Plague Rats

“Do we have any way of knowing who owned that ship, the Direption?” Nat asked. They were still in Kroft’s office, trying to unravel the mystery surrounding the ship that had been sunk almost two weeks ago, near the start of the epidemic of Blood Veil that had engulfed Korvosa. They’d found evidence tying the ship to the cult of Urgathoa, but nothing to indicate the ship had carried the plague - or anyone or anything else for that matter.

“The Harbor Master’s records are all kept by the Sable Company,” Kroft replied. “If the Direption has ever visited Korvosa before, they’ll know about it.”

“Are we sure no one got off the ship when it sank?” Erin asked, and Kroft shook her head. “Our men swept both banks both that night and the next morning, looking for survivors or bodies. They found neither.”

“I’m telling you – it was just a distraction!” Jax insisted, his frustration growing. “Somebody just wants to draw our attention away from what’s really going on.”

“Which is …?” Shadow questioned, but Jax just shook his head.

“Why did the Guard fire on the ship in the first place?” Nat wanted to know. “I mean – they don’t just sink ships for no reason? Do they?”

Field Marshall Kroft seemed embarrassed. “Well, there are protocols for ships to identify themselves when challenged, and this one didn’t, either to hails from the walls or to Marines who flew out to investigate. But still … you’re right. The captain in command that night overreacted. He says he was on edge after all the rumors of invasion during the riots, but that was no excuse. And it didn’t help that there was a Grey Maiden on duty that night who was, well, confusing the chain of command. This is what happens when you disrupt the usual order of things and insert a new organization into the mix – you get this sort of jurisdictional confusion. It’s lucky that this ship turned out to be up to no good – gods only know what would have happened if they’d sunk an innocent Chelish merchant sloop.”

Out of questions and with no more answers than when they’d started, the party took their leave and set off across town to the Great Tower, determined to trace the ownership of the mystery ship. Before long, they they heard shouting and the sounds of breaking glass from up ahead. Hurrying around the corner they found an angry mob of a couple of dozen citizens gathered menacingly around a mousy-looking older woman. She was bleeding from several cuts, and as they watched, several people threw stones at her; some missed, but others struck home, drawing more blood. One of the townsfolk had a long rope in his hands, already tied with a hangman’s noose.

“You filthy vermin!” one of them screeched. “You’ve brought this on us!”

“They should have wiped you all out years ago!” shouted another.

“Tell us where the rest of them are hiding!”

“Burn her house! It’s likely infected!”

“Kill her! String her up!!!”

There was something familiar about the woman, crying and trying in vain to protect herself from the mob. Erin suddenly realized where she’d seen her before – she was a charwoman they’ve often seen sweeping the floors at Citadel Volshyenek!

Erin stepped forward. “Hi Greta!” she called to the woman. “We missed you at Citadel Volshyenek today. Half the Guard’s going to be looking for you if you turn up late again!” She’d hoped that her bluff would make the mob think twice about threatening a friend of the Korvosan Guard, but her tactic didn’t work. Instead, the mob extended their anger to include her.

“Vermin lover!” One growled. “She’s prob’ly infected, too!” screamed another. “Hang both the women!”

Shadow saw no need to waste time trying to reason with this lot. Instead, he leveled his Wand of Color Spray and an instant later half the crowd lay unconscious in the street. “I think you’d better disperse,” Erin said menacingly, slowly drawing her longsword from its scabbard. By that time, the mob was already in panicked retreat, scattering in every direction with no regard for their friends lying on the cobbles.

“Are you all right?” Wren asked, hurrying to check on the woman’s injuries. Beyond cuts and bruises, she didn’t seem to be seriously injured. But she was still so frightened she could barely speak. She nodded, and fumbled in her pocket for a key that she used to unlock the door of the house behind her. “Ppplease, come inside,” she managed to stutter, and the group followed her.

Once the door was firmly locked behind her, she seemed to regain a bit of her composure. “Thank you so much!” she said earnestly. “My name is Eries Yelloweyes, and I’ve seen you at the Citadel. I’ve heard the Guards say so many good things about you, and now I know they’re true.” They could see her eyes did indeed have a jaundiced cast.

“What was that all about?” Tomas asked. “What did they have against you?”

The woman paled, and didn’t say anything for a long time. “Can I trust you?” she whispered at last.

“Haven’t we proven that?” Wren responded.

Eries nodded. “I hope so. But please … promise you won’t hurt me.”

The group exchanged worried looks, but nodded in agreement. Eries took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. She began to change. Her nose, and mouth elongated, and long whiskers sprouted from her cheeks. Her fingers grew long and narrow, with tiny claws at the end, and a soft brown fur slowly grew to cover her face, arms, and hands. Something moved beneath her skirt, then a long scaly tail unrolled from beneath it. When the transformation was complete, the person standing before them was half-rat, half-human.

“I’m a wererat,” she said to their open-mouthed expressions. “I was born this way, and have lived among you my entire life. There is a sizable were-rat community here in Korvosa. Those of us who can pass for human live up here, eking out a living among the rest of you. Those who struggle with the change live in the sewers, trying to survive on Korvosa’s refuse.

“We are loyal Korvosans, but because of our blood, we are hated by most of your kind. My closest friends know what I am, but I keep it secret from most. And you can see why! I don’t know how those people found out, but now I’ll have to go into hiding.” She began to cry.

“Do your people have anything to do with the plague?” Shadow asked, and the question caused Eries to bare her teeth.

“No!” she hissed. “I have friends and family who are sick with it, just as your kind are. But old prejudices die hard. Last week, some humans caught one of us who had come up from the sewers, looking for food. They killed him, but the rumor started that wererats were spreading Blood Veil. Now hunting parties of drunken dockworkers have started going into the sewers, intent on wiping us out.”

She looked up with a sudden hopeful expression. “Perhaps you could help! Most of my people are timid, and are intent on staying in hiding until this all blows over. But not all. Some, especially those who have lost family, think only of revenge. They’ve found a leader in a charismatic young firebrand named Girrigz Ripperclaws. He’s gathering like-minded wererats around him, building what he calls an army to strike back against the humans. He sees Blood Veil as the opening he needs, making the human city weak and ripe for rebellion.

“He’s a fool, of course. His paltry force would be quickly wiped out, but if his wererats strike against the humans it will invite genocide against all our people, and hundreds of innocents will lose their lives.

“I know where he and his followers often meet; I can draw you a map and show you where to enter the sewers to get there. If you could convince his people to abandon this hopeless quest, or show them how futile and counterproductive it would be, you would save many!”

“Sounds like we need to kill some wererats!” Jax said with a grin.

“No!” Eries gasped. “Please – don’t kill them unless you absolutely must! They’re angry and misguided, but their anger comes from genuine loss. If there is no other alternative, I understand – they’ve chosen their fate by throwing in with Girrigz. But please spare them if you can!”

“Is it considered murder to kill a wererat?” Nat wondered aloud. His fear of going back to prison was always at the forefront of his mind. Then he saw Eries’ wounded expression. “Just wondering … hypothetically … from a legal point of view,” he stammered, digging himself in deeper.

Eries’ eyes filled with tears. “You’re all too young to remember, but when I was a girl, Queen Domina organized pogroms against wererats, even offering bounties on us. Countless entire families were butchered. So no, I don’t think ‘the law’ would have any problem with you murdering me or my family.”

The awkward silence that followed seemed to stretch on forever. “Well … sounds like we should be on our way!” Shadow finally said with forced cheer.

Eries led the way through the city streets to a seldom-used alley. The sewer grate in the alley looked like any other in the city, but instead of being locked tight, she showed them how it could be twisted open. She sketched a map of twists and turns through the sewers below; according to her, Girrigz’s headquarters was a few hundred yards away. She declined their offer to let her stay with them. “Now that they know what I am and where I live, I’ll need to stay with my sister until things settle down again – if they ever do. Thank you so much – I’m sure I’ll see you again at the Citadel.”

They had spent too many spells in their underwater fight at the shipwreck to even consider going after Girrigz today, so they continued their quest to the Great Tower. The marine at the gate directed them to the Sable Company archive, a large room filled to the brim with aging books, scrolls, and stacks of loose leaf papers. An old man with a long beard took their request, and shuffled off into the stacks.

It was over half an hour before he returned, carrying a dog-eared folio. “Here we go – the Direption. She was registered in Nidal to a merchant named Garagori Whenston, out of Nisroch. She’s recorded visiting Korvosa on a fairly regular basis over …” he thumbed through the papers “looks like about an eight-year period. Lumber, grain, fabric – quite a variety of cargoes. Even shows a load of pigs! But she was reported ‘lost’ a couple of years ago. Owner reported dead about the same time – he might have gone down with the ship.”

Tomas corrected him. “No, the ship only sank a couple of weeks ago. In the Jeggare River.”

The man was old, but he wasn’t stupid. His eyebrows shot up as he made the connection. “That was the Direption? You sure?” Everyone nodded, and the old sage drew out a quill pen and made an annotation on the records. The Sable Company were sticklers for accuracy.

Once the party was out of the Great Tower, Jax began shaking his head. “The Direption sailed out of Nidal – where this Lady Andaisin was. The ship ‘disappeared’ and the owner ‘died’ right about the same time Andaisin disappeared after starting a plague there in Nidal. And one of her followers was the only person aboard when it actually did sink. This is just too many coincidences for me.” They still didn’t have enough information to actually do anything, but connections were starting to appear.

They returned to Zellara’s, determined to set off in search of the wererat rebels first thing in the morning. But Nat awoke with a hacking cough and a face covered with pox, just starting to ooze blood. Wren cast a Remove Disease, followed by a quick Lesser Restoration, but Nat still felt weak and looked a fright. Nonetheless, they set off for the sewer entrance.

A set of metal rungs led down from the alley into the underground sewer tunnels. They immediately found themselves wading through an ankle-deep flow of unmentionalble slop. The reek was so strong that it formed a visible haze in the air. They followed Eries’ map, passing a number of side passages. Some were blocked with heavy iron bars, and things could be heard moving in the darkness beyond them.

After a time, the filth-slick flow unexpectedly forked. Most of the muck continued on down the sewer tunnel, but a small stream of ooze diverted off through a wide cleft in the moldy masonry wall. The man-sized crack cut deep into the rock behind the wall, and wisps of thin white smoke drifted out.

“This must be it,” Erin whispered. Taking the lead, she crept through the gap in the wall. The side passage quickly opened into a rough-hewn stone cave. The sewage flowed into the room, pooling in the southern part of the chamber before continuing through a crude channel in the eastern wall. Fat black mushrooms and other disgusting fungus grew thick around the pool of slime. Several low alcoves were cut into the walls, each filled with moldering hay, filthy furs, and tiny bones.

Three wererats crouched in the room. One was slicing mushrooms with a short sword, while the other two tended a fire. Nearly half a dozen dire rats huddled in the alcoves. As soon as Erin passed through the tunnel, they were aware of her, baring their fangs, hissing, and drawing weapons.

Erin held up her empty hands, sword still in its scabbard. “Take us to Girrigz.” she commanded. “We want to speak to him about an opportunity.” This drew nothing but snarls. “We just want to talk,” added Jax, stepping in behind her. Wren, still in the passage, quickly cast Bless; she didn’t see this ending well.

Shadow shouldered past Erin and Jax, ‘When are they going to learn to leave the talking to me?” he thought to himself as he spread his arms wide to the wererat guards. “We mean you no harm. We wish to speak to the mighty Girrigz.”

“Who are you and what do you want?” hissed the nearest guard, sword still pointed at Shadow’s heart. “Why do you invade our home?”

“We wish to help you, to ensure the humans don’t harm you,” Shadow said in his most reassuring tone.

The wererat’s eyebrows went up. “You wish to support our war against the humans?” Whoops. “What aid do you offer us? Weapons? Food? Troops?”

“Um … not exactly,” Shadow said, trying to quickly recover the situation. “We know you have grievances against the humans, but to declare open war on them would be folly. They would wipe you out without thinking. But we can help you – we can help you get what you want without war.”

“We want their homes!” the wererat shouted, and his comrades shook their swords in agreement. “We want to live in their mansions, to breathe fresh air and eat food that isn’t rotten, and force them to live in the sewers and fear us!” His mates shouted their agreement again. “Can you give us that? Can you give us homes in the light, and lives without fear?”

“Well, there are a lot of vacant houses in Korvosa right now,” Shadow stammered, “maybe the courts could find a way to …”

“Bah! Don’t speak to us of your ‘courts’ – when have wererats ever had legal rights and protections in Korvosa? You know nothing of what we must endure. Of birth, life, and death knowing nothing but this world of filth. Of our wives and children hunted for sport. There is only one way for us to find justice, and that is at the point of a sword!” Nat, listening from the background, felt his blood rise, and for a moment he felt like enlisting in their rebellion on the spot. “This is the time to strike,” the wererat continued. “Girrigz understands the humans, and he has seen our opportunity. Blood Veil has weakened them, and has given us our opening to strike. Now, while the city is weak and disorganized, we can sweep up from the sewers and overrun them, and take the city for our own! You have nothing to offer us. You are wasting our time – get out!”

Shadow was at a loss; for once his charm had failed him. But Jax stepped into the breach. “The plague has weakened the humans, true – but you are still no match for them. You have what? A few dozen? A hundred? They have thousands. But Girrigz is right about one thing. Blood Veil offers your people an opportunity to change your lot. We are working to find out what caused the disease. You could join us, and help us eradicate Blood Veil, and that would help your people gain respectability in the eyes of the humans. Then your children’s lives might truly be better.”

The wererats were silent as they mulled Jax’s words. At last the lead guard spoke quietly. “Do you really think that would help?”

“Yes. And if Girrigz doesn’t agree, we’ll leave now, and you can have your revolution. And you’ll all be killed. And all of your kin.”

The wererats exchanged looks, then the lead guard nodded to one near the back, and he disappeared through a narrow passage. A few minutes later, a large wererat appeared from the passage behind the lead guard. He was in his hybrid form, but where the other wererats seemed like rats trying to take the form of men, he had an imposing presence that suggested he would take whatever form suited his purpose. He wore fine chain armor and carried a mithril rapier. Behind him were several more wererats, and still more could be seen slipping into the room through gaps in the northern wall. “My men tell me you have a proposition for me,” he said in a deep voice.

Jax repeated their arguments, and their offer. Nat, still in the background, cast Detect Thoughts to try to see what the wererat leader thought of the offer, but found Girrigz’s mind closed to him. “We’re well connected with Korvosa’s leadership,” Shadow added when Jax had concluded. “We’ll see to it that your people are given full credit for helping to find a cure to the plague.”

“What makes you think my people could help?” Girrigz asked.

“You’re far more stealthy than we are,” Jax offered, “and you have access to places that we don’t.” He looked around to indicate the sewers surrounding them.

“So you’re asking me to join you?”

“Yes, we would welcome you to join our party,” Shadow said quickly. Everyone else exchanged glances. Is that what they’d really intended?

Girrigz was decisive. “I’ll do it, but I give you two weeks. If you haven’t succeed by then, and my people haven’t received full credit, I return to my people and we proceed with our offensive. And if at any time I have reason to suspect that you intend to double-cross us …” He bared his teeth.

Girrigz - Human Form

Girrigz quickly conferred with his lieutenant, and then stood before the party, arms folded. Just like that, they found themselves slogging back out of the sewers with a new comrade-in-arms. This had not gone at all as they’d expected, and they all felt a tingle of dread having a well-armed wererat at their rear. They reached the ladder where they’d entered the sewers, and climbed up one by one. As Girrigz emerged, they realized he’d shifted into his human form somewhere along the way. He was a short, wiry man with slicked-back hair, pencil mustache and goatee, and narrow, bright green eyes. Looking at him in the daylight, Erin decided she’d liked him better as a rat.

Standing in the alley, trying to kick the putrid slop off their boots and pant legs, they were at a loss what to do next. “Should we just head back home?” Wren asked. Girrigz gave her a glare – he’d been under the apparently mistaken impression that this group actually had a plan.

“I’ve been thinking about Madame Zellara’s last Harrow reading,” Jax said thoughtfully. “Remember? – ‘You have met a madman, one whose visions are touched by true prophecy, but you have ignored his words.’ I think she means we should have listened to that crazy preacher with a crush on Nat. I think we should go looking for him – he might be able to give us the clue we need.”

Nat began protesting vigorously, but everyone else thought it was the best idea they’d heard (at least in the last half hour). Not knowing where else to look, they headed south for the area of the Green Market.

They saw no sign of the soap-box preacher, but as they neared the Green Market they saw, to their surprise, that it appeared to be open for business. The doors to the enclosed market were open, although there was a line of rope strung nearby with a number of clean bleached strips of cloth hanging from it; a sign read ‘Please wear a mask before entering the Market’. Inside, a handful of stalls still held goods, mostly potatoes, turnips, carrots, or other durable root vegetables. A handful of customers filled handbaskets inside, all wearing white cloths covering their noses and mouths. A sign just inside the door read ‘All is free. Take only what you need, contribute as much as you can.’

Wren forgot about the preacher. “I want to see if anyone has news of Zeeva Foxglove,” she said, tying on one of the masks. She went to the first shopper she saw, and enquired after the Green Market’s owner. “No, she’s not here,” was the answer. “It’s a shame, too. Isn’t it wonderful how she’s kept the market open, even when all the other merchants are afraid to open their doors? And these masks were her idea – she thinks the plague might be spread by bad air from infected people, and these will keep it out. But I’ve heard she’s taken ill, poor thing. I pray she survives.”

The worried Wren got Zeeva’s address, only a couple of block away, and led the group there. Their knock was answered by a servant wearing another of the cloth masks. “I’m afraid my mistress is not receiving visitors,” she said in a muffled voice.

“I’m here to help her,” Wren said, pulling out her holy symbol of Pharasma and pushing past the maid. They found Zeeva lying in a large featherbed. Her face was covered with bloody pox, and her breathing was labored and wet. As Wren prepared to cast her healing magic, Zeeva weakly raised a hand to stop her.

“Please, no,” she managed to gasp before a spasm of coughing overtook her. When she’d recovered her breath, she continued. “I was stricken with Blood Veil soon after the plague hit, and healed by a cleric of Sarenrae. But I kept going to the Market, and fell victim to the disease a second time. I cannot accept healing now, when it is denied to so many others.

“But there may be another way. There is a shop in the Heights called Lavender. I’ve visited it many times for their fine collection of perfumes. But I am told that they have developed a cure for Blood Veil, and are selling it for a fraction of what healing costs from a cleric. Would you go there, and get some for me? If it works, I will buy all they can produce, and distribute it for free throughout the city.”

Wren looked at Zeeva; she was in worse shape than any plague victim she’s seen so far, at least outside of the corpse collectors’ carts. Even if this new miracle cure worked, she wasn’t sure Zeeva would live long enough for them to return with it. “I know you want to wait, but I can’t allow you to take that risk,” she said. Zeeva was too weak to stop her as she cast Remove Disease.

Armed with the address for Lavender, they backtracked across Korvosa. They had no trouble finding the shop amidst a collection of high-end boutiques. Even if they hadn’t been certain of the address, the line of people stretching for several blocks from the front door would have been a dead giveaway. Most of them looked healthy, but more than a few bore the obvious signs of the early stages of Blood Veil. Inside the store’s distinctive amethyst-shaded front window was a deep violet banner bearing the promise ‘Lavender’s Luxurious Liniment: Either You’ve Got It, or You’ve Had It!’

A large, unshaven man in incongruously elegant clothing and a purple cravat stood outside the door, idly smacking a heavy sap into the palm of his hand and keeping the line moving; they could see a pair of similarly dressed “attendants” inside the shop. Not wanting to provoke a riot from those who had been waiting all morning, the party chose to move to the back of the line and wait their turn. Although the line moved steadily, it took nearly an hour to reach the door of the shop. Inside, an array of heady scents filled the air of the cramped but stylish perfumery. A dizzying assortment of bottles — from gaudy ceramic containers to graceful crystalline vials — lined a variety of lace- and ribbon-strewn tables, shelves, and racks. But none of the customers seemed to care about those; all their attention was focused on the shop’s long front counter, stacked high with hundreds of simple clay phials bearing round, magenta stoppers.

A pair of shopgirls behind the counter took each customer’s money in exchange for a single vial of Liniment; the price was  a very reasonable 2 GP per bottle. On the other side of the shop, a well-dressed young woman dusted shelves and kept a watchful eye on the proceedings. Nat had cast a surreptitious Detect Magic just before entering the shop, but aside from some items out of sight on the young woman’s tunic, his spell found nothing.

Hoping that she might be the shop’s proprietor, Wren stepped out of line and approached the well-dressed woman. “Does this really work?” she asked.

“Oh yes!” the woman assured her. “If you take our Luxurious Liniment, all symptoms of Blood Veil will disappear, along with other aches and pains. It takes a few days for the symptoms to subside, but it will effect a complete cure.”

Wren was instantly skeptical, but the woman seemed sincere. “We’re here from Madame Foxglove, at the Green Market. If this works, she’s interested in purchasing a large quantity from you.”

The woman perked up noticeably. “I know Madame Foxglove well – I’m sorry to hear she’s unwell. Forgive me, my name is Vendra Loaggri, and this is my shop. Normally, I limit my customers to one vial per person, but for Madame Foxglove I would certainly make an exception. But if she’s interested in purchasing in quantity, I’d suggest you do it now.” She motioned to the line of people outside. “As you can see, we’re selling out fast, and there’s only a limited supply of the raw ingredients. By this time tomorrow, I can’t guarantee we’ll have any left.”

“How can we be certain it will work?”

Vendra smiled. “A fair question. Why don’t you ask Omar here? He’s one of our repeat customers.” She motioned to a man in an ill-fitting topcoat, standing by one of the perfume displays.

The man nodded vigorously. “You betcha it works! I had the Blood Veil something bad, but I took Lavender’s Luxurious Liniment and it cleared right up! Fixed the lumbago in my knee, too! Now I’m here to buy some for me poor mum.” Jax noted that of all the shop’s customers, Omar was the only one who seemed to be browsing the perfume displays. ‘There’s a shill if I ever saw one!’ he thought to himself knowingly.

Wren was skeptical, too, but both Vendra and Omar were quite convincing in their stories. “Well, maybe we can but 5 or 10, and then come back for more if it works,” she offered.

“I’m sure I could probably spare 40 or 50,” Vendra countered. “Only because Madame Foxglove is such a loyal customer, and such a pillar of the community.”

“How about we buy 10 now and you hold the rest for us for later?”

Vendra shook her head sadly. “And condemn 40 of these poor souls to death while you wait to make up your mind? No, let me just bag up 40 vials for you now.”

Wren was convinced by now that any money they spent on Lavender’s Luxurious Liniment would be a waste, but she at least wanted a sample. “No, 10 is all we can afford right now. If it works, Madame Foxglove will almost certainly advance us funds to buy more.”

Vendra’s shoulders drooped, but she nodded. “Very well. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if you come back and we’re out of stock!”

The party left the shop with a bag of ten clay vials of Liniment. Once they were out of sight of the shop, Wren stopped and took one out. She removed the stopper and poured a little on her fingers. It had a pleasant scent and an oily feel, but beyond that she could tell nothing.

“What do we do now?” Nat asked.

“We could take it to the Temple, or the Bank of Abadar,” Wren mused. “They both have alchemists who could test it to see what it is, and if it works. But they’re already overwhelmed with treating plague victims.”

“I say we take it back to Field Marshall Kroft,” Jax insisted. “Tell her what’s going on, and give it to that Doctor friend of hers. Let him figure out what to do with it. This should be their problem, not ours.”

The PCs earned 933 XP, putting them at 12,560 with 15,000 required for level 6. We’ll be back at Joette & Rich’s, and I’ll be running RDS as usual. Roger may be on call.