Bootleg Bounty (Part 3)

With the serpentine would-be (and perhaps already has been) assassin deftly beheaded by Aragos, and the Arvek-Nar marksman and his Nar'sektoth companion entangled in the press of melee and Haggarty's webbing, it seems that escape is off the table for these bootleggers. They are still fighting, for now- despite Warrick's orders for them to lay down their arms after the Nagaji woman was decapitated, and the Arvek marksman has freed himself from the worst tangles of the web and drawn his sword on Warrick.

GAME: Crik rolls weapon2-4: (1)+8+-4: 5 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Crik rolls stealth: (12)+13: 25
GAME: Thurid rolls 5: (8)+5: 13
GAME: Thurid rolls 8: (19)+8: 27
GAME: Thurid rolls 1d8+1: (3)+1: 4

Crik attempts to aim his hand crossbow into the webs - but no matter how he tries, his bolts continue to go astray. "Dagger? Dagger?" He mumbles by himself as he moves across the rocky terrain, cloaks melding into the grey.

GAME: Thurid rolls 7: (12)+7: 19

The Trident-bearing Sektoth struggles against the webs with a growl as the party members advance upon them, and tears themselves free from several of the sticky strands by tooth and claw. Freeing their limbs enough that they can twist and pull themself free entirely from the webbing.

While they struggle, the conjured trident spins in place and then dashes across the room towards Bryn, catching her in the leg before spinning once more to hover before her, poised for another attack.

GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+13+1+2: (20)+13+1+2: 36
GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+13+1+2: (8)+13+1+2: 24
GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+8+1+2: (6)+8+1+2: 17
GAME: Aragos rolls 2d6+6+1+2+2d6+6+1+2: (10)+6+1+2+(8)+6+1+2: 36

Aragos grins viciously as the sektoth before him manages to work their way free of the webbing. "You're gonna wish you'd surrendered when he gave you the chance. This way lies death." He swings his sword in a mighty arc, slicing through armor and into flesh beyond. There's a gaping, grievous wound on the creature before him now, and though his second swing goes wide, Aragos doesn't mind. Instead he calls out helpfully to Warrick, "Aim for the eyes! It's always the eyes!"

GAME: Warrick rolls sense motive: (13)+5: 18
GAME: Thurid rolls 3: (10)+3: 13
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16+1+2: (17)+12+1+2: 32
GAME: Warrick rolls xbowDamage+1: aliased to 1d10+4+1: (1)+4+1: 6

Warrick glances over to Aragos, then quickly slides back, hefting the crossbow higher. "Look, do you want the Vardamite to cut your head off? Give up, and you'll stay alive," he growls at Guidid.

A twitch from the hobgoblin, makes a twitch of a trigger, and like Aragos said, he aims for the eyes, making the bolt slice a cheek. "Moron."

Guidid holds up his hands at Warricks second offer of surrender, and then stoops down, "Alright, alright..." he begins, as though he's going to give up- and then moves as though to lunge after Warrick- but the former guardsman sees right through the ruse, and the Arvek gets a fresh scar for his troubles. "Bugger this. Sid! Smoke 'em!" he calls back to the cleric and then dashes for one of the moored boats. He wades into the water, slices the rope, and then drags himself up onto the deck, going for the oars. Sid will catch up. Or won't. No honor among thieves.

GAME: Crik rolls weapon2-4: (7)+8+-4: 11
GAME: Crik rolls bluff: (8)+13: 21
GAME: Thurid rolls 1: (15)+1: 16
GAME: Thurid rolls 8+4: (15)+8+4: 27
GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+13+1+2: (14)+13+1+2: 30
GAME: Aragos rolls 1d100: (7): 7

Sirdros presses a hand to the gaping wound delivered by Aragos, gasping as blood spills from it. The cleric drops their trident and then clutches the holy symbol about their neck, and a dense fog rolls out from their body, filling the mouth of the cove and obscuring them from sight. They begin to stagger towards the water line, disappearing into the thick fog, Aragos's blade slicing through mists in their wake.

GAME: Aragos rolls Perception: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+13+1+2: (7)+13+1+2: 23
GAME: Aragos rolls 1d100: (43): 43
GAME: Warrick rolls acrobatics+1: (5)+7+1: 13

Aragos can't see much in the mist, but he has a general idea where his foe is thanks to their heavy breathing and steps on the ground. He moves forward through the fog himself, swinging his sword almost wildly and failing to connect with anything. He's tempted to close his eyes and trust his instincts, but its hard to give up his senses and he's almost out of the fog as it is. "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, I'M GONNA SHOVE MY SWORD WHERE THE SUN DON'T SHINE."

GAME: Warrick rolls cmb: (12)+7: 19
GAME: Thurid rolls 10: (9)+10: 19
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon15: (13)+7: 20
GAME: Warrick rolls 1d6+2: (4)+2: 6

Warrick looks back over his shoulder at Crik, sighing and shaking his head. At least there's no verbal rebuttal. Improvement! However, the hobgoblin jumps into the boat, and without thinking, Warrick backs up, drops his crossbow to the floor next to Crik, and sprints to a leap over the water!

He rips free a leather wrapped weapon, feeling a bit more resolved as Aragos is worked up, which means the paladin is determined. Warrick brings the sap down on Guidid's hands, making him drop the oars as he kicks them out into the water. "Cease and desis-" A sword comes up! But it's caught in his armpit with the armor, followed up by a riposte with a loud 'CRACK!' of the sap smashing into the hobgoblin's head. "Stand fucking down!"

The Arvek, rather than discouraged by Crik's words, begins to work the oars harder- the boat is just beginning to move when Warrick makes his leap. The entire boat rocks and the Arvek gapes at the man suddenly looming over him, he's taken off guard long enough for Warrick to swiftly kick the oars from his hands, and cast them overboard. He growls furiously, teeth bared, and grabs his sword- bearing a strike from Warricks sap with barely a flinch to do so- and then lunges for the man. "Dogged bastard!" he grunts as the attack misses Warrick, the tip of the sword nicking his outerwear but failing to find purchase in flesh.

GAME: Thurid rolls 7: (17)+7: 24 GAME: Thurid rolls 1d100: (86): 86 GAME: Thurid rolls 1d4+2: (1)+2: 3 GAME: Crik rolls cmb: (1)+5: 6 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Crik rolls cmb: (11)+5: 16

Shaking head? Encouragement! Crik covers his beak with his hands again. "NOW, IT WOULD BE REALLY APPRECIATED IF YOU LIE DOWN WITH YOUR ARMS ABOVE YOUR HEAD. THE MAGES REALLY LIKE THEIR FIREBALLS. STAND STILL AND LET US SEND IN THE HOUNDS."

The corvid sees the sudden explosion of mist though, and sees one of the slithery folk start their escape. Looking around, he runs after and attempts to slam into Sirdros - but mostly winds up clutching air.

Sirdros starts as Aragos emerges from the mists hot on their heels, and then Crik comes lunging in from the other direction. Eyes dart between the two of them, clearly panicked, and then the sektoth holds out their hands. "The contract isss not worth my life. I yield." they say dropping to their knees.

GAME: Warrick rolls weapon15: (20)+7: 27 (THREAT)
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon15: (10)+7: 17
GAME: Warrick rolls 2d6+4: (12)+4: 16

Seeing the other go to their knees, Aragos grumbles discontentedly. "I *was* going to stab you, you know." He sheathes his sword and pulls out a length of rope with which to tie Sirdros up. "I guess hauling you before the town guard will have to suffice."

Aragos makes sure that Sirdros is nice and secure before leading the other out of the smoke and checking on how Warrick is fairing.

GAME: Thurid rolls 10: (14)+10: 24
GAME: Thurid rolls 5: (7)+5: 12
GAME: Thurid rolls 1d8+4: (6)+4: 10

Warrick is a bit too busy to provide critique this time around, having to balance on the boat and avoid being stabbed. He fakes out with a punch from a gauntlet, bringing the sap down on the back their head only to grab the head of it and ram his helmet against the hobgoblin's skull with a loud crunch.

He releases them, spinning around towards the front of the boat. "You are routed, by Serriel's basic bitch rules, give up!" he growls back.

The Arvek grits his teeth against the pain as the sap strikes him again. He sways and then blinks and shakes his head to try and dispel the double vision. "Eat shit, copper!" he swears and swings his sword wildly- still dizzy from the repeated blows to the head. His nose is flattened and bleeding profusely, and another trickle runs from a welt on his scalp where the first strike landed. His eyes are growing unfocused, and his breathing is heavy and ragged as he fights off the dizziness to keep fighting.

But the wild strike lands, slicing neatly across Warrick's front. The follow up is less accurate, the Arvek lunging bodily towards Warrick and almost spilling past him and off the boat which bucks and sways violently as the pair of them brawl atop it.

GAME: Thurid rolls 10: (5)+10: 15 GAME: Crik rolls cmb: (11)+5: 16

Crik looks at the way Aragos was binding their captive. "The fingers, make sure to get the fingers. And mouth." He gestures at the paladin, bending his own fingers this way and that. Then he looks on at the boat - feathers up, then back towards Aragos. "Serriel has basic bitch rules?" The corvid asks.

Yet, a moment later, he runs off towards the water - and his black wings unfurl and he screams bloody terror! ... only to land up onto the boat in an unceremonious fashion, cloaks tangling up with each other. "St-stay, stay the law, force!"

Sirdross doesn't struggle against the bonds as they are tied up, though does grunt as the various required motions sting with the gash in their front from Aragos's earlier strike. "I am bleeding a great deal. If you want me to sssurvive for questioning, I sssuggest you permit me to heal mysself." they say- tone tinged with pain but startlingly businesslike for someone stuck and trussed like a hog.

GAME: Aragos rolls Intimidate: (17)+15: 32

Aragos grins at Sirdros, his purple eyes just a little mean. "You open that mouth of yours again to so much as cough and I'll put my fist in it." He promises the other, showing one spiked gauntlet. "If you're about to pass I'll heal you don't worry, but I've a suspicion you'll live just fine. So shut *up*."

GAME: Warrick rolls weapon15: (15)+7: 22
GAME: Warrick rolls 1d6+2: (4)+2: 6

Warrick scoffs, only to gasp as the blade finds a chink in the armor. He doubles over, covering the spot with his breastplate and shoving him back. "This is pointless," he huffs, dripping blood as he shoves the blade aside and pushes the hobgoblin back. He gives a follow up wallop on their side, definitely cracking something. "Really man? You're outnumbered, your priest gave up from what I hear, and your nose is snapped. Do you want missing teeth too? Surrender."

The Arvek's skull must be mighty thick, because despite all the rattling his brain cage has taken he's still on his feet. He spits a gob of blood from his broken nose into the water, swaying on his feet, and holding his sword out warily to the two of them. His back foot shuffles back, but finds the edge of the boat and he spares a brief glance over his shoulder, blinking hard again against blurred vision, grimacing and baring bloodied teeth. "Mmm-gunna-" he tries, voice slurred. He shakes his head again, trying to clear it.

He swings again- but it's a wild, desperate thing, and he isn't even close to hitting either of them. The sword slips from his hand as he collapses forwards into the boat, one arm hanging over the edge and his sword sinking into the water below.

Crik pulls out his very thick and stabby looking knife (which looks like an oddly short kitchen knife really), looks at Warrick, flips it around and gets ready to get it _down_...

... only for the Arvek to collapse in front of them. He looks at the body, at Warrick, at the body, and then back at Warrick. "You threw out the oars, didn't you?" He asks, glancing at the shore. "... no matter, I have rope!" He gleefully states and suddenly pulls out a long length of black rope, starting to tie up the hobgoblin.

The paladin of Vardama nods as the last man goes down. "Good job you two!" He congratulates, grinning at them. "Tie yours up and bring 'em over here and we'll get them to the watch." He gives his own prisoner a little jerk and starts walking toward the exit with them. Cheerfully he whistles a dirge as he goes, taking his sweet time walking and making sure his prisoner doesn't get any wise ideas about escaping.

Once they're all rejoined with one another Aragos proffers a smile to Warrick. "You need some healing? I've got some to spare today." He'd rather heal his friends than his foes; so Warrick takes priority.

Warrick tenses as the Nar stumbles forth, but he relaxes, stepping aside as they crumble forward. He shakes his head. "I'll give you credit though, good fight," he sighs, putting his things away and helping Crik tie up Guidid while pulling the boat closer to the pier.

"Thanks Aragos, you as well," he calls back, hauling the Nar out of the boat and regrouping with everyone on shore. "Yeah, I'll take some healing if you don't mind, guy wasn't half bad and got me decently."

Even as he's being tied up, the Arvek struggles weakly- but he's too disoriented to put up any more than a token resistance, and is in short order hauled back to shore. With the last of the bootleggers in custody, the party are free to look around this little cove- it's obvious why it's a useful spot for smuggling, and looks as though it may once have served as a legitimate shipping area once upon a time. Though the cellars the party passed through have long been bricked up and rotting.

Remaining in the cover are a few boxes the bootleggers didn't have time to cast into the water before the party arrived, and they contain mostly jewelry- a lot of it seems like fairly worthless trinkets. Pewter rings and copper armbands and the like, many of them painted with a flimsy fools gold veneer. Not nearly enough to fool all but the most naive purchaser. A few of the items, however, seem to be legitimate. The odd gold signet or ruby encrusted broach which seem to be the genuine article.

Which begs the question- why were they smuggling perfectly legal goods into the city? Nevertheless, the wounds that laid low the pair of watchmen who started off this investigation with their demise are found to match the wicked curved daggers the now headless Nagaji failed to employ against Aragos. And given the other statements made by Glasseye and Guidid it seems she is the killer. The Sektoth, as it turns out once delivered to the guards, retains a prominent solicitor in the city who promptly arrives to begin making their processing as difficult as possible- as solicitors are wont to do.

-End