Tuesday 28th October Asi van Dit - Male Halfling Thief 2 - Adrian McKinnon Finn Finnegan - Male Halfling Thug 2 - NPC Flung Chow Wong - Male Human Monk 2 (FW TF) - Ian Luxton Gavin Scone - Male Human Fighter 1 - Darryl Sherwood Mel Licious - Dwarf Psionicist 1 - Steven Krijnen Polly Ester - Female Human Bard 4 - Andrew Earl DM - Jeff Clendon
The plan was for Asi to creep down the chimney in the MA meeting room, for Mel and Gavin to pose as MA guards in the landing outside the meeting room door, and for me to pose as an under-dressed serving girl hired by the caterers supplying lunch to the meeting merchants.
Into the building filed all the merchant associates, in ascending order of rank. Bringing up the rear was Merchants' Association chairman - the elusive and shadowy William Hurst himself.
They all passed through the upstairs landing where our brave guards Mel and Gavin stood slackly at attention, and then filed in to the meeting room itself.
Mel found a cup from somewhere and up-ended it on the door of the meeting room. He thus got a very good listen into the meeting and reported to us later. (We never got a report from Asi. He skived off somewhere and never did get down the chimney. Chasing whores, I bet.)
There were reports on the success of the TG raid, reports on the dearth of TG raids on shops, cash flow predictions of MA funds used to pay the guards' incomes, etc etc.
Someone brought up that fact that Hurst was using MA guards and the MA indentured wizard Lumpkin to guard his residence.
Hurst explained that this was because there were reports of threats against his life. Us, I guess.
The meeting dragged on all morning, until, finally, it was lunchtime and me and the other caterers were ushered in.
This gave me a chance to have a good long look at them all, and especially Hurst himself.
Hurst met my gaze with a withering stare, and recognition suddenly dawned.
This was Mort in disguise! Morten Frond, Number Two of the Thieves Guild, was William Hurst. Erg! I tried to stop my features from recoiling in shock, and I think I actually managed. (I could see that Morten/Hurst recognized me in my flimsy serving uniform).
So the Thieves Guild was actually controlling the Chairman of the Merchants' Association. This suddenly explained a lot of things: The money that the shop-keepers paid for the MA guards was actually probably going to the Thieves Guild after all. They were getting their protection money, just in a different form, heh. No wonder poor Jack was offed. No wonder Mort didn't seem to care about the MA raid. In fact, the MA raid on the TG was probably Mort's clever trick to off a rival: I.E. the unfortunate Hank Bier.
I served the rest of the meal in a bit of a daze, then left with the caterers.
So feigning lack of any knowledge, I reported to Mort that I'd posed as a serving girl during the MA meeting and had got a good look at Hurst.
To rub in my false naivity, I asked, again: "We are planning on taking out Hurst. Is he only worth 500gp?"
Mort's only emotion betrayal was a slight smile. He said: "Yeah, but be careful. He is tough."
This was good. I know that Mort is Hurst. And I know that Mort does not know that I know. And I even know that Mort doesn't know that I know that he doesn't know that I know.
True, he could be stringing me along, and he might suspect that I know, and even know that I don't know that he knows. But if he did, then I'd all already be dead. And I know that I'm not dead - axiomatically.
Now, how the hell can I tell the rest of our group this? The Lawful good wusses (Flung, Halcyon and Mel) must not know that I'm a TG member. But they need to know that Hurst is Mort and that MA is run by the TG. However, they must tell no-one else that they know this, else we'd all end up in the bottom of the Emerald in concrete galoshes.
Time for the Order of REAL to give me some new information...
He turned around. The others looked on.
I sat down breathlessly and beckoned them all to crowd around.
"I have some dreadful information," I hissed. "From my contact in the Order of Real. William Hurst is Morten Frond of the Thieves Guild!"
There was the expected reaction. Many gasps and curses. The wheels of logic cranked in Flung's mind.
"But dat mean Teaves Guild and Merchants' Association are one and same!" he said.
I nodded sagaciously.
"We must tell Merchants. We must tell ... uh... tell Stewart Field!" he shouted.
"How do you know he isn't in on it too?" I asked.
"Then we must tell Militia," he said.
"We tell no-one," I interrupted. "If the TG knows that we know. We are all dead."
Reluctant nods all around.
"We will go along with Stewart's investigation, and keep this whole business under our hats."
He gave us keys to the MA buildings.
That night, we arrived at six be'light and opened the door. There were two guards inside. A Colour Spray dealt nicely with them, and they collapsed unconscious. We then bound and gagged them.
Upstairs, it was no trouble finding the right books. We took them back to Stewart. He spent all Realday copying it. Since the MA was closed on Realday, they would not be missed. (Stewart also handled the awkwardness of explaining why the MA guards were knocked out.)
But Asi noticed, skulking in the shadows, was a nefarious fellow. Spying on us. A thief, no doubt. So I approached him. He appeared to be drunk. Yeah right.
Bang with a Colour Spray. But it did not work. He fled. Fast Flung shot off after him, and soon knocked him down.
Asi and me dragged his unconscious form into an alley and made sure he was zonked. I returned to the group, and we entered the MA building, via the back.
In the foyer, sure enough, were the two guards, on their toes and alert as ever.
These were the same hapless guards as the night before - the poor bastards. Asi had prearranged to rattle the front door to distract them. They stood at the ready, heavy crossbows loaded, eyeing the rattling door, terrified.
"Look at my tits, boys!*" I suddenly sang.
They spun around and off went the Colour Spray. Only one fell. The other's crossbow fired, and Mel took the quarrel in his arm. Ow!
Mel, Flung and Gavin launched into the fray and proceeded to belt the living crap out of this guard. I snuck off up the stairs to return the books.
The battle was soon over: Both guards unconscious. One from blows, the other from my spell.
Since the unconsciousness of Colour Spray only lasts a minute or so, standard practice is to bind and gag the victim before he wakes up. Flung began to bind that guard.
"Why waste time doin' thart" said Gavin. "Takes too darm long. I'll give 'im a tap. Knock 'im out proper, lark."
So he raised his heavy echythumper above his head and brought the weighted stinking load of lard encased in chainmail mesh down onto the unconscious guard's head. There was a sickening crunch.
Later, when I returned from upstairs, I surveyed the scene. Both guards well-bound. The head of the one Gavin had hit was at an awkward, if not impossible, angle. I checked his pulse - well, lack of pulse.
"Why did you kill this guard?"
"He not dead. He unconscious," replied Flung.
"Aye," said Gavin. "'Twas only a tap."
"You check then, Flung."
And he did.
"You under 'rest, Gavin," said Flung after a moment. "For cold brudd murder!"
Good-hearted Gavin stood aghast.
"'Twas an accident," he sobbed. "Ah was just knockin' 'im art."
While, Flung and Gavin hauled the corpse off to the Grand Basilica, Asi and I carried the other unconscious guard out to the alley where I had secreted the zonked tea-leaf.
Then I found a hand-cart and hauled the two captives off to a cheapo inn "The Silver Swan". Here, posing as their bitch, I soaked them in cheap rum, hired a room, and secured them within.
When we returned to the Grand Basilica, Gavin had already been hauled off to jail by the Militia for man-slaughter. Upon seeing the body of the dead guard, the Funken priests had called them. While waiting for the Militia to arrive, Gavin had asked the priests to cast Speak with Dead on the dead guard so that he could give restitution to the guard's family. But the plonker asked the wrong questions, and thus the effort was wasted.
"I be Gavin's avocate in trial," exclaimed Flung when we arrived. "I speak we-ull and am very roquacious!"