On the eighteenth of the first month, about 2 am, as Arblaith, Elspeth, Theodoric, and Immanuel wrap up another nondescript night at the Fine Time, an urgent missive comes from the night shift captain of the watch in the Dwarven District. “Robbery. Amethysts. Drop everything and find the perps wherever they are in the Bluedock Slums.”
The party, with unerring instinct, picks out of the three other inns in the Bluedocks the Side of Bacon, the richest, rootinest, tootinest, shootinest bar in the slums, on account of its proximity to the docks. The party sizes up organized crime figures, probably the gang they call the Meatheads, hitting on zither players, negotiating protection money with local ship captains, and celebrating birthdays. [The comment about stuffing gold pieces into a g-string will not be made.] Arblaith makes the acquaintance of a highbrow bard of the Loyal Troop named Aramis, who says he has just come to town and is coy about his background, but promises to look Arblaith up sometime.
Immanuel, using some of his ever spookier arcane power over minds, picks out and verifies an accomplice of the robbers, who are all associated with a figure named Raven. Theodoric tails him while Arblaith cleverly creates a diversion and pees in the alley. Immanuel and Theodoric watch the basement hideout while Arblaith and Elspeth armor up and bring back the pointy objects that the party doesn’t usually carry around on social calls. About 4 am they spring the trap. The Raven goes down like a sack of marshmallows and the party is cutting her little subgang up like the patsies they are. But who is that mysterious entity standing at the door?