Palanan
In the chill slow dying of the year, dusk comes ever earlier; and so it is little more than five hours past midday when the evening light begins to swiftly fade, and you set out from the busy, crowded docks and tenements towards the western reaches of the city, and the emptier, shadowed districts beyond.

Though so often compared to a shield, when seen from a distance the Clarentine Hill is slightly lopsided, steeper to the east and south, where it spills down into the great fringing sweep of wharves and quays, already aglitter with countless lanterns and astrielles against the softening dusk.

The western flank of the hill flows out on a shallower slope, descending from the Clarentine Heights for a gradual mile, then extending almost level for another mile and a half towards the immense Walls of Barazineus, which have defended the Heights and their urban surrounds for well over seven hundred years.

Whatever route a traveller takes—whether along the grand processional avenue of the Iséne, or in the shadow of the Samadian Aqueduct, or through forum after forum on the Via Orsucania—the echoes of centuries past loom at every turn.  Against the fading sky rise towers and spires, domes and minarets, the bulk of cathedrals and the hunched curves of great stone arches, commemorating ancient victories over forgotten peoples.

The courtyards, business districts and better-off tenements of the western slopes are watched over by stone and bronze statues of lost gods and goddesses; while the Via Panchrysaria is flanked on either side with high slender columns of porphyria, bearing the names of half-remembered emperors and their deeds, omitting how each rose to power.  Along the ruins of the earlier Septimian Wall, an uneven heap now smothered in weeds and vegetation, extends another line of columns topped with finely worked figures of unknown metals, whom legend insists will step off their pedestals and march to the city’s defense in its hour of greatest need.

Cynics might argue that those metal figures have missed quite a few needful hours already; despite the steady trade and persistent wealth of Monymvalios, recent generations of emperors have ruled the remnants of a slowly ebbing empire.  But rumors are aswirl that La Dame Gris is merely biding her time, and when the proper celestial alignment occurs she will stretch forth her hand and raise up the great dominions of old.

Meanwhile the city’s residents continue their business in their thousands, even as dusk lingers briefly on the lower western slopes.  Fixer’s instructions, conveyed to you by intermediaries, were brief and precise:  Arrive at deepest dusk.  Enter by the front steps and wait beside the staircase.   The instructions included directions to a spot deep in the shadow of the Walls of Barazineus.

The city of Monymvalios counts nearly five square miles within the lee of those mighty walls; yet even after so many centuries, not all of this land is built over.  The slopes beneath the Clarentine Heights may be tight-packed with towers, housing, warehouses and public edifices, but the outlying districts have an almost rural tenor, a legacy of earlier times when the Septimian Wall was the boundary of a much older and smaller city.

Just within the greater walls now extends a district of orchards, vineyards, small plots and garden rows; and in recent times many builders have sought to capitalize on this oddly bucolic area by building fine homes and villas for the modestly well-to-do, away from the clamor and bustle of the tenements yet close enough for the needs of business.

But as the city’s fortunes have flowed and dwindled, so too has the presence of reliable gendarmes, and inevitably the villas became havens for squatters and refugees.  The nearby mansions went dark and still, becoming husks and shells, occupied by various drifters and gangs; or sometimes creatures not-quite-human, quietly thriving in patches of shadow and neglect.

But some homes, well-built but long abandoned, became so entombed in thickets and grasses they were lost and forgotten, stricken from tax rolls and barely visible to the casual eye—and few casual visitors now venture these wilder patches scattered among the vineyards and farm-plots, distant and hidden even from the cart-paths leading to disused gates in the high landward walls.

Fixer’s directions, when followed with a clear mind and careful eye, lead to one such woodsy thicket.  Above the silhouettes of orchard-rows and dense stands of undisciplined trees, the sky is a cold and deeply faded grey; and against the last feeble echoes of light stands the blocky mass of an ancient tower, rising from the high monolithic bulk of the Barazinean Walls, in whose deep shadow the city’s western districts are now sunk into darkness, dusted with constellations of lamps beneath the smothering night.

The small mansion is barely visible within its close-wrapped shroud of unbridled growth and overhanging trees.  From the remnants of the cobblestone walk rise a few steps, half-buried in many years of leaves, leading to a sheltered terrace beneath the overhang of the mansion’s second story.  Beneath thick drifts of leaves and detritus, smeared with damp dirt, are hints of what once were carefully patterned and welcoming tiles.

The heavy double doors each bear elaborate carvings, now peeled and mottled with lichens and mold; each door features a monstrous carved head gripping a severed limb in its half-broken teeth.  The right-hand door is partly open, giving way to darkness beyond.
Dr.Gunsforhands
Devika stops to catch her breath when she catches sight of the overgrown mansion. Her blue hair is slicked back and held under a fresh bandana, which is already stained with cold, oily sweat from carrying her stuff this far. The belly of her tattered leather coat is tied closed with string, its original belt having been lost long ago. She knows a little chilly air won't hurt her, but she'd be lying if she said it was her preference.

She tugs the corners of her coat the keep warm and adjusts the straps on her new backpack, testing its weight on her shoulders for probably the dozenth time. Every step away from the docks and the ocean feels like a fresh inconvenience. When she told the lady at the supply shop that she was going camping out of town, she didn't realize she wasn't lying. At least the fishing rod makes the rest of her clattering junk less suspicious by association.

She glances around, wary of the associates she's meant to be meeting. She's pretty sure what's-her-name is still coming, but she doesn't know who else to expect. She doesn't want to get ambushed by some joker trying to double their advance.

With breath caught and back watched, she advances through the courtyard and up the prescribed steps until she reaches the half-open door. The little figureheads are fun. "Arr," she whispers approvingly to herself, "whoever built this place, I can't fault their sense a' style."

She looks over the door, trying to get a quick sense for how recently it was pushed open and the moss beside it stepped on.
Stelio Kontos
Walben made his way through the streets and onto the paths leading to the inevitable destination, the slightest limp occasionally (generally when the streets were busier) revealing itself as he walked along with his cane.  It was an unhurried stroll, stopping as he did to admire the statues and to munch on a fallen apple from a tree along the way.  He would arrive precisely when he intended to; that the time corresponded perfectly with the desires of those who had hired him was at least partly coincidental.

He was fairly well dressed, perhaps inappropriately so given the planned events.  Still, a well dressed man commanded attention, and respect.

Standing idly under a tree, he waited until the first arrival had made their way in, listening intently for any screams of terror or gurgling noises or such.  It couldn't hurt to be careful.  Satisfied that, at least for the moment, danger did not lurk, he made his way to the front door, a lantern created by  dancing lights  preceding him by some forty feet.
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Devika 
Devika can make a Perception check to try to determine when the door was opened, and when the leaves and detritus on the steps were last disturbed.
 

 
 Spoiler: Walben 
Walben can make a Perception check to hear any screams or gurglings, and he can also make a Stealth check unless he doesn’t mind being seen standing beside the tree-trunk.  Note the trunk is not broad enough to hide behind.
 
Stelio Kontos
 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Perception:  (1d20+4)[ 20 ] 

I don't need a stealth check; in fact being seen is probably something I'd generally be in favor of.
 
Paddywagon Man
There would be no hiding the huge frame of Otis as he approaches the meeting place, with a couple arrows and drawings scrawled on crumpled paper for the illiterate Oread to find his way. He makes no effort to hide, either, and looks more than deadly enough even if the cheap-looking sledgehammer were to remain slung on his back.

He wipes a fleck of Oldlaw whiskey and spittle from the corner of his mouth and gestures at the dancing lights.

 "Nice lights. Make 'em yourself? You want all the street urchins running up to see your magic tricks?" 
Vrock Bait
Niamh pulls her inky wool cloak close to her body. The sky is no longer warm enough to give her shivers, but she'd be damned before any of these branches snagged on her clothing. Well, not that it mattered too much - she wasn't dressed to impress. This amount of money, for a trivial task in the middle of nowhere? A scam, more likely.

Up ahead, she spotted a small crowd forming around the abandoned mansion's doors. That oread thug's comment made her wince.  Ugh. A fight already? Best to hang back for now.  Niamh idly wondered whether anyone would object to rubbing some of those ornate door carvings into her journal. Gorgeous work, really.
Stelio Kontos
Walben looked up at the much, much, much, larger man.    "Not too worried about street urchins, at least compared to some other options.  Thank you nonetheless for the compliment"   he said with a flourishing bow.

  "But don't mind me.  What brings you out for a walkabout this fine evening?  You lost, there?"  

He gave a piercing gaze before nodding subtly toward their mutual destination.     "Or, are you working?  If so, glad to have you aboard."   
Palanan
“Oi, you lot!” a voice hisses out from the darkness behind the half-open door.  “Quiet all this racket!  Douse those godsd—d lights and get in here!”
Dr.Gunsforhands
 Guess that answers my question. 

The two lubbers who came up behind her broke her concentration, but that's just as well. Devika slips past the door and proceeds into the decrepit manor hall after the mystery voice.

She can probably see the voice's source, if it's close enough. Her eyes are used to seeing below decks with the lights out. Either way, she keeps moving, looking for the prescribed steps further within the mansion. If Elf Boy can't see, she'll figure out some non-light way to lead him along. Maybe pull out a bell or something.
Vrock Bait
Niamh chuckled and strolled towards the door. "Evening, gents," she greeted the two numbskulls at the door with a toothy smile. "Fine night for a windfall, you wager?" The cantrip was a little ostentatious, but well cast, she thought.

Passing by the doors, she noted the exceptional detail on the monstrous teeth. Definitely something to circle back to.

 
 Spoiler: OoC 

Can I roll a Knowledge (nobility) or (local) to see what Niamh would know about the history of the estate?
 
Stelio Kontos
  "Looks like I'm in the right place"   Walben chuckled to himself.  The lantern light made its way away from the entrance before winking out of existence.  He gestured to the big fella as if to say 'after you', and followed towards his payday.  Despite the near pitch darkness, he seemed to have no particular trouble navigating without the light.
Palanan
The right-hand door leads into darkness; but those whose sight is keener perceive that the doorway gives way to a vestibule, barely enough to accommodate all four, with rusted boot-racks and the broken remains of a cane-stand.

Through a half-hanging door, the vestibule leads to an empty foyer, likewise somewhat cramped, which in turn opens into a much larger and equally darkened space: a broad hall some forty feet wide and perhaps nearly as high, dominated by a grand oval staircase which sweeps up and into the unrelenting shadows above.

To either side of the staircase are smaller lobbies; and at either end of the staircase hall are sets of paneled double doors.  Those who step into the open staircase hall can glimpse other doors to either side of the vestibule and foyer through which you entered.

“Orright, you lot, gitcher bleedin’ arzes in ‘ere,” demands a shape by the first steps of the grand staircase.
Paddywagon Man
As big and heavy as he is, Otis can't help audibly creaking the floorboards under his feet, and he looks at the floor beneath him as if half expecting a board to give way.  "Freaky house you found. Yours? The... package's? I hope you're good for more money than whoever's supposed to be keeping this place in one piece." 
Dr.Gunsforhands
Devika cuts off Otis and whispers to him before this line of conversation gets any sillier. "Eh, we'll explain the deal with the house once we're alone, okay, Big Guy?"

New crewmates really do need help sometimes.

She calls out to the stairs figure. "Arr, don't get yer pants in a twist, we're all here!" The pirate lady gestures to the rest of the group as they gather by the stairs. "Four of us, aye? Ye and yer mate just show us what needs babysat and we'll take it from there."

No accusations, no threats, just showing the score as she sees it. We already had a deal, after all. If this somehow turns into a negotiation, then she'll defer to Elf Boy or What's-her-name.

 Arr, what was it? Nyam? Nieve? I saw it on the apothecary's thing once but it wasn't spelled like it sounded and it got me doubting meself. I'll have to ask her again later. 
Palanan
“Funny lot, ain’cha?”

The new voice echoes from somewhere in the upper darkness of the rising staircase.  To those with night-eyes, a shape now descends the steps with a deliberately slow, almost jaunty air, the steps of someone enjoying what he thinks is a grand entrance.

With the snap of a fingerflint, a small oilfish wakes into feeble light in one hand, its pale halo barely brighter than a candle, the warm glow outlining the lopsided grin on Fixer’s face and accentuating the deep shadows thronging all around.

You’ve all seen Fixer around the docks and seedier warehouse districts, and you easily recognize his short but telltale silhouette: his ridiculous floppy hat, which he claims he won from a dissolute noble’s son; his frilled neck-collar, hanging loose and open, a foreign fashion which he believes gives him a sophisticated air; and his thin arms and unimpressive physique, though he’s silent death with a catlin.

And of course:

“The Fix—” he spreads his arms grandly— “is in!”

You knew it was coming.  He says this every time.
Vrock Bait
Niamh raised an eyebrow.  Bloody fish and mackerel. Him?! 

Growing up around here, you couldn't help but hear a million rumors about the Fixer, good or bad. (Niamh was convinced he had mostly made them up himself, especially the bad ones.) This was someone you crossed the street to avoid. This was someone a cousin had once warned her to "never trust with mongoose breeding." This was certainly  not  someone to take a job from.

And for all that... Niamh still needed the money.

She bit her lip.

"What's the story here, Fixer?"
Stelio Kontos
Walben rolled his eyes.  He'd heard it before, which just made it that much harder to appear to be amused and interested and all those other emotions designed to create relationships -- but he put on the happy face and let out a chuckle.  May as well make the guy happy; if nothing else it paid well.

Limping (a bit more pronouncedly than before) on his cane, he leaned against one of the less-disgusting bits of wall near the entrance.  He let out a second chuckle at the big guy.    "Don't believe the structural integrity of the place was one of the major selling points, no."  
  "So, where's the setup?"   he asked Fixer pointedly, casting an eye about the room.    "I rather doubt it's up the staircase."  
  "And, are introductions in order?  Or would you all prefer just as well not to know each other?  I'm quite all right either way, but it does make for a rather more convival atmosphere."  

He leaned forward, both hands atop the hilt of his cane, resting and looking about.
Palanan
“Looks like we’ve got some chatty ones, Ned,” Fixer says in a theatrical aside to his accomplice standing by the lowermost step.  “Bit of a rough start with all that gabble and lights outside, pity’s for it, nacka?  But here we are.

“Now then,” and his voice takes on what he clearly feels is an intimidating edge, “a few rules for tonight.

“First, you lot have one job: keep the package safe.  That means you keep a watch on ‘er at all times, and also a watch on outside.  ‘Ow you do that is up to you, but you will be 'ere from now until midnight tomorrow.  No one gets in.  No one gets out.

“You’re not ‘ere to make friends, so no sharin' of names or life stories, and if you know what’s best you won’t let the package see your faces.  —Or anything else.  This one is strictly ‘ands-off, not a nackin’ ‘air out of place.”

“—Which ‘e means there is to be no knockin’ about of any kind,” Ned breaks in.  This is Ned the Nose, so named for having lost his nose to frostbite on a voyage to distant lands, and he now covers its ruin with a crude replica of folded leather.

Fixer gives Ned a disapproving glance.  “Now then: the package will be arriving shortly.  Find a room to set up, keep the package there.  By midnight tomorrow all the arrangings should be concluded, the package will be retrievaled, and you lot will be paid.  One thousand each, combination of cash and other assets.”

“—Which ‘e means financiary instrumentation,” Ned puts in again, pleased with his economic savvy.

This time Fixer exhales audibly before continuing.  “We ‘ave a right full basket of delectables to carry you through tonight and tomorrow, bread and cheese and whatnot—”

“—Wine’s a bit thin,” Ned sniffs, with a fine pretense of sophistication for a man known to favor double rations of grog.

“—and you are not to starve the package, nor to overfeed ‘er,” Fixer proceeds, doggedly ignoring Ned.  “This ‘ouse being of the finer sort, it ‘as inside privies, and the package can be allowed visits when necessary.”  A sharp glare through the shadows proactively stifles whatever Ned is about to say.

“One more thing,” Fixer adds.  “With ‘ouses like this there’s always the worry of, shall we say, spiritual complications, but not to worry ‘ere.  We’ve ‘ad our usual priestly bloke swing through and ‘e says it’s all clear on the ectoplasmodical front.”

“—Which ‘e means no ghosts or spirits what been murdered ‘orribly,” Ned jumps in, keen to show his expertise in otherworldly matters as well.

“And that should do it.  —Oh, and if any of you lot try to make off with the package I will ‘ave you ‘unted down across the face of the world and made to regret your own sorry existence.

“Right then.  Any questions?”
Vrock Bait
Typical.

"Right fascinating that our package is a  her  now," Niamh noted. "Why does  she  need our handling? Are we bodyguards? prison guards? Childminders? You wouldn't be paying us this bloody much if the job were easy."
Palanan
Still holding the pale flame of the oilfish in one hand—the only feeble light amid the hollow dark—Fixer slowly turns to Niamh, his eyes narrowed now.

“You’re being paid  this bloody much , ma’darlin’, to protect an asset of mine.  Consider it an investment in all your talents.

“Now if any of you lot want out,” and he glances through the darkness at Otis, Walben and Devika in turn, “now’s the time to say.  I won’t even ask for the advance back.  But—” a sharp glare back to Niamh— “walk out now, and, well, I’ll know I can’t rely on you for anything more.”
Paddywagon Man
 Otis shifts a bit, temper rising slightly at the implication of cowardice.    "I'm not leaving with coppers when there's gold in your pocket. And I don't... care why we're protecting the girl for you. But I care a bit who we might need to protect her from... and if we need to be all gentle with them too if they come and knock."  
Palanan
“You lot know the orphanage on top of the big ‘ill?  Run by nuns, very nice ladies.  If I wanted ‘gentle’ I’d leave the package with them.

“You should ‘ave a quiet night of it.  But if anyone tries to get in—bury them.”

He pauses, considering.  “But not out back ‘ere.  Find somewhere else.”
Stelio Kontos
"All right, all right everyone" Walben smiled while leaning against his cane.  "We all know what we've gotten ourselves into, and we all know none of us are leaving.  Best to make preparations, don't you agree?  Find an appropriate place, no windows and all that, ideally close to the, erm, facilities?  Then have a nice meal, get our bellies full before we're needed?  The fewer distractions, the better."

He narrowed his gaze at Ned; he seemed the more easily manipulated of the two.  "That said, our preparations would prove  much  easier if we knew just what it was we were getting ourselves into.  Any unpleasant thing this 'package' might be capable of that we ought know about,  before  we have to put a hair out of place to prevent it happening?"
Dr.Gunsforhands
Devika is quiet as a thought crosses her mind. "It's not...  that  person, is it? Nah, no, she'd be too old for an orphanage. Never mind." She fans her head as though to blow away the stupid idea.

"Yar, anyway, good old-fashioned kidnapping. Follow-up question: who is it we're waiting for to pick her up? I don't want to hand her off to the wrong person."
Palanan
“ No ,” Fixer and Ned reply in unison to Walben’s last question.

“—Completely clean,” Fixer continues.  “All you lot need to know about the package is that someone’s willing to pay for ‘er safe return.

“As to who will retrieval the package,” Fixer glances to Devika, his eyes gleaming rodentlike in the feeble glow, “I’ll be back to oversee that personal-wise, so you lot will be dealing with me and only me.”
Dr.Gunsforhands
"Aye, alright." Devika runs through what he must be doing in her mind. He probably wants to meet his customer exclusively as well, at some third location.

"One more thing from me. Say we make it through the day with the package. Midnight comes and goes. We wait 'til we see the sun again, and you just don't show." Serious, she looks Fixer in the eye. "Should we kill her?"
Palanan
Fixer drops his head a dramatic notch while staring at Devika, adjusting his nobleman’s hat.  “Did you not ‘ear a bleedin’ word I said?  Specifical the part about  not touching an ‘air on ‘er bloody ‘ead?! ”

He seems genuinely irate, and makes a show of closing his eyes and breathing deeply before responding further.  “Now then.  I will be ‘ere at midnight bloody tomorrow night.  If I am not here by then,  wait for me .

“But under no circumstances—” and his voice takes on a deadly edge— “are any of you lot to do the slightest violence to the package.   Do.  You.  Under.  Stand? ”

He glares intently at each of the assembled in turn, lingering longest on Otis and Devika.
Stelio Kontos
"They understand, Fixer, they understand" Walben said, trying to diffuse the situation, "and if they don't, they will.  Don't worry about it a bit.  I have that under control."

"What my, er, colleague was getting at, I believe, was that should anything unfortunate befall you, such that you were *unable* to return at the appointed time... it would be quite useful to have a secondary plan.  I would hope not to need it of course, but we can't wait forever.  Eventually, we'll run out of food."

He gave a sideways glance to Ned.  "And wine."

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
If it matters, I'll take 10 on Diplomacy for an 18
 
Paddywagon Man
Otis cracks his sizable shoulders in annoyance at the long back and forth haggling.  "If he doesn't come back... then nobody's paying us... so it doesn't matter what they want us to do. But he's got to be making... a lot more than we are. His sort don't spare copper if they aren't making te... eleven times that. So he'll be back for it." 
Dr.Gunsforhands
“Back off, both of ye,” says Devika. “He understood me the first time, and I got the answer I wanted.”

She looks up at Fixer once more. She could get defensive and explain herself, but there’s no time and no need. “Not a hair on her head. Not tomorrow, not ever. I swear it on my life.”
Palanan
Fixer looks at Devika with the satisfaction of having heard what he wants, and an unhealthy gleam in his eyes shows he enjoys extracting that from others.

“Now—” he begins, and suddenly looks towards the vestibule leading to the front steps, where just now the thump of heavy footsteps may be heard.

“And they’re ‘ere,” he says with satisfaction, clearly quite pleased with himself.  Without a word a large man appears, bracing a thick, heavy  something  on one shoulder, and walks without a word into the gloom of the open staircase hall.  The  something  on his shoulder extends back to a second large man, bracing its far end on his own shoulder; and with no sound other than floorboards complaining beneath their weight, they rotate around and drop the long, cylindrical object from their shoulders.

They catch it easily, lowering it gently at Ned’s feet; in a quick, sly motion he palms something to each of them, glinting faintly in the pale glow of the still-burning oilfish.  Without a word, without alteration in their stone expressions, they tramp past the others in the hall—ignoring them entirely—and are gone into the darkness outside.

Grinning broadly, Fixer turns to Ned.  “Shall we?”

“Why, we shall,” says Ned, aping a butler’s high-falutin’ tones, and gives a firm nudge of his foot to the object.

The heavy rug unrolls a foot or so, and it requires several firmer nudges from Ned’s foot before it spills open the rest of the way—or at least until a strange creature is revealed within, a slim sprawl of fabric and limbs with a grotesquely misshapen head.

“‘Ere you go, luv,” Ned says almost affectionately, bending over the creature, and pulls off its head—or what the crew can now see is a floppy hood with what seem to be paired bladders dangling down.

In the wan light of Fixer’s oilfish, the girl’s delicate features are haloed by her tousled and tangled hair.  Her head rolls slightly, eyes closed, evidently unconscious from some spell or alchemical mixture.  She might be eighteen, might be twenty.

“And the package has arrived,” Fixer declares with immense self-satisfaction.  “She’ll be asleep for a while yet, so you lot have time to find a room to settle ‘er into.

“Remember: no showin’ her of your faces if you know what’s good for you, and definitely no names or family histories what she can ‘ear.

“And—” Fixer steps off the staircase beside the unrolled rug, gazing briefly at each of the crew, “—not a bloody ’air.”

And with that, Fixer snaps his hand to extinguish the oilfish, and jauntily makes his way into the night, Ned following behind.
Stelio Kontos
"Subtle" Walben cracked as the two goons brought in the, well, package.

Nodding at the insistent suggestion for disguise, he delved into his pack, bringing out a few handkerchiefs and, of all things, what appeared to be clown makeup?  Smearing some of it irregularly on his face as he peeked into a small mirror, he fashioned one of the handkerchiefs -- a bright orange one, as it happened -- into a makeshift mask to conceal the lower half of his head.

"You all have something, I presume?  To cover yourselves, I mean."
Dr.Gunsforhands
"Arr, still a bit old for an orphanage," Devika grumbles after Fixer takes off. It's an understatement; the kid is probably older than Devika is.

"I've got a scarf or something in here somewhere," she says to Walben, rattling her backpack. "For now... Big Guy, get her hood back on her and pick her up. Let's go find the snacks and the head. I mean the, uh, facilities he mentioned."
Vrock Bait
Niamh ties back her hair, tugging a scarf and a paddy cap out of her bag. She fingers at a pair of dark eyeglasses, but finally slips them away. "Right then," she says, "Unless one of us wants to spend the night renewing cantrips on the 'package,' we need rope. Anybody?

"And if you'll surrender some of your... hankerchiefs," she looks warily at the rumpled elven clown. Was there even a joke to be made there? "We can fix up a gag and blindfold too."

Niamh scanned the room, thinking back to the view from outside. Why had the Fixer chosen  this  mansion in particular? Certainly for being deserted, but there were a lot of deserted mansions in this part of the city...

 
 Spoiler: OoC 

Knowledge local:
 (1d20+8)[ 27 ] 
 
Paddywagon Man
 "It's not 'Big Guy', it's..."
 Otis catches himself and remembers Fixer's instructions a moment before his annoyance brings his name to his lips.
 "...Big Guy."


 He puts the hood back over the girl's head - and a black executioner-style hood over his own - and quite easily lifts her over his shoulder with one arm, while pulling a length of chain and bundle of wire out with the other.  "Got these." 
Stelio Kontos
"If you have a penchant for the ironic, we can always call you Tiny."
Dr.Gunsforhands
"Arr, that's handy. I've got this here." Devika disengages a long coil of rope from her pack. "I'll get her hands and legs. Nee, Clown, help him find something to chain her to."

Devika handles the rope professionally, using the sailors' knots she's had drilled into her since birth to secure the limbs of her precious cargo.

She goes ahead and tries on the scarf from her bag while she's at it, but seems unsatisfied. "Arr, this thing might work better as a gag. Hey, Clown, do you have any of that makeup left over?"
Palanan
Now that Fixer has doused the oilfish and departed, the staircase hall is dark as a ship’s hold in a midnight storm.


 
 Spoiler: Niamh 
Thinking on the small mansion’s location, and the monster-and-limb carvings on the front doors, Niamh faintly recalls stories of a similar house in this district in which unspoken horrors were perpetrated many years ago.

These are the sort of tales that older children whisper at night to frighten younger children, and whatever happened would have been before Niamh’s and Fixer’s time.  But the house does somewhat resemble the few details which Niamh recalls—and its relative isolation, nearly swallowed by vegetation and dense thickets of young trees, might have kept it from being reoccupied.

Thus Fixer might have found it ideal for his purposes, with its evil reputation keeping others away; and of course being the one to conduct nefarious business in such a place would only inflate Fixer’s ego all the more.
 

 
 Spoiler: Otis 
DM note: Ned actually took the peculiar hood with him, so it’s not available to be replaced on the package’s head.

Also, does Otis have darkvision?  It’s not on his sheet that I can see, but I also can’t see anything that trades it out.
 

 
 Spoiler: Devika 
Devika expertly lashes the package’s limbs, well enough that the girl might as well be a double backstay preventer secured for dirty weather.
 
Stelio Kontos
"Oh, sure sure" Walben replied to Devika, handing over a jar of the pigment.

"I'll go look for a suitable room to set up in?  The front foyer doesn't seem to be a very intelligent place."

Assuming no objection, he began to cautiously explore the nearby rooms.
Palanan
Immediately behind Walben is the antechamber through which he and his companions arrived, and through which Fixer and Ned have just departed.  In front of Walben is the rising sweep of the oval staircase, ascending into the shadows far above.

The staircase is enclosed in high walls, on the outer side of which are small open lobbies which seem to give onto other spaces.  To Walben’s right and left are two sets of double doors, facing each other across the long axis of the staircase hall.  The double doors to the left are partially ajar, revealing indistinct blocky shapes in the room beyond.  The double doors to the right are closed.

There are also two additional doors on the wall facing the staircase, one door to the right of the antechamber and the other to the left, both half-open.  Each of these doors is facing one of the two side lobbies (the ones on either side of the staircase) across the narrow axis of the staircase hall.


 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Please let me know if the descriptions I’m giving are enough for everyone to get a sense of the space you’re in.

Also, everyone can give me a Perception check.
 
Stelio Kontos
Walben stuck his head in the room with the double doors to the left, the ones that were slightly ajar.  He walked up to the door, peering inside through the crack before opening it fully.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Are there any windows in this room?  If there are not, then I'll cast  dancing lights  in the center of the room.  If there are, then I won't.
 

 
 Spoiler: Perception 
 (1d20+4)[ 14 ] 
 
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Walben 
As Walben approaches the double doors, he sees that they don’t open on hinges, the way the mansion’s front doors did; rather these doors apparently slide into recesses in the walls on either side.

Thus one door is half-slid open, and looking through Walben can see a number of large, blocky, ghostly-pale shapes: what appear to be several chairs and small tables scattered about under heavy shrouds.  The rotted, curled remains of what might have been a grand rug are spread across the floor.  The air has a dry, old-canvas scent to it, combined with a heavy musty odor, and Walben can hear fine scuttlings away from where he stands.

The room is relatively large, almost as large as the staircase hall itself; and across the open space, on the far wall, appears to be an alcove with several high mullioned windows, through which nothing but darkness may be seen.
 
Vrock Bait
Niamh decides to take the right. She pulls at both doors at once. No point being coy about this.

 
 Spoiler: Perception 

 (1d20+2)[ 5 ] 
 
Palanan
With a grating rumble, both sliding doors reluctantly judder into their respective niches.

A diaphanous sheet of  something  ripples across the dark gap, obscuring whatever lies beyond, and Niamh has the impression of a contorted tangle of jointed legs,  much  too close to her face.
Paddywagon Man
 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Otis does have Darkvision yes, my bad
 

 "Ned didn't have to take her stupid hood... what's he going to do with it. Knock on doors for candy?"

 He'll put the executioner hood over the girl instead, backwards, so it can't be seen through but so the eye holes at the back should keep the "package" from suffocating.

Otis will pull the heaviest-looking piece of furniture he sees in front of the front door for whatever scant security it'll offer and then go after Walben, to see if he can find or make anything to cover his own face with.
Stelio Kontos
Walben sniffed at the air, wrinkling his nose as he leaned on his cane.  "Dining room, I suppose.  I think I hear some, I don't know, probably rats would be my guess."

"Tiny, if you want some more furniture for the front door, I think you'll find it in there, and some dropcloths too.  I'd help, but with my bad knee I doubt I'd be of much use."
Dr.Gunsforhands
"I'll do ye one better! Over here."

Devika sets down her pack and produces a roll of twine and a quintet of tingling bells. "I'll hang these on the doors, and..." She clanks three closed bear traps onto the table that Tiny moved. "You each take one of these and set them under any other boarding points. I mean, uh, points of ingress. Windows or whatever."

With these new security measures now opened up for group use, Devika quickly hangs a bell on each of the closed front doors to act as alarms.

"Didn't those two say they left a basket of stuff for us somewhere? Probably up there?" She glances up the stairs. "But... Arr, nah, we should clear this floor first. As long as someone keeps an eye on the kid."

She grabs the half-broken mirror Clown was using, sits at the foot of the stairs next to the hogtied and masked package, and starts covering up her own face's characteristic blueness. She spots a disconcerted Niamh as she does so and detects trouble.

"Arr, Nee, are you okay over there?"
Palanan
When Otis drags the item of furniture across the hall to the main entrance, he recalls that there are two doorways which he and the others passed through: the ornately carved front doors, opening from the front terrace and leading to a smallish vestibule; and then a half-hanging door leading to a small foyer or antechamber, which opens into the staircase hall.  Otis will need to decide which doorway he wants to block with the furniture.
Vrock Bait
Niamh takes a rather alarmed step back, ready to throw out some acid if needed, but she pauses to see well... just what this mass of jointed legs actually is.

She raises an eyebrow at the sailor's mention of her name (or she supposed, one of the closer pronunciations), but nods gratefully. "'Course, just some critters here..."
Palanan
As Niamh steps back from the fluttering shroud and steadies herself, she sees that the tangle of thin legs comes together into a desiccated husk, evidently the long-dead remains of a spider whose full span must have been one or two feet across.

Thankfully the remnants are only swaying with the dense sheets of spiderweb which have been laid down across the doorway.  Niamh will need to clear away the shroud of webbing before she can see any details in the space beyond.
Dr.Gunsforhands
Seeing Otis paused in thought, Devika makes a suggestion.

"Arr, let's just make sure the big door outside is shut tight - this one's half fallen over anyway. Then watch the package for a sec, I'll get a bell."

Once the front doors are properly closed, she cuts off a small length of twine with a knife from her mess kit and uses it to hang a bell on the inward side of the entrance, like the door of a shop. The carvings aren't as impressive on this side, sadly, but they're enough to hang a bell on.
Vrock Bait
Niamh inspects the corpse delicately; what a shame. Clearly a magnificent creature in its day.

But she has a job to do, so she tries an acid cantrip on the dense wall of webbing. If she just clears the area where the webbing sticks to the ceiling, this shouldn't take long....
Paddywagon Man
For a moment Otis looks half-inclined to argue just for the sake of not being told what to do, but he manages to nod at Devika and do as suggested - crudely barricading the main, ornate front doors with the "package" still hooded and held under one huge arm as he shifts the furniture. Slinging her back over a shoulder when he finishes the job, he'll take a cursory look through the rooms they've opened already for any dressers or wardrobes that might have clothes he could mask the girl properly with.

 "Anybody see any... drawers. Closets. For clothes, masks. I'll look upstairs."
 
If there's nothing in any of the rooms they've checked, he'll go up the spiral stairs.
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Niamh 
When Niamh casts the acid cantrip, the shroud of webbing dissolves into the air like a forgotten fog, with only a strand or two keeping the spider-husk dangling against one edge of the open doorway.  A dry, rank odor spills out, whispering of desiccated old skins and other long-shriveled remnants.

From where she stands, she can catch a glimpse of what seems to be one edge of a collapsed table of some sort, along with a rat’s nest of rags, scattered bottles, and what seems to be a book half-splayed amid a scatter of trash.
 

 
 Spoiler: Otis 
Would Otis like to make a Perception and/or Stealth check as he proceeds up the oval stairs with his heavy frame, as well as the weight of the package over one shoulder?
 
Stelio Kontos
Walben sighed inwardly.  It appeared that there were all manner of spiders, as well as other scuttling,  inconvenient  creatures about.

"You want me to have a look in there?" he called out to Niamh.  "Hate to waste it, but I think I've got some stuff in here to keep the bugs away."  Rummaging through his pack, he found the tube of unpleasant-smelling gunk.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
It appears that vermin repellent was probably a very good purchase.
 
Paddywagon Man
 
 Spoiler: OOC and roll 
Otis makes no particular attempt at stealth, not expecting any visitor, but he does try to test the steps to make sure they're not going to collapse under him.

Perception:  (1d20+5)[ 11 ] 
 
Vrock Bait
"Nah, poor fella's long dead," Niamh calls from the room. If rats can get it, this likely isn't tightest space to keep the "package."

Oh well, at least she'll get some reading material for the night. She bends down to peek at the book and check for anything interesting in the rat's nest.
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Otis 
The steps are sturdy, apparently made from a rich and durable wood; but even so they creak under Otis’ weight as he makes his way up and around the sweeping curve.

From the topmost step, Otis finds himself in a long narrow hall.  To his immediate left, the hall ends in an alcove with several doors; to his right the hall extends for thirty or forty feet into another alcove with more doors.
 

 
 Spoiler: Niamh 
As Niamh steps through the doorway, a few skrittles and scuttlings suggest that rats do indeed have the run of this room—emphasized by the odor of rat residue, as well as a dry fetid funk welling up from the swirls of rags and drifts of trash.  The center of the room is taken up with the collapsed remnants of a large rectangular table, with several chairs and seating alcoves along the walls.  Much of the stuffing in what had been cushions has been torn out, apparently mixed with the piles of rags to form a crude wallow.

When Niamh stoops to look at the open pages of the book, there is very little text; most of the pages are taken up with large woodcuts.  As to the subject of the woodcuts—Niamh hadn’t realized that some of those…configurations…were physically feasible.
 
Vrock Bait
Niamh nods to herself and palms the book into her bag. Maybe if she wasn't so busy sometime... A girl could dream.

She heads out to update the clown. "Just rats as far as the eye can see. Appreciate the offer though. Best to look elsewhere, I'd think."
Paddywagon Man
Otis, for his part, is pretty fed up with this babysitting already and not particularly cautious or composed, and this mansion is rubbing him the wrong way. But the spider corpse has instilled at least a tiny bit of atavistic fear in the back of his brain, so he at least uses the handle of his sledgehammer to push the closest door open rather than his arm.
 
"Damn place just keeps going! Me and... ten other people would break skulls to squat together in... half this much room. Dead rich thieves and fixers don't even care if it rots or... if I do. I'll show them."

 He peers inside, sledgehammer held loosely in one hand.
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Niamh 
The book is fairly large, maybe 14” by 20”, so it might not fit unless Niamh has quite a large satchel.
 

 
 Spoiler: Otis 
The closest door to Otis is about 15-20 feet across the upper hall to his left, and it’s already hanging half-open.  The door opens outwards, and if Otis uses his sledgehammer to lever it open the rest of the way, he can see a moderate-sized closet—barely large enough for him to turn around in—with shelves across the back wall and one side.

The shelves are a moth-eaten morass of what seem to be old sheets, cloths, towels and rags, many of them swirled up and torn through, and more piled onto the floor.  Small things skitter away, and the great piles of cloth and rags on the closet floor seem to have become a warren for creatures of the rodent persuasion.
 
Vrock Bait
Niamh gestures to the circus elf, "I'm heading up. You coming with?"

 
 Spoiler: OoC 

Fair enough. Perhaps Niamh tore out some relevant pages?
 
Stelio Kontos
"Well" Walben chuckled "I suppose that's where the action is, isn't it?"

Gesturing for Niamh to go ahead, he followed up the stairs.
Paddywagon Man
Otis grins and kicks at the clothing pile a couple times to clear some of the teeming rats, before looking for anything relatively intact for use as mask or blindfold.  "Heh, Fixer left all his friends behind with us... shoo! Shoo... or I'll get you like he'll get..." 
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Niamh 
Niamh can certainly tear out some of the more...instructive pages from the book, and fold them into her bag.
 
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Otis 
Otis can easily find strips of cloth for all his masking needs.

Most of the small rodents scatter, but one small rat (or possibly a very large mouse) stands her ground, defending a nest of babies in a hollow of rags.
 
Stelio Kontos
Walben meandered up the stairs after the others as if he didn't have a care in the world.  He cast an eye about in an attempt to find a suitable landing spot for the, erm, 'package'.
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Walben 
Reaching the top of the stairs, Walben can see Otis’ massive form wedged into a small closet—with the young woman still slung over his shoulder—as he seems to rummage through ragged cloths and sheets.

The closet with Otis is perhaps twenty feet on a left diagonal from Walben, across the spacious upstairs promenade.  Further to Walben’s left, the broad hallway ends in two more doors; to his right it runs for several dozen feet, with one doorway partway along the far wall and one or two more at the right end of the hallway.
 


So far only Otis (and the young woman) are upstairs ahead of Walben.  Niamh is still somewhere below Walben, and the last anyone saw Devika was setting out strings and bells across the crude barricade in the vestibule and antechamber.
Stelio Kontos
"You know, Tiny, you could probably put her down for a minute" Walben cracked, as he wandered down the left hallway, opening the doors wide.
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Walben 
Turning left from the top of the stairs, advancing down the left-hand side of the great hallway, Walben quickly comes to a cul-de-sac.  To his immediate right is the open door to the linen closet barely containing Otis; directly ahead are two half-open doors; and to Walben’s left is an aperture leading to a wide vestibule, through which more doors may be glimpsed.

If Walben tries the two doors directly ahead of him, he finds that the smaller one on the left opens out from a tiny closet with mostly empty shelves; more skrittlings suggest rodents have made a presence here as well.  The slightly larger door on his front-right opens into a small entryway, with another closet door ahead and another open space to the right.  From that open space wafts a damp, richly musty odor, speaking of mold and abandoned sheets.
 
Vrock Bait
Niamh follows the elf up the stairs. She's not unsympathetic to the pirate still outside, but better to keep a close eye on the both the 'package' and her 'colleagues.'
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Niamh 
When Niamh reaches the top of the stairs, she sees they open onto a broad hallway, perhaps 40 feet long.  Niamh is closer to the left end of the hallway, where Walben is standing before several doors.  Just to his right and behind him—and diagonally across the hallway from Niamh—is an open closet door, through which Niamh can glimpse the massive form of Otis, with the unconscious young woman still slung across his back.

Looking to her right, Niamh can see what look like a couple more doors at the far right end of the hallway, and a door on the opposite hallway wall.
 
Stelio Kontos
Walben moved into the larger room, looking off to his right as he did.  Were there windows up here in these rooms?
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Walben 
As Walben moves into the chamber, he sees that it’s at least twenty by twenty feet, with a fireplace to his immediate right.  On the wall opposite him are two sections of boards which seem to be crudely nailed over what once were windows.

Between them, and dominating the chamber, are the remains of a large bed, with broken posts and rotted swirls of sheets and canopies.  The empty husks of dressers and wardrobes occupy the further corners, and on the wall furthest to Walben’s right is what seems to be a pair of shutters, tightly closed across another window.

In the far left corner is another door, broken and ajar.
 
Vrock Bait
Niamh walks towards the room with the Oread thug, the tips of her shoes stopping at its doorway. "Bottom floor's a lost cause. How's our 'package' doing?"

 
 Spoiler: OoC 

Oh right, I should mention just to make it explicit - Niamh did grab a few pages from the book downstairs.
 
Paddywagon Man
Otis grunts noncommittally and looks over to Niamh, before stomping on the mama rat as hard as he can.

 "Not much in here either. She's... sleeping like a corpse. In my hood. Here, help cover her... stupid face with these."

 He holds the package up at chest height and offers Niamh the cloth strips.
Vrock Bait
Niamh eyes the dead rat with a perked eyebrow. Was the posturing really necessary?

But she keeps her face neutral, and selects the... least dirty strips of cloth. She carefully rolls one strips into a makeshift gag, and wraps the other around the eyes as a blindfold. The knots she ties are quick, but she's sure the sailor can fiddle something together later if it really matters.

"There, all bundled up. Let's check the other rooms, yeah?"
Stelio Kontos
Walben made a face as if someone had released an unholy stench into the room.  "Um, that's... yuck.  Hang on, let me just..."

Quickly walking toward the "package", he invoked a brief bit of  hocus-cadabra , cleaning the previously unpleasant cloths.

"No sense making things any less comfortable than necessary, hm?" he mused.  "A happy hostage is a slightly less escape prone hostage, after all"


 
 Spoiler: OOC 
I'll whip off a quick Prestidigitation to clean the cloths so they're not, you know, rat-stenched, disease infested strips of nasty.
 
Palanan
Between mold, rat droppings, and what might have been yeast or fungus, the wrappings had their own unique and layered character; but Walben’s quick cantrip leaves them fresh and white again.

Once this is done, the three package-watchers have several options before and around them.  Facing the end of the hallway, with the newly rat-free linen closet to their immediate right, there are three apertures in sight: a door directly ahead, leading to the chamber Walben briefly glanced into; a smaller door just to the left of the first, which seems to be another closet door; and then an open entryway on the left side of the hall’s end, through which several other doors may be glimpsed.
Vrock Bait
Niamh nods.  Fair enough. 

“How’s the room across the hall?” She asks the elf.

 
 Spoiler: OoC 

@Stelios Kantos, thanks for the assist. I uh, forgot Niamh had cantrips. 🫤
 
Stelio Kontos
"Just as dusty and smelly as the rest of the place, though I haven't ventured too far in" Walben replied.  "If you'd like to take the lead, be my guest."
Vrock Bait
"Sounds like a plan." Niamh says. She glances at the thug. "All set in this room?"
Paddywagon Man
Otis shrugs.  "Nothing but mice and... the bits of them."

 With the package's face coverings replaced, he pulls his own hood back over his head, then looks over at the remaining doors, continuing his sentence with an unimpressed tone.
 
"Why are we... creeping around like pickpockets? There's nobody here."

 He tramps impatiently over to the left entryway, and will push each door open in turn unless interrupted.
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Otis 
Moving heavily across the wide hallway from the linen closet, still bearing the half-smothered package, Otis steps through the wide entryway into a kind of lobby, at least as large as the downstairs antechamber and vestibule combined.

Directly ahead is a small square door, placed at what would be waist height for an ordinary human, somewhere around groin level for Otis.  It opens into a small square chamber, barely large enough to hold a seated human, with a dusty tray askew within.  A long, slim ribbon of cloth, tattered and moth-eaten, hangs despondently to one side.

To the square door’s immediate right is an ordinary, full-sized door, leading to a chamber which seems to hold a barely-intact canopy bed and scattered items of furniture, along with the scent of long-dried flowers and what once might have been spilled perfume.

As he stands before this door, to Otis’ immediate right is another door facing his right side, at a 90-degree angle to the square door and ordinary door on the wall he’s currently facing.   Opening this door reveals a compact landing with a set of steps rising on the left, and another set descending on the right.  A thick musty odor billows over Otis as he examines the stairs, hinting of many years of mold and leaves, and darker, oilier tones beneath.
 
Vrock Bait
Niamh scoffed, but hurries after him. She would prefer a more methodical look around the place. But if they can finish off the immediate business first, so much the better.
Stelio Kontos
"Because we..." Walben trailed off.

"No, no, I suppose you're right.  Lead on; I'll make sure nothing sneaks up behind us and catches us unawares."

He hung back at the entry to the room, allowing 'Tiny' to run headlong into whatever thing might need running headlong into, while at least keeping the galoot in sight.
Palanan
Since Otis, Walben and Niamh are all grouped together, they are all able to see the following:

Through the wide entryway on the left side of the hall is a kind of lobby, at least as large as the downstairs antechamber and vestibule combined.

When facing this lobby, on the far wall is a small square door, placed at what would be waist height for an ordinary human, somewhere around groin level for Otis. It opens into a small square chamber, barely large enough to hold a seated human, with a dusty tray askew within. A long, slim ribbon of cloth, tattered and moth-eaten, hangs despondently to one side.

To the square door’s immediate right is an ordinary, full-sized door, leading to a chamber which seems to hold a barely-intact canopy bed and scattered items of furniture, along with the scent of long-dried flowers and what once might have been spilled perfume.

When standing before the bedroom door, to the immediate right is another door facing one’s right side, at a 90-degree angle to the square door and ordinary door on the far wall of the lobby. Opening this right-side door reveals a compact landing with a set of steps rising on the left, and another set descending on the right. A thick musty odor billows up from the stairs, hinting of many years of mold and leaves, and darker, oilier tones beneath.


 
 Spoiler: Everyone... 
Everyone can give me a Perception check.
 
Stelio Kontos
Walben let out a quiet cough as he surveyed the room casually.  "Not exactly an attractive scent, is it?  If you see any more perfume, let's make use of it."

 
 Spoiler: Perception 
 (1d20+4)[ 11 ] 
 
Vrock Bait
“By all means,” Niamh says, as she applies some perfume into the inside of her scarf, while her two illustrious companions are distracted. No sense in wasting it.

 
 Spoiler 

 (1d20+2)[ 7 ] 
 
Paddywagon Man
Otis merely grunts, a short degree of patience for chatter already dwindling, but he remains on edge and observant.

 
 Spoiler: Perception 
 (1d20+5)[ 11 ] 
 
Palanan
Still standing in front of the door to the bedchamber, the young woman folded over one shoulder, Otis neither sees nor hears anything untoward.  Nor do Niamh and Walben hear aught unusual.

But Otis and Walben both catch a stray whiff of something… off , a hint of something rank and rancid.

Meanwhile Niamh smells nothing but the perfume in her scarf.
Stelio Kontos
Walben made a quick gagging sound as the stench hit his nostrils, followed by a disgusted facial expression.

"Yeah... tell you what, why don't you leave the 'package' here and see what that's all about.  I ... really don't think I can handle that smell adequately."

 
 Spoiler 
*Could* he handle it?  Probably.  Did he want to?  Absolutely not.
 
Vrock Bait
Niamh sighs quietly, and strolls past the elf. Might as well see what's in the bedroom.
Paddywagon Man
Otis has the sort of face that makes even his mild disgust look like one thread away from rage and property damage.  "Some vagrant... die in here? A year ago, covered in... rodent filth?"

 He'll shove the bedroom door roughly open with the handle of his sledgehammer, holding himself a little back from the disgusting air filtering through the door, other hand covering his nose and face as best he can manage.
Palanan
Bolstered by her perfumed scarf, Niamh slips into the bedchamber just as Otis is raising his sledgehammer, while Walben waits just outside.

As she steps inside, Niamh can see that she is standing in the lower-left corner of a generous bedroom, almost twenty feet wide and nearly as deep.  Much of the room is taken up by a large bed, rather slumped, with a warped canopy and moth-frayed sheers that seem on the verge of collapse.  Boarded-up windows are on either side of the bed, and several small pieces of furniture are scattered about, evidently smashed and ransacked long ago.

To Niamh’s right, in the lower-right corner of the room, is an elaborate cushioned seat built into a tall bookshelf, next to a window on the right-side wall.  The left-side wall, which extends immediately ahead and just to the left of Niamh’s position, has two small doors partway along its length, both hanging half-open.

Looming just over Niamh’s shoulder, Otis can take all this in as well.  Without the benefit of a perfumed scarf, the rank odor is even stronger for him now.

 
 Spoiler 
Niamh and Otis can give me another Perception check.
 
Paddywagon Man
Otis grimaces and takes in the room.
 
 Spoiler: Otis Perception 
 (1d20+5)[ 25 ] 
 
Vrock Bait
Niamh mentally marks the bookshelf for later, but directs her gaze at the small doors for now.

 
 Spoiler: Perception check 

 (1d20+2)[ 3 ] 
 
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Niamh 
Her own breath loud in her scarf, Niamh neither sees nor hears anything untoward—and that bookshelf, with its scattered titles lying wantonly askew, is quietly calling to her....
 

 
 Spoiler: Otis 
Now that he’s in the room, Otis hears a faint wet sound from the second door along the left-side wall, something almost like…


 
 Spoiler 
... slurping .
 

 
Paddywagon Man
Otis walks back out and hands the girl to Walben without much in the way of warning or explanation.

 "Sounds like... some stray mongrel, through that door. Or some sad sack broke in before us and... found the alcohol cabinet. Hope it's the last one. Even swill's better than... doing all this waiting dry. I'll crack their skull if I need to, just be ready in case it bolts or... makes a racket." 

He walks over to the door he heard the slurping from, both hands on his ready sledgehammer, and making a wider approach to have a bit of space between him and the door as he gets in position to look beyond it.
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Otis 
How much space will Otis put between himself and the half-open door, as he moves up to look into the doorway?
 
Vrock Bait
Niamh steps out of the room, preparing to cast if anything's behind those doors. It's only tactical, and no sense in getting wood splinters either.
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Everyone 
Roll initiative.

 
 

 
 Spoiler: Otis 
But I'd still like to know just how much "bit of space" Otis will be giving the doorway.
 

 
 Spoiler: Walben 
Walben can give me a Strength check to see if he can handle the unexpected weight of the package.
 
Stelio Kontos
"Easy there!" Walben hissed.  Like he was supposed to carry her?

 
 Spoiler: Rolls 
Init  (1d20+2)[ 17 ] 
Strength  (1d20-1)[ 19 ] 
 
Vrock Bait
.......

 
 Spoiler: Roll Initiative 

 (1d20+7)[ 19 ] 
 
Paddywagon Man
 
 Spoiler: Otis 
Otis isn't expecting genuine danger, he's more expecting some stray animal to bolt out, so he wouldn't put more than 10 feet between him and the door or so (if the room allows it)

Initiative:  (1d20+2)[ 19 ] 
 
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Otis 
As Otis steps around even with the second doorway, giving himself some space from the opening, he can see it leads to a small chamber with a long low metal tub—and crouched on the dingy floor, leaning over the edge, is a strange shriveled figure, no larger than a human child, with a greenish-grey cast to its skin and a filthy, unkempt mat of black hair, hanging like greasy black wool over its scrawny shoulders.

Just as Otis steps even with the door, an old floorboard voices beneath his weight, and the creature in the small chamber snaps its head around to look at him, its clawed green hands still clinging to the metal edge, a bloated potbelly pressed against the side of the metal tub, and a long grey snake of a tongue withdrawing wetly into a toothy, contorted mouth beneath unhealthy eyes the color of long-stale urine.
 

 
 Spoiler: Everyone: Initiative 
Otis can act first*, followed by Niamh, and then Walben.


*Ordinarily when two characters tie on initiative I ask them to each roll percentile, but in PBP format that feels like one step too many, so we’ll go with Otis acting first since he’s the one who sees [whatever he may see] first.  Niamh can follow based on what she sees Otis doing, and Walben thereafter.
 
Paddywagon Man
 "What... what kind of..."

 Otis half-gasps out in surprise before lashing out more on instinct than from any kind of plan - dropping the sledgehammer he rushes at the creature, trying to grab it and overturn the tub to trap it underneath.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
What kind of combat maneuver/roll would I need to do to trap the thing under the tub? Grapple? Would it be a two-turn affair like Pinning it or could I do an improvised combat maneuver to just do it straight off the bat?
 
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Otis: Rub-A-Dub-Dub 
Otis can try to grapple the creature, but the tub looks large and heavy, and he'll need two hands to flip it.

Best bet is to just try flipping the tub over the creature.  The Reposition combat maneuver seems the best fit for this situation, so make an attack roll + your CMB.
 
Paddywagon Man
 
 Spoiler: Reposition roll 
 (1d20+6)[ 10 ] 

Here's hoping...
 
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Otis 
...Aaaannnnd give me a Strength check.
 
Paddywagon Man
 
 Spoiler: Strength 
Otis Strength Check:  (1d20+4)[ 10 ] 
 
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Otis 
Otis leaps forward to grab the metal tub—but it’s unexpectedly  heavy , and Otis isn’t able to get much leverage.  He twists and heaves the tub, and manages to wrench it onto its side, and then tries to slam it down—but the filthy creature is lithe as an eel, despite its wrinkled potbelly, and just barely slips aside.
 


Niamh and Walben glimpse Otis letting his sledgehammer fall, its weight crunching into the floorboards, as he lunges forward and down through the half-open door in the corner of the bedchamber.

His lower legs jerk and scrabble, and Niamh and Walben hear a heavy, metal-moaning scrape and a far heavier crash.  Floorboards complain in many pitches like the ripples in a bog, above the deeper groan of beams deep beneath their feet.

 
 Spoiler: Niamh &amp; Walben 
Niamh and Walben may act.

Technically Niamh is first, but you can both post as you're able and I'll sort out the results.
 
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: @ Everyone 
Also, to help manage expectations, could everyone please let me know whether you’ll be posting this coming week or busy with family/travel plans.
 
Stelio Kontos
 "overgrown lummox"  was all Walben could mutter under his breath at the racket.  Keeping one eye firmly on the package for any reaction, a brief word illuminated the side room with a few lantern lights.  The exterior of the sword cane flipped to the ground with a flick of the wrist, revealing the much sharper center.

He'd leave enough room for Niamh to get through, if needed; for his own part, he'd plant himself firmly in the doorway for the moment.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Dancing Lights to have some visibility in there, ready sword cane to poke things.  For now, I'm still more worried about signs of life from our prisoner rather than whatever Otis is tripping over in there.

I should be around for the holidays, we're not going anywhere.
 
Palanan
Even as Walben murmurs the lanterns into being and flicks out his cane-sword, there is a muffled moan from close to his ear.


 
 Spoiler: Walben 
Another Strength check from Walben as the package moves unexpectedly.
 
Stelio Kontos
 
 Spoiler: OOC 

 (1d20-1)[ 15 ]  strength

but I had set her down as soon as Otis foisted her on me (I thought)
 
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Walben 
I don't see anything about Walben setting down the package--only that he made the initial Strength check when Otis dumped her on him.
 



Walben is easily able to manage her slight weight now, even as she begins to move hesitantly, with muffled and increasingly panicky half-breaths through the hood.
Stelio Kontos
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
You are correct, I thought I had but I did not.

I'd very much like to put her down before I do anything else -- gently if possible.
 
Vrock Bait
Niamh casts a cantrip to settle the parcel back down. Whatever damned thing the oread's dug up, it looks handled for the moment.

But she still watches the room guardedly from over the elf's shoulder. Bloody hell, she never fully thought this would be a quiet job, but trouble this early? Bad omen if she ever knew one.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Niamh drops a daze on the "parcel." Perhaps since she's only starting to return to consciousness, this'll take her back down?

Holiday availability should be about updates every 2-3 days at most. But I'll try to post more frequently.
 
Palanan
With a faint, trailing sigh from beneath the hood, the package’s head lolls against Walben’s shoulder, and he gently lowers her to the floor.


 
 Spoiler: Otis 
Its stale yellowed eyes narrowed in pure malice, the rank-haired creature convulsively heaves its potbelly and a long grey serpent erupts from its mouth, fetching Otis a hard clout with its blunt weight.

Otis catches a brief impression of thick folds and ridges running the length of the tongue, and in the light of the floating lanterns Otis has a glimpse of dark streaks glistening from deep within the grooves.  Even to Otis, who has fought ankle-deep in fresh offal, the tongue is unspeakably putrid and foul—and apart from the heavy blow, it has left a dripping trail of rancid slime across his face.

 
 Spoiler 
Otis takes 7 points of bludgeoning damage from that surprisingly dense and accurate tongue.

Otis can also give me a Fort save.
 

 
Paddywagon Man
 "Aargh! What... scumsucking..." 
 
 Spoiler: Fort Save 
 (1d20+4)[ 9 ] 
 
Palanan
From the crashing, howling, and a thoroughly unnatural belch-and-wet-smack, it sounds as if nothing is going according to plan for Otis.


 
 Spoiler: @ All Interested Parties 
Still on initiative, so Otis can act immediately, followed by Niamh and Walben.
 
Paddywagon Man
There's more straining of boards, and Otis' cursing begins to grow gradually faster, more incoherent, and less quiet.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Otis makes a second attempt to trap the creature, the pain of its tongue-lashing driving him over the edge into a full rage.

Reposition roll (Raging):  (1d20+8)[ 26 ] 

Strength Check (Raging):  (1d20+6)[ 12 ] 
 
Palanan
 
 Spoiler: Otis 
Driven by a hot surge of pure rage, Otis heaves up the heavy metal tub like it was a reed basket, slamming it down fully on top of the creature.  A metallic hiss and panicked scrabbling sounds through the metal as the thing futilely attempts to claw its way out.
 



With the foulest language the docks and fighting-pits have to offer, there is a sudden cacophony of mewling floorboards, a resonant metal scraping, and a massive ringing crash that tosses the floor beneath Niamh and Walben like a sheet of ice on a swell.

Thunderous echoes resound throughout the house, as a thin metallic clawing begins from somewhere near Otis.  Beneath their feet, wooden beams let loose deep and mournful cries; and the posts of the large bed behind Otis, already slanted somewhat akimbo, creak plaintively as they twist, lean in several directions and collapse, cracking and rattling across the already-troubled floorboards around the bed.

And through all of it, another whimper is heard through the hood on the package.
Stelio Kontos
Walben sighed.  He fixed his gaze on the blanketed package for a moment, before gesturing to Niamh to take care of the problem.  Still standing at the doorway, he took a dagger in hand, prepared to toss it at, well, whatever that thing was, if it showed itself again.

 
 Spoiler: Actions 
Swift action: hypnotic gaze on the package (no, it doesn't matter that she can't see it); she will  not  be aware of this.  -2 to Will saves for her.
Ready a standard action to throw a dagger at the bad thing if it pops out from a floorboard or something.  For the sake of expediency, the attack roll is:

 (1d20+2)[ 10 ]  attack, for  (1d4-1)[ 0 ] damage
 
Palanan
The package continues to whimper, and her breathing is quickly becoming labored under the hood, approaching panic.
Vrock Bait
Niamh tries the same cantrip again. If the ghastly thing coming out of the room isn't stopped, the best bet is to take the package and move. But first things first, calming it down enough...
Palanan
With a firmer whimper and then a faint moan, the package once again goes still, the shapeless hood settling slightly against her shoulder and the wall.


 
 Spoiler: Otis 
The metallic scrabbling continues from within the upturned tub, but it’s clear to Otis that the nauseating creature doesn’t have anything near the raw strength to budge the metal sides.
 

 
 Spoiler: Everyone 
Otis can act next, followed by Walben and Niamh.  The latter two can give me their actions when they like and I’ll fit everything into the initiative order.
 