In the next installment Ujin cases his target. One on one gaming you can take your time and do things right...
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Ujin rose early, the night before he had killed 6 men and a beast that would haunt his dreams for months.
He needed a cleansing.
When he went downstairs at the Tunkers Prince Inn it was already hot… it was always hot here. Ujin decided to leave his leather armor behind and rely on his cloak to protect him, the heat was just too much and was going to get worse as the day progressed.
The inn faced out on to a large city square, there was a statue in the middle of the square, dedicated to the voidnik that maintained the city canals. The statue had the head and torso of a four armed voidnik dwarf and the bottom half of an octopus. The voidnik half had a beard and hair of seaweed and held a hammer and an axe, a jug of water and a fish. The tentacles on the bottom half disappeared into the ground and reappeared around the square in various places ringed by pools and shooting out water, creating eight separate water fountains, each the height of a human.
The whole statue was carved of a deep green marble, shot through with spiderwebs of cobalt blue.
This morning there were barbers located around each of the tentacle fountains. They brought small oil lamps and had taken water from the fountains, heated it in basins and were shaving locals who stopped by on small, foldable wooden chairs.
Ujin dropped a silver coin into a barber’s bowl and sat down for a shave.
Most men in the city were bearded, and beards were traditionally bound with metal rings. They were also immaculately well-trimmed. Ujin requested a complete shave, he wasn't ready for a beard yet.
Sitting in the early morning sun with a straight razor at his throat he thought about his situation.
He had stirred the hornet’s nest last night. He did not want to tip off his target to his presence so he had to kill the men who pursued him, but he had no idea if the deaths would be traced back to him. A determined target could use a necromantic spell to ask questions of the dead or of the gods, there could have been witnesses he didn't see. Alternately, they might simply think that the mercs had gotten themselves killed somehow, theirs was a violent business, and anyone who slaughtered them wouldn't stick around, so it was plausible they might not bother to find out who did the deed.
There was no way of knowing, so there was no way of deciding if he should strike quickly or wait longer before showing his hand.
With the last pass of the razor the barber reached down and took a towel and placed it in a basin of steaming water. He held it up, wrung it out and placed it on Ujin's face. The wet heat felt good despite the growing heat of the sunshine, and Ujin relaxed more than he had in months.
Ujin was blinded by the towel, but he could hear the activity in the square around him. He heard the screaming and laughter of small children as they passed by, the shuffle and step of workers pulling carts and the swaying of sacks hanging from creaking poles carried over the shoulders, the rattle and clank of a merchants coins in a coin pouch, the shaking of the ground as a giant lizard walked by, its webbed and clawed feet scraping the road with each step. Illusionists needed to listen as well, an illusion that doesn't sound right was as much of a tip off as one that didn't look right.
Ujin drank in the ambient noise.
He needed more information, and he lacked the contacts to get it. Which meant he needed to do some reconnaissance on his own.
After his shave he returned to the inn. Tunker’s Prince Inn was run by one Tunker Mollwine, a halfling with, if you can believe it, a left arm tattoo of a dryad and three silver hoop earrings in his right ear. The halflings in Bhavisyavani were different than the ones in the North.
As it happened his innkeeper was a spectacular chef. Halflings were sensualists after all, so it was hardly a surprise that they could prepare excellent food, but here in Bhavisyavani they applied their skills to business and as a result the city had some of the best chefs (and the best tailors) in the world.
Tunker fried up a local catfish into a wildly tasty morning fare, with a salad of voidnik grown seaweed (with kull juice dressing) and a selection of local fruits that Ujin had never seen before. All was served with a mulled cider made from jiffan apples and a yogurt made from goats milk and honey.
Ujin ate lustily and wondered if staying here would mean he would have to give up adventuring and just eat all the time.
There were worse fates.
After breakfast Ujin spent the morning wandering the shops and local sights in his Ward, he wanted to be more familiar with the area as it would be his home base for a while. He went back to the street where he had met the young boy but he was not there now. He passed by the Ward garrison for his Ward, noting its location if he needed it in the future. Then he spent some time in clothier’s shops putting together a new outfit for his sojourn into the lion’s den. He had learned over the years that spells were a great resource, but it was always better to do things non-magically if possible, and to save that magic for where it was needed the most. He finally found the right establishment, also run by a halfling, one Cal Tindlebaun, and filled with beautiful and colorful clothing. Ujin picked an outfit that was loud and garrulous, something to distract people from his face: a red and orange jacket, a pair of black and white diamond patterned pants and a foppish, grand purple hat with a wide brim and a small clutch of blue peacock feathers.
After a long morning of walking Ujin returned to his room at the inn and slept through the worst of the afternoon heat, waking just after sundown.
His plan for the evening was simple, he would go to the Broken Sword tavern tonight and spend a few hours there drinking and meeting the locals. Hopefully one of them would be able to give him the information he needed about the comings and goings of the owner, Imiran “the Basilisk” Shinn. Ujin needed to see the thief at least once to determine if he wore any rings, if not then the ring was likely hidden in a chest in his home. He also needed to know when he was and was not at home in case Ujin determined that he had to break in to retrieve it.
Most people were creatures of habit, something any good thief would know, so figuring out those habits was key to a successful heist. Thieving is slow, patient work, despite what some people thought, and Ujin was a systematic practitioner.
After a brief meal at the Inn Ujin prepared for his visit to the Broken Sword. He dressed in his new outfit, impressed with the quality of the clothing and the fit, it was perfect. He then proceeded to memorize change self, color spray, hypnotism, wall of fog, blindness, hypnotic pattern, improved phantasmal force and paralyzation.
There were rules in the city about openly carrying a sword, so Ujin opted to bring a full complement of 4 bichuwa daggers and his sling.
Disguise, spells and weapons ready, Ujin headed out into the night to head to the arena ward and the Broken Sword Tavern.
The streets at night were much different than the streets during the day. First off the heat was less oppressive, still there, and still hot, but less intense. Second, musicians and other performance artists were out in force in certain wards at night, and Ujin found he was appreciative of their presence, slowing down as he walked in certain places to enjoy the sounds and sights. Third, certain wards were extremely busy at night, others virtually empty, so it gave Ujin the option to disappear more easily in a less travelled Ward if needed.
The canal ride was uneventful, Ujin managed to catch a ride on a commercial barge rather than waiting for the next transport barge, some merchants allowed passengers to ride on their commercial boat to make some extra money. Ujinsat at the back of a barge piled high with wood for the stoves and cooking fireplaces of the city. A large man was pushing with a pole and periodically shouting at the voidnik pulling below that was apparently quite lax in his duties. Ujin was fairly sure the voidnik couldn’t hear him.
After landing in the armory Ward Ujin asked around and quickly located the Broken Sword Tavern. The building was simple but quite large. Above the entrance hung a sign with a picture of a broken black sword, covered in red blood on a field of grey.
Ujin walked through the door and was immediately immersed in a thick blanket of sound, he could hear shouting and revelry massed before him. While he worked for the Black Cloak Guild Ujin had spent many hours in taverns and other less savory locations looking for talent, casing the place for future work and gathering information. He knew what to expect and how to behave, whether or not he found out what he needed to know.
The place was immense, it had four gigantic tables that were spaced evenly across the room, each could hold around 75 people. Each one was about half full, so there were close to 200 people present. Most of the clientele looked to be mercs, city soliders, thieves and other n’er do wells. All were drinking and eating, many were shouting and cursing, gambling and singing. It was a raucous place.
At the far side of the room across from the entrance there was a raised dias and a large white marble throne with two braziers to either side.
The braziers were unlit.
At the East end of the room there was an open area with a slightly lowered floor pit and barriers all around.
Ujin had never seen anything like that.
At the West end of the room there were three chained up two headed dogs, dark black in color.
There was a minstrel with a lute strumming and singing from in front of the raised dias but looking towards the crowds at the tables. He told a tale of a wanton woman, a craven man, and the honorable husband betrayed and slain in the name of lust. Ujin hummed the tune as he walked in.
Ujin surveyed the room looking for the least lit and least visible area, as it happened due to the lighting that was at the East end of the room. He sat at the table and took out a small deck of cards and began to shuffle them. A waitress came by and set a warm beer and a plate of some sort of spiced meat on the table without even asking what Ujinwanted.
It was that kind of place.
Ujin took out a silver coin and dropped it in the waitress’s hand. She turned to leave with a half-smile, so he assumed he had paid enough.
Ujin had dressed himself as a fop to in part to distract the patrons from his face, but he was also hoping to project an image of incompetence, some semi-wealthy merchant who thought he was good at cards with money to burn. He had fleeced any number of these sorts of men in the past, so he knew how to act like one.
He took out a deck and began to shuffle cards.
After a few minutes he had three men approach his part of the table.
“Deal me in”, said the first man, he was tall and rangy and wore no armor and carried no weapons of note. The man looked Ujin over top to bottom and looked skeptical. He was likely a thief.
“What game do you play?” asked the second man, he was burly and wore leather armor and carried a dagger at his belt. He also had a pack with a sword pommel sticking out. He was probably a mercenary.
“What’s your name and what do you do?”, asked the third man. This one was lean and muscular, he carried a dagger on his belt as well, and he was looking around the room while conversing with Ujin. He was a mercenary too, Ujinsuspected.
“Gholin Tinderbrass, buyer and reseller of fine goods from here to the Northlands,” Ujin paused, it was always good to represent yourself as a foreigner in a new place, so your lack of knowledge of local customs woudn’t matter, and the head stripe on his face gave him away anyway, so it fit.
He continued, “what games do they play at the Broken Sword?”
The last man answered, “Around here its’ Hydra and Old Bones, and sometimes Fireball.”
Ujin had played all those and more, he used to fleece marks with cards quite often and was fairly talented at it, but he feigned some ignorance about the games. It wasn’t about the games anyway, it was about identifying who the regulars were.
Ujin motioned at the table and all three men sat down.
“OK, we’ll try a few rounds of Hydra, 1 SP ante, five cards to start.”
All of the men anted, though the first man balked at the amount.
Ujin dealt out the cards, 7 to each player, and sat back.
He burned a card to establish trump for the hand, in this case a 2 of knives.
Mumbling was heard across the table, and the first man played a 7 of knives.
The second man played a 6 of knives and scooped up the two cards.
“One point for you”, Ujin said.
He and the other men who lost the round each put a coin in the pot.
The second man then put down a knave of crowns.
The third man spit and growled, which Ujin took as a pass.
Ujin smiled and put down a five of crowns, and took the cards, each of the other men placing a coin in the pot.
The game proceeded for about 20 minutes, Ujin was a very good card player, but the regulars here obviously played a lot too, and he didn’t want to attract undue attention, so he deliberately threw a few hands and feigned disappointment in florid terms.
While they played he made small talk.
“Nice place here, I haven’t seen a tavern this big for ages.”
The second man responded, “The Broken Sword is pretty popular.”
Ujin looked at the raised dias and the throne.
“Who sits in that?” he asked.
“The Basilisk, when he’s here”, the first man replied, with more than a hint of dislike in his voice.
Ujin arched an eyebrow and looked at the men while everyone put in their coins for this round.
“The basilisk? Who is that?”
The first man responded to the question, “Imiran Shinn, he owns the place, he shows up here about few times a week, usually late, and sits there for hours at a time, like he’s holding court.”
The small talk continued and they discussed various and sundry, the city hunt, the local thieves guild, the current Maharaja, the decadence of the Lords. Ujin was careful to ask about many things, not just the owner.
Then, from the back of the room a door opened revealing stairs that presumably went up to the second floor. A man emerged from the landing. He was average height and wore what appeared to be custom made leather armor. He had a cloak on, blood red in contrast to the dark grey of his armor, and he openly carried a sword and an axe on his person. The man had sandy blonde hair, blue eyes and several scars on his face.
Ujin knew in his bones that this was the Basilisk, Imiran Shinn.
The man took a seat on the marble throne and was given a goblet of some drink by a waitress. In his other hand he held a dagger that he twirled and scraped across the arm of the throne.
A servant lit the braziers beside Shinn, casting a rich orange light on his face.
He rapped the throne with the pommel of his dagger three times, and from the far side of the room another door opened, and two men were brought out.
The first was tall, muscular and wore pants but no shirt. He had numerous scars on his body, and looked angry.
The second was slightly shorter, and slightly less muscular, had pants but no shirt as well, and looked terrified.
The men were led by a heavily armored man to the fenced in pit at the East end of the room. Once there one arm from each was taken and tied together at the wrist with a cord to the other man’s arm.
The man who led them to the pit and tied them motioned towards Imiran Shinn.
Shinn stood up and pointed at the first man.
“This man tried to kill one of my men.”
He pointed at the other man,
“This man tried to steal from me.”
Imiran Shinn looked around the room as he spoke.
“The two shall fight. The one who wins is set free.”
Nothing was said, Ujin noted, about the loser.
Shinn pointed at a thin, saturnine man in a green shirt with a paper and a quill pen.
“Bets will be taken by Qwil Wohn, only bets taken by him will be honored, and as always a quarter of any winnings go to the house.”
There was much shouting and pushing to be heard by Shinn’s man, and much furious scribing of bets; Ujin decided to watch rather than wager.
After about ten minutes Shinn rapped his throne with his dagger pommel and Qwil Whon stopped taking new bets.
The minstrel switched from a lute to a set of drums and began to set a martial beat.
The armored man who brought over the two combatants walked over to the far side of the pit and stuck a dagger in the ground.
Imiran Shinn grinned from ear to ear and shouted, “FIGHT!”
The larger man turned to move towards the dagger while the smaller man immediately threw all of his weight behind him and tackled the larger man to the ground. The larger man started to crawl across the dusty pit towards the dagger, and the smaller man bit him on the leg, eliciting a scream and a kick to the head from the larger man.
The larger man continued towards the dagger, with the smaller man biting and scratching, desperately trying to stop him.
It was an ugly sight, and Ujin turned away from it to see Imiran Shinn, grinning from ear to ear, watching the spectacle. Ujin looked at both of his hands and saw no ring on either.
So much for the easy way.
The larger man finally reached the dagger and made a vicious stab with it, landing a hit his opponent’s arm. The smaller man screamed mightily.
The next few seconds saw a flurry of dagger strikes, and the smaller man went limp.
Cheers erupted from the crowd, along with boos and hisses. Coins were exchanged and Qwil Whon collected Shinn’s cut. The man who won was led off to an area near the bar where he was given what Ujin assumed were his belongings and a drink. The bleeding man was taken off to a door in the back behind the dogs, different from the one that Shinn had emerged from, and disappeared from view.
The three two headed dogs howled loudly when this happened, and Ujin felt a chill in his bones.
Ujin had seen all he needed to see. He would frequent the bar every night this week until Imiran Shinn appeared for a night’s entertainment, and then he would gain access to his suite above to see if the ring was there.
The phantasmist had another round with his gambling companions, expressed sorrow over his losses, and left the tavern to head back to the inn.
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