Marasatra’s mouth quirks at Sarris’s warning. “Ruined footwear is the least dear cost of knowledge,” she answers, levering her cloak a handspan higher and knotting the hem behind her knees. Scale mail plates now clear her boots by a safe margin—and the faintest, twitching bulge slips from her shoulder to nestle beneath the collar, as though the fabric itself had breathed.

“To the bathhouse, then. The longer we linger, the longer those dragon‑masked trespassers have to despoil every scrap of script I came to catalogue.” She strides ahead, staff tapping a brisk cadence, and beckons the company on with a small circle of her wrist. With that, Marasatra leads the motley cadre through the Elfsong’s doors and out into Baldur’s Gate’s morning breeze, wholly intent on the bathhouse—and blissfully oblivious to whatever unseen scout may already be flitting through its steam‑filled halls.

"No one is like me Arkon, haven't you noticed?" The young red-haired patriar says with a wink and a playful smile. "But if you mean haughty and aloof I suppose you are right although some excel there more than others." She adds with a soft laugh. "Apologies, I guess I'm just nervous about how to answer such a straight forward question, suffice to say it is not a question I have ever had before. I'd like to think I'm different in some ways at least, like being prepared to risk my life in some stinky dungeon, that would be some story to tell at the next ball." She continues with small smile. "How about you Arkon, where are you from and what brought you to this viper's nest of schemes and schemers, you seem much to nice to mingle with people like myself." She finally asks with sincere curiosity as she follows along to the bath house.

Arkon listens with quiet attention, her words bringing a small smile to his face as they walk. “You are different,” he agrees simply, his tone sincere. “In a good way.” He shifts his flail on his shoulder, thinking for a moment. “I come from the Stormspire Peaks. My clan’s high up in the mountains. Cold, quiet. We work with stone, hunt, live simple.” He pauses, then adds, “I came down because I wanted to do...more. Fight more and meet more different people."

"Well, if you like fighting and meeting people who are a bit different..." The young red-haired patriar says with an amused smile, looking around at the motley group of deputees. "...it seems you have come to the right place after all. I admit just saying you want to fight more sounds a bit blunt to me but I appreciate your honesty and straightforwardness Arkon, those are quite rare traits in this city you know, many would try to make use of your honesty, but you make me feel safe like no one really ever has before." She continues, glancing up at the massive goliath with a small appreciative smile. "Since I trust my city to provide you with both meeting different people and fighting many of them I trust we will see you stay here for a while then. Nothing else you hope for?" She continues with a curious smile.

Arkon walks in thoughtful silence for a moment, her question clearly catching him off guard. He glances down at her, then ahead again, his brow furrowed as he puts his feelings into words. “I want my friends to be safe,” he says at last, voice quieter than usual. “If I can protect them, with strength my ancestors would be proud of, that’s enough for me.” He pauses, then adds with a hint of warmth, “Most people just see the size, the armor…want me to fight, stand in the way of danger, and that’s all. But you talk to me like I’m more than that. Thank you, Val.”

What little heart the young patriar has left after a life in Baldur's Gate melts at the goliath's simple honesty, making her ashamed of all that she represented. "Nothing to thank me for..." She says quietly, unsure how to continue now. "...don't forget I am a patriar though, I am probably just manipulating you." She says with a wry smile. "I hope you stay kind and honest Arkon, and that this city won't take that away from you." She continues a bit more quietly, a hint of sorrow and concern in her eyes now. "I admit I was kind of hoping you had something that you enjoyed after a good fight, some favourite food or drink at least perhaps. I guess I am wondering how to reward you for protecting me once our mission is over."

At Val's last question, the goliath scratches the back of his neck, a little sheepish now. “I like roasted meat,” he admits after a beat. “And warm bread. And sitting by a fire where I don’t have to wear armor for a bit.”

(Ready to proceed to the bathhouse on the party's say.)

Zim is ready

Gorin is ready

Mara is ready

Thunderbirds are go.  er.... um... Sarris is good to go.

"Quite modest indulgencies but I'm sure I will be able to accomodate you there." The young red-haired patriar says with an amused smile, walking briskly to keep up with the massive goliath beside her.



(Val and Mal are ready. Anything from Mal yet? :-)

Arkon's ready!

Upon arriving at the bathhouse, the party sees a few flaming fist at the gates. You also see Zodge speaking to the officers in front of the gate. An officer points to your direction, making your presence known to Zodge. He looks toward the party and gives a wave as he approaches.

"Morning all, I see that you met with the expert that my men recommended. And I do want to thank you all for your swift work...which does lead me to my next question. Did you all do this?" He motions for the officers to stand aside as he opens the gates.

Inside the garden of the bathhouse, are five corpses, held up by maces smashed into their hands. The corpses have been stripped down to their small clothes and a distinct symbol is carved into each of their stomachs. The symbol is like a star but each point was shaped like a claw. Besides the intentional symbol, its clear these people have been tortured before dying.

"...I have my doubts that ANY of you, bar miss Vae'lyn since she wasn't with you all at the time, would do this. So would it be safe to assume some other group is...angry with these Dead Three cultists as well."

Gorin looks at the horrific site, and says to Zodge:

"No we didn't do this. We cleared as much below the bathhouse as we could before we were almost killed so we went back to have a rest to get back here in the afternoon to clear out the rest."

The young red-haired patriar looks at the grisly scene with equal parts disgust and intrigue. It seemed the collectors of debts had been successful and had likely done any remaining work easier on her and the other deputees. "Indeed. The less than cooperative contact at the Elfsong tavern did eventually direct us here and we discovered a secret entrance in the bathhouse to the secret hideout of the cult of the dead three. We were ambushed several times and in the end we had to fall back to recuperate. As we emerged from the dungeon below we were ambushed once more by a group of men with dragon masks that fortunately for us decided they didn't have any grief with us. Instead they proceeded down into the dungeon below to retrieve something that they claimed was stolen from them. We were in no shape to stop them I'm afraid and I can only assume this is their work. At least it should mean they inadvertently served the interests of the city and the Flaming Fists. We were about to return back down and make sure they didn't miss anyone down there." She reports to the captain. She would go on and carefully describe the other group, hoping that the captain might know anything about who they could be.

Marasatra’s breath clouds in the chill dawn air as she steps past the gate. Purple eyes track every cruel detail—the rag-torn clothing, the scored bellies, the spidery star of hooked talons.

Five points shaped as claws… dragon signifier rather than divine rune, she reasons, recalling the masked raiders the deputees described. Not Bane’s black hand, not Bhaal’s skull-tear, nor Myrkul’s sickle-grin. This is something draconic—and punitive. Could it be the Cult of the Dragon, Tiamat's followers? (Religion 14 (23 if with advantage), History 16 (19 if with advantage))

She explains what she remembers about it to Zodge and the others. 

Sarris adds his two coppers, "... clad all in black but had some fancy blades.  They looked like claws or talons."

Zodge nods his head as he hears the party, "Hmm, I'll tell my squads to keep an eye out for them then. They seem to be more reasonable than the dead three cult but with this kind of display...better to be safe than sorry. A few officers will remain here to keep out the civilians. I have to speak with the Watch, with this much evidence it's clear it falls under the fist's jurisdiction. And we haven't gone into the bathhouse yet, so please head back in and see if there's any other leads in there."