Spoilers follow for the adventure Empire of the Ghouls from Kobold Press…
The trio sat, a bit stunned at Grigori’s acceptance of their information, and the realization that persons taken by the ghouls would likely not be found again.
“Well,” said Frost, “Maybe we should check out that bathhouse Grigori mentioned yesterday and see if it has any connection to the Rosalyn Turnyr disappearance.”
The others agreed, but before they could leave a dock worker a bit in his cups hailed Korwyn.
“Ho there minotaur! A Southern like you must be quite interested in these kidnappings by kobolds that are the talk of the city!”
“What do you mean?” asked Korwyn, his hand nonchalantly resting on the base of his axe.
“Only to say that we’re with your people in their fight against the Dragon Empire, and those kobold types must be their spies. Trying to distract us from supporting the Magdar Kingdom as it fights the reptiles.”
“Ah,” said Korwyn, considering this. “Well thank you for your support.”
“Aye! I’ll buy you a drink minotaur!”
Korwyn accepted the ale, and returned to his comrades.
It was early afternoon when they arrived at the intricate stone-faced edifice of the Old Stross Bathhouse off of Crown Square. Upon entering they discovered that entry was free and that they had to leave their weapons outside.
They proceeded to the lower level, and Korwyn and Rolan found a place to lounge by the largest pool. Frostbane, who the other adventurers had begun simply calling Frost, decided to explore the bathhouse further.
“To most of these people, I just look like a little kid,” he told his companions. “I’m basically invisible.”
Frost wandered into the back lounge area where he saw a varied group of people relaxing, socializing, and playing games. It was afternoon and the bathhouse did not yet have the evening after work rush. Next Frost went into the gymnasium. Looking around at the people exercising, lifting weights and punching bags of sand the halfling murmured:
“Looks like my kinda place,” to himself.
He moved through the area, examining the weights and equipment until he stopped in front of a very muscular dwarf woman. She chalked her hands and gripped a heavy metal bar with at least seven hundred pounds affixed to the ends, then her face turned purple and veins bulged as she bent and stood up with it several times, finally dropping it to the floor with a heavy thud.
“Very impressive!” Said Frost, then introduced himself.
“Welcome,” said the dwarf.
In a short conversation, Frost discovered that the dwarf was a cleric of Volund normally working in the Temple District, and that she’d met Rozalyn at the bathhouse before, but hadn’t seen her around in a few weeks. After they finished talking, Frost stepped onto the deadlift platform and attempted to lift the weights himself. They lifted about an inch before thudding down loudly.
Frost stepped off and stretched ostentatiously, “Better not over exert myself too much! Got things to do today.”
He continued his tour of the bathhouse, wandering over towards the heated pools, where he spotted the Darakhul slaver Radu sitting in a warm pool. His blue bloated undead flesh was covered in a warm sheen of condensation. It was absolutely disgusting.
Wandering back over to his companions, the three watched as a creature that appeared to be an elf with dark greyish skin and horns spreading from its brow came down the stairs from the upper level and headed towards the warm pools, sitting in the water near Radu. The two began to talk, but their voices didn’t carry into the large pool room.
Frost had an idea, assuring his friends that he would find out what they were discussing. The halfling glanced around.
“No signs saying no running by the pool!”
He began jogging laps around the large pool and threading his way into the warm pool room. He could almost hear them, but was only catching bits and pieces. He ran two or three circuits before he ran into a patch of water spilled onto the tiled bathhouse floor near one of the warm pools. Suddenly his hairy feet lost their grip, and he went slipping and sliding, striking his head on the floor as he fell, then falling into the water of the warm pool. A small cloud of red spread from his head in the pool.
Then he burst out of the water. “I’m okay, I’m okay. That was all planned,” exclaimed the halfling. “But perhaps I’ll just rest here for a bit,” he said to no one in particular, nursing his head aching head as he cocked his ears toward the ghoul and his companion. He finally recognized the other creature as a Shadow Fey, elf-like people hailing from the Shadow Plane. The two hadn’t seemed to recognize him, merely glancing over dismissively at the big splash he’d made.
They were discussing various trade matters and the issues posed by the war with the Mharoti Dragon Empire to the South. Worrying that it would impact Zobeck’s trade with the Blood Kingdom and the Shadow Fey.
Frost listened for a while before getting up and going back to his friends, reporting his findings to them. They agreed the information was interesting, but unhelpful in their current goal of finding Rozalyn Turnyr.
Leaving the bathhouse they retrieved their weapons, then decided to head to the city guard post in Lower Zobeck that was handling the investigation.
The post was a small office in the densely crowded buildings of Lower Zobeck’s streets. Entering they saw five or six guards. One with sergeant’s chevrons sat with his feet up on a desk, reading. The others sat around a table, playing cards.
“We’re looking for information about a missing person,” asked Korwyn to the sergeant. Without glancing up the man pointed towards another desk:
“Fill out the forms over there and we’ll look into it.”
Frost began filling out a form, as Korwyn continued to stare at the man.
“I think you’ve already investigated this person, but we were looking for more information.”
“Huh,” said the guard, still not looking up.
“Maybe we could do something to expedite your investigation,” asked Frost.
The guard rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign for cash.
Frost laid two gold pieces down on his desk. The man finally looked up and looked at the money.
“That’ll get the form from his desk to my desk.”
Frost dropped three more coins on the desk.
“That’ll get me to look at it next week instead of the week after.”
Korwyn pulled Frost aside: “I don’t think he cares enough to really expedite it. Let’s try something else.”
Frost nodded, then turned back to the guard. “How about if I beat one of your men in an arm wrestling contest you let us take a look at the case file?”
The man laughed, looking Frost up and down. “Deal! Nicolai! Get ready!”
A burly guard over two meters tall stood and walked over to a table, rolling up his sleeve to reveal a hairy muscled arm.
Frost stepped forward, rolling up his own sleeve. His small hand was child-like, totally engulfed in the large man’s grip.
“Ready, set, go!”
Frost’s muscles bulged suddenly, no larger, but straining. The burly guard held his hand steady for a moment. Then Frost’s arm levered his large arm over, slamming the back of his hand against the table.
“Done,” said the small halfling, as a murmuring and shouts of disbelief rang out from the guards.
The sergeant nearly fell out of his chair as he laughed.
“Well you better keep working out Nicolai! And lay off the beer! Sergei! Help our new friends find the papers they’re looking for.”
A young nervous-looking guard stepped forward. His hair was clipped short in a haircut he seemed to wear unnaturally, still new to this type of life and job. Frost followed him into a back room crowded with papers and ledgers, and began to search for Rozalyn Turnyr’s.
Korwyn sat down with the guards to play cards as he waited, while Rolan looked on. Korwyn began to regal the guards with tales of his life as a sailor and gladiator, about all the enemies he had vanquished previously, especially those who cheated at cards. The men seemed to grow nervous, and Korwyn’s practiced eyes caught their tells as they played until he won the pot.
“Nice to play with you fellows,” he chuckled.
In the back room Frost had found the file and read through it with Sergei. Sergeant Hendryk—that was the sergeant’s name—noted in it that he didn’t believe the theory about kobolds being behind the disappearance due to Brik’s alibi. Another note pointed out that Rozalyn disappeared out a second story window. How could Brik have carried her? No answers were provided, but a final note commented that a kobold with blue scales named Kwarrel had approached the guard about the case too.
“Much thanks,” said the halfling kindly to the young guard. “Just a tip, next time you’re in the neighborhood, there’s this great restaurant called the Rampant Roach that you have to try.”
With that, the trio left the guard post, and headed towards the Rampant Roach for dinner.
Skirtal greeted them enthusiastically as they arrived and busied himself prepping a large kobold dinner for his patrons. They began discussing with the chef the information they had uncovered when suddenly a rock crashed through the restaurant’s window.
Outside they could see the glimmer of torchlight in the gather darkness and hear the shouts of a large group of people.
“Get behind me!” Said Korwyn, stepping up to open the door.
Outside was a mob of at least a half dozen people. In front whipping them into a frenzy was the blacksmith Straic and his son Viktor Turnyr, Rosalyn Turnyr’s father and husband.
“Stand down fellows and no one gets hurt,” thundered Korwyn.
“We want that dirty little kobold!” Shouted the men.
Korwyn shoved the crowd back from the door, stepping out into the alley and allowing his companions to follow. They made short work of the mob, and brought Straic and his son-in-law, Vikor in to question them. They were predictably uncooperative.
Skirtal then related how his kobold patron was kobold king Koto Crag-Claw, and suggested that the adventurers escort Brik and the prisoners into the kobold warrens for protection. The kobold king might even be able to provide them further information from his spies…
