As we return to our heroes, they stand over the bubbling corpse of the succubus once known as La Gata. They take a moment to breath before Reshaam asks Androcles to step aside— and look away if he’s prone to nausea. The Catfolk turns away, taking the time to inspect the room for anything that might have been hidden— and finding a sewer grate that has been moved more than a few times. As he goes to turn and tell Reshaam of his findings, he hears the meaty snap and crack of blade meeting flesh and bone. Holding the succubus’ severed head an arms length away, keeping the acidic icor off his boots, he puts on a lopsided smile.
“Ah, I told you not to look.”
After Androcles has finished retching, the pair continue the search. Together, they find a total of 25 gold pieces (thrown into the fountain), several papers regarding slave contracts (which are immediately torn up), and a necklace with three firey orbs hanging from it. Reshaam remarks about how little loot there is, while noting a hidden door, before heading out to finish his part of the bargain.
“I’ve got to let the Guard know to come- hopefully not get too torn up in the process. You should probably stay with the prisoners.”
“Yeah, good idea.”
Entering into the sub-office, they hear the quiet tup of feet from the stairwell. Exchanging a confused look, the pair flank the door and ready their blades. The three men in suits, all with slicked back hair enter the room, speaking in a guttural language. Androcles recognizes it as Undercommon.
“Shit, did you hear that?”
“I hope the boss is okay…”
The first hardly has a chance to notice him before Reshaam pulls him in and guts him, letting his body fall to the floor.
Brandishing the severed head of their boss, Reshaam bellows, “FLEE!”
One man obliges immediately, letting out a high pitched squeal and darting back up the stairs. The second sees no reason to flee and, after a few mumbled words, the room is plunged into darkness. Fighting blind, wounded Androcles flees to the prisoners, asking if any of them would be willing to fight with his bow. The Lizardess declines his bow, but heads out into the room herself with only claws in hand. With the upper hand with the man in the tuxedo, Reshaam took several wounds, the poisoned tip of the dagger sapping his strength. Hearing someone enter the room, he is considerably confused.
“I thought I told you to stay back.”
“He told me you needed help.” Comes the unfamiliar voice of the Lizardess, who lashes out at the goon with her claws. After a quiet yelp from the goon, he sighs.
“Androcles, get her out of here, please!”
Attempting to pull the Lizardess back, he finds her less than willing to leave the fight, and instead opts to keep an eye over the remaining prisoners. With her help, Reshaam deals the final blow. In a flash of light, the darkness dissipates, leaving him blind for a few moments. When his senses return to him, the Lizardess has donned the goons tuxedo, adjusting the lapels.
“Ah, nothing. Looks good; not a good as nothing, though.”
“…Thanks, I guess.”
“Sure, no problem. Androcles, stay with them, okay? I’m going up.”
“Sure! No problem.”
Placing the whistle he received from the Guard in his mouth, Reshaam ascends. Brandishing his Scimitar in one hand and the decapitated head of La Gata in the other, he edges the door to the Bar proper open with an annoying squeak.
“Arrigh-” He checks the room, whistle in mouth, while the eyes of ten men stare back. Shaking the severed head a bit for punctuation, he continues. “I fink its a good move for you to geddout.”
“Sounds like a good goddamn plan to me,” Mumbles one man in his hasty retreat, discarding his chair. Four others follow him, but the rest remain, eyes locked on Reshaam. With another force of will, he glares.
“The Guard’ll be ‘ere in fifteen minutes. Ser’sly, geddout while the gettin’s good.”
With all the encouragement they needed, the rest retreat to swindle another day. Stepping out of the doors, he lets out a shrill tweet of the whistle. As he turns to check the road, both bouncers eye him with disdain. They move to strike him, but he pockets the whistle and raises his hands.
“C’mon, I killed your boss. Just leave and you wont have to explain yourself to the Guard.”
Deciding it sounds better than the alternative, they exchange a knowing nod with each other and head in opposite directions.
Propping the front doors open with a chair, and placing the severed head on a table, Reshaam waits for the Guard to show up by packing a pipe with Jollyweed and leaning back in his chair…
Meanwhile, below, Androcles sniffs around the former office of La Gata, checking behind the hidden grate to find a passageway. Due to its smell, he passes on exploring, but he checks the door behind her desk. Within a massive round bed lays with its sheets disheveled, stains clear on its surface. In opposite corners are a chair and wardrobe with a mirror, each unattended. While inspecting the undersides of the pillows, he finds that the ceiling is transparent, offering a clear view of the undersides of each unfortunate patron to the street. Watching as a female walks down the street, he begins to understand the true nature of the room, and his expression sours.
Seriously freaked out, he takes a final look in the wardrobe, to find various lacy underthings, tight dresses, and a drawer full of sticky toys. Grabbing a pile of the clothes (and a single toy), he heads back to the prisoners.
Offering a pair of panties to the Lizardess, he smiles.
“Thought you’d be more comfortable in this.”
“Ah, thanks. Better than nothing.” She mutters with a smile, dropping trousers and donning the new garment without a care for other eyes in the room. Averting his eyes, Androcles heads into the shabby prison to offer a fine dress to the older woman within. She smiles and thanks him.
“Oh, and you might want these for him.” He tosses an additional (extra large) set of underwear to the woman, and one of the sticky toys. She looks aghast at the toy, her eyes full of tears.
“…You know, to stop the leaking.”
Finally, he places the final clothes over the Drow girl, bowing his head. Returning to some semblance of consiousness, she quietly thanks him. Together, they climb the stairs at the sounding of the whistle, joining Reshaam in his moment of relaxation.
“Find anything interesting?”
“No, but I got everyone clothed.” Reshaam looks over to the dwarf, then shakes his head, raising his hands.
“I won’t ask about that.”
The women find a table to sit at, and the older woman comforts the drow girl. The Lizardess takes the opportunity to pick up a pipe and begin smoking, while Androcles sidles up behind the back of the bar, searching through the coffers in hopes of nabbing a few pennies. As if by some miracle by the gods of timing, the Guard show up, a group of five plus the Captain. Reshaam tilts his head and hoists the severed one behind him, waving it in their direction.
“One head, for the Guard. Hope you’ll excuse the mess.” Glancing over the room, the Captain pauses to roll his eyes.
“I’ll dismiss the jollyweed in lieu of the excellent job you did. Went straight for the head, didn’t you— pun intended?”
“Indeed I did; got scratched up real good for it, too.” He pats the wounds at his side, flinching. Tugging a flask of crimson liquid from his belt, the Captain tosses it over to him.
“Drink up, then—Boys, spread out and take anything—I’m going to need you to go through this place.”
“There’s only a little bit you’ll need to go over; we found a few trap doors in the basement,”
“-Yeah,” Androcles interrupts, grinning lopsidedly. “I’m hurt pretty bad too.”
The Captain grimaces, but tosses another flask towards him while passing out smaller ones to the women.
“Well, when you’re ready we should go investigate. Make sure these ladies are well taken care of, alright, boys?”
One hand is waved in acknowledgement, and the three head back into the basement.
They come to a halt in front of the otherwise inconspicuous trap door, little more than a few grooves carved into the stone walls. Reshaam runs his fingers along them, eventually pausing near the top and applying pressure evenly to each side. With a hiss, the door slides back and into the wall, opening up to reveal a ten-foot long passageway. He holds his hand out, takes a cursory glance, then sighs.
“Mind grabbing me that potted plant?”
“Sure, I got it.” Androcles grins, skipping over and bringing it to him. He accepts, then tosses it against the far wall. As the remains fall onto the floor, it buckles and falls out, leading to an thin-ledged pit. They stand there, perplexed for a bit before the Captain speaks up.
“Maybe the tabletop? We could place it over the hole like a bridge.”
“Yeah… sure, that’ll work.”
They line up on either edge, while the Captain stands aside, then kick down at its sides. Unfortunately, Androcles’ foot lands with more of a crunch than usual, as he crushes the button within. The trap-pit before the desk lurches open, sending the fine rug down a fifty-foot hole.
“Please tell me that still works.” Reshaam sighs. Lifting the shattered pieces of the button, Androcles gives an embarrassed smile.
With the board aquired, they lay it over the pit, opening the door to another room. Their eyes are first drawn to the massive pile of shining golden coins, stacked high, then to the massive beast sitting atop them. With the head of an eagle, but the body of a lion, the Griffon lets out a shrill screech before opening its wings. Obviously stunted by its small home, Androcles lets out a quiet gasp.
“It’s okay, we’re not here to hurt you. It’ll be alright…”
But a predator protects its hoard. It screeches once more, rearing on its hind legs. Darting forward, Reshaam slices into its breast with his crackling Scimitar, while the Captain and Androcles flank it. Raking his claws against the beast’s flank, finally the Griffon realizes it has been bested. It slinks to the floor, folding its wings and cooing. With some quiet words from Androcles, the beast is calmed, and the world fades to black…