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The Year 1491 DR, 3rd of Marpenoth (October), Late Morning, Cool & Windy...Baldur's Gate, Outer City: Twin Songs

I gotta see Straightstick. Toss off Crosser.
"Really now? You have a meeting with Straightstick. Nice knowing ya, Blacktongue!" Butch says with a laugh.

Yarl just keeps walking, his anger threatening to get the best of him. But he knows he can be distracted, especially when meeting with the leader of the Faithless; a man known only as Straightstick.
Yarl reaches the end of Wyrm's Crossing faster than he had planned, his anger spurring him on. He slows down as he takes in the view when he feels the gravel under his feet again, knowing he has crossed over into enemy territory.

The Outer City town of Twin Songs resembles all of the others with one exception: there are temples and shrines to various gods on every corner and throughout the town proper. Almost as soon as he crosses the bridge, he realizes he is being watched. Taking a deep breath, Yarl saunters on, turning left along the river. He doesn't get far when three figures step out of the shadows of the buildings. He knows one of 'em, but the other two have unfamiliar faces. The familiar one is known as Chuckles...because he bears a constant scowl and never laughs, much less smiles. He is the right hand man of the kingpin, Straightstick.



"Figured you'd chicken out, Blacktongue. Rats don't have no backbone when they are by themselves." the man called Chuckles says. "My boys here are gonna search ya...just in case you were stupid and brung in some dragon's fire or some shit, you know, to kill off ol' Straightstick. So hold out yer arms and no sudden movements. You know the drill."

WelI guess I ain't the average rat then, eh Chuckles?" Yarl replies to humorless man. He keeps his attitude in check and complies while slowly lifting his arms as he is searched. I figure the only reason I got a meeting was cuz Straightstick knows I always keep my word.

Chuckles doesn't reply, but instead gives Yarl a rough check and then turns around. "Follow me. And keep that club on yer belt. You won't like it shoved up yer ass if ya do anything stupid."

The Faithless heavy leads Yarl to a rather large house up against the base of Dusthawk Hill. The house, like most of those on this side of the Chionthar, is up on stilts, but there is also a ramp that leads up to the door. At the top of the ramp stands a man everyone on both sides of the river knows well. He leans on a broken ship oar and is said to have been attacked by, and survived a battle with, Ol' Cholms, a huge turtle which, according to local legend, lives at the bottom of Gray Harbor.

Straightstick, a kingpin of the Guild and the leader of the Twin Songs Faithless, looks down at Yarl...and smiles. But unlike Chuckles, it is said when Straightstick smiles, someone is about to die...or worse.


"Well now...a rat among the Faithless. Come on up, Blacktongue. Let's have a drink and a talk."

Yarl lets out a sigh. Sure, lets have a drink. He walks over as confidently as he can. "Why bother to bring me here if they want me dead?" he thinks to himself and tries his best to believe it. Out of nerves he adds "I'm here to square things Straightstick, none of us knew you had plans with the barge or we woulda left it alone.

Straightstick invites you into his room which is well protected by several members of the Faithless. Chuckles closes the door and gives you a look that says he will snap your neck if you try anything stupid.
Inside the kingpin's private room, you are surprised to see that Straightstick lives only slightly better than most folk. His chamber is sparsely furnished with a couple of chairs, a table with a crude map of Baldur's Gate spread out on it, and a simple bed in the corner. But there is a small fireplace and the room is warm...not that you really have to worry about that thanks to the ring on your finger.
Straightstick hums to himself as he pours two glasses of brandy from a thin wooden table on the wall near the fireplace, and hands one to you before sitting in one of the chairs close to the fire. He sips, looks at the glass, then looks at you.
Nervous, you say, "I'm here to square things Straightstick, none of us knew you had plans with the barge or we woulda left it alone."
The kingpin waves your words away and stares into the fire. "I already have another barge coming later tonight. It will be loaded with what I need to...to make my move. A move you will help me with, Yarl."
Your stomach turns over and to settle it, you take a sip of the brandy. It goes down smooth with very little burn on the back end, and you take another sip.
"The time has come for the Faithless to expand its territory. We have outgrown this wretched little town and we're tired of scraping for leftovers from the Guild. In two nights, we make our move."

Yarls mouth hang open in surprise.
Why would you need me? he asks dumbfoundedly. I can hold my own in a scrap but you must have dozens who could do the same. I'm a nobody...
He drains the brandy.

Straightstick smiles...gets up and walks to the small table and returns with the carafe of brandy. He pours another healthy shot into your glass and then sits down.
"Why would I need you, you ask? I need the Rats as extra muscle...to keep the Flaming Fist busy while the Faithless do what we came to do. For your help, I will forgive the incident with the barge. And..."
He pauses to take a sip of brandy. "And...since you are a professed nobody, I will make you a somebody, by supporting your claim to lead the Rats."
Another sip and another smile. "Do we have a deal?"

Yarl:
Yarl thinks for a moment and drains the brandy in one gulp. He might as well enjoy this last sip before what will probably end up with his death.
I'll help you however I can but I can't betray Sylmorn. He runs the Rats, not me. He looks down in defeat. I'll talk to him and try to bring him 'round. If the Rats won't help I'll fight by meself for ya. I'll give you everything I got but I can't... I just can't...
He looks up at Straightstick. I'm sorry but I won't backstab me crew. I ain't that man.

The man called Straightstick purses his lips...and then chuckles with a smile that does not reach his eyes.
"Who said anything about betrayal? If I thought you a person who would betray all they know for vain glory - and don't let anyone convince you glory is NOT about vanity! - then I would not have reached out to you for this particular mission. Because if that were the case, what would prevent you from doing the same thing to me?"
Straightstick stands and limps to the fireplace, grunting as he stoops to put few lumps of coal in the grate. His back still to you, he straightens with help of the broken oar he uses as a cane, and says over his shoulder. "No, that would not do, Yarl. When you speak with Sylmorn about this venture, he will no doubt shit on the idea at first. But when you tell him the rights to the river will go exclusively to those who help the Faithless, well then, how could he not see this is a win-win for the Rats?"

Straightstick returns to his chair and thumps his broken oar on the floorboards three times. The door opens almost as soon as the third thud is felt under foot, and Chuckles enters. "I will need your answer before midnight tonight. We make our move two hours before dawn tomorrow. You may leave now."

Assuming you have nothing else to say, Chuckles holds the door open for you to leave.

Yarl feels a small sense of relief that he won't be dead for at least a few more hours.

He rises and says to Straightstick I'll send word.before heading out, he gives a nod to Chuckles as he goes. He doesn't waste time, he heads directly to Sylmorn and the Rats. They need to have a serious talk and figure out the best way to stay alive through what is coming.

When Yarl leaves the den of the Faithless, he hasn't gone but a few feet before he sees three newcomers to the city. It is the same three he sent Crying Cyrus to tail. He wouldn't mistake them for any other trio because who forgets a Tabaxi when they seen one! The Tabaxi's traveling companions, a crazed Half-Orc and a Human archer are looking at some sort of paper.
Just then, one of the commoners of Twin Songs presses a pamphlet into Yarl's hand.
The pamphlet is short on words, but what it says makes up for its length:

The Prodigal returns to the theater of blood.
Come one, come all.
The Hungry are fed with soul-staining food.
Don't miss the curtain call.

The scrawl smells coppery...like blood.

Yarl looks back up to the trio and recalls something he heard a few nights ago. Something about a group of heroes who took down a blue dragon and a squad of Asmodeus followers at Candlekeep! Just a few weeks ago, too. Could this be the same group? The news said one of them was a Cat-folk. If they could handle a dragon...

...if they could handle a dragon then they are not the kinda prey Cyrus should be tailing, Yarl thinks to himself. He gives the group a serious look over. (Perception [1d20]=13)
He wonders if those three could really take down a dragon and the cultists and visually searches for any details that may indicate one way or the other.

Yarl would like to tail them to see where they are staying but time is pressing. He starts heading back to the Rats Nest in a hurry. Just as he starts to move he remembers the paper in his hand. He looks for the commoner that gave it to him. If he sees him he will grab the guy and ask him a few questions. Blood pamphlets is too much, even for Baldurs Gate.

The Half-Orc has the manner of a barbarian...likely from one of the Uthgardt tribes in the North.
The Human archer is looking around, watching the shadows; his bow and quiver look well-used.
The Tabaxi has the mannerisms of a spellcaster...likely a sorcerer or warlock maybe. As a trio, they don't appear nervous or afraid of where they are. Yarl sees a member of the Faithless watching the trio from a church belfry across the street; he's not surprised. The Faithless know everyone who comes into their territory.

Yarl spies two acolytes running around and handing out the papers. He motions for one to come to him and is surprised to see a young human woman with a stack of pamphlets in her hand. "Ah, do you need an invitation for tonight, good...sir?"

Yarl does his best to be as intimidating as possible
[1d20]=19

Invitation to where? he snarls through clenched teeth. Who are you, pedaling this garbage? He crumples the paper and throws it in her face. It stinks of blood..

The color drains from the young woman's face and she flinches and nearly cries out when the crumpled pamphlet bounces off her nose. She swallows hard. "I-I only did what he told me. The Prodigal Son...he said to in-invite everyone to tonight's sermon. He's...he's returned to his church and it's...it's just a harmless pamphlet."
Her expressive arm display as she talks, reveals several thin, scabby cuts all along the undersides of her arms.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the trio of adventurers turn and begin to walk toward you...

Yarl turns to face the approaching trio. He angles his body to hide his hand pull out his knife and prepare to throw it. He knows the archer is the most dangerous until he can close the distance. You all with her? he calls and gestures to the young woman. Your Prodigal Son has no place in the Gate.

The Year 1491 DR, 3rd of Marpenoth (October), Midday, Cool & Windy...Baldur's Gate, Outer City - Yarl Has Another Meeting...

Leaving the three newcomers, you quick step it on Wyrm's Crossing, ignoring the taunts by Butch and the Crossers, ignoring the looks you get from the Halfling children playing tag in the middle of the street, and ignored by the Flaming Fist as you pass back through Wyrm's Rock and out the other side and into Rivington.
You head for the river...well, more like the shanties of Dusthawk Hill, to the large warehouse known conveniently as "The Den" where the Rats convene and where Sylmorn waits for word about Straightstick and the Twins Songs Faithless.
Four fellow gang members stand around outside warming their hands over a fire in a low barrel. They give you a look and then turn back to their conversation, passing around a jug of something to warm their insides as the fire warms their outsides.

You enter the warehouse, allowing your eyes to adjust to the gloom and shadows before heading deeper in, down a long hall which delves into Dusthawk Hill itself. There you find the person you have come to see.
Sylmorn stands at a table, looking over a rather large map. He looks up at you as you enter, glancing at two gang members who slouch on either side of the hall, then back to you. He stands up, crossing his arms, and stepping around the table to face you; the light from two large oil lamps reveals Sylmorn's true form...the one given to him by "the gods."

"Well, what did ol' Straightsticks have to say, Blacktongue?"

The quick version is the Faithless are gonna try to move up and they want us to help cover it. He waits a moment for Sylmorn to process before continuing.

The leader of the Rats scoffs and glances your way...his reddish eyes burning with anger.

Straightstick has another barge comin' in with weapons or muscle I guess. He wants the Rats to keep the Fist busy while he makes his move into the city. He didn't say who he was makin' his move on. Yarl props his club on his shoulder and shifts his weight.
He figures you won't like the risk but the reward will be worth it. We would get rights to the river an' fulfill our debt.
We waits for another momentWe gotta give him word before midnight, they move two hours before dawn tomorrow. What do ya think?

"I think it's a crock of horseshit! He wants us to take on the Fist? While he does what...exactly? And what rights to the river? We OWN the river! At least this side of it."
Sylmorn walks around in a circle and then approaches you. "So...you think this is a good plan? You didn't cut a deal with Straightstick did ya? Maybe your thinking life would be better as one of the Faithless, eh? I need to know you're with us...'til the end of the line. I need to hear you say it."

You hear the others in the room shuffle as if getting ready for a fight. The tension is high in the room and Sylmorn is close enough for you to smell the unwashed stink on him. His rat face close to yours, he beady red eyes boring into yours.

You questioning me you stupid rat fuck!! Yarl screams in Sylmorn's face. Straightstick offered to back me to lead the Rats an' I told him no. I said you was the leader and I wouldn't betray ya. Yarl can hear his own blood pounding as his heart races. You wanna know if I think this is good idea? Fuck no! You gotta better idea how to get us outta this shit?
If Sylmorn makes any fast move Yarl will bash his head into pulp.

As soon as the final words escape Yarl's lips, Sylmorn wheels with a savage growl and backhands Yarl in the face!
backhand swipe: [1d20+1]=14+1=15
Backhand dmg: [1d4+1]=3+1=4

Blood is in the air and Sylmorn growls and hisses, his full wererat form revealed! "YOU DARE! YOU FORGET YOUR PLACE BOY!"

The other members of the Rats step forward, eager to watch...or to join in.

Yarl swings his club around and tries to connect with Sylmorn's head while pulling out his shortsword.
[1d20]=10
[1d4+4]=4+4=8

STUPID FUCK I BACKED YOU! he screams.

Yarl swings his club around at Sylmorn's head, and smacks the leader of the Rats hard, whipping his head around, knocking out a tooth! (8 pts dmg). STUPID FUCK I BACKED YOU! Yarl yells, reaching for his sword.

"Yeah, and now you just attacked me! And knocked out one of my fucking teeth! Well, let's see exactly where yer loyalty lies, eh?" The short sword whistles through the air as Sylmorn draws it and swipes low at Yarl's belly. Yarl manages to draw his own sword and easily deflect Sylmorn's blade. But this leaves him exposed on the left and Sylmorn lunges and bites Yarl deep in the neck and shoulder!
Bite attack: [1d20+4]=16+4=20
Bite damage: [1d4+2]=2+2=4

Gore squirts into the air as Sylmorn twists away, blood dripping from his furry chinny chin chin.
"Ha! You taste like rum and cum! I love both! Ha! Maybe some of the others would like a nibble, eh?"

Yarl looks around and sees eyes burning bright in the shadows as three other "Rats" begin to move toward him, trying to cut him off from the door he came in. Should he run...he knows he'll be a hunted Half-Orc. He might find sanctuary among one of the other crews, but he might not. Or should he fight his way out? Possibly kill Sylmorn? Go down swinging?

All of these thoughts and others roll through your mind...but right now, I need you to roll a CON saving throw...

"Shammalammadingdong!" Yarl roars...or something like that...and snaps out his club in a high arc, whacking Sylmorn in the head again, dazing the wererat! And with the opening, Yarl steps up and jams his short deep into Sylmorn's belly!

The leader of the Rats howls in agony, staggering backward. He looks at the blood on his hands, HIS blood, and for the first time Yarl can ever remember, there is fear in Sylmorn's eyes!
"Meccaleccahighmeccahineyho!" gurgles the gang leader, jabbing at Yarl with his sword...which the Half-Orc barely deflects.
Sylmorn lunges again, mouth open wide, and savaging Yarl's neck with his yellowed teeth!
Sword: [1d20+4]=7+4=11 [1d6+2]=1+2=3
Bite attack: [1d20+4]=16+4=20 [1d4+2]=3+2=5

Roll another save, ya bleeding rascal!

Wind
In my hair
Shifting and drifting
Mechanical music
Adrenaline surge



Adrenaline surge...and Yarl's heart is pumping faster and faster, his body rejecting the slavering enzymes which would pass on the disease of lycanthropy. He shoves Sylmorn away from, slashing wildly with his sword.
Bite me? BITE THIS! he screams, swinging the club as hard as he can.
The wet sound of wood striking flesh and crushing bone gives the other "rats" pause as their leader croaks out some unintelligible sound and drops to his knees. Bits of his brain are exposed on the back of his hairy head; bloody drool gurgling from his mouth. And still, Sylmorn tries to get to his feet!

"Finish him, Blacktongue!" one of the Rats hisses.
"His time is at an end!" answers another.

Yarl knows he needs to press his advantage and he digs deep within himself...adrenaline surge...and he brings his short sword back around, twisting his wrist and slicing Sylmorn right across the upper part of his stomach. The gang leader's belly flesh peels open and his guts come rushing out...and he topples to the side...reverting to his true form in death.
The transformation from wererat to Half-Elf, Sylmorn's true form, is quick and amazing to watch. The other Rats gather around to watch, glancing from the dead leader...to their new leader.

"Yarl Blacktongue is the new leader of the Rivington Rats!" says one of the members, an older man named Eston.
"Hail Blacktongue! Hail Blacktongue!" this from a man who was a close confidant of Sylmorn; a man not to be trusted; Judas he is called.
"He did it! Yarl did it! I can't believe he did it!" says a somewhat pretty woman, one of the few females in the gang, known simply as Cookie.

"Spread the word!" Eston says with a strong voice. "Sylmorn is dead. The Blacktongue leads the Rats now!"

The blood pumping in Yarl's ears is replaced with Rats calling his name. The adrenaline seems to drain from Yarl as realization closes in, "what have I done?" He turns in a circle and looks at the gang members. He didn't mean to escalate into a fight with Slymorn, the stress of the meeting must have pushed his nerves too tight. He feels shame knowing he should have kept his temper and tongue in check. Yarl has been muscle but he doesn't know about leading. With a final glance at the half-elfs body Yarl knows he better act quick and try to take control before someone else gets the same idea.

He lets out a roar and hold his club up high hoping to rally the members. Rats, Rats, Rats! he chants.

He gives a moment before lowering his club and barking out orders as firmly as he can. Judas and Cookie, go get a few hands to help you both dispose of the body. Someone send word to the Rats that I want all heads to come in, we have a big score ahead. Eston you are with me.

Yarl will wait for people to clear before checking Sylmorn's body for loot. (He wants Judas and Cookie to leave to get help) He addresses Eston quietly. I didn't mean for this to happen this way. You been around longer than me, you know any of Sylmorn's contacts? You know if he got people?