I was just starting to think of Finarfin as my little buddy when he turned on me like a white-haired lair worm. He was mad because I spilled the beans about the 1000g we embezzled that I told you about last time. He was mostly p-oed that I’d managed to blame him even though it was my idea, hissing that the next time I fucked up he’d spit acid in my face. I think he means it.
Once we left the necromancer’s joint we took the barbarian’s pieces back to Kroft who patted us on the head and laid another 1000g on us. The boys decided to get lunch but quite honestly I couldn’t eat much with the stink of Rolf’s lair still in my nose.
We then tried to figure out what to do with the loot, some of which was magic. That’s when the spooky stuff started happening. Phantom harrow cards popped out in front of the items explaining their usage. Convenient, I know. They belonged to a gypsy called Zollara who was dead the last time anybody saw her. Yet here she was, reaming Finarfin for not carrying her deck. She left us each three cards to remember her by when we needed a little special help.
We then went off to pawn some of our loot. I gambled with Burns over a ring of protection and predictably lost. Finarfin suggested that Burns had cheated me on the roll but Ma always taught me that it’s my own fault whenever I get fooled so if he did—and I’m not convinced of that—more power to him. We sold the robe of bones, which was nothing like the robe of sex-bones you used to have. (Whatever happened to that smelly old thing anyway? The last I remember seeing it, it was chasing a Barbarian down Sand Street.) Ours was necromancer shit anyway and I was glad to be rid of it.
We went to Crazy Bombur’s to sell the rest of the stuff and he must have been drunk because he gave us a hell of a deal. All that loot was burning a hole in my pocket so I bought some better armor that Bardar recommended and got myself a good suit of clothes as well—original Banjomi! Wide cuffs, gold links, and creased crotch-flap. Burns says wearing good threads is best for stealing but I’ve always liked carrying a bit of flash for its own sake, as you know. By then I was too poor to buy the Starknife I wanted but I’m sure with this crew we’ll be rolling in dough.
I was worried about old Rolf coming after us for busting up his joint and killing his pets so we went back into the boneyards to the Temple of Pharasma to find out more about him but what little they said didn’t make him sound very ambitious so we forgot about it and split up for a few days. You would have been proud of me. Instead of joining Finarfin and his playmates for a zong-fueled fuckathon I decided to take Master Orisini up on his offer for training. Burns caught my enthusiasm and spent a couple days there himself. They mostly beat me up but by the end I felt like I was starting to get the hang of two-handed fighting. Now I wish I owned a rapier, like Burns. He can slice a wart off a sand flea’s ass with the thing. Fun-time ended when that fucking plague ship showed up near Oldtown. But we didn’t know that until later.
I met the boys the next day. Burns said the bulls had rumbled an empty ship drifting in from parts unknown—always a good sign, right? Those crazy bastards decided we should investigate the matter ourselves! I was floored but couldn’t lose face and tagged along. Besides, they’ve led me right so far. I also had to admire them. As Uncle Jack always says, “You can’t make hay while sitting on your ass.” Well, maybe you can.
Finarfin put a lot of thought into it and got elixirs of breathing and swimming before we headed down to the shoreline where we liberated a boat and rowed Burns and Finarfin out to the wreck. They quickly sank out of sight although we could see their sunrods glowing until they actually entered the wreckage. Finarfin came back first with a chest full of silver. I’ve gotten so used to gold that I wasn’t much impressed—it came to a little less than what you're worth per minute.
I had a bad feeling about the loot and let Bardar carry it to the Bank of the Aladarian Monastery. Remember that Aladar cleric who embezzled all that money to keep you in furs? He was a funny guy. I was sorry when they nabbed him and chain-whipped him to death. They say his last words were, “It was worth it.” Desna knows I pray they'll be mine.
Finarfin (whom I discovered is a complete stoner) knocked back a flagon of happy juice and went off into the corner to commune with the booty. Even that pitiless bastard was shaken by what it showed him—yes, he foresaw the plague coming. He was running around like he’d taken a hot poker up the ass but I admit I didn’t take him very seriously, although I did drop you a note to keep an eye out for empty mansions to loot.
We dumped the silver, whose dangerous emanations the plague seems to be coming from, and bought the antidote before moving on. All the good times had busted me flat so Burns loaned me the dough. He charged me no interest and rounded it off in my favor when I paid him back! I guess I'll find out what he wants later.
Then we trudged back to Kroft’s. Finarfin was still in a snit over his apocalyptic vision and insisted on finding him a Healer’s Mask. I’m still not sure why he felt it was important. So we parted ways and he headed to the Heights.
Soon after we ran into old Grau, who was beside himself with worry over his little niece Brianna. She’s the raven-haired sweetheart who runs errands for us when we’re too drunk or lazy to do it ourselves. It was a pitiful sight. She had the plague and was slipping away fast so PJ immediately offered his share of the healing potion. The results were miraculous and she was soon able to sip a little water and tell us haltingly and with great difficulty about the kids in the neighborhood finding silver coins by the river’s edge. We warned them of the danger.We ran over to Kroft's like good citizens and told her, too. That's where Vencarlo Orisini's messenger caught up and invited us to meet the lucky girl Uncle Jack had liberated the week before from the queen's executioner. He wanted us to spirit her out of town in the morning. I went home and slept so soundly that even the ghosts didn’t bother me although I noticed there were more of them around when I awoke than there had been the night before. The reason for that was plain when I saw the dead piled on every streetcorner. WTF? I thought.
We met outside Bailor’s Retreat. Finarfin was late and showed up smelling like a manure pile but I knew better than to ask him why. It was an easy job and I got to see a little country before we returned to grim reality. Still, it netted us as much as scraping up what was left of the barbarian had. Then we got word that Kroft needed us again. This is getting to be too much like work.
Kroft asked us to fetch one of the priests of Abadar so we tricked our way into the bank, which was surrounded by a frightened mob, and brought him back to the Citadel where a flock of Chelaxian healers were waiting to descend on the city like big black crows. PJ got his nose out of joint over their real interests but for now he's got nothing.
Now Kroft wants us to investigate a rumor that bodies are being dumped at Racker’s Alley—like that’s news! I’m itching to start looting but have to stick with my buds for a spell longer.
Stay safe,
Cordobles
PS
I got your note right before sending this one and think you’re right, that was Finarfin you saw in your doctor’s waiting room. I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to introduce yourself before he threw his hizzy fit and got tossed out the door. I told you about his temper. I just hope he doesn’t go back and kill that gal. Maybe I’ll distract him with a nickel poke of the real mezz.
All love.
Finarfin's Sixth Report
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