign of us." He pulls out his makeshift boarding axe. "An' we'll be scaling the place from the outside in the meantime. Jus' gotta get that bomb defused, get our next box, an' get on out 'fore they all realize they've been had."

Arguz always did like going with complicated plans that should reel out some threats and leave the stragglers for him to gun down. Though "Though course, if we gotta, we'd be best starting a fire away from the bomb. Rather not find out if it'd trigger the bomb or not." He shows off some of the smog pellets he carries around. "An' we can use this to hide ourselves if we're 'bout to get caught. Good for an easy getaway, aye?" Arguz likes his own plans, though it's a question of how well Jia and Josiah like it too.

[Capt. Infinity]

Jia accepts her brother's high-five, then looks ponderous for a few moments, thinking over what she saw in her explorations. "A fire alarm, eh? Yeah, I think I saw a couple a' those in there." She smirks. "Anyone got a tindertwig on 'em?"

Josiah reaches into his poncho, before pulling out a set of alchemical matches. "Never go anywhere without 'em." The Desperado assures the younger Ratfolk, before handing it off to her, and allowing her to disappear into the building through a window.

It is mere moments later that a loud, shrill, high-pitched ringing noise blares out from within the Midnight Roc, with the sound of hissing water spouts shortly following alongside it. Jia jumps back out a different window, surprisingly dry for someone who just ostensibly ran through a series of streaming jets of artificial rain.

"That's yer' cue, boys! I'll go 'round the back, catch 'em by surprise!" The young courier cheers, before rushing around the back of the alley and out of sight.

Josiah eyes the go up the 30 ft ascension, and he gives an exasperated sigh. "I'll be honest, pardner, I ain't exactly the best climber. You want me ta' see if'n I can't give those greenskins some trouble inside?" The Aasimar raises his strange pepperbox out of its holster and lifts an eyebrow inquisitively. Half a suggestion, half a request.

[Starsign]

Arguz merely has to listen to the sirens to witness his plan come to fruition. Normally anything as loud, hissing, and annoying as that is a cause for alarm, especially when the situation is related to a bomb ready to go off. Turns out that when you're ready for it, it's not so bad. Probably helps that the plan was strictly designed to cause the goblins to panic, hopefully spreading their numbers out and giving the ratfolk gunslinger a clear shot at the bomb. He's got a rough idea on how to disable it... roughly. He'd have a better chance if he had the time to see whether the field guide has anything on it but alas, time is of a bigger essence.

"Go give 'em hell Sis!" Arguz gives a welcoming cheer to Jia as she goes off to do her thing. He shouldn't have a reason to worry about her; she's been more than competent and arguably just as good as he in combat... and given the dogs, she might be better at dealing with them given her melee prowess. Still, it won't hurt if there are more to cause more chaos inside and Josiah sure seems more than happy to accommodate.

"Trouble? Hah, ain't we already in trouble?" Arguz winks to the aasimar before handing over one of his spare smog pellets. "I already told 'er to give 'em hell. Don't go saying yer gonna give those greenskins anything less." The ratfolk rests the small wooden pole of his boarding axe on his shoulder. "An' I've got my own little slice of land to rile up. Jus' don't get yerself bitten; damned wolves have a real chilly bite."

With his warning and encouragement, Arguz runs over to the wall of the Roc and takes off his small buckler, pulling out a small grappling hook from the inside as he swings it around once before throwing the hook up to the rooftop. He would've considered giving this to Josiah had the rope not been designed for a smaller creature; it would've broken off in an instant under an aasimar's weight. Arguz then brings scaling the wall, bringing the spike of his axe down on the wall as the rope lets him climb up with ease. This would've been a lot less viable had he lack either of these tools. Hopefully there isn't a horde of wolves waiting for him this time.

Sorry this took longer than usual again. I also looked up Arguz's sheet and forgot Climbing is Strength-based, not Dexterity-based. :smalleek: Oh well. Arguz is using his boarding axe for a +2 bonus. He also has his burglar buckler (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic-items/magic-armor/specific-magic-shields/burglar-s-buckler) transformed into a grappling hook to help scale up. So hopefully that provides a bit of a bonus as well!
Climbing: [roll0] Dang it.
Stealth: [roll1]

[Capt. Infinity]

It turns out a horde of wolves was the least of Arguz's worries.

Nothing could be said that could possibly detract from Arguz's preparations. His grappling hook held firmly, and his boarding axe found a neat little crevice within the wall to begin his ascent. But it seems all of the foresight in the world could not account for one pivotal failing in Arguz's plan: His own physical body.

A ghoulish bite is not forgotten easily, and it is with a sudden, dizzying realization that Arguz finds that the mantra still yet holds in regards to the alchemical variety. The intrepid Ratfolk barely makes his first foothold before he feels a deep, chilling weakness wrack his entire form, draining him of all Strength, and forcing him to fall flat on his back on the cold ground below.

Josiah looks surprised and concerned at the fellow Gunslinger's impromptu fault. "Woah. hey there, pard'ner. You okay?" The Aasimar asks, kneeling down to give the Ratfolk a hand. "Maybe we should take this thing from downwards up on our end? 'Sides, its gonna a heckuva lot more of a shootin' gallery in there, then up top, and ah' could use the extra insurance." The man offers, dauntless in his pragmatism.

It's fine. I ALSO forgot that it was a Strength-based skill. :smallbiggrin: :smallredface:

[Starsign]

A single moment of strain is all Arguz needs to be reminded of how bad a ghoul's chilling bite can be. Walking and talking was no problem with him but anything worse? He hadn't even guessed how long he was on the rope before his rat's ass hit the stone ground of Midtown. Yeesh, isn't this embarrassing. He thought that he'd be fine enough to merely get up there on his own. Gunning down whoever remained on the roof and disabling a bomb should be a lot worse than scaling a wall. Somehow he feels like he's not going to be performing any feats of strength anytime soon... Not that ratfolk are known for their muscle capacity.

Quickly needing to find his confidence again, Arguz leaps back onto his feet as soon as Josiah started speaking. The ratfolk is just as quick to respond to his aasimar ally. "Hah, could use the action. Guess I ain't all up fer sneaking 'round today." He gives a jestful shrug as he returns his grappling hook back into his buckler and puts away his boarding axe before drawing out his pepperbox again. "Ain't much to warn 'bout safety either; don't get shot, don't get burned, an' 'pecially don't get yerself bitten," He winks as he begins moving over to the corner of the building.

Given the flames and, of course, the time limit, Arguz makes no pause as he rushes over to the front of the building with Josiah, making sure that his adamantine pepperbox is loaded and ready. Now that he knows how to deal with the wolves, he won't make the same mistake twice of combating them in melee range. Besides, he's got allies now, unexpected as their timing is. This isn't gonna be another mess like the last bit of rubble he traversed.

"Alright, let's knock 'em down!" Arguz says in excitement, his ratty teeth chattering between his words as he holds his pepperbox by the barrel and brings it down to the middle of the door, shattering the lock before shoulder-tackling the door inwards! If his legs had the reach and strength, he'd kick the door instead. Alas, his black-furred shoulder and studded coat will suffice as a ramming tool.

Hope you don't mind my assumption that Arguz can simply break the door down the way he did. :smallsmile:

[Capt. Infinity]

The door gives way without incident, having been built as a means of keeping the cold out more so than it was defence against burglary (you could afford to be lenient just south of Uptown, after all), and Arguz and Josiah waste no time getting the thick of combat with the goblin offenders.

The front of the building itself seemed to be a sort of semi-restaurant establishment, with a main floor area that to the right housed a very impressive looking half-circle bar against the wall, with elevated stools in front of it. Immediately ahead of the bar was a maitre-de podium to the left of a set of stairs, which went down a few steps, before flattening out into a very beautiful restaurant section, complete with tables, booths, and a dual set of doors to the right side supposedly leading to the kitchen. At the far end of the restaurant floor was what was clearly a stage floor, elevated and at the moment covered with a curtain, supposedly so the patrons could dine as they ate their fill. All of this was well and good, and indeed was a level of elegant that Arguz was still nowhere near used to seeing. But the true eye-catching phenomenon was less the room itself, and more so what was happening within it.

Some would call the current chicanery plaguing the bar to be downright farcical in nature. To one side, you had Jia, clinging onto the shelving of the bar area, with one hand free as she partook in sword-to-sword duel with one of the Goblins, who was currently standing on the bar itself, so as to get within reach. To the other side, a little ways away, there was a second Goblin who, not seeing an opportunity to get close, or perhaps to cowardly to chance such an action, had instead opted to pull out a pistol and take potshots at the intrepid Ratfolk. Though, the lack of skill with the weapon was obvious, as the Goblin's ally in the fray frequently mucked up the shot, causing his friend to shoot wide and hit a bottle adjacent to the combat, helping no one. Down in the restaurant floor below, two more of the menacing Dire Wolves were skulking around the tables, searching for something or someone in hiding, though their ears and heads immediately turned to face Josiah and Arguz upon their entry. All the while, a loud, shrill bell was ringing incessantly, and the whole room was being drenched in stale-smelling water.

"Heya bro!" Jia shouts over the blaring alarm. "Climbing the building didn't work out, huh?! That's fine! The more the merrier!!!" She cheers, before swigning her sword to parry another one of the Goblin's thrust.

The whole situation was almost silly, but what was sillier was that, despite all the utter bedlam present, the shrill chime of the fire alarm had still bequeathed the two Gunslingers the element of surprise.

Now all they had to do was use it.

Surprise Round! :D

Technically speaking, Josiah should also go alongside Arguz, but I'll let Arguz take the first shot, and then roll Josiah in the OOC and just incorporate his roll into the next IC post. For now, have at it! Remember, Arguz gets the distinct pleasure of a Full-Round's worth of actions to play with. I hope you enjoy them! The two Goblins are within firing range, the Dire Wolves are not. Just in case that wasn't clear. Have fun! :smallbiggrin:

[Starsign]

Arguz can say one thing about Midtowners: they sure do know how to make buildings look fancy.

The whole place seems decorated in crimson and gold amidst showy architecture. There's never a place like this anywhere he knows in Ferroveil which contains a restaurant, bar, and theater all on the ground floor. That's not even going into the detail of objects like the tables and chairs here, made out of fine, smooth wood. Down in the warrens and even much of Lowtown, a lot of wooden stools, chairs, and tables you can get are rough and ragged to touch, capable of giving people slivers should they slide their finger across it the wrong way. Everything here just seems so well-designed in a, "have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too" way; Arguz has never seen a place like this let you eat while watching a show after all.

This however, has nothing to contribute to a good ol' shootout given what the ratfolk and his aasimar friend just walked into. Arguz rammed through the door with both bone-thin hands on his pepperbox, pointing outward once he set both feet on the carpet floor. His eyes are quickly set on Jia, seeing that she's taking care of herself in a hazardously-exciting situation. She's getting a lot of attention for someone who specializes in staying hidden; time for her brother to fix that.

The ratfolk quickly aims his gun over to the other targets, seeing the two nearby goblins and the two wolves which seem well outside of his pepperbox's reach. The ratfolk would've gone for the wolves if they were in range... Ah well, the goblins suffice as Arguz aims over at the goblin with the pistol and unleashes a lightning-fast trio of shots, each sending a small burst of gunpowder smoke from his gun and the resounding *click* as he cycles his barrels.

"Couldn't let you have all the fun now Sis!" Arguz lets his words speak as his bullets "introduce" himself to the other beings in the room. "Was gonna climb, then thought, 'what the hell, I'd rather jus' shoot 'em up!'"

Spending my Surprise Round using a Full Attack on the goblin with the pistol. No better way to say, "SURPRISE!" than that. :smallbiggrin:

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]

Attack roll: [roll3] That's a crit!
Damage: [roll4]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll5]

Attack roll: [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll8]

[Capt. Infinity]

"What the f-" The potshot-taking Goblin barely managed to begin his sentence before Arguz's first shot hit him straight through his outstretched arm, a large spurt of blood following it's path past the green-skinned thug's limb. The Goblin yelps in pain, turning to face the Ratfolk as he clutches his injured arm, putting his body in the exact position Arguz needs to plant the second shot straight through his throat. The Goblin falls to his knees, screeching in garbled pain as his massacred throat fills with blood, with a final, almost casual third shot finally putting one between his blood red eyes and putting him out of his misery.

The second Goblin gawks in surprise. "Holy ****! You killed Scraager! He owed me 50 gold you sonofaaaaaAAAH!" The Goblin's anger suddenly turns to surprise as Jia seizes the opportunity to kick the green goon in the side and send him falling to the ground below. "Eyes on the enemy, you dog-eared fool!"

As the Goblin rights himself from his fall, Josiah flicks up his hat and draws his gun. "Sorry pardner. Y'all went an' stuck ta the wrong side o' the law."

"What the heck does that m-" This goblin too, is cut off in the wake of yet another blinding shot of solar heat from Josiah's gun, ripping a hole straight through the goblin, releasing a dazzling shimmer of light as it does so.

And yet, the Goblin stands, a smoking hole in his abdomen, but still yet on his feet, defiant against his sudden foes. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHGHGHHH!!! THE HELL WAS THAT?!?" The Goblin screeches in the wake of the shot. Still defiant, yes. But one could forgive him for being more than a little in pain.

"...Huh. That usually kills 'em. They build Goblins tougher 'round here er somethin'?" Josiah genuinely asks, clearly more than slightly surprised as he, alongside Jia, prepare for the battle ahead.

INITIATIVE! :smallbiggrin:

Josiah: [roll0]

Jia: [roll1]

Goblin 2: [roll2]

Wolf 1: [roll3]

Wolf 2: [roll4]

[Starsign]

Arguz smirks as he watches the first goblin get gunned down horribly before the second one somehow manages to survive Josiah's light-enriched shot. As lovely as Arguz's own bullets are, he really can't help but admire how amazing it must be to fire beams of light with as much lethal force as a bullet. Not that it actually beats a bullet, if the angry, still-standing goblin is any indication. This actually gives Arguz another chance to make up for his rather embarrassing need to be rescued earlier today.

"Nah, lotta people in Ferroveil's jus' real damn stubborn. Yer gonna get used to it," he happily retorts as his feet get him up and on the move in a flash. Immediately he's right up in front of the poor, living goblin and has the pepperbox several inches away from the greenskin's head. All the goblin gets is one chance at retaliation before the ratfolk fires off a shot to put the goblin down. Presumably unlike Josiah, Arguz knows pretty well how tough some of Ferroveil's citizens can be. Heck, Arguz has met quite a few of them already and he himself has proven to be really tough. Yet there's nothing Arguz has met that can't be taken down by firing enough at it.

Remembering that being surrounded and in melee with wolves is a bad idea, Arguz quickly dashes over to the stair railing, putting his left hand on it as he lifts his legs over and onto it, giving him a clear shot at the wolves when they inevitably cause a mess of the restaurant floor heading to the stairs. The ratfolk takes a brief moment to reload his pistol before aiming downwards at one of the dogs. "So how 'bout we give these things an' ambush when they come running up 'ere?" He calls to Josiah and Jia as he figures that, since he already announced his presence with bullets and the dogs react to sound, they're gonna be coming up any moment. Aren't they going to be surprised when they see who he's with this time!

Initiative 1: Run up to the lone goblin and put him out of his misery. He gets an AoO from me and I'll take a grit point for it. Lightning Reload after.
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll3] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll4]

Initiative 2: Run up to the stair railing and ready a shot for when a wolf (or another sudden enemy) comes up in Arguz's shooting range (which is 20 ft). This'll probably be a normal attack action that has no benefits from shooting in melee range.
Attack roll: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll7]

[Capt. Infinity]

The Goblin, still staggering from the searing wound in his abdomen, could barely manage to get off a single shot in the wake of Arguz's approach. The shot, addled by lingering surprise and lasting pain, went completely wide, and the short green goblinoid could only look on in terror as his Ratfolk aggressor puts a bullet straight between his eyes, killing him instantly.

Arguz's swift motion to the railings was an act made just in the knick of time, as he steadies himself upon the railing just as one of the wolves, having easily noticed the carnage a the front of the building, comes barreling down the dining area floor. The Wolf is both surprised and enraged by Arguz's attack upon racing up the steps. The creatures whole body shook as it lurched to one side, spinning to face its attacker.

This was it's first and last mistake.

It was hard to even follow Jia's movements, the Ratfolk a literal blur as she pounces off the bar shelving and seemingly phases through the world to strike the Wolf in it's side, causing it to snarl in pain. As a matter of fact, Arguz quite literally could not put the movement and placement together in his mind, though the fact that the motion had begun outside his field of vision did much to maintain his suspension of disbelief. After all, it takes a great deal more than confusing motion to make a man wonder if something altogether different was going on, doesn't it?

Josiah levelled his gun once more, aiming it straight for the rabid canine's head.

"Down. Little doggie."

A loud crack of gunfire runs through the building as yet another shining lance of fire shoots forth from Josiah's gun, the beam running directly through the Dire Wolf's skull, killing it instantly.

The second Wolf followed shortly thereafter, its mouth foaming with rage and its fallen comrade, and what was left of its neck fur standing firmly on end in an abject display of aggression. Clearly, this creature sought vengeance.

Whether or not it would have its turn at said vengeance, however, was another matter entirely.

Arguz is on turn! :smallbiggrin:

[Starsign]

Arguz keeps his legs squatted on the stair railing as he watches the wolves run into the ratfolk's little killzone. Doesn't ambushes make a huge difference, huh? Before the ratfolk nearly got devoured by a small pack of wolves who surrounded him. Now he's watching another small pack charge in and steel and lead for their troubles. It really is great to have some backup when Arguz needs it. Why didn't he think of doing this before trying to scale the building?

It probably helps that Jia and Josiah are good, real damn good; and this shouldn't really come as a surprise to Arguz but he keeps noticing some new trick from one of them that he's never seen before. Jia's fast, her older brother knows that well, but not as fast as he just saw now. He can be fast on his feet for sure but never to the point of moving like a blur. His eyes don't deceive them either; all those years in the warrens haven't done anything to wither his sense of sight. She really is just that fast. No wonder why she's been so good as a courier and melee instructor.

The smaller of the two gunslingers chuckles as he takes the opportunity to reload his adamantine pepperbox. His thin, ratty tail rests calmly behind him, hanging out from behind as he raises up his gun at the remaining, angry wolf. "Hey mutt, you heard 'im," he snickers as he takes aim at the somewhat-distant wolf and, as if to show off a bit, aims downwards at its left front leg. "Down."

In expected style, Arguz fires off a bullet in an attempt to cripple and send the ghoulish creature down on its body, halting its inevitable charge at the three. Not that it will have time to stand up as Arguz then proceeds to fire off a burst of rounds to put the wolf out of its undead-like state. Last time a wolf took a melee shot right from Arguz and barely flinched; at a distance he really can't afford to waste any time lining up a single shot when it takes more than that to put something down. He doesn't have Jia's martial skill and speed or Josiah's crazy light show but Arguz makes up for that with pure grit and skill.

Alright, so this is a odd but, in case AC bonuses/penalties apply for being prone (it kinda hasn't before :smalltongue:), Initiative 1 will be a Full Attack Action on the wolf. Initiative 2 will spend a grit point to use Targeting and aim for the legs in an attempt to knock the wolf prone. (even if, fluff-wise, the leg shot happens first)

Initiative 1: Lightning Reload, full-attack action. Assuming Arguz isn't adjacent to the wolf here:
Attack roll: [roll0] Oh man...
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]

Attack roll: [roll3] Seriously?
Damage: [roll4]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll5]

Attack roll: [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll8]

Initiative 2: Using Targeting as a full action and aiming for the leg to try and knock the wolf prone:
Attack roll: [roll9]
Damage: [roll10]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll11]

EDIT: Alright, spending another grit point to use Expert Loading to keep my gun from exploding.

[Capt. Infinity]

Adamantine.

Throughout history this shimmering, dusk grey skymetal has been the absolute apex of raw crafting materials. Nigh unto indestructible, adamantine has always been used to fashion weapons and armour of an otherworldly caliber. Armour that can withstand astonishing force and even negate strikes against it. And blades that can cut through lesser steels like they were mere paper and cloth. Such tools have been the focal point of many a legend, the grand artifact that facilitated the defeat of the darkness at the hands of the light.

But, true to form, stories are embellished and abridged many times over. And Arguz may now realize that there was one, key fact that was often glossed over in the legends of the great blacksmiths of yore.

Adamantine was, in fact, incredibly hard to properly forge.

The Ratfolk likely hadn't considered the true ramifications of the material's properties at the time. It was still metal, it just required a little while longer in the forge, and a few more whacks with the hammer. This answer however, was deceptive in its seeming simplicity. For master craftsmen often need to refine and rework the entire process of creation in order to account for the altered expansion rate, tensile strength, and just the sheer, raw toughness that is endemic of the shimmering skymetal, and it alone. These reiterations required careful practice, study, and mindfulness in the work. All of which were things Argus had never considered, until now.

All of these realizations were little help to the moment, however. They merely explained the happenstance as, yet again, Arguz's pepperbox lets loose two more great gouts of smoke as the Ratfolk attempts to waylay a volley of fire upon the ghoulish wolf before him. The gun almost erupted into flames then and there, and it was only through Arguz's expert skill with the gun and its mechanisms that the explosive misfire was kept at bay. For what it was worth, two shots did strike true, and both of them made loud, aggressive impacts with the wolf's right flank, the creature yelping in pain for a split second, before refocusing its glare intensely at the Gunslinger who shot it.

The wolf rushes at Arguz, teeth barred and foaming at the mouth, but its bite narrowly misses the Ratfolk's tail, instead causing the undead beast to bite down firmly on the metal railing itself, leaving little divots in the steel where the teeth started clenching.

Jia followed suit. Her burst of speed coming again in the form of a great charge at the now-gnawing wolf. This time, instead of some mystic display of supernatural celerity, Jia instead made a swift rush across the main floor, her feet barely touching the ground as the young courier stabs firmly into a gap in the wolf's shoulder blades, the expert strike making the rapid creature release the bar and snarl in pain.

Josiah did little in the way of move, the Desperado having evidently entered a certain state of zen as the combat progressed, and now having reached its apex. The Aasimar didn't even lower his gun, merely tracking the wolf as it ran, and then relevelling it at the wolf's head once its motion fully stopped. The Aasimar's star-shaped eyes lower as his gun fills with light once more. "Still ain't listenin', huh? Ah well." The blonde man pulls back the hammer on his gun. "I guess we'll just have ta put you down."

The shot of light rang out once more from the Aasimar's gun, piercing the wolf once, only to go through the wolf, bounce off the floor, hit the chandelier in the dining area, strike it again, bounce from the floor to the bar, ricochet off a wine bottle, and strike ceiling before coming down on the wolf a third time over, piercing straight into the back of its skull, and knocking it dead.

As if on cue, the sprinklers ran dry. And all at once the room grew silent. With nought but the smell of wet wood and smoking wounds to fill the absent air. Tentatively, Jia looks about, searching the area for any further foes.

"I think that's all the ones that are coming. But there's still some more on the roof. You guys ready to head on up?"

"You bet yer' tail I am." Josiah spins his gun at the trigger guard, bringing it up to his bandana and blowing out the smoking barrel through the cloth, before spinning it once more and sheathing it quickly into its holster. "Let's show these varmints what happens when you piss off the sun."

[Starsign]

Arguz quite amazingly finds that he must have made a giant mistake when he made his adamantine pepperbox. He figured it was just like normal metal, just taking more work and care to properly force it into shape. He developed it somewhat similarly to his first pepperbox and imagined it interacting with gunpowder similarly... Yeah, that was a smart assumption in hindsight. The ratfolk gunslinger grumbles as he releases a small valve within the gun's barrel to let out the heat and flames to keep the whole thing from blowing up. He made that small adjustment back when the gun started to fail him while he was dealing with Koralia but did hope he'd never need to use it. As he realized, Arguz has a long way to go before he can actually produce reliably unique guns of any kind.

His evasion, thankfully, is on point as he avoids having his own tail from being bitten off. Also on point are both Jia and Josiah as they make brutal, fatal swipes and shots on the wolf. Josiah's shot in particular is incredibly impressive, and a shot which Arguz can only describe as being "showy." Seriously, one shot is usually enough to take something down but that is some insane aiming to fire through enemies and then reflecting off the area for the sake of flying through the wolf again. Seriously, how does he do that? That is both insanely awesome and out-of-this-world, if Ferroveil counts as a world. Sure is Arguz's world until very recently.

Trying not to feel deterred at his own clumsiness at the end, Arguz sits his ass down on the stair railing as he begins reloading all the barrels in his pepperbox. "Sure am in a sec," he responds to Jia as he gets his pepperbox reloaded at an extremely fast pace. He's mastered the technique and, frankly, he'd be damned to find someone who can reload during combat as quickly as he. Good thing too since his pepperbox only holds six shots and usually needs a lot more gunning down a room full of crooks.

All set, Arguz leaps off the railing and quickly checks himself over before happily confirming to himself that he's got out of the ground floor untouched. "Bet they might be waiting fer us when we get up there. 'Course they're gonna need a lot more numbers than what was 'ere." Arguz probably could've handled the entire ground floor on his own so long as his pepperbox didn't fizzle out. Granted, there should be a lot more on the roof given what they're protecting. "Here's hoping they don't got a hail of bullets coming our way."

Still having some confidence in him, appearing undeterred by his blunders, Arguz begins finding his way up to the roof, taking a moment to quietly ask Josiah, "So 'bout yer gun. Crazy looking thing, ain't it? Does it even need reloading or does it jus' fire beams of light all day an' night?"

If it may matter (which it may not, as the goblins and wolves above may be waiting for him given the firefight and alarms below), Arguz will make a Stealth check: [roll0]

[Capt. Infinity]

"Heck yeah! Let's show 'em what we got." Jia enthuses, directing the two Gunslingers to the stairway she had found upon entry (a feat which, while impressive, was more or less expected at this point from someone like her).

Josiah chuckles lightly at Arguz's initial questioning. "'S much as that sounds wonderful, I'm afraid this ol' girl still needs t' be loaded every now and again." The Aasimar flicks a small level on the side of the gun, and the rotary section slides outwards, levering out of the main body to reveal the cycle's inner workings, with six circular chambers placed evenly around the inside of the cylinder.

"Mah ol' man was a gunsmith. One o' the first, and one o' the best. He called this little number a 'revolver'. Th' chambers rotate whenever ya fire, so you can fire six shots faster than most men can shoot two. The things take these-" The golden-haired man pulls out a pointed metal cylinder as he begins to walk alongside Arguz to the stairs behind the stage, holding it between his index and middle finger. "Instead a yer standard black poweder cartridges. The things are some alchemical wonders, and believe me, they don't come cheap. But, when yer out in the desert long as I've been..." Josiah flicks his hand faster than the eye can see and, when it is once again visibly still, he is now holding not one, but three of the strange bullet shells, the two new ones seeming to flow and shift with light and darkness, as if formed from the very fabric of a shimmering mirage. "Ya learn t' be resourceful."

The group makes their way up the stairwell, creeping silently with Arguz and Jia at the head. Josiah continues, this time more softly. "Th' fire and light, on th' other hand, is all me. An ol' trick I learned from a Frontera native tribe. Ol' nomads had decided they'd had enough 'f the sun's beatdowns, and figured out a way t' use the burnin' light as a weapon against others, instead o' just a burden on themselves. Ah learned from 'em. And Ah learned m'self how to twist that light into the barrel of a gun fer my own personal usage. And the rest, partner? Well that's history."

The group approaches the doorway to the rooftop, themselves down to about a little under 20 minutes. Knowing there was no doubt someone guarding the door, Arguz makes the wise decision of only opening the door a crack, and checking the world outside first and foremost. The action was moderately inconvenient, as the Ratfolk's elongated snout wasn't quite so condusive to the act of stealthily peering around corners, but the Gunslinger's adeptness with the covert arts still yet held true

Beyond the doorway, and spaced around evenly, was a smattering of Goblins and dire wolves. One Goblin, seemingly the leader, with a large set of pauldrons and a very spiky helmet, was standing beside a large mechanical construct covered in tubes and canisters, which was no doubt the explosive in question set to go off soon. He looks worried, if not frustrated. His blood red eyes glancing here and there as he impatiently stomps his feet, awaiting reports from men that will never return.

Another Goblin sat cross legged a little ways away from the door. He bore a pistol on his lap, lazily held in one hand, with the trigger finger at the ready. He appeared to be acting as the scout for the eventuality of Arguz's trip up the stairs, should the other Goblins fail. Though, the green skinned mercenary was clearly having trouble, squinting and fidgeting as the early morning light was evidently both hurting his eyes and shining on him uncomfortably. No doubt acting as the chief reason Arguz was not immediately spotted by him.

The third and final goblin was holding the leashes of two fidgety dire wolves. The creatures were evidently growing restless up on the roof top, and could be seen multiple times attempting to snarl at and nip the heels of their handler, who kept them at bay with a large cudgel, which he shunted at them whenever they grew to ornery towards him.

The Goblins weren't exactly the most organized cabal, but they seemed at least moderately formidable. Though, with Argus's group bearing the element of surprise, one had to wonder if their organization would really amount to anything, when push comes to shove.

SURPRISE ROUND 2: 2 SURPRISE, ROUND HARDER

[Starsign]

Arguz only gave a whistle to Josiah's long explanation about his gun, or rather a revolver as he called it. That's a hell of a design for sure. When Arguz first saw it, he wasn't sure how the whole thing needed just one barrel without having to reload every shot. Now that the ratfolk has an idea of how the thing works, its design makes a lot more sense. Having some sort of inner chamber to hold each shot and that cycles per shot is, in theory, more efficient than using a barrel for each bullet a pepperbox can hold. It also sure does make the revolver a lot sleeker in design. Arguz's pepperbox, adamantine or not, is a clunky, box-shaped weapon which required constant cycling to keep up a reasonable fire rate. It took Arguz quite a while to figure out and manage his pepperbox that effectively. That, however, is probably what he gets for following reference instructions and not trying to craft his own, uniquely-stylized gun. He's definitely jealous about not having one of those revolvers, though neither Jia or Josiah could tell from a glance at Arguz's confident expression.

Maybe, maybe before Josiah leaves back for the Frontera, Arguz might take the chance to look more closely at the revolver and try and recreate one for himself. After all, the investigator has made several pepperboxes before and those tend to be more complicated to make than pistols. Having something he doesn't need to reload until he's fired six shots will make for a huge boon to his gunplay. It'll certainly put him one step closer to being on the aasimar's gunslinging skill. Trying to do that fire and light thing, however, is well out of anyone's capability in Ferroveil.

Peeking through the door, Arguz quietly notes the opposition waiting on the roof. Three goblins and two wolves, huh? Even despite his prior blunders, Arguz bets he could handle these odds by himself if he was going alone. The bomb, however, remains a huge problem and that leader may be tempted to deliberately set the whole thing off when he sees the trio bursting through the door. The wolves are a huge threat for sure but, let's face it, Arguz would rather not blow up.

The ratfolk turns his head away from the door to whisper his recon and plan to his sister and fellow gunslinger. "Ain't much worse than before. Jus' a trio of greenskins an' a couple wolves. Real nice family they got going there." He'd chuckle if he was sure that the goblins or wolves aren't capable of hearing him at this distance. "So here's the gig. We gonna burst in an' take out the leader, right 'way. That way he don't get any funny ideas 'bout blowing us all up. Then we get the wolves; hate their damn numb teeth. Then 'course we get the rest of 'em greenskins, then disarm that bomb. Simple 'nough, right?"

The ratfolk doesn't really wait for Jia or Josiah to react as Arguz looks at the simple, wooden-reinforced door before charging through it like an ogre through a brick wall. Without doubt he catches the attention of the five or so enemies on the roof as he barges out, sunlight shining down on the ratfolk's black fur and his head leaned low enough to shadow his the snickering expression on his ratty mouth. He considered whether to make his presence known by giving off some witty yell at the goblins.

Instead, a careful shot speaks louder than words.

Surprise round! Going to spend a grit point to use Dead Shot against the goblin leader, then Lightning Reload afterward. Somehow it only occurred to me now that I can misfire a lot less using Dead Shot than doing normal full round attacks or standard melee shots. :smallredface:
Attack 1 roll: [roll0]
Attack 2 roll: [roll1]
Attack 3 roll: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]
Extra Damage on Successive Hits: [roll4] [roll5]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll6]

EDIT: Holy hell. Good thing I only actually Misfire on a Dead Shot if every single shot is a Misfire :smalleek:

[Capt. Infinity]

"Y'all can worry about th' leader. You leave those wolves up t' me." Josiah whispers to Arguz before he and Jia follow the Ratfolk through the busted out door, and onto the rooftop beyond.

Arguz's shot rings out in the still morning air, striking the Goblin clean in the right shoulder, splattering blood onto the bomb to the right behind him. The Goblinoid yelps in pain and surprise, his expression mirroring those of his subordinates as the devastating adventurers rush at their rooftop group.

Josiah, still ever the trick shooter, draws his gun on the wolf handler Goblin, his gun flaring up in a dazzling display of light as yet another spear of solar energy shot out of it, tearing a burning hole straight through the Goblin, off a piece of piping behind him, through the first wolf, off the floor, and through the final wolf's flank, before shooting far off into the sky above, disappearing into the the sun's morning glow.

Jia, however, had less luck. Her headlong rush at the Goblin standing vigil seemed flawless, with the Ratfolk leaping into the air to strike downwards upon him. However, by not more than serendipity, the surprise of the heroes' entrance made the Goblin pull back in surprise, so much so that the green-skinned marauder, still cross-legged, actually fell backwards entirely, knocking his head on the ground in the process, but narrowly missing a vicious downward stab as a result.

On the whole, the Goblins and their wolves were left flustered and disarrayed. But none yet fell dead, and the look of aggression on their faces, mixed with the sounds of snarling and the motions towards their weapons told the group as a whole that the fight was just getting started.

INITIATIVE! :smallbiggrin:

Goblin Leader: [roll0]

Goblin Mook 1: [roll1]

Goblin Mook 2: [roll2]

Wolf 1: [roll3]

Wolf 2: [roll4]

[Capt. Infinity]

Wolves and Goblins are more similar than one might originally think.

Both are best described as "bestial" by the average member of society, and both creatures engender a certain sense of fear and aversion should they ever draw near. But the one factor they share, and the one factor which makes them such a terrifying match in combat, is far more visceral than a mere sense of dread.

Pack tactics.

One couldn't tell if it was by training or instinct, but it was with an astonishing precision that the wolves bore into the heroes with scarcely a whisper of command from their goblinoid handler.

Jia attempted to assault the Goblin before her, even as the first wolf made a dash for the young Ratfolk courier. Her short sword moved swiftly, but the Goblin proved swifter, dodging and deflecting her strikes, just in time for the dire wolf to but a full stop to her act. A loud squeak emanated from Jia's throat as the wolf's jaws dug into her shoulder, dragging her swiftly to the ground, where she was set to stay for quite a while thereafter.

The second wolf made similarly quick work of Josiah, the undead beast biting firmly down on the Aasimar's leg. Josiah made little more the than a pained grunt as he fell to the ground, dragged down painfully by the massive canine's bestial strength, but the twitching stillness and general tension in his limbs upon landing brought a clean reminder to Arguz in terms of his own paralysis, and told him that his fellow Gunslinger would not be getting up anytime soon.

The Goblin Leader however, was still not yet satisfied. He snickered evilly to himself as he watched the vigilantes fall. "Heheh! You ain't gonna stop us that easy! This train ain't stoppin' for no one and NOTHIN'!" He shouts, levying his jagged sword and, with an aggressive snarl, swinging it headlong into the side of the bomb beside him. The sword struck firmly into the wiring and steel of the explosive device, and a sea of sparks and gouts of steam shortly followed. A large analog clock on the face of the device, at that moment displaying 20 minutes of time left, began spinning wildly, shaking and shifting until it finally came to rest. With only 1 minute on the clock remaining.

Time was short. The list of options were shorter.

Now was the time when things start to get interesting.

[Starsign]

Well so much for the surprise attack.

Arguz is left only to watch his sister and Josiah both fumble and collapse as the two wolves dive down on them. They're normally better than this, damnit! This was supposed to be another simple group of goblins and wolves as well. The latter may be dangerous as all hell but that's what you bring allies for. Almost as quickly as Arguz burst through the door, his allies got out, took their strikes, and are now in big trouble. Ghoul paralysis is a horrid thing to deal with and it leaves you a complete sitting duck once you are affected by it. Now the ratfolk gunslinger is on his own to deal with two wolves before they get him.

...Oh, and like he predicted, the bomb's timer has been spontaneously cut short.

Arguz once heard a phrase about the best laid plans. He doesn't remember how it goes but for some reason it's a pretty good description of how this is going.

Right off the bat, Arguz would've been happy to make a witty retort to the goblin leader that suddenly put pressure on the trio's efforts. After all, Arguz always have something great to say in response to anyone's boast. Now, however, is not the time nor the mood for the ratfolk to actually be witty. There's just one, minor detail which is really putting his black fur up in pins. "Oh I'm stopping this damn train," he says. His dusty voice grinds out a darker tone as his confident persona gives way to a serious bout of anger. "As soon as you get yer mutt off my Sis!"

With the goblin's fatal mistake of not bringing a third wolf, Arguz aims his pepperbox over at the wolf who's grounded Jia. The ratfolk gunslinger's bone-thin hands wrap around his gun's trigger as he fires off a cleverly accurate kill-shot set on. not just the head but the wolf's ghoulish, undead eyes as it looks down at Jia. It's going to enjoy that blindness to go with the gaping hole Josiah put in earlier. Arguz wastes no time as he snaps the pepperbox's next barrel with his finger before firing off a more rapid burst of shots at the other wolf. While Arguz would like to do some sort of insane trick shot that sends both wolves to the ground, he's mainly good at shooting straight and, frankly, his sister comes before a fellow gunslinger. Besides, Josiah will be fine "waiting" two seconds to be freed from the wolf on him.

Initiative 1: Lightning Reload off the bat. Performing a Dead Shot on the wolf who attacked Jia. Let's pray for some good rolls!
Attack 1 roll: [roll0]
Attack 2 roll: [roll1]
Attack 3 roll: [roll2] Not likely a hit
Damage: [roll3]
Extra Damage on Successive Hits: [roll4] [roll5]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll6]

Initiative 2: I'm out of grit, so just doing a Full Attack on the other wolf who attacked Josiah. Let's pray for some really good rolls!
Attack 1 roll: [roll7] That's a crit!
Attack 2 roll: [roll8]
Attack 3 roll: [roll9] ...And that's a misfire.
Damage 1: [roll10]
Damage 2: [roll11]
Damage 3: [roll12]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll13]
Extra Crit Damage 2: [roll14]
Extra Crit Damage 3: [roll15]

[Capt. Infinity]

Evidently, Josiah needn't wait as long as Arguz thought. And Jia would need to wait a short while longer.

Arguz's first shot was almost spot on, striking the wolf clean in the eye, the bullet lodging itself in the rabid canine's left eye socket, to the sight of a wretched spurt of tainted, dark red blood. The beast howls in anguish at the shot, and quickly veers its entire form to face the Ratfolk aggressor, its one good eye carrying in its darkened gold disk enough malice to make up for its lost orb and then some.

The second wolf, however, would never have such a great attempt at righteous vengeance. The first shot was levied straight at the beast's skull, a blast with such devastating force that, were the wolf not undead, it most assuredly would have died then and there. But, empowered by its twisted unlife, the creature yet endured. Requiring one, final shot to final put it down for good.

It was then that the group of yet standing opposition sprung into action, all of their effort centred squarely on Arguz. The three Goblins all made a mad grab for their firearms, with the one on watch quickly scrambling to his feet, and the Goblin Leader rushing into range. All as one, the Goblins took aim. Ready, willing, and able to shoot down the last of their opponents.

Or rather, they would have been, had the wolf not had other plans.

Maddened with pain at the loss of its eye, and clearly aiming for outright vengeance, the ghoulish dire wolf abandoned Jia, pouncing straight for Arguz in an attempt at savage revenge. Such an assault, while impressive, was terrible for the Goblin gunmen, the sudden appearance of the rabid animal seriously hindering their aim, risking an outright miss in the process. Such a thing was technically a boon but, given the circumstances around it, it was doubtful Arguz would appreciate it. Unless, of course, he survives.

Goblin Leader

Standard Action: Move in and attack Arguz with pistol.

Attack: [roll0]

Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll2]



Goblin Mook 1

Standard Action: Move in and attack Arguz with pistol.

Attack: [roll3]

Damage: [roll4]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll5]



Goblin Mook 2

Standard Action: Move in and attack Arguz with pistol.

Attack: [roll6] And that's a misfire

Damage: [roll7]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll8]

GROUP EDIT: They were supposed to take a -4 to their rolls. Meaning they actually fail EVEN WORSE than they did originally. :smalltongue:


Wolf 1

Standard Action: Attack Arguz. [roll9] On a hit, [roll10] Damage plus a free Trip attempt. [roll11] Against Arguz's CMD. In addition, if it hits roll a DC 18 Fortitude save against Paralysis for [roll12] rounds. Miss

NOTE: This wolf has been shot in the eye, and thus must beat a 20 on a d100 roll against partial concealment in order to hit.

Concealment (DC Higher than 20): [roll13] Success. But irrelevant

[Starsign]

This shootout, if throwing wolves at Arguz is what the goblins consider to be a "shootout," could be going a lot better. Could be a hell of a lot worse too; Arguz hasn't found himself on his back yet though he's found himself remarkably close to being so after riling up the remaining lone wolf. Even if he wasn't expecting the wolf to survive, the ratfolk has figured out how to get the hell out of the way when an undead dire wolf comes charging head-first into his face. His right leg bursts with strength as his left leg lifts off the ground and propels him sideways, rolling to avoid the pounce as he spectacularly thinks on his feet. His mind pays no heed to thinking out his next plan as, back on his knees, he loads in another bullet in his barrel, snaps his right arm forward, and fires a quick and painful shot at the goblin which Josiah crippled either. The goblin's shots weren't worth much consideration as their aim, or rather lack of it, is breathtakingly bad compared to the quick-and-sharp teeth of the dire wolf.

Amidst Arguz's serious, agitated look knowing his sister is currently paralyzed, the gunslinger snickers a bit. Finally he's finding his own element again. This day hadn't been going well for him so far, between nearly dying to a pack of ghoulish wolves and getting shown up by Jia and that aasimar that happened to know some seriously mean sunlight tricks. Yet whatever had been kicking Arguz today has begun to subside. He really needs to get his rat's ass back in motion and now he's given that chance. He's dealt with half a dozen trained assassains before; what kind of threat are several goblins?

Yes, yes there is a ticking bomb but Arguz doesn't need a minute to spray bullets all over his opponents.

"Nice aim you greenskins!" The ratfolk gives his rude and nasty-sounding taunt as he points his gun over to his side, right where the wolf had pounced to and no-doubt about to charge again, as he cycles to his last barrel and carefully fires off a shot at the other eye. If that damn undead freak won't stay dead then it can at least enjoy the blackness shadow of dark shade, also called blindness. He'd taunt the goblins more but first wants to listen to his bullet tear through the biggest threat in this firefight. Also gives him a chance to quickly reload his gun once more so he isn't trying to shoot with an empty gun.

Initiative 1: 5-foot step to the right of the wolf. Make a standard shot at the goblin that Josiah wounded earlier:
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]

Initiative 2: Perform another Dead Shot on the wolf, using my last remaining grit point (unless I killed the goblin I shot before, which gives me a grit point back), hopefully take it out with minimum risk:
Attack 1 roll: [roll3]
Attack 2 roll: [roll4]
Attack 3 roll: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Extra Damage on Successive Hits: [roll7] [roll8]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll9]

[Capt. Infinity]

Both Arguz's shots hit home hard, though to noticeably different levels of satisfaction on either end.

The Goblin that Josiah had earlier run through with solar fire saw his final end come in a substantially less fantastical fashion as, in the same moment in which gun jammed irreparably before him, a bullet found its way through the goblinoid's oversized skull, and out the back of it, in a manner lacking any sort of grandness or fanfare. A fitting end for what was but a cog in a much more malefic machine, and a sub-par cog at that.

The wolf on the other hand...

To call the creature's incapacity to fall "fortitude" would be a misnomer. For, in truth, the creature had none to speak of. It's body was not propelled forward by blood, food, or even raw spirit. It was merely kept in a state of animation by whatever bastardized marvel of science Gibblejack Heartstabber had devised for it, in what was no doubt many weeks of nefarious plotting.

Still, even with the fantastical source of its continued motion plainly obvious to all that were present, one still had to pause in astonishment at the fact that this creature, now lacking both eyes, still wasn't dead.

The great beast roared in pain, shaking its head back and forth as it reels from yet another direct shot to its head. Darkened, congealed ichor spills from its mangled eye sockets as what once was blood begins to clog its fresh wounds in what minimal capacity it can in its current state of unlife.

The Goblins, stupid as they were fervorous, did not yet see a reason to abandon this Ratfolk upstart before them, and continued their forward assault upon him. The Goblin leader loaded up yet another alchemical cartridge into his gun, his subordinate following suit, as the two greenskinnned arsonists took aim and fired upon the Gunslinger who would dare to get in the way of their boss's plans.

Evidently the sound of gunfire was enough to rouse the wolf as, even in its current state of absolute blindness, the raw hatred in its heart towards Arguz was more than enough to propel the beast forward in one final, madcap attempt at ending the Ratfolk's life.

'Tis a strange day when one comes to fear the dead more than the living. But perhaps, at least for Arguz, such things were growing to be routine.

But that did not at all stop it from being tremendous amounts of fun.

8 Rounds to detonation.

Jia is down for 1 more round.

Josiah is down for 4 more rounds.



Goblin Leader

Move Action: Reload.

Standard Action: Attack Arguz with pistol.

Attack: [roll0] MISFIRE!

Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll2]



Goblin Mook 1

Move Action: Reload.

Standard Action: Attack Arguz with pistol.

Attack: [roll3] CRIT!!!

Damage: [roll4]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll5]



Wolf 1

Standard Action: Attack Arguz.

[roll6] On a hit, [roll7] Damage plus a free Trip attempt. [roll8] Against Arguz's CMD. In addition, if it hits roll a DC 18 Fortitude save against Paralysis for [roll9] rounds.

NOTE: This wolf is now completely blind, and must roll above 50 on a d100 roll in order to hit at all.

Concealment (DC >50): [roll10] MISS

[Starsign]

Arguz has found himself impressed and surprised by a lot of things. One need not remind him of the time he was caught completely off-guard entering Malwick's factory and getting tied up. Nor has he forgotten the day with his wonderfully miscalculated tumble into Rantar's base followed by an encounter with an insane crystal dragon. Really, after gunning down Koralia, Arguz shouldn't be shocked by anything anymore. Yet there he is, expectations deceiving him as somehow the undead dire wolf is still living. Arguz knows he hasn't exactly been shooting at point-blank range, where he's at his deadliest. Yet indication of the past seven or so wolves today made Arguz figure that this one would be dead... again.

The ratfolk doesn't get much time to fire another shot off on the wolf as he sees the goblins about to fire. Moving with his superb reflexes, the ratfolk dives away from the wolf to avoid the horribly-inaccurate first shot as-

*BANG*

An investigator like Arguz should consider himself blessed by Tullis that, up until now, he's never been directly shot. He's been stabbed, bitten, slashed, and gnawed but never taken a bullet.

That changed today.

Arguz can imagine it being only a run of dumb luck as the bullet from the goblin subordinate's gun moves as fast as lightning and collides with Arguz's torn-up studded leather coat. There's an icky, immediately brief and quiet *squish* as the bullet easily pierces through his coat and fires back his black fur and skin as it collides just to the left of his right shoulder. His body yanks backward and squeaks in shredding pain as he feels the bullet lodges itself in his small body. His feet lose its balance for just a moment before his right leg balances him by taking a large step back.

His left hand reaches out to cover where the bullet had struck before pulling his hand out in front of him. His bone-thin hand is drenched in a thick red liquid. Blood. His blood.

That's just when Arguz feels a rush within him. His senses and adrenaline spike as, seeing the blind wolf completely miss its pounce, the ratfolk spontaneously snaps his pepperbox from his side and fires the single remaining bullet in his pepperbox. He didn't exactly care if that shot kills the wolf or not. As far as he cares, that thing may as well be dead with both eyes blind. His attention, however, is on the goblin that shot him.

In spite of pain and in spite of injury, Arguz's bone-thin feet get him off from his staggering state and dash him up to the unfortunate greenskin that tagged him. The ratfolk gets his bloodied hand into his pouch and loads a bullet in before pointing the gun right in front of the goblin's belly. "Big mistake," the ratfolk taunts with a grim smirk as he pulls the trigger. Arguz may not be feeling great from that bullet he took but a shot back's gonna help make up for that. Besides, there's still some fun in shooting so long as he walks out the winner!

Initiative 1: 5-foot step away from the wolf. Shoot him normally.
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll2]

Initiative 2: Lightning Reload, run to the goblin mook and shoot him in melee. He gets an AoO and I get a grit point for it:
Attack roll: [roll3]
Damage: [roll4]
Extra Crit Damage: [roll5]
Powder Burns Damage: [roll6] Fire + DC 18 Reflex vs Set on Fire
Belly Shot Damage: [roll7]

[Capt. Infinity]

One could call it a form of mercy to put down the Ghoul Dire Wolf after all it had been through.

The beast, which by then had received two punctured eye wounds and a smouldering hole straight through its midsection, was hardly at any comfortable stage of living, and seemed to be yet animating through sheer unwillingness to die. Even as the final shot rung true and pierced the canine's cranium, the monster stood resolutely for a couple of moments more, almost seeming to endure the shot, before falling sideways onto the ground without yet another noise from it, falling limp and dead for all to see.

The Goblin could only wish it had been so lucky.

Perhaps there was yet merit in Josiah's earlier words. Perhaps there was something about Ferroveil, be it the constant Lowtown Miasma, the newfound pressures of modern society, or maybe just the general danger inherent to the land itself, which lent itself to breeding out the weakness in its goblinoid inhabitants, and leaving only the strong and resolute amongst them. Such thoughts seem surprisingly plausible as Arguz, having shot the Goblin point-blank in the stomach, witnessed it bend over slightly, a plume of blood behind him, and a small wisp of flame emerging from the exit wound, witnessed the greenskinned marauder continue to stand before him. Still yet alive, and still yet hating.

The Goblin coughs blood into Arguz's face, sneering at him. "Yer gonna hav'ta try harder th'n THAT ta get ME, fuzzball."

"How 'bout THIS then!?"

Arguz couldn't recall ever seeing Jia get up. Nor could he recall her moving forward to engage the Goblin currently harassing her brother. But some way, someHOW, Jia Aijk had managed not only to silently rise to her feet, but also rush forward and stab the Goblin straight into the gut, entering alongside her brother's bullet wound, and seeming to pass through his armour with just as much ease.

The Goblin makes a pained gurgle. "...Yep. That'll do it." The Ratfolk courier withdraws her blade, and the Goblin soldier falls backwards, landing limply upon the ground, dead.

The Goblin leader, to all of his credit, still yet stood ground against the impossible odds. Screaming out into the morning air, her readied his gun and fired, hoping to at least take Arguz with him.

"DIE BLACKFUR! DIEEEEE!!!" He screams, as the scent of gunpowder fills the air around him.

Goblin Leader

Reload and shoot Arguz.

Attack: [roll0] Against Touch AC.

Damage: [roll1]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll2]

[Starsign]

Perhaps unlike the aasimar foreigner who is currently frozen on the ground, Arguz is rather accustomed to dealing with folks that are sturdier than expected. He did say that a lot of people in Ferroveil are real stubborn folks. Though given the nature and residue of earth which exists around Ferroveil, combined with its unhealthy, disease-filled slums and warrens, Arguz can very well buy the idea that there's just something that makes Lowtown folks hardier if they don't succumb to weakness or frailty. Regardless, the ratfolk did prepare himself for the surprise that the goblin can survive his first point-blank shot and was fully ready to fire out another shot at the surviving greenskin.

That is, of course, until Jia comes out of nowhere and utterly skewers the goblin. If there's anything that does manage to keep surprising Arguz, it's the speed and skill of her own sister. One moment she had been right down and paralyzed on the ground and now she's suddenly back up and promptly taking advantage with the element of surprise.

"Sis?! How'd you-" Her brother's stunning and off-guard tone is quickly shattered by the ear-screeching echo of a gunshot as the lone, remaining goblin attempts to put one more bullet in Arguz's fur-ridden body. Unlike the lucky shot of the now-dead greenskin, the leader's shot aims just a bit off. Arguz's reflexes reels his head back as the bullet grazes uncomfortably past his right cheek, charring through the fur, barely missing the actual skin, and sending the ratfolk's adrenaline spiking again. A close shave like that is enough to unnerve anyone, especially if they've already been shot before.

Arguz grits his sharp, though non-cannibal teeth as he readies his gun again. "Oh now I've heard 'nough 'bout that!" he says, his slightly deep and dusty voice piercing through the goblin's maddened screams. "Blackfur" isn't a term Arguz has heard since he moved out of the warrens, used to describe almost any black-furred ratfolk found in the warrens. Given how crowded that place is and how many ratfolk live there, it's easily to just throw up a definition that describes a wide group of people. That's one of the many reasons why Arguz went out and became a gunslinging investigator; he wants to be known as a name!

In retaliation, Arguz cycles the barrel in his pepperbox and shoots off a round at the goblin, aimed at the pistol held wildly in the leader's hands. For a moment, Arguz considered simply blowing away the leader like with the other goblins. Then, partly unsure whether Arguz actually has a bullet in his barrel, he simply looks away at the goblin and towards Jia. "Sis, you keep 'em still. If this greenskin," speaking quite hypocritically, "tries somethin', go slice 'im apart. I'm gonna deal with that bomb." Arguz's words are spoken in a matter-of-fact manner, gritting under his teeth to hide the pain of that bullet wound he took. He needs to get that patch soon and he would've done so right away if the whole place wasn't at risk of blowing up.

So leaving his competent sister to keep an eye on the goblin leader, Arguz quickly takes out his field guide with his bloody left hand, holding the exterior with his four bone-thin fingers and flipping the pages over with his thumb as he makes a dash to the bomb. Whether the guide itself is useful or not isn't determined right away. He's had his share of disabling traps (and making them, mostly for practice) over his life but he's never quite figured out how to dismantle a damned alchemy-crafted explosive.

But for the life of everyone here, he damn well better figure out now.

Initiative 1: Spending a grit point for Targeting. Aiming for the goblin leader's pistol to blow it out of his hands.
Attack roll: [roll0]

Initiative 2: Run for the bomb device as a move action, readying a standard action for next round. Also, not sure whether disabling this device will simply take a Disable Device check or (likely), more than that.

[Capt. Infinity]

"Sure thing, bro!" Jia smiles at her brother, as he turns away to attend to the bomb.

As Arguz runs to the mechanism before him, he can hear the quick series of events behidn him, confusing as they may be without visual context.

"Hah. Go ahead, girly. Just try and get one over on- GAH!"

"How did- what did you- Hey, let me go! Get off me right now or I swear I'll-"

*Shwing*

"You'll what?"

"N-nothing, m'am."

"That's what I thought."

As Arguz kneels down before the monstrosity of steel and wiring before him, he could turn to see that, in virtually no time at all, Jia had subdued the Goblin, knocking him flat forward onto his chest, with a blade firmly locked under his chin as the young courier stood triumphantly on top of him, her other hand binding the greenskinned marauder's wrists behind his back. How exactly Jia managed to charge the gunman such that he fell forwards was an impossible thought that perhaps never even entered the Ratfolk investigator's mind.

Arguz knelt before the bomb, all it's ticking gears, steaming pipes, and ever-present wires laying bare before him. It was entirely probable that the vast majority of these components were obfuscation, a series of purposeless add-ons that served no functional meaning, present only with the intent of making diffusion that much harder. But that wasn't really a pressing concern to Arguz. His real task wasn't finding out exactly what parts did what job.

It was finding out which parts' jobs he had to stop, no matter the consequence.

Make that roll, my dude! Don't forget your buckler! Since I'm pretty sure that bonus applies here.

[Starsign]

Arguz's dash to the bomb kept him wonderfully ignorant of Jia's duty which had happened behind her older brother. The ratfolk gunslinger really had just one thing on his mind as his feet kept moving: stop that bomb. Does he wish now that he actually did some more damned practice with traps as he's never quite had to deal with disarming something as extreme as a building-blowing explosive before. It would help if the goblin he left alive was put into the ground but there is no time for that. He just has to put his faith in Jia to keep the goblin occupied at the least. But really, Arguz should have no fear about that. Jia's an incredible combatant, a skilled melee fighter, way more mobile than her older brother, and arguably more dangerous than he is. There's no way she should have trouble with one measly goblin.

Arguz looks behind him once he gets to the bomb and finds his assumption easily proven true as Jia had already floored the goblin on the ground, forward, somehow. Say what one will about the Aijk family but they get results when it matters... even when Arguz has no idea how Jia does a lot of the stuff he's both seen and not seen.

The gunslinger gives a impressed-if-surprised expression before turning his head to look back at the bomb, constructed somewhat similar to what he imagined it'd be: clunky, crude, and a mess of gears, pipes and wires. Jeez, this looks more cramped than the alleys of the warrens. He gives off a low grunt and a stressed chatter of his ratty teeth as he figures out where to begin. He has the tools to disarm this thing as he removes the wooden brace on his arm, his buckler, and drops it onto the roof ground so its many small tools are at his disposal. Meanwhile, he glimpses into the partly-bloodied field guide as he checks whether there's any additional information about bombs, wires, gears or pipes that can assist him in this challenge.

All the preparation in the world, however, will not mean anything if he doesn't actually start. His bone-thin rat tail lies motionless as his eyes focus completely on the bomb. With a small scalpel knife from his buckler to start with, Arguz gets started on dismantling the bomb. If he is correct, he just needs to start by snipping one of the bomb's detonation wires, and then work from there to get some sort of failsafe triggered. A simple task whose only consequence is the destruction of a insanely-costly Midtown building... Oh, and the deaths of himself, his sister, and the aasimar gunslinger that's been helping them out.

No pressure, right?

So assuming that combat time is still a thing (though maybe not double initiative), Arguz will use his prepared action to look into the Field Guide and see if any sort of knowledge he can get (maybe something related to the dungeoneering knowledge skill?) helps him with this upcoming roll.

Regardless, here's the Disable Device check with a +2 circumstance bonus thanks to the buckler: [roll0]

[Capt. Infinity]

The seconds seem to tick down in slow motion.

Arguz had never been pressed to action in quite this manner before. But perhaps the young Ratfolk surprises even himself with how cool he remains under pressure. Arguz wastes no time, barely breathing as his deft, ratty hands are a blur, twisting within the monstrosity of steel that is the bomb with nothign but the single minded purpose of stopping it.

At some point, Josiah rises from his position on the floor, rising to a standing position as he looks at what Arguz is trying to do.

"Urgh... That wolf's bite sher' does pack a wallop, don't i- ...Well then. Looks like we got ourselves some stakes 'n this here gamble, don't we?"

"Don't hold yer' breath, star-eyes." The Goblin chides from beneath Jia's hunched form. "One wrong move and this whole place gets blown to smithereens."

"And one wrong word outta you and yer' gonna WISH you'd be blown up with us." Jia snarls, holding the sword closer to the Goblin's neck.

"Please don't. I like living." The green skinned gunman whimpers.

"Well then, you best start prayin' friend. Because somethin' tells me livin' might be a taller order th'n you'd expect." The Aasimar mutters, eyeing Arguz's frantic work.

And work he does.

It is long, tense, and unimaginably taxing. But slowly, wire by wire, cog by cog, Arguz sifts through the bomb's inner workings. After several seconds which, to all those present, felt like hours, Arguz finally, with one last snip of some wiring, does the nigh-impossible.

He disables the bomb.

And then, to everyone's surprise, the first person to congratulate the success is the bomb itself.

For quicker than thought, the very moment the wire is cut, a spout of confetti shoots out of the bomb's multiple stovepipe tops, and a noise not unlike a party noisemaker wheezes out of multiple vents on the machines surface.

"Congratu- Uh... Is... Is it supposed to do that?" Jia looks down at her Goblin captive.

"Don't look at me! I just brought the damn thing here." The Goblin spits back.

"Somethin' tells me the chase is still on. Arguz! Keep on yer toes!" Josiah shouts over to the hunched over Ratfolk, barely allowing him a moment to breath. And it is in this interrupted moment that the machine deemed itself ready to shoot out, from what could only be described as a mail slot on the front of the bomb, a large, cylindrical glass tube, with a metal hatch on the front.

Opening the hatch reveals yet another sealed envelope, with the following message within:

"Well, well, well.

Well well wellity welly well.

It looks like you survived THIS one too, didn’t you?

I can’t say I’m SURPRISED. After all, you do have a long history of refusing to f***ing die. But that’s just what makes this so special, isn’t it? What makes YOU so special. In all your smelly, dirty, awful glory, you wretch.

I suppose you killed my dogs and my men too? Well, that’s a given now, isn’t it? You always were the type to kill without a second thought. Though, I can’t fault you there, now can I? I suppose we’re BOTH that particular brand of awful.

Speaking of things I hate. ART!

Can’t stand the stuff. A waste of good cloth and oil, I say. All those feelings and emotions. They do nothing for anybody!

Now BOMBS, on the other hand? Those have a purpose. Those serve a FUNCTION!

One particularly egregious example of the ‘artistic realm’ is a little Uptown sewage pit called the Delacourt Grand Gallery. That’s right, Argie! We’ve hit the bigtime! There’s a bomb already underway in its countdown. I’d say you have, oh, maybe half an hour from the end of this one to stop it. And wouldn’t you know it? There’s an expo going on at the exact same time! But don’t worry, some more of my men are making sure they’re comfortable. I wonder if you’re ready to save those scum-sucking, penny-pinching, snub-nosed piles of s**t too, you vigilante f**k.

Oh, who am I kidding, of course you are! After all, everyone’s worth saving to Arguz Aijk!

Unless, of course, they’re on the wrong side of his barrel?

Ain’t that right, Mr. Detective?

Good luck. You RAT."

From across the way, Josiah speaks up. "Judgin' by th' look on yer face, I take it that's our next clue?" He shouts out to his comrade, still holding the letter in his hands.

[Starsign]

Of all the ways Arguz would get his next clue from... he really should have expected it to be from the disarmed bomb. There isn't exactly many other ways Gibblejack could've written up a message for Arguz that didn't involve the alchemic explosive not going off. Kinda makes sense too; if Arguz screwed up, he'd be kinda dead and there'd be no point to a letter in the first place. The explosion would've been a sufficient-enough message. All that goblin really needs is either a loud enough burst of explosive ash and energy or another big panic roaming the streets to know that he accomplished his goal, whatever it is.

Based on this letter, Arguz is beginning to get a good idea on what this goal might be.

To describe Gibblejack's mind as being pissed when he wrote the letter is an understatement. One does not get merely pissed without having some sort of emotional and personal drive against their target. Arguz can't even think of a word to describe how furious the goblin is towards him. Gibblejack's just been throwing vulgar language and mad writing in his bouts of actively going after Arguz, and more notably, after Arguz's skills. The ratfolk has probably met plenty of people who have been jealous of what he's accomplished but this is the first time he's seen such vile envy spewed out right in front of his eyes. Gibblejack just wrote like he thinks it's completely unfair for what Arguz has done, between the people the gunslinger has faced and the odds he's prevailed against. Hell, the goblin's been flat out attacking Arguz's entire way of life since he made his own gun.

And THAT is what gets right under Arguz's fur.

He feels an agonizing pain near his shoulder, not just from the bullet he took, as his thin left hand moves over to cover the small hole. Arguz's life as a gunslinger has been the best damn thing that's hapenned to him and Gibblejack goes on in this letter like it's the single worst thing. What right does this ******* have to call out on Arguz's job, much less make some throwaway comment that the gunslinger is some vigilante killer? Most of the people Arguz has shot over his life had it coming, and mostly because they either shot first or they weren't going to back down from their own goal. Arguz has rarely been in a shootout where he's been able to actually avoid having to gun down every enemy and threat that's attacked him. Sure, Arguz has taken the lives of numerous people; but that doesn't mean some goblin gets to accuse him of being some black-and-white vigilante that gains recognition through killing.

Arguz's mind lets those nasty, aggravated thoughts of his spin through his mind several times before he internally calms down. He is certainly going to make that greenskin pay for this personal insult, much less for all the bombings done throughout the last few days. As for whatever that payment involves... That is something the gunslinger will have to decide when he gets to that point. As is, he's only realizing now that he is mentally making a big thing over a letter when he has a job to do.

Arguz gets back up on his feet and crumples the letter into one of his coat pockets as he turns around to look at Josiah. The ratfolk's cheery, rough tone masks his prior aggression he had when reading the letter. "Yep, got our next lead in all it's rude an' angry writing." The ratfolk looks at his own bullet wound again as he strains a bit taking his coat off and, noticing how torn-up his shirt is from the bullet and the numerous bites to his body, tears off the shirt cloth around the bloody, weeping bullet wound. He grunts a bit as he speaks to Josiah and Jia. "We're goin' to Delacourt Grand Gallery next. Right up in Uptown, or as some like calling it, 'paradise.' Ain't ever been there myself; whole damn place's rich as hell, full o' penny-pinching, snub-nosed rich folks." He borrows a bit of Gibblejack's words in describing the aristocratic Uptowners. Those people to Arguz are irresponsible, rich, often selfish and uncaring while enjoying the opportunity to throw potshots at the abysmal conditions of the slums and warrens. Not to say that all Uptowners are like that and a couple have actually been quite respectful to Arguz; for him however, that feels like the exception rather than the rule. He's going to be learning how true that may be.

...Though it'll also be exciting. He's finally got a good damn reason to go to Uptown. He always did hope that, as a detective, he could one day see Uptown with his own eyes during a job and here is that chance. He's sure not gonna be welcome but he's at least got the excuse of going there for a good cause.

"Letter says there's some of 'em folks hostage too. Probably gotta walk carefully in there. 'Course we got our own hostage to deal with." There is a tiny smirk in the ratfolk's pained voice as he finishes wrapping up his bullet wound, a slightly hasty job due to how little time there is, as he passes out the bandages and potions to Jia and Josiah to deal with the bites both of them took from the wolves; may as well use the rest that Arguz brought with him while they can. Arguz looks over to the goblin leader in the meantime, picking up the greenskin's pistol while pointing the adamantine pepperbox down at the goblin's head. "Yer real lucky I ain't come alone; couldnt've had you held up while I was working on that bomb." Arguz's frustration over the letter is rather clear from his expression. He isn't forgetting those words while speaking to the goblin leader. "So if you still feel like living then how 'bout you tell us what you know 'bout Gibblejack. An' yer gonna have to be quick. We ain't got more than a minute to spare."

Took longer than I thought. Turns out I don't get a lot of time on Tuesdays. :smallredface:

Arguz will be passing out the remaining 14 light heal wound potions to Jia and Josiah. They can take what they need to heal their wounds from the wolves, then Arguz will probably drink the rest.

Lemme know if I need to roll for Diplomacy or Initmidate btw, if either may matter for the goblin leader. :smallsmile:

[Capt. Infinity]

"I... Ah what the hell. I'm dead either way, might as well mess with the guy." The Goblin leader huffs, not so much intimidated as he was grown tired of the proceedings before him. Almost bored, even as blade and bullet are both menaced towards his general direction. "Honestly? I ain't got much on the guy. He's just your ordinary Goblin, on the outside anyhow. Inside though? Th' guy's smarter than anyone I ever met. Fur, skin, or scales. He's got a wit sharper than your blade, missy." He chides towards Jia, who tightens her grip on her blade and growls in his general direction. "Er. Maybe not quite as sharp as that." The Goblin sweats with a nervous grin, before continuing his explanation.

"Near as I can tell he works alone. Which is already weird as hell. I didn't exactly have a lot of love between me and my cronies, but at least they were mine. That Gibblejack, though? He ain't got nobody. Worked alone fer the longest time, and only brought us in to f*ck with you, near as I can tell. It ain't normal fer a Goblin to work alone, but then again, nothin' about him seemed normal." The Goblin then sneers at Arguz directly, before speaking further. "But you wanna know the one thing that's a sure thing about him? For some reason, outta all the scummy, sucky, slime-covered sh*ts that this city calls lawmakers, he has nothin' but absolute, piston steaming, iron twisting, fire belching disdain for you." He bares a jagged and broken mouth of teeth in a menacing grin.

"Boy howdy you shoulda heard him! I didn't even know half the words he was usin' to describe you! But I knew not a damn one of 'em was nice or kind. Make no mistake, Aijk. Gibblejack wants you dead specifically. And buddy, let me tell you. People like him?"

"They are VERY good at gettin' what they want."

[Starsign]

Arguz keeps his tiny smirk as he listens to the goblin leader's fatalistic-speaking explaination. Hearing about Gibblejack confirms a few things Arguz had about him, mainly that this goblin arsonist is a completely mad, raging freak of a greenskin that has an extreme hate for the gunslinging ratfolk... Though really, the goblin leader put it best and nothing in Arguz's mind can imagine why Gibblejack is targeting him specifically.

"No **** he's got a lotta hate fer me," Arguz responds coldly under his smirk as his free hand shows the letter in his coat. "Bet whatever he's said 'bout me from his mouth ain't half the hellspeak he writes up. If he's gotta good reason fer it, I ain't seeing it." The information isn't exactly as much as Arguz had hoped but it does make sense if Gibblejack works on his own; not really much one can figure out from someone who goes lone wolf without leaving as much of a explicit clue.

At the same time, the threats and warnings about Gibblejack interest Arguz as much as it does concern him. The ratfolk's ended up meeting quite a number of eccentric and dangerous folks around Ferroveil, not including an aasimar powerhouse, an oread assassin, no less than two aristocratic sorcerers, and an insane crystal dragon. A goblin full of hate and mad cunning will add to all those people that Arguz has faced and survived... hopefully.

"Well I'm sure gonna tell 'im that he's one crazy, cunning bomber when I see 'im. An' trust me, he ain't gonna be able to kill me 'fore he gets a good, long look down this barrel." The ratfolk finds it easy to talk up a good game once he's got the upper hand. Then again he proved himself over the past minute; he probably deserves it. "An' that reminds me..."

Arguz tightens his aim on the goblin leader's head. It is really easy to simply plug one in the greenskin and move on. That's what happens when you have a gun; you can't control when a gun delivers a instantly-lethal shot or merely causes them to start bleeding out. At the same time, the goblin here's disarmed, lacks a way to fight back, clearly lacks an interest to keep fighting, and... something in Gibblejack's letter is really getting to Arguz's mind.

Then, remembering how many bullets are in his pepperbox, Arguz steadies his breathing and pulls the trigger with his bone-thin finger.

*click*

Out of bullets, just like he thought.

"Told you yer lucky," the ratfolk says with a wider smirk, not missing a beat. "So here's what you better do: turn yerself in." Arguz begins reloading his pepperbox before putting it back into his holster. "An' I ain't saying that 'cuz it's s'posed to be right. It's so ol' Gibbles doesn't come 'round trying to cap you for I put one in 'im. Last hired thug I let off (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=20906482&postcount=16) didn't last long (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=20964854&postcount=54), so you better look fer protection, fast." Arguz is making a wild guess that Gibblejack doesn't tolerate failure from others and it's not the worst assumption based on the goblin alchemist's mad attitude.

Arguz's statement is punctuated by a sudden motion of his left foot as he brings feet and wooden sandal right into the goblin's face to leave a nasty bruise. "An' that's so no one thinks you ran off like a coward." That... is only partly true. The other truth is that Arguz needs a quick moment of catharsis that's more than just a good talk. A kick sure amounts to a lot less than a bullet and the ratfolk lacks the strength to make a lethal blow with his legs, especially one as uncivilized as the one he just made.

This one was pretty fun to write, I admit. Helps that it's fun to link back to a couple posts when there's a good chance to do so. :smallbiggrin:

[Capt. Infinity]

After looking terrified, then confused at Arguz's gunpoint threat, the last thing the Goblin expected to come next was foot to face. "Gah!" Was all that amounted to a response from the Goblin leader, as Arguz plants a swift kick into his left eye socket. Jia, in turn, releases the battered Greenskin, who rises to his feet on shaky legs. "You know, this may come as a surprise to you, Aijk... But that might just be the single nicest godsdamned thing anyone's ever done for me." The Goblin gives a bemused grin, chuckling to himself, almost in disbelief at the fact that he wasn't dead, even as the skin around his eye began to darken and expand with burst blood vessels.

The Goblin dusts himself off, before looking at the assembled vigilantes. "I'll head down to lower midtown. They've got less of an axe ta grind when it comes to 'justice'." He chuckles to himself as he stares down Arguz with his one, still-open eye. "Heh. Funny. Just as brutal, but made from ten times the fiber."

"No wonder Heartstabber hates your guts."

The Goblin then walks over to the edge of the building, before leaping off the edge with a loud "Hup!" The sound of compressing trash was enough noise to note that the Goblin had not, in fact, just commited suicide. And sure enough, the goblinoid could be seen crawling out of a dumpster, little worse for wear as he casually wanders out of the alley, clutching his bullet wound as he goes.

Josiah tips his hat up, and side eye's his Ratfolk compatriot. "I don't rightly care what was in that there letter, Arguz. Far as mah eyes see it, y'all are good at the core. And that's what matters."

"Yeah! You may be rough around the edges Argie, but you've got heart where it counts." Jia beams at her elder brother, a genuine glimmer of adoration in her eye, alongside a look of professional respect at the restraint he showed in letting the Goblin go.

"Now then." Josiah chimes in, cutting through the moment to the task at hand. "Whata y'all say we stop burnin' daylight and start burnin' leather? Arguz. Gods know that Gallery ain't gonna save itself." Whilst the Aasimar's face scarf blocked the lower half of his visage, Arguz could tell by his eyes that Josiah was smiling moderately at the state of affairs. Evidently, he was having a little bit of fun with the whole affair.

Only time would tell if the fun would continue.

[Starsign]

Arguz's smirk never leaves his face, though about as much of a facade as it can be, as he watches the surviving goblin leap off and begin walking away from the building. There is a small degree of satisfaction in letting that goblin live, if only so Arguz knows he proved Gibblejack's accusation wrong... Okay, maybe not "prove" but certainly "challenge." It's the most Arguz can do while he's not able to put the barrel of his adamantine pepperbox in front of that alchemist's face. Just foiling Gibblejacks plans, and surviving of course, is enough for now; the more of these taken care of, the closer Arguz will be to finishing his case. It's certainly a rat race, almost literally.

He can't help however but keep the wounded and spared goblin's words in mind. Just as brutal but made from ten times the fiber... He sure as hell stated that the ratfolk gunslinger is about as much of a killer as Gibblejack is. Yet Arguz has only killed when he needed to, something any gunslinger can't really control. When you stare down the barrel of a gun, you have to believe that any shot fired may truly be a lethal one. That's what it comes down to.

...Or at least, that's what Arguz is trying to believe. He could've easily blown away the goblin and not bat an eye to it. What does that say about him?

Loosing his smirk and changing his expression into a small, relieved smile, Arguz looks to both Jia and Josiah as they confide in him. "Ah, hell. You know something's bad as a taunt ain't gonna bring me down," The ratfolk probably isn't convincing either his sister or the aasimar of how he's doing but it's not like a few cruel insults have ever brought Arguz down; if it did, he never would've became a gunslinger in the first place! "But I appreciate it." He gives a small toothy grin, showing his numerous, less-than-clean teeth... No one said ratfolk from the warrens had the luxury of great hygiene.

He gives a quick, amused look at Josiah, seeing that the aasimar has been enjoying this escapade so far. "You gotta point. Bet you get a kick outta whatever goes pumping through yer body when bullets go flying." Arguz can relate to the sheer enjoyment of shootouts, even when they end up being unbelievably dangerous. The gunfire, the exploration, the confrontation against a foe and coming out on top... That's the life for Arguz, alongside the money and the good he's done of course. It's not a life which has been as ideal as he originally envisioned but he can still be living lives much worse than this. He just needs to stop Gibblejack's letters from getting in the way and into Arguz's mind.

Finding that his field guide helped him last time, Arguz takes the book out to his right hand again and opens up a page to get some more knowledge of finding one's way through Ferroveil the quickest. Getting out to Uptown is a new experience for the gunslinger from the warrens and he can't guarantee that the sewers are going to remain the quickest way there. He only needs a few seconds before getting what he needs and looking to his allies with a convincing glee. "Jus' like 'fore then. See what you can scout out when you get there Sis. We'll try an' be right behind yer tail." Whether the trio have 29 minutes or 48 minutes left, they're going to make the most of it. This is a game of catch-up and rats are damn good at that.

Sorry this took awhile, but it's up! As always, hope it's good :smallbiggrin:

[Capt. Infinity]

Josiah shrugs casually at the mention of his mild thrill-seeking. "Ah well. Ya know the ol' sayin'. Do what y' love, love what y' do." He absentmindedly twirls his revolver as he speaks.

Jia nods enthusiastically at Arguz's mention of a plan of attack. "You got it, bro! If there's two things I'm good at, it's movin' fast and movin' stealthy." She grins widely, with a smile that was substantially cleaner than Arguz's (A clever move on Uijl's part years ago, paying a decent amount of her weekly salary every few months to ensure her younger brood have toothbrushes and paste to spare). "Ready when you are, Arguz! Let's save us some rich busybodies!"

And it was in a short span of time that Arguz learned of the quickest means to reach the Delacourt Grand Gallery through the mystic pages of the Field Guide. Perhaps because, in hindsight, the answer was quite obvious. For you see, it is not the burden of the wealthy to trouble themselves with footfalls and walkable routes in their day-to-day lives. Walking was an activity of leisure, after all. Not a means to an end. So, when troubled with the task of reaching a particular place, the most affluent of Ferroveil took to other, more high-minded methods of transport, more suiting of their station. For a long time, such methods took the form of horse-drawn carriages, rickshaws, and even palanquins for the wealthiest amongst them. But, as with all things in the modern world, the Steam Surge brought forth a newer, decidedly more fantastical alternative.

The Voltacart.

Originally a pet project by some of the most inventive minds of the modern era (as a matter of fact, Dr. Abbersworth himself had a hand in its initial design), the Voltacart was, in essence, a series of semi-automated road trams, with each individual unit powered by an interwoven lattice of powered, electrified cables which snaked their way over many of the main streets of Uptown Ferroveil. Set on precise routes, the Voltacart, or simple "The Cart" for those more familiar with it, was the most efficient means of transport for any and every intrepid young noblefolk on the move, with sectioned seating areas for the gentry, and a designated communal area for the servants. Truly, a pinnacle of modern convenience, and a cesspool of modern opinions and societal sensibilities.

Now, of course, there was a higher chance of a Balor breathing snow than there ever was of Arguz and Jia finding themselves a spot in a Cart, communal or otherwise. But, then again, nobody said they had to ride IN it.

And so, the group moved in and along the streets of Uptown, with the harsh brightness and unfathomable affluence of the entire area being only partially mitigated by the fact that they stuck to the shadows all the way. However, when waiting by a Cart station, Jia and Arguz somehow manage to lose sight of Josiah, with the Desperado merely giving vague assurance towards "having a plan" before diappearing. And it isn't until the two Ratfolk were readying themselves to leap from a low roof onto a then-stopping cart that they see him once again.

For there, standing amongst the other gentry like a lion in sheep's clothing, was Josiah. With his hat and longcoat stowed away in some extradimensional bag, the man from Frontera Fuego, stood in a light blue longsleeve shirt and a black vest, with even his bandana tied down into an ascot. Exposing the lower half of his face to reveal, unsurprisingly, a rugged jawline and imposing features, with a surprisingly clean-shaven face. So great was the transformation, that the two Ratfolk were genuinely unsure it was him, until the Aasimar looked up at the roof, and winked towards them with one of his star-shaped eyes.

From there, jumping onto the roof was easy, and it was with a full 30 minutes to spare that Arguz and co. arrived at the Grand Gallery, ready to liberate all who resided within.

It was truly an impressive building. Built in a massive square, the structure stood two stories tall, and was littered in windows and viewports along its pearlescent white walls. The steps leading up to it were hewn from solid marble, and two massive white oak doors stood at the front face of the building, opening into a massive central dome for the atrium, with what looked to be an artisanal garden beyond it in the square area segregated by the building's general form.

It would've been utterly breathtaking, were it not for the flock of armed guardsman at the front door.

For there, standing in a crowd by the now-shut front doors, was an even mix of general guardsman, wearing their trademark blue leather armour and star-emblazoned helmets (all to a brighter sheen than Arguz had ever seen before), and specific noble guard, wearing an eclectic mish-mash of different styles between them, fitting to the tastes of the noble under whom they are employed. To say they all looked nervous was putting it lightly, and the whole group seemed restless, only pausing to occasionally look at the door with dumbfounded worry.

The Cart stop was a few hundred meters off to the side, and Arguz's group, whilst able to readily see all this, had more than a sufficient level of stealth still on hand to work with.

Now, all that was left to do was figure out a plan to get in.

[Starsign]

Being on a Voltacart is a brand new experience for Arguz. The actual reasoning for why he's never been on one is pretty simple: he's never really had a reason until now to stroll around Uptown. This isn't to say that it's the first time he's seen a Voltacart; back when they were first announced they drew all the attention to the local Lowtown papers like it was some new revolution from Heaven. Hell, how much has he thought that about every new thing designed by Midtown and Uptown nowadays? His job as an investigator and gunslinger has been something of an introduction to culture in the higher classes, even if he isn't exactly part of that culture; he's a Lowtown ratfolk of the warrens, through and through.

And that is something which Arguz thinks about as he and his sister ride on top of the Voltacart. He lies his back down on the roof, kicking his torn-and-bandaged right leg over his left as looks up at the sky; bone-think hands placed behind his head to provide a little support. The weather is calm and the wind is relaxing as it flies by in a breeze of tranquility. It's a far cry from the chaotic shootouts that's happened earlier today and this will probably be the last bit of rest he's getting until he's dealt with Gibblejack for good.

Yet as Arguz rides the Voltacart, he can't help but keep thinking of Josiah, specifically of the aasimar's astounding clothing change which lets him simply ride on the vehicle like any other Uptown citizen does. Now isn't that a lucky break? You don't usually end up being able to blend in with Uptown unless you're a human, elf, or half-elf. Makes a lot of sense why Josiah has no trouble; aasimar are pretty damned blessed beings and it sure doesn't take much beyond their visage to appear like a high-class citizen in Ferroveil.

Which is what leads to this scene: Josiah riding in the Voltacart with other Uptowners while Arguz and Jia rise on it; in doing so, the two are probably not making themselves anything but deviants to the actual residents of Uptown. What choice does Arguz have? He's a gunslinger with a timer ticking in his mind so he's gotta get around quickly. Yet he's not really allowed to get near most sorts of Midtown or Uptown constructions without one hell of a permission. A ratfolk can't simply blend in with the upper classes of Ferroveil; even with Arguz's rising reputation that's not happening. It's why the lot he hopes to purchase in Midtown rests among the suburbs closer to Lowtown.

His jealous mind aside, Arguz rests with ease until he and the others arrive at the cart stop where the Grand Gallery is in sight. He hops off the Voltacart and into the shadows, gaining a little distance away from the stop so he and Jia can meet up with Josiah privately. Arguz waits until he's sure no one is watching before he starts talking. "Bet that trip sure ain't come cheap," he speaks somewhat-playfully to Josiah with a forceful smirk; the ratfolk's eyes and nose peeking out at the Voltacart again. "How'd you pay fer something like that?" Josiah never came off to Arguz as someone of having a particular wealth, especially for someone so far from their homeland. Then again, Arguz is saving up a fortune; wealth doesn't have to be told by one's clothing after all.

Arguz shifts his attention afterward to the Grand Gallery, practically blockaded by the general guardsmen. "So ain't that a beaut," the ratfolk snickers, hiding whether he's actually admiring the place or mocking all the guards out. "Gibbles sure ain't subtle 'bout his work. 'fraid they ain't letting us in. Not that we'll wanna walk through the front doors like we're doorkickin' brutes." He chuckles a bit and looks up at the building again. "Scouting out's gonna be hard too; Jia an' I gotta avoid both everyone inside an' the guards out. Damn good chance we're gonna blow our stealth that way. But once we're in, we got two floors an' both a bomb and hostages. Best guess, Gibbles got the bomb on a different floor from the Uptowners; he jus' go fer one an' the other's free to set off the bomb or kill the hostages. So either we gotta split up an' take the ground an' upper floor together... or hope 'em Uptown guards'll rush in the moment they end up hearing gunfire."

The ratfolk gives a moment of thought, keeping his less-than-pleased smirk as he looks over at Jia and Josiah. "Sis? Josiah? Either of you got any thoughts 'bout that?" Given he's working with allies, Arguz certainly appreciates any advice or suggestions while he has the chance. Simply setting off the fire alarm isn't going to work with both nervous Uptown guards and hostages in play.

Wanted to see what opinions or ideas Jia or Josiah might have, if applicable, before Arguz agrees on a course of action. Hope you might not mind that Arguz isn't exactly enacting a plan immediately as of this post. I definitely should have something next post though! Was quite fun to continue developing some internal struggles for Arguz. :smallbiggrin:

[Capt. Infinity]

"Cheaper 'n you'd expect, but a far cry from what th' price rightly should be."
Josiah, gives a tired grin as he pulls his "proper" clothes out of a bag of holding, readjusting his acot back into it's rightful place over his mouth. He absentmindedly holds up a literal golden ticket "Twenty gold this sucker cost me." He speaks in mild disbelief. "Apparently they sell these rich suckers on it by sayin' ya can come back on any time in the day fer free, or purchase a month 'r year of the things fer a "discount" price. Doesn't rightly change the fact that some of the saner parts a the world sell you a cart ride fer three copper per mile." The sound of Josiah's voice seems to give the impression that the Aasimar was legitimately unsure whether to be astonished, or disgusted. And he seems to be settling on a little bit of both.

Jia snickers as Arguz mentions wanting for a more stealthy approach. "Aw, why the change of heart, Argie? You seemed to get quite the kick out of bein' a "door kickin' brute" just a minute ago." She teases, giving a silly grin. But she did give her brother the courtesy of hearing out his entire plan. Though Josiah was the first to speak up thereafter.

"I've dealt with mad bombers in the past. An' while I ain't no master bombardier, I know ma way 'round a demolition." His star-pupilled blue eyes look the building up and down with absolute scrutiny, almost seeing past the walls for how thorough the surveil was. "Gibblejack's a smart one. An' if he's look'n to make a statement outta this place, that means he wants to destroy it in a way that makes it memorable, but hard to just clean up an' move on. He wants enough of this buildin' standin' that people are too busy arguin' about what t' do with what's left to fix it. Ma best guess? Green skinned son of a gun's probably lined the ground floor of that atrium in explosives. No better middle finger to an art exhibit th'n takin' out the centrepiece."

"Which means our hostages are probably on the second floor. No sense wasting good murder boxes on the rich folk when gravity c'n do it for you. An' I'm guessing that seeing everyone crushed under the weight of their own fancy expensive art building is just the kind of "poetic" deaths people like Gibble find sick joy in." Jia adds, clearly entering a more aggressive stance as she set out to end this madman's latest plan.

Josiah and Jia both look pensive for a moment. But it is Jia who finally speaks up. "You know... That dome looks like it actually has three floors. Not just two." She begins to smirk as an idea forms in her head. "Bro, give me your grappling hook. I'm gonna need you two to wait on the side of the building we're seeing right now."

"Got a plan there, Ms. Aijk?" Josiah enquires.

"Oh you bet I do." The young Ratfolk grins, before receiving the grappling hook and rushing forward far ahead, the two (or at least Arguz) quickly losing track of her, but with the clear intention that the two gunslingers will follow towards the building's east end.

[Starsign]

Arguz's eyes watch the gold ticket in a slight bit of awe as Josiah shows off the twenty-gold paper. In truth, twenty gold sure doesn't really come off as outlandish to the ratfolk. He grew up and has a family in the warrens and nearly everyone in Lowtown lacks enough money to even think of sparing that sort of gold. To them, the actual amount didn't count; everything in Uptown cost too much. "Welcome to Uptown, Josiah." He snarks to the aasimar, half in amusement and half in contempt at the kinds of deals these aristocrats can make. The ratfolk is more surprised that carts elsewhere can be so incredibly inexpensive. As he'd known before, his world is kinda small, being restricted entirely on the island Ferroveil is on. There's really not a lot here that's only worth in bronze or silvers. If Ferroveil's services are hilariously overpriced compared to the rest of the world, Arguz's saved funds must make him rich everywhere else... Not that he'll ever want to move now that he's come this far in society.

Letting his sister take the reigns of her own plan, Arguz watches Jia take off with his grappling hook in tow. There's a lot to admire in his sister even when all her skills are a part of necessity for her courier work. She may not be hunting after crooks like Arguz is but that doesn't mean being a courier is safe in the slightest. Their little sister, Deca, didn't survive a Lowtown riot while training as a courier with Jia. You have to be careful, tough and quick to survive, if not thrive, when you're out on the streets and all over Ferroveil; Jia more than qualifies for that.

"Oh I'm looking forward fer this," Arguz says with poorly-contained glee. "Jia's gotta knack fer surprises. I bet yer gonna love this." He doesn't miss a beat as he begins moving through the shadows, making his way over to the side of the building which Jia had pointed out. Yet as he does so, he can't help but rethink what Josiah considered. Lining the ground floor with explosives? Gibblejack might have put down numerous bombs, too many for one person to disarm. Arguz might need a bit of help for that.

"I'll jus' be a sec," Arguz whispers to Josiah as the ratfolk detours briefly. "Got me a plan." Taking a rare scrap of paper off one of Uptown's nearby alleys, Arguz presses the sheet against the wall, takes out a small, thin lead strip he keeps on him and uses it to etch a short message out. He doesn't exactly use these new, manufactured writing utensils most Midtown and Uptowners have, a simple lead stick is usually enough if he needs to write something, even if it stains his fingers with that grey texture afterward. Taking a trick that Doden once showed his older brother, Arguz folds up the paper into a unique shape with a giant, fused wing, like that which daredevils use to glide from the island's higher reaches, and throws the paper to land next to the group of guardsmen from the shadows so that they may notice and hopefully read it. Doing so from the shadows, along with the paper's somewhat-slow glide speed, should be enough to get out of sight before one should spot him. From there it's all a matter of waiting around the side of the Grand Gallery and wait for Jia to do her thing.

Oh, and the paper's message in question?


get bomb defusers. explosives on main floor.
hostages may be free from second floor. be ready to catch em.

Arguz was not exactly a fluent writer, but he sure can make his points clear. He's just banking on Josiah's intuition being right, or things could spiral out of control quickly.

[Capt. Infinity]

The paper airplane flew remarkably straight, and landed at the foot of one of the oldest looking and most well-decorated of the town guards. The man, with a burly moustache and a deeply embossed star on his cap, looks around momentarily for the source of the thrown paper glider. He then, slowly, bends down to pick it up. Unfurling the paper the man reads through the jagged handwriting swiftly, before his eyes widen with apprehension. In mere moments, he's shouting orders behind him, mobilizing his men into a proper readied formation. True, such things were likely to draw large amounts of attention. But the officers weren't exactly the ones the Goblins should truly be watching for.

Upon reaching the wall, Jia was nowhere to be found, until the grappling hook's rope descended swiftly from on high, falling down from the roof of the building, with a smiling Jia waving to them, and motioning for them to come up.

"The girl sure does work fast, now don't she?" Josiah turns to say to Arguz, before motioning for him to go before the Aasimar. Josiah did so in order to ensure that Arguz doesn't have quite as difficult a climb as last time. And, sure enough, through the careful watch of both the gunslingers, both Arguz and Josiah climb to the building's roof with little to no difficulty.

"All right!" Jia whispers in an excited tone. "Now follow me."

Jia directs the two gunslingers along the wall to the northern dome, careful not to alert the police below. Eventually, the vigilante group reaches the dome proper of the main entrance hall, a pearlescent white, gothic affair with striations of careful stone carvings, gold inlays and, most importantly, a series of unlocked arched windows.

"There's only a short drop the bottom of the third floor. It looks like it's some kind of storage area for extra art pieces and cleaning supplies. Wait here!" The young Ratfolk, as is her way, opens the window and disappears into it, before calling up to the two a couple of minutes later. "Down here!" Jia shouts, directing their eyes to a pile of what looks to be spare seat cushions for the couches below. The landing was soft, if dusty, and oddly enough, scented lightly with floral perfume.

Josiah sniffs the scented air. "Heh. Welcome to Uptown indeed."

The group gathers in the open centre of the room, a plain stone floor laying beneath them, directly above the second floor roof. "Alright, so, right now, we're right above the second floor. Now, if my bets are right, the goblins and the hostages are down below. I first thought they'd all be holed up in the centre, but that's if you wanted to ransom 'em, and keep 'em safe. These guys? They want 'em dead"

"Which means they're liable ta be at the corners o' the room. Makin' savin' all of 'em a task an' a half, whilst makin' sure that the wall come down on 'em if the lower floor blows." Josiah adds, thinking.

"Bingo." Jia smiles. "Which means that we know exactly where they are, and exactly what we need to do to get the drop on them. Only question now is... How?"

To the south end, there was a latchkey trapdoor and an extending stepladder, free for sliding down, should the group desire it. They also still had their grappling hook about them. And the windows to the second floor were just a quick rope swing away. But Josiah, in all his infinite surprises, also brought forward an interesting option three. "Ya know. Ah do actually have a technique that lets me blast holes in pretty much anythin' that isn't made o' flesh. If'n ya don't mind the property damage, or the sudden, decenty-sized drop, ah could make it so these greenskinned sons o' guns get the biggest surprise of their entire godsdamned lives." One could not truly tell from beneath his bandanna, but it wasn't some herculean task to tell that beneath it, once again, Josiah was smiling.

[Starsign]

Always confident in her sister, Arguz finds himself waiting for very little as Jia throws down the grappling hook for both him and Josiah. The ratfolk gunslinger probably wouldn't have considered that there was a third floor in the first place and instead would've gone with taking the upper floor and lower floor at once, entering via dramatic fashion through the windows. This, however, is so much better. Whatever ghoul aftershock Arguz had been experiencing before feels like it got kicked right out of his system as he gladly climbed his way up to the northern door and down to the third floor. Somehow, even in the dustiest and most neglected areas of Uptown, aristocrats still manage to care for it. The smell is off-putting to Arguz who has been used to the less-than-pleasant smells, sometimes stenches, of Lowtown and the warrens.

"Never miss a beat," he says to Jia, thanking her with an upbeat, gleeful smile as keeps his voice down. Thankfully he and his sister are impeccable at making themselves unknown when they need to. Even under whatever minor hygienic problems Arguz has, he isn't about to let his stench be a big giveaway to everyone below. Besides, with how decisive they are it's not usual for one to catch Arguz because he was waiting around for something.

The ratfolk listens to Josiah's and Jia's assumptions, both sound theories, as the gunslinger looks at the trapdoor. It's far from the worst entry but given everyone below is waiting for Arguz, it's not exactly a good entry. Normally he could try being stealthy but, assuming Gibblejack is smart about his plans, the second floor would be relatively empty with no places for him to hide. The moment he enters, they'd catch him and shoot him, or worse, the hostages.

Arguz's ratty head expressed a degree of concentration until Josiah speaks up about his own idea. "I thought you always wanted to jus' make light shows with that," he playfully retorts, making simple fun of Josiah's bullets of pure light which he's been firing out all day. A part of Arguz remains jealous of the aasimar's impeccable, supernatural gunplay but the ratfolk just has to remember that he makes up for his lack of unique abilities with sheer talent and skill... Not that he minds having the aasimar's help of course.

"Well y'know there's this sayin' Josiah: Y' can replace a floor, replace a roof, replace a table. But y' can't replace a life." Though Arguz speaks in some jovial, lighthearted tone, his words had been taken right from his father, Darug. Those were words which Arguz was told well back when he was young over the one time his little warren home collapsed in on itself. What a mess that was; took a hell of a long time to get that fixed. But in the end, there wasn't really anything Arguz had lost then as homes were irreplaceable. People, however, aren't and the deaths of Deas, Bacr and Vallix really drove the message home. A little sorrow and anger swells in Arguz's eyes as if recalling those in his family who he had lost, before getting his mind back on the task.

"So when you live in a run-down, beat-up, flimsy, creaking, dead-as-a-doornail stone-an'-brick house fer a decade, you learn that sometimes you really don't give a **** 'bout causing a lil' damage to save a few lives." He still spoke jovially, yet it's not hard to hear his disapproval of his family's home spoken between the lines. "So go right 'head an' give us a drop. It'll sure be quick 'nough. But jus' in case..."

He pulls out a couple of his smog pellets, handing two each to Josiah and Jia. "Normally prefer using these fer escaping but was thinking that, if it comes down to it, we could use these an' cover the hostages with 'em, make 'em harder to hit. Jus' throw 'em an' watch it let out smog. Smells like **** but it sure does help." He checks his pepperbox one more time before snickering quietly. "'Course that's if we ain't wiping 'em out in one go, aye?" More than ever, Arguz is looking forward to gunning down some more greenskins and wolves. And so long as the Grand Gallery is standing, he can't really care about how much Uptowners are going to complain about property damage.

[Capt. Infinity]

The Delacourt Gallery Fresco is actually quite beautiful.

Displayed proudly along the ceiling of the second floor of the main dome, and lit from below by a series of continuous enchanted lights, the modern artpiece stands as a wonderful, ludicrously expensive talking point for all those who spend time in the great hall. Which is normally rented out for formal dining affairs, charity auctions, and other pastimes of the rich and affluent.

The scene is an interpretation of one of the more popular deific portrayals. With the upper pantheon of the gods displayed in their full glory, in a variety of lax poses. The gods are depicted dining happily with one another, clustered to various quadrants of the dome in line with the compass direction from which they hail. The minor gods crowd the edges, smaller and farther away, with the grander gods to the centre, culminating in Iomedae standing near the centre, basking up at the direct pinnacle of the dome, wherein there stands a splendid sun, shining down upon the groupings both around it in the fresco, and in the hall below.

One might actually call it poetic, that it was from this shining rendition of the sun, painted in reflective gold paint, that Arguz, Jia, and Josiah burst forth in a mighty blast of solar light.


Josiah had done little more than point his gun down and pull the trigger, but the sheer explosion of light could not be understated, nor could one ignore the violent destruction of the ground beneath, all but dissolving in the wake of the blast.

The fall was actually surprisingly fine, if a little bumpy from the rubble that fell with them. But it was a decent amount less unpleasant than the sight that greeted them below.

For it was there, smack dab in the centre of the second floor, that the trio stood, surrounded in all directions by a series of Goblin mercenaries.

Completely, utterly unprepared Goblin mercenaries.

The Goblins stood to the cardinal corners of the rounded room, leaning against what looked to be stacks of chairs, tables, and decorations which had been carried from throughout the room. Up until now, their guns had been trained on the clusterings of hostages, which sat tied into a group at the four sub-cardinal corners between them. However, even as this scene was playing out, Arguz could begin to see the goblins move to re-aim their weapons, setting them straight on those in the middle of the room.

But Arguz, alongside his comrades, were far, FAR quicker on the draw.

SURPRISE ROUND!

I MIGHT get a map ready for this one, but for now, there are two goblins about 40 feet North, two 40 feet South, and 3 each at the corners 40 feet to the East and West.

Have at it! :smallbiggrin:

[Starsign]

Given the mention of property damage, Arguz had expected some sort of sudden explosion or, otherwise, grand surprise that would catch everyone below off-guard. The ratfolk didn't expect a single gunshot to literally explode the ground underneath the three, dropping them to the bottom of the second floor... and surrounded by about sixteen goblins. No wolves, but lots of goblins.

That would be odds Arguz would be fine with if he were working alone. Given what's happened today, however, the support sure is appreciated.

He lands safely on his feet, though nearly slipping on impact due to the rubble; his left foot landed crooked on its sid while his right hit flat ground but so off-balance that he nearly falls forward. His ratty nose opens to the various scents of the second floor, notably less dusty and significantly more "pleasant," though the stench from himself and the goblins sure might be mucking it up. What else he does gather is that Josiah wrecked that ceiling painting! Holy crap that could not have been cheap to make. It's like crashing a god's party; if Tullis was among those depicted, Arguz sure didn't recognize her... Not that anyone can now. Hopefully these Uptowners will actually respect their lives over the destruction of a impressive work of art. They're rich people; Arguz isn't expecting something like that painting irreplaceable.

If only the people were easy to save. With hostages at the four corners like Jia and Josiah predicted, there's no real way that the three of them can gun down all the goblins in one go. Sure their guns are aimed at the three, which makes this the rare and ridiculous case where Arguz wants people to shoot at him, but it only takes a moment for them to point back and begin firing at the hostages. What they need is a reason to keep firing at Arguz. A showcase of skill and tactics should do the trick.

Arguz makes a dash towards the northeast corner of the room, where the group of hostages are closest to the dramatically-designed and over-complicated large windows which decorates the front of the Grand Gallery where all the guardsmen are. "You all been waiting fer me?!" The ratfolk calls out to everyone in the room as he swiftly draws his pepperbox and, remembering that he had been in a supply room just before, aims up to a carefully-disguised weak spot of the roof as he gets a bullet from his pouch ready. "Well come an' get me!" An equally-carefully placed shot echoes from his pepperbox, ringing upward to the small, cracked roof in an attempt to bring it down and the many cleaning supplies crashing onto two of the goblins; even if the supplies were laid out right, there'd be too much that could fall on the hostages as well.

But the two goblins that happen to be guarding no one in particular, and the rest of the ceiling for that matter? Yeah that's fair game.

Surprise round! :smallbiggrin:

Spending my move action running 20 ft to the northeast corner. Taking a Standard Action to do something like what I did once before, (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=21063558&postcount=100) though to be honest I'm unsure if it could apply here given how the Grand Gallery is set up as an Uptown attraction.

I'll roll attack anyway, lemme know whether I should roll something else or whether I should change my action altogether: [roll0]

[Capt. Infinity]

Goblins are not a lucky race. Not by any definition of the word.

Born into a society with an even mix of feral cruelty and vicious cunning and ingenuity, these small goblinoids were dealt a hand which, for the longest time, utterly stagnated their progress in the world as a society.

However, in the time leading up to the Steam Surge, the Goblins were actually beginning to find their place in society. Albeit as a cheap work force and syndicated groups of cutthroats. But the technological renaissance was actually kinder to them than most, bringing these green skinned folk into a time and place where a cunning mind, a swift blade, and a thrill for illicit activities could find not just employment, but prosperity.

But here, in this gallery, standing up to those that the men and women of the upper crust would deem their "equals", the Goblins were swiftly reminded of why THEY were always the heroes' fodder.

Arguz's shot went cleanly into the concrete above. And those below could see a sudden, rapid expansion of spider web-like cracks from the point of impact. Before the whole of that section of the roof came crashing down upon the goblins below it. The green skinned mercenaries had barely enough time to yell out a yelp in surprise before their immoral lives were suddenly put to a violent, loud, and offensively lavender-scented end.

Arguz, out of the corner of his eye, saw Josiah step forward towards the pack of three aggressively stanced Goblins on his right, his hand resting casually on his holster before, in a sudden flash of motion and light, the Aasimar draws his gun, and a blazing bolt of pure sunlight shot through one Goblin's chest, bounced off the floor then wall behind him, through the second Goblin's chest, past Josiah's shoulder, off what was left of the fresco to the west, and then straight into the third Goblin's skull. Killing all three before they even had time for a final quip or shout. The Desperado twirls his gun, before stopping it with the smoking barrel's end in front of his face, and then proceeds to blow it out. "I suppose I shoulda given some kinda warnin' before I went an' drew my gun on y'all." Josiah says to the open air. "But somethin' tells me you y' wouldn'tve shared th' kindness."

Jia... Did something. Arguz wasn't actually paying attention at the time and, by the time he DID afford a glance at Jia's general direction, all he saw was the young Ratfolk standing crouching behind some dumbstruck Goblins who then, apropos of seemingly nothing, proceeded to drop forward face-first onto the floor, dead. The young courier turns and gives her brother a thumbs-up and a cheerful grin. Evidently successful in doing... Whatever it is she just did.

The two Goblins to the south, in the wake of all of this sudden death, assault, and general unpleasantness... Panicked. Outright, and completely.

"Whatta we do!?!" Shouted the first, who had massive, oversized shoulder pads to the second, who possessed what looked like some form of military helmet.

"Do the thing!"

"The thing?"

"Yes the thing!"

"But boss said it was only for emergencies!"

"And what the F*CK do you call THAT!?!" The second Goblin gestures wildly at the three heroes in the room.

"...Good point. Here goes nothin'!" The shouts. Before drawing forth a flask of some indiscernible brown fluid. "Geronimo!" The Goblin cheers, as he then smashes the flask on the ground, releasing the fluid onto the floor beneath.

There is a distinct pause.

"...Wait. Weren't we supposed to toss it AWAY from u-" The be-helmeted Goblin did not manage to finish his sentence before he, and his partner, were both utterly consumed by the RAPIDLY expanding brownish fluid. Being consumed and quickly dissolved in what was evidently an aggressively acidic goo, with not but there bones being left within in a matter of mere moments.

The Brown Ooze undulates and ripples. The creature lacking any obvious features to denote awareness, but still somehow exuding a presence which identifies that it is alive. And it is hungry.

"...Huh. Well ain't that a surprise." Jia mutters under her breath.

"Pretty sure that's mah line, Ms. Aijk." Josiah replies, wide-eyed and focused on the new beast before them. "Any ideas, Arguz? 'Cause this sure as HELL ain't my standard fare." The Aasimar intones.

Though, really, something like this was no one's "standard fare".

But. Somehow. It had come to become Arguz's "normal".

Enter: Brown Pudding!

Y'all are on-turn again, Starsign. Buuuut word of advice? You MIGHT want to spend a Free Action (or a Full-round Action, if you don't have the ranks) getting some dirt on this thing with a Knowledge (Dungeoneering) check. Because, spoiling it now, it's got a few tricks up its sleeve.

[Starsign]

Arguz brought his right arm, its black fur covered under the leather overcoat he wears, as he sees one of the remaining two goblins pulled out some strange brown flask and threw it. The ratfolk was sure that whatever it was, no doubt made by Gibblejack, would be some form of horrid liquid that would've made things a lot worse. He expected it to be some sort of mad explosion, taking him, his friends and all the hostages with the two goblins in what he imagined as a catastrophic way to go. A suicidal tactic like that wouldn't be the most surprising to Arguz, given some of them had been protecting bombs and one of even even slashed the prior one down to a minute, all but dooming him had Arguz not disarmed the thing.

Yet alchemy, as it's proving itself today, is both unpredictable and varied in its applications as he watches the liquid become some sort of ooze that swallows the two goblins right now.

Now to clarify, Arguz isn't one for unappetizing deaths. He gave a rather ambitious noblewoman a quick death by bullet (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=21151138&postcount=147) rather than tear off her mask and let her choke in a place full of crass-piss toxic gas. It would take a very, very special case for Arguz to seriously make one's death agonizing and brutal. Therefore his ratty face twists into an irked sneer as he witnesses the ooze quite simply devour the two goblins alive. Arguz didn't make an attempt at saving them; they were well beyond the attempt given they took hostages in Uptown, with the guardsmen right outside. Yet being dissolved into nothing more than a mess of bones, watching it all the way, has to be one of the more uglier deaths the gunslinger has witnessed. It's almost right up there with, "being eaten alive by an insane dragon" and did Arguz almost found out what that was like!

"Yeah, how 'bout we go give 'im a hug, that'll calm it down." Arguz grizzly and clearly snarks in response to Josiah as the ratfolk pulls out his field guide. They're will need some actual information. He knew a bit about the ooze himself but given what happened to the goblins, he's not taking any chances. Quickly the gunslinger becomes engrossed in the guide as information floods his mind. It's impressive just how much he can learn from this thing and before long he loses track of time when he had expected to just take a moment's glimpse.

"Aw ****. Ain't that'a mess," he mutters out loud as he finds the info he needs. "This thing'll melt all yer stuff on contact, an' I bet it'll leak when ya shoot or stab it." Without observing the pudding's movement, Arguz's eyes dart at Jia and Josiah with a sharp look. "Get 'em hostages free first," he continues with a brief smirk. "Got me a plan but we gotta keep it from going after anyone else first!" To say that Arguz has a lot of work to do in this building is an understatement. Free the captives, disarm bombs, stop a blob... All of that might've been a bit too much to reasonably handle on his own. Thankfully the guardsmen are there to save to deal with the bombs so it's more a matter of dealing with Gibblejack's little alchemical ooze. Shooting it enough might put it down but, in Arguz's mind, there's a better way to kill it... once the hostages are safe.

Keeping himself on the move, Arguz dashes to the tied up group in the northeast as he loads his pepperbox with the spare bullet he took out earlier. "No panicking now, jus' lean back a bit." His warning is upbeat yet serious as, seeing his time scarce, yanks part of the tied-rope towards him with his dry, blood-stained and bone-thin left hand. Keeping that rope from touching the hostages, Arguz pulls out his pepperbox, presses it downward against the rope and fires off a loud shot. While the bullet itself might pierce through some of the rope, the real reason he fired is to press its hot, adamantine barrel against what remains to try and burn the rope binds apart. "When I give the word, you gotta jump outta there," he points to the large windows at the front of the building. "Guards gonna catch you. Can't say the first floor's safe." His warning, though minimal, is hopefully enough to give some common sense to these stuck-up Uptowners.

Hooray for pudding :smalltongue:

Initiative 1: Spent the full-round action reading the field guide.

Initiative 2: Lightning Reload and then run over to the hostages in the Northeast corner and "shoot" at the ropes to try and break it. I'm not sure if this counts as an instance of the Blast Lock deed but if it does then I'll probably go with that. Shall I roll for that?

[Capt. Infinity]

"J-j-jump!? You're mad! We'd never survive that!" An older man with a clean-shaven face and a stovepipe top hat shouts. Utterly bereaved at the notions put forth by his Ratfolk saviour, and trying his best to scoot away from his less-than-sterile form as he shoots out the rope.

"Oh by Justitia's LANCE. Just do what the Ratfolk says, Roderick! Unless you want to try your hand with that monstrosity?" A younger woman with brown hair in a bun juts her sharp chin out towards Brown Pudding, which was currently roiling indecisively between the two other groups of hostages.

The man's face grows pale as the situation sinks in "...I'd rather not. Thank you." He intones, before following the rest of his group in a mad dash towards the northern window.

Jia and Josiah both nod to each other, then take off running to each of the southern hostage groupings. Jia makes quick work of the ropes with her shortsword, freeing her group. "Go on, follow the others!" She orders, keeping an eye on the ooze. It's body forming pseudopods which whip around absentmindedly, still unsure on where to go next.

Josiah rushes over to his grouping of hostages, and makes quick work of the ropes also, shooting them loose much like Arguz had just before.

"Oh thank you so much, young man!" A middle-aged noblewoman intones with a note of reverence, quickly standing up and bowing her head at the daring Aasimar. Josiah tips his hat to the gentry. "Just doin' m' job, ma'am. Now, the lotta you best be gettin' over t' the window. Before that slimy varmint goes and tries t-"

"LOOK OUT!"

The noblewoman's cries come slightly too late, as the Brown Pudding advances on Josiah with surprising quickness and ease, attempting to put him into a viscous stranglehold, with the intent to press him against its corrosive body and dissolve the Desperado into food. Josiah manages to get a shot in in response though, deftly shooting the ooze, even as it attempts to smother him.

Brown Pudding

Move Action: Move towards Josiah

Standard Action: Attempt to Grapple Josiah, provoking an AoO.

Grapple (DC 25): [roll0] Grappled

On a successful grapple, the Brown Pudding deals [roll1] regular damage, plus [roll2] acid damage.

Josiah

AoO: [roll3] Hit

Damage: [roll4]

Possible Crit Damage: [roll5]

Reflex Save to avoid equipment damage (DC 21): [roll6] Equipment Fine

[Starsign]

"...Who's lance?"

Arguz demonstrates himself as a less-than-educated person on religious beings as he makes sure the Uptown hostages in the northeast corner is freed and just about ready to to escape. His own experience with learning about the gods and mythologies largely come from Fahir and his practices at the church in Lowtown. If Arguz did have time, he would've taken out his field guide and looked into Justinia if only so he might not look so "uncivilized" to these aristocrats. As is, life is more significant than religion and with a whole crowd of people in a building with a giant blob, it's kind of critical to get everyone out.

There is a small, comforting snicker from the ratfolk gunslinger as he sees the man, Roderick, get talked down by another one of the now-freed hostages. "Now don't get yer skin all flaked up. Guards outside know yer gonna be coming down that way an' are all set to save you. Jus' don't riot an' leap out as fast as you can. We'll keep it's, er, 'mind' on us. Jus' land safely an' run like hell, aye?" The request, as even Arguz knows, is odd. "Jump out of a second-story window" and "don't panic" aren't two things which mix well together but this isn't something where Arguz can offer an alternative. He warned the guardsmen that the captives will be making a leap so they damn well better be ready.

The ratfolk gunslinger turns around just in time to see his aasimar counterpart suddenly get trounced on by the pudding, giving Arguz quite the fright. "Oh ****!" In a hurry, seeing that he doesn't really have the time to continue helping the hostages escape, he turns his attention to the ooze as he drops his small axe on the ground. "Go, now! Someone get that last group of people if you can," he cries to the freed hostages, pointing to his axe. "Rest of you open that window an' jump fer it!"

The ratfolk makes a lightning-fast reload with his bone-thin hands as he aims outward at the ooze. Now Arguz is not the most reckless of gunslingers when it comes to shooting. Rarely does he rely on pulling the trigger constantly and expect poorly-aimed shots to hit. This time, however, he has to make an exception. For not only is Josiah at risk of being melted into a skeleton but that this ooze is BIG. Any one of these aristocrats here could pick up Arguz's pepperbox and nail one cleanly on this thing just because it's size is enormous. Arguz isn't even sure whether this thing actually is hurt by bullets... but when an ally is in danger you sure don't stand around and watch!

The ratfolk's arms rise up as he points his pepperbox at the ooze and, shockingly so, fires out an astoundingly fast set of shots, each one rotating the pepperbox's smoking barrels with one hand while his other feathers the trigger. "Hey Sis!" He calls out after firing. "Lil' help?!" While there is one more group of hostages that need saving, he hopes the other aristocrats may do that while this ooze gets lit up with lead and, hopefully, sunlight.

So the hostages have free reign to take Arguz's axe to free the other hostages while he and Jia focus on the pudding. Also: big risk time!

Initiative 1: Lightning reload. Perform a full attack with Arguz's shots using Deadly Aim to increase damage by +5 and reduce attack by 5.
Attack roll 1: [roll0]
Damage 1: [roll1]
Extra Crit Damage 1: [roll2]

Attack roll 2: [roll3] Holy
Damage 2: [roll4]
Extra Crit Damage 2: [roll5]

Attack roll 3: [roll6] Hell
Damage 3: [roll7]
Extra Crit Damage 3: [roll8]

Initiative 2: Same thing as last round.
Attack roll 1: [roll9] ...Well it was bound to happen.
Damage 1: [roll10]
Extra Crit Damage 1: [roll11]

Attack roll 2: [roll12]
Damage 2: [roll13]
Extra Crit Damage 2: [roll14]

Attack roll 3: [roll15]
Damage 3: [roll16]
Extra Crit Damage 3: [roll17]

EDIT: Whoops, forgot to adjust for Deadly Aim. Damage of all rolls should be 5 higher attack reduced by 5... And attack 2 and 3 rolls should have an additional 5 and 10 attack less respectively, sorry. :smallredface:

[Capt. Infinity]

Passion is a tool of warfare.

Any warrior worth their salt, and having survived enough battles, would speak of the raw power and lethality conferred to someone who well and truly allows their emotions to run wild in the midst of combat. Attacks hit harder, reflexes get faster, and the enemy's retaliation just starts feeling less and less effective.

Some, like Barbarians, used this battle fervour as a tactical implement, selectively allowing the passion to overtake them, and wielding large, hefty weapons, with which they may fully utilize their rage.

One would be hard pressed, however, to explain how such raw, furious passion, no matter how great, could make guns shoot harder.

For that was the only valid explanation for why Arguz, in an ASTONISHING display of pistolero prowess, managed to fire three lead pellets with such raw, concussive force, that it did not simply leave marks in the Pudding, it blew holes straight through it.

The surrounding area was caked in a mildly sizzling spread of brownish goo, as bits and pieces of the roiling ooze scatter in all directions. The chunk that had been gripping Josiah suddenly seized, before falling over forwards, having been cut off from the majority of its mass by one of the shots, and emulsifying into a pool of bubbling goop.

"...Uh. No thanks, bro. I think you're good."

Josiah manages to rend himself free of the dissolving ooze, shaking himself and wiping off bits of the gelatinous excess. The Aasimar looks at Arguz with a wide-eyed mix of shock, thanks, and appraisal.

"Now that right there is some o' the finest shootin' ah have ever seen. Hats off t' you, Detective Aijk." The Desperado grabs his hat, and lifts it off his head whilst giving a neat bow towards the Ratfolk that saved his life. "Ah am forever in yer debt."

At about this time, the younger woman who'd told off the dissenting noble manages to cut the last group of hostages loose, and led them to the windows. The rest of the group had already thrown the doors open, and were as of now leaping out towards the ground, as the guards below had properly coordinated, and were currently using on-hand wands of Feather Fall to slow their sudden descents to a safe falling speed.

Within mere moments, and with only a casual toss of the axe back towards Arguz, the room was empty. On top of this, the low rumble from below had also died down, with the fight for the bombs below have evidently been quelled without much incident. As evidenced by the groups lack of being buried in about five tonnes of very expensive rubble.

"Heh. It's funny." Jia speaks out to her companions, scratching the back of her head. " The fight was over so fast, I'd almost call it anticlimactic."

"I prefer the term 'concise'."

The voice that had spoken just now, in a dulcet and sultry town, with a quiet air of deep confidence, seemed to come from the centre of the room. But, upon looking towards its point of origin, there appeared to be nothing there. But, even as Arguz and his companions looked in that general direction, the air began to shimmer and shift. Rapidly recolouring and coalescing into the form of a human woman.

The woman stood very tall. At almost 6'1". And her dress and attire were that of someone unimaginably wealthy. With heaps of gemstones of varying red hues interlacing a smooth silk dress which hung just above her heels. The large gemstone necklace she wore was clearly meant to accentuate her natural features. A mess of garnets, slowly dispersing into rubies come the centre, were a perfect mirror for her staggeringly long hair, which started at a wine-dark hue of red, before fanning out to a bright rose tone as the hair continued down to the back of her knees. Said hair was coiled into an immaculate braid, staggered at uniform lengths with a hair tie emblazoned with a gemstone that matched the hair's current hue.

The central emerald of the ensemble necklace was meant to draw attention up to her exquisitely contoured face, and towards her eyes, which were a shade of bright emerald so great, they may actually outshine the gem itself in sheer clarity. Her face, overall, was familiar. But, where Meela's beauty was marred by her cursed eye, this woman's face was almost perfect in its features. And, where the dead woman bore a look of furtive ambition till the bitter end, this other, slightly older woman had a look about her that screamed, in totality, a sense of pure, raw power.

"Delphinia Senderhaven. Charmed to meet you." The woman gives a perfectly white smile, before advancing casually towards the group. "I must say, Detective Aijk, you certainly do live up to your praise." The woman looked amusedly at the quickly-evaporating ooze behind them. "I'm glad you came when you did. I had had to burn through multiple castings of Invisibility since those brutes had arrived. Luckily, I'd managed to conceal myself when they barged in, but I found myself completely trapped thereafter, with the doors all barred leading into the rest of the gallery. I was weighing my options on how to perform a daring escape, but then the three of you arrive and do my job for me! A rare occurrence, I can assure you. And I very much appreciate it." She explains casually, clearly quite amused at the whole affair around her as she takes in the sheer amount of damage both to the property, and to the Goblins themselves.

"Pardon me, ma'am." Josiah interjects. "Now, while I c'n see that you an' Arguz here have some previous engagements between ya. And while ah appreciate the complements y'all are throwin' our way. We're on kinda a tight schedule here, and we really need to get lookin' for the next set a' clues left by the wacko behind all'a this."

"Oh, you mean this thing?" Delphinia produces a moderately sized glass cylinder from what must have been an extradimensionally large pocket in the small of her back, and waves it towards them with a mix of curiosity and playfulness. "It rolled out of the pocket of one of the Goblins you buried under the ceiling." The class-ridden woman points casually to the section of ceiling which had earlier crushed two Goblins beneath it. She hands the tube towards Arguz. "You're welcome to have it. Especially if it means bringing the mad brute who did this closer to his rightful place in jail."