Pre-Session - Gnash Strangletooth

A frantic knock jolted Gnash from his reading. The small halfling took a long puff from his cigar as he leaned back in his chair. “Yes?” he called, his voice sharp and commanding.

The door creaked open, and a young orcish man peeked inside. “Sir, you asked if there were any more disappearances in Hilltop.”

“I did,” Gnash replied, exhaling a cloud of tobacco.

“Well, there’s been another—last night. Hampson apparently never made it home from his shift at the mill. His daughter heard from him this morning.”

Gnash leaned back, letting out a long sigh. “Take a group tonight and trace his steps.” He leaned forward, tapping the ashes from his cigar. “And Toran, do not split up. Whoever or whatever this is seems to travel in pairs.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll head out at dusk.” Toran nodded and closed the door softly behind him.

Gnash took a long drag from his cigar, then opened a small folder. It contained a map of Hilltop, on which he marked the route from Hampson’s home to the mill. “Sixth one this month,” he muttered, gesturing to the small rat cleaning itself at the edge of his desk. “All in a smaller area of Hilltop, too. There must be a pattern.”

He tapped his pen on the desk, his gaze drifting across the map. His eyes widened when he reached a small street corner on the edge of North Town and Hilltop. “Come on, Raphael,” he called. The rat obediently scampered up his arm and perched on his shoulder. “We have to see someone before the daylight’s gone.”

Orianna let out a long sigh as she entered her quiet shop, the door clicking softly behind her. “What am I supposed to do about this?” she muttered to herself.

The soft jingle of the doorbell sounded again. “We’re closed!” she called, turning toward the storefront.

“Even for a friend?” came the playful voice of Gnash from the doorway.

Orianna smiled faintly, lowering her head. “Now’s not the best time, Gnash.”

He smiled warmly and let the door snap shut behind him as he entered. “This is important.” He paused, his face shifting with a hint of concern. “Are the girls out?”

Orianna chuckled and placed her head in her hands. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Gnash climbed onto a stool beside her, Raphael leaping to the countertop. “That bad?” he asked.

“They got themselves into trouble, pickpocketing in the city center. I just know it’s them.”

Gnash placed a hand on her shoulder.

“One of them was arrested. I don’t know which one, and the other… she isn’t home yet.” Orianna sighed heavily. “I need to figure this out.”

Gnash leaned back, thinking for a moment. “Do you still speak with Arabella?”

“From time to time,” Orianna replied, her eyes narrowing. “Why?”

“I know of a caravan heading south, passing through Riverside Town. They leave this evening.” Gnash hesitated before adding, “I could arrange travel with them, so at least one of them gets out of town while we sort this out.”

“Orianna, you really shouldn’t—”

“And I’ve got an idea for the other one.” Gnash interrupted, hopping off the stool and scribbling something on a scrap of paper. “Here.” He handed her the note along with a small pouch of gold.

“Ori—”

“Orianna,” Gnash continued. “You do so much for this community. Let me help, at least a little.”

Orianna hesitated, then relented, taking the pouch from his hand.

“I’ll send a message ahead, but have her give this to the merchant at Ironhaus Weaponry on Ruther Street in Iron Wall. They’re leaving after dusk, so get her there before then. And don’t forget to send for Arabella—I’m sure she’d love to meet your daughter.”

Orianna smiled softly and mouthed, “Thank you.”

Gnash nodded and headed toward the door. “One more thing. There’ve been a series of disappearances in Hilltop. Try to stay clear of there at night, at least until I can figure this out.”

She nodded, and as he stepped into the crisp air, he stopped for a moment outside her door. He scribbled another note and rolled it into a small scroll. “Take this to Karemis at Ironhaus,” he whispered, handing it to Raphael. The rat grabbed the scroll in his mouth and scurried away.

Gnash let out a long sigh, lighting a fresh cigar as he headed home. Passing the narrow alley beside Orianna’s, he caught a glimpse of pink hair ducking behind some crates. He smiled, shaking his head as he continued home.

The next morning, a gentle knock interrupted Gnash’s quiet moments at his desk. “Come in!” he called.

The door opened slowly, and an ashen-colored tabaxi with pumpkin eyes stepped inside. “Have a minute?” she asked.

Gnash nodded, and the tabaxi entered, quietly closing the door behind her.

“Toran went out last night with some of the guys,” she began. “Rayhan went with him…”

Gnash nodded. “They wanted to investigate the disappearances.”

“Well, they didn’t come home,” her voice cracked.

Gnash’s eyes widened. “They went as a group. The disappearances have always been individuals. I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”

She lowered her gaze, turning toward the fireplace.

“Story?” he prompted.

“What?” she responded.

“Would you like to check it out with me?”

Story nodded, her eyes still worried. “I’m scared.”

Gnash grabbed his coat and took her hand. “Let’s go, then,” he said with a reassuring smile.

The streets were quiet as a bitter chill swept through the alleys climbing up the mountainside. Gnash and Story moved through the sharp streets, stopping in every alley they passed to search for signs of the group that had set out the night before. Gnash paused frequently to ask passersby if they had seen anything, but no one had. As the hours stretched on, their tension grew.

Finally, near the center of the area where the disappearances had been occurring, Gnash stepped into a narrow alley, with Story close behind. He scanned the scene for a few moments, finishing the last of his cigar before stamping out the ember against the wall. He paused when he noticed a small splatter of blood on the wall.

Gnash’s chest tightened as he followed the blood trail to a nearby sewer grate. He gave a nod to Raphael, and the rat scurried off his shoulder, disappearing into the grate. A moment later, Raphael returned with a small handkerchief in his mouth. Gnash took it carefully as Raphael hopped back onto his shoulder.

“Gods,” Story gasped, leaning over his shoulder.

“That’s Toran’s,” Gnash muttered, his eyes narrowing. “I want you to head home. I’ll spread the word that no one should go out at night until we figure out what this is.”

He turned to Story, placing the cloth gently in her hand. “I’m sorry. I’ll put out a bounty.”

Story leaned in, hugging him tightly as tears welled up in her eyes. “Thank you… I’ll spread the word,” her voice trembled.

Gnash squeezed her tight before sending her on her way. He turned back to the grate, then made for the exit of the alley.

“One last thing,” he muttered as he stepped into the street. “We need to pay an old acquaintance a visit.”

It was a long walk from Hilltop to the Old Town district. Gnash rubbed his hands together for warmth as the sun dipped below the horizon. The Old Town was older, better maintained than Hilltop, and home to many city officials and workers. Gnash had only been here a few times, but he knew the winding streets well. Soon, he stood before the steps of a small flat just off the town center, the darkened windows signaling that no one was home yet.

Gnash smiled as he slipped into a nearby alley, settling behind a stack of crates. As Raphael crawled into his lap, Gnash closed his eyes, focusing all his thoughts into the rat’s small form. ‘Time to get to work,’ he whispered, feeling the world shift around him, his eyes rolling back into darkness.

When his eyes opened again, he was within Raphael’s mind. He scurried across the quiet street, easily finding a gap in the back wall of the flat. Gnash slipped inside and climbed an old display shelf to hide in the corner. “Now we wait,” he thought to himself, fixing his gaze on the door.

Minutes passed, and just before the hour mark, the door burst open. A bright red tiefling with tightly trimmed hair and poorly worn city robes stumbled inside, blubbering a song. Gnash rolled his eyes.

“That’s not very becoming of the ‘high and mighty Azraak,’ who’s too good for his own people,” Gnash projected his voice through Raphael.

Azraak jumped, slamming into the wall beside him. “Wh-who said that?” he slurred.

Gnash chuckled. “Your conscience, jackass.”

Azraak laughed. “If this is a prank, it’s not very funny,” he hiccupped.

“Your daughter is in trouble, Azraak,” Gnash said with theatrical seriousness. “If you don’t help her, so too will you be.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes! She has been arrested and needs your help.” Gnash continued.

“And why is that my problem?” Azraak sneered as he lifted a flask to his lips.

Gnash hesitated in anger. “Well… Think of your reputation! How will you get ahead with a criminal for a child?”

“Fine, conscience, I’ll do something. Just leave me alone.” He grumbled.

“Good, because if you do not, I will end you.” Gnash growled.

Azraak shuttered before taking another swig of his flask and stumbling upstairs.

“Idiot.” Gnash breathed as his vision returned. He shuddered at the rush of cold that had permeated his body while he waited. He stood and lit another cigar as he stepped into the street. Moments later Raphael scurried back across the street and onto Gnash’s shoulder.

“Come on,” Gnash smiled, “Let’s go home.”