The next morning, the group heads to the Watch HQ to talk to Captain Helstrom about the nights events. They learn a little about Draegyn and Malek, but Fynn’s plan to go undercover are strongly advised against.
The next evening, the team heads back to the Falling Star, rage in their hearts (well, most. For one, it’s greed he harbors) and vengeance on their minds (even the greedy one). The Bull greets them as they enter the tavern, waving them to a table. “Well, yer a sorry lookin’ lot, aren’t ye? Damn lads, what happened to…Nevermind, I don’t wanna know. Look ye, first things first, mates. The Bastard paid fer a round o’ me best.” The large man sat a grimy tankard in front of each, filled with the brackish, dirty blonde pilsner known as Bull’s Brew, or as is jokingly whispered by patrons, Bull’s Piss.
Dando eyes you all, waiting for you to drink up, when a barmaid approaches and whispers to him. The Bull nods and waves her off with one ham-sized hand. “Right, then mates. Grab yer tankards an’ come with me. The Bastard’s here and wants to speak with ye now.” He turns and leads the four some rickety stairs and down a hallway, stopping at a thick door with a chalky-glassed porthole window in it. A plaque above the door reads “The Galley.” Dando opens the door, then shifts his massive frame against the wall to make room. “In here, mates. If ye want anything, there’s a bell pull to the kitchen in the corner. Enjoy.” With that, he heads back downstairs.
The Galley is a lavish room with a long table dominating its center. The familiar figure of the Bastard Draegyn sits at the table with a silver tray of fruits and cheeses in the center. He sips something steamy from a pewter mug and nods to the four as they enter. In a corner, near the bell pull, three of four darkly garbed and armed ruffians play a dice game at a small table. The non-player, a lithe, oddly attractive woman with angular features and an emptiness in her eyes, wears a rapier and a large, curved knife, unlike the others’ clubs and short swords. Her chair pushed back a bit from the others, her attention is focused solely on Draegyn, watching his every movement.
Draegyn waits until the party has finished asking him their questions before speaking. “Yes, of course ‘twere a test. We didn’ really expect yez te survive, but blast me mates! Well done, eh? Ya really put it ta those bastards, yeah? Yeah. So, what now then, hmmm?” He pauses, seems to think. “Good question. Alright, then, let’s see what we ken do fer yez, cuz believe me when I say this, ya mates really did a good turn fer th’ bossman. Aye, ya did that.”
As he finishes, Draegyn produces some slips of parchment from his coat and places them on the table. He then pulls a fist-sized leather purse from another pocket and drops it on top of the parchments. It clicks, rather than clinks. “Ya didn’t retrieve th’ Thunderwicket, but ya did eliminate that uncontrollable fool Redgrave. Th’ boss gave ya a bonus fer that. Yeah, mos’ impressive work, mates. Ya ever need ta earn some coin, ya come here and let Dando know yer lookin’ fer me. It’s a great night ta be alive, mates! All yer drinks an’ food ’er on me tehnight. Throw yerselves a party.” Then, bodyguards in tow, he departs. The bag is filled with small mixed gems, while the four parchments are vouchers, good for a masterwork weapon of choice from any Bodak’s Blades shop in the city.