You head on up to your room, intent on getting what sleep you can. When you reach the top floor, you and Aflia do a quick round of stone-parchment-shears for who gets to pick their room, but you needn't have bothered: both rooms are functionally identical, containing a bed, a table, a basin, a bureau, and space to put a few other items of furniture like and armor stand. You end up in 405. You doff your armor, arrange your few possessions, lay on the bed and promptly fall asleep.

You awaken some hours later, your brain switching instantly on. You lay there for a long moment, listening to the utter silence before your nose picks up the thing that has woken you. Cherry Bean Tea. Black, triple-brewed, pinch of salt. Thank you Riben! Your door cracks, and you accept the hot mug with a grunt of thanks. "How'd you know?"

"I asked Mork."

"Thanks." You drink from your mug and begin donning your equipment without bothering to light a candle. You listen to Aflia grumble and grouse from next door as she prepares herself. Ok, no-one is going to be on the streets, and any lookouts should be half-asleep or more. Probably more, they haven't had a serious threat in... too long. Best not to be walking about with weapons visible though... You don't have a cloak, but a sheet turned sideways is long enough to cover your greatsword. Probably should bring some extras for any ex-slaves. Not as good as outright clothing, but better than nothing. You gather the sheets that you can, including scavenging one out of Aflias room, with her permission of course.

Thirty minutes later, you and Aflia hit the deserted streets. Aflia leads the way again, robe-clad to hide her tail and features. Before long, you can smell the saltwater in the air. That'd be the bay. Can't remember which one, never really paid any attention to the maps. Has to open up the the sea north of the Jeweled Cities though, which means near the border of the Elven kingdom of Althiem. Wonder if that's where the Sirens are sending their slaves?

The sound of waves crashing against the piers joins the smell of salt in the air. You spot the warehouse easily, as its the only one with a candle or lamp illuminating a window and a Siren guard by the door despite its run-down condition and the time of day. You and Aflia duck into an alleyway to consider how to approach the guard in hushed tones.

"I don't have anything quiet, and... well..."

"You hadn't killed anything before yesterday. Don't worry about it, you did fine."

"I damn near threw up!"

"That's normal after a fight. I'd be more concerned if you didn't freak out a bit after killing something."

"So how are we going to deal with the guard up there?"

"It needs to be quick. Quiet would be good too." You eyeball the guard, noting its head drooping down to its chest before snapping back up. What the hell, dumb idiot is already halfway asleep. "Here, take my 'cloak' "

"Huh?"

"I need my hands free for this bit. Wait here until things get loud, then come in fast." You hand her the sheet, loosen your greatsword in its sheath, and start walking down the street on the same side as the guard. You hear Aflia's confused yelp behind you, but you keep going. You draw your morning star, but keep it down alongside your leg. Alright, two swings, kick the door, start the dance. The guard's head comes up when you are five feet away. Hate doing this part cold. Here goes...

The Guard looks up, giving you a good look at a beardless youth who doesn't know any better. I could've gone all day without seeing that. "Huh? Who?"

You bring the mourning star up underhand into his belly. His breath hisses out as he doubles over in agony. His hands start to clutch at his bleeding stomach. You don't give him time to scream. The second blow is a swift overhead that ends in the distinctive meat-cleaver crunch of a shattered skull. That made some noise. You drop the bloody mourning star back into its belt-loop and draw your greatsword. Time to make some more. You gesture for Aflia to start moving, take a step back and put a boot right through the half-rotted door.

"AILAILAILAILAILAILAILAI"[1]

You war-cry is loud enough to wake the whole damn city, shattering the pre-dawn silence with the sound of war. The two Sirens standing around right inside the door are caught flat-footed. The one on the left dies as your greatsword takes him in the chest. The one on the right has enough time to try and draw his weapon before you recover and slam the cross guard though the bridge of his nose, leaving him to bleed out on the ground. Speed and momentum are critical now. Can't stop, won't stop. Where are the slaves? You crash right though the next door, entering into the warehouse's main storage area as Aflia comes in behind you. Another Siren dies as he tries to charge you down with a shiv. You glance about furiously. Two-room office on the far side? Upstairs? A cellar? A fifth and six Siren come at you. One eats a face full of FireBolt, the other folds in half as you gut him.

YAWP!

Warcry! Where? The office door bursts open and you have your answer. A purple-robed man wielding a warmaul emerges, leveling it at you. "TIME TO DIE, FOOLISH MANLING!"

"Bring it ugly." You ignore the handful of Sirens bailing out the other exits. Rats fleeing a sinking ship. You take three steps forward, clearing the bloody floorboards where you were at risk of slipping.

Purple Robes raises the warmaul over his head and takes a running charge at you. Idiot. Ceiling is too low... Indeed, the warmaul bounces off a beam and you easily side-step its decent.

Aflia darts past you, headed for the office and the soon-to-be ex-slaves in its back room.

You take a cut at Purple Robes, but he avoids it.

Purple Robes responds with a sideways sweep, having learned his lesson from last time. It only strikes you a glancing blow, but that is enough to wind you. That hurt a bit.

A flash of light, presumably another FireBolt, emanates from the back of the office.

You take a deep breath and get back in the fight. Blood-pool and corpse was there... You take a long horizontal swing. Purple Robes dances back out of range easily... exactly as you wanted him too.

Purple Robes wind up for another impressive swing... and trips over the disemboweled Siren you left spilled on the ground. His warmaul goes skidding away.

A figure emerges from the office, but you don't have time to look closely at it.

You take a moment to grab the warmaul and fling it back towards the office. Now lets see how you fight…

Purple Robes gets back to his feet, unperturbed by how the blood has ruined his robes. He glances about, looking for his weapon, then his eyes go huge.

"Payback time, snake-dick. Told you this day would come." A black figure rushes past you, warmaul in hand. Female Elf? Drow? Ask later, fight now!

You take advantage of the distraction to sidestep and take a cut at Purple Robes ankles from behind. The strike connects, and Purple Robes goes down. It's the only thing that saves his life, for the moment.

Purple Robes doesn't even try to get back up, letting the warmaul swing over his head. He rolls aside, hoping to dodge any follow up strikes.

The black figure gathers the warmaul back in and chops down as if she was splitting a log. She misses the beams, but connects with Purple Robes, who howls in agony. Shit, she had to hit him there? Now I know I'm gonna have bad dreams.

You quickly put Purple Robes out of its misery by slicing his throat wide open. "Alright, questions later, we need to head out. Name's Aris Cretu. Any more slaves back there we need to free before we burn this place down?"

"Talae Telenna. Little Bird and the Tiefling should have the princesses free by now."

You kneel down and pull back the robes to reveal more about the ex-leader of the Sirens. "Aw, hell." Fuck, this guy has to be related to whatever group took out the Ironbark band! Scale-covered face, serpent brand/tattoo on his chest and left arm...

Talae looks down at your exclamation, then shoulders the warmaul. "Safe is in the office, I'm smashing that open. We'll swap questions and answers later."

You follow after her. "I'm grabbing papers, we need a link on where Purple Robes came from."

Talae takes a swing at the safe, to predictably little effect. "Right, plots in the dark. Grab quick, talk later."

Aflia comes out of the back room leading an avian figure and three small children. "All clear back here!"

You rifle through the desk, looking for anything incriminating without much luck. Fuck this, need to get clear before the Town Guards show up. "Right, we're heading out! Talae, leave the safe, we can try again if it survives the fire! Aflia, bonfire time!"

Aflia looks surprised at this change in plans, but then glances at the back room and her face hardens. "On it. Little Bird, lead the princesses to the door please? This place is going up in flames in about thirty seconds."

Talae's eyes grow wide at the proclamation. "Let me grab a robe first!" She snags two off a hanger in the office before heading after the departing Little Bird.

You shove what looks like a pile of business papers into a satchel from the same hanger and follow her. Aflia follows a moment later, backing out of the building and gesturing to the corners of the room. She utters the phrase "Bonfire Ignite!" several times, and the warehouse is quickly set ablaze.

You take a moment to make sure the building is fully aflame, before following Aflia and the ex-slaves back up the road, heading for the Guild House.

Status Report:

Money: 1 platinum coin

Food and water: 5 days of hardtack rations

Equipment: in good condition

The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings

Total Deaths: 1