Chapter Seven: There’s Something Fishy in Daytown

When The Lazy Minnow and its crew finally arrived in Daytown, they discovered it to be a tense and unpredictable place.  Dim green lantern-light cast an eerie glow across the city, and it was dead quiet except for two expectant officers who patiently waited for the crew to dock.

Members of The Precinct, the local police force, greeted them as they docked and asked that they proceed to the nearest inn, there was a curfew in place for the foreseeable future, something about not being caught out in the moonlight.  They begrudgingly accepted, and headed to the conveniently located Expensive Statue Tavern.

the-expensive-statue-inn-and-tavern-night
The Expensive Statue: Night

It was a raucous night, and immediately Leon was solicited for some rather lewd services at a deep discount, and he was more than happy to take the girl up on her offer.  The rest of the party explored and learned more about the culture, the local religious order were a strange bunch, they insisted on blindfolds over their eyes and were as content in a church as they were in a den of gambling and whoring.  Also content to be in a den of vice, Shane McGuire pulled Glenn aside and asked if he and the party would act as backup for a business transaction later that evening, in the basement of this inn.  Glenn nodded, though in retrospect it isn’t clear if he was was agreeing to what Shane was asking about or if he was lost in thought.  He had been moody recently, the Wrye takeover of Gladbaegol Reserves weighed heavily on his mind, and their company had been so eager to follow Bridget the moment she appeared.  He had led fairly, had he not?

In the center of the room stood a preciously perched expensive statue that the party managed to bob around as they approached they climbed the stairs for a night of rest.

As Bridget laid her head down there was an eerie sort of music that she was able to hear.  Despite her bardic training, it was not recognizable, and she felt compelled to seek it out.  Considering the curfew placed on the town, they sought out a stealthy route to leave the tavern.  Cracking open a window, they leave, one by one.  The last to head out was Leon, who offered to jump down with Gwyllgi, but accidentally tripped as he fell, crushing the poor dog under his weight.  A quick heal to save the poor pooch, and the crew snuck out in the dark in search of the haunting tune.

The path wound up and around through failing light, and by chance they came upon a pair of large, grotesque fish-folk who attacked at first sight.  Dispatching them with ease, they arrived at the source of the music — a mostly abandoned apartment with a single tenant, playing a lute, eyes glazed over, bow furiously weaving back and forth over the bowstrings of his Viola.  At the edge of the room was a window to a foreign hellscape, and from it two more fish-kin launched in.  Again, dispatching the monsters the party needed to determine how to address this portal.  Gwydgen and Bridget picked up their instruments and began to play harmonies as best they could to the alien tune, the pace rapidly increasing.  The hellscape seemed to lessen in substance, and then vanish.  The old man’s Viola dropped to the floor, and his head fell back, dead.  A search of the room yielded two items of note, the Otherworldly Viola, which Bridget quickly claimed, and a note under a floorboard:

LEVIATHAN COMES

Not really sure what that means, the party retraced their steps back to the inn.  In the morning, they headed towards The Lords Industrial.  They passed groups of thugs accosting a local police force about recent abductions and a lack of care for the outskirts of the city, but the mob backed down before it came to a fight.

office-of-the-lords-industrial
Office of the Lords Industrial

Arriving in the courtyard in front of The Lords Industrial, they were allowed inside with little preamble.  A pleasantly plump woman stood in the entryway to The Lords Industrial.

“Welcome to The Lords Industrial!  What brings you to the capital building today?”

The party demanded to meet with the Lords at once.  “Leviathan is going to attack this town!” exclaimed Gwydgen.

“Leviathan?  What do you mean?  Oh, wait, you mean, that Leviathan?  Oh…Oh no!”

“Nevermind, no, not that Leviathan.  Which way to The Lords, please?”

She proffered some more general directions, east is the local prison, north is the Hall of Lords, where the Lords Industrial are currently sitting, and west is the offices of The Piston.

An appointment had been cancelled earlier in the day, and the party was able to get into the Lords Chamber as a meeting with a local architect was wrapping up with a review of finances, the party would be seen momentarily.

Inside the chamber were four elaborate thrones, three of them filled with wealthy lords, and directly behind them, three bodyguards.  From right to left, a man in a red robe, hooded in white with a white blindfold.  Immediately behind him stood a man in a red bandana and a greatsword at his side.  The lord in the middle wore a red cape, and a military visor.  Behind him, a perfectly statuesque soldier.  The last lord was by far the youngest, and greasy, with goggles on his head and a wrench in his hand, he seemed annoyed to be in the room.  Behind him stood a gorilla-folk, also with goggles, smoking a cigar.  As the architect began packing her things up, the attention of the lords turned to the newcomers.

“Welcome to our chambers.  Who are you, and why have you sought an audience with The Lords Industrial?”

Glenn stepped forward, throwing three business cards in rapid succession.  “My lords, we have come here to help you with your abduction problem.”  As the business cards sailed through the air towards the lords, each of the bodyguards dived in front of their respective lord in case of a trick.

“Problem?  What do you know of this problem?”

“Well, we’ve been here a day and it’s been pretty obvious that people have been taken left and right.  We also have reason to believe that The Leviathan is going to be attacking the city.”

“Oh.  Hmm.  Interesting…yes, your history makes you an intriguing prospect”, spoke the lord wearing the blindfold.  “I am Lord Terzo Beturan, Lord of the Penitent.  You seem like men, and women, of action.  I would be interested in speaking with you all outside this hall, perhaps we could arrange some sort of follow on meeting, hmmm?”

Content with the conversation, and being pushed out for the next audience with the Lords, the group left to explore the rest of the capital building.  Leon grew more and more excited as he walked west through the gardens, learning that the local magistrate’s office offered magical paternity tests.  They walked into the courtroom and demanded the next appointment, sending Meowsington to fetch Leon’s alleged son Jon, whom he hoped to disavow any relations to.

And…that’s when things got out of hand.  Werefolk justice Moory Bovinech ordered the court-appointed alchemist to take a sample of Leon and Jon’s blood, and a few moments later, Moory spoke five devastating words.  “Leon, you are the father.”

Leon did not take it well.  He approached the bench, pushing the baliff and local guards aside and decked the alchemist sitting in the witness stand.  The rage overtaking any hope for rational thought, he fought punched, kick, tackled two, three, five, seven guards.  Gladbaegol and Associates were content to sit and watch from the crowd, Kraw popping birdseed at the scene in front of him.  Bastine decided to feel out his new ability, hoping to spring his ally in the confusion, and killed the lights to the courtroom.  Shortly thereafter, the door flew open with more guards flooding in, and Bastine sat down, hoping to avoid notice.  Leon was eventually restrained, and with a contingent of ten members of The Precinct, was thrown into a jail cell until he could be sentenced.