Works for me. Gotta remember, I am rather new so you guys are the ones making the real decisions at this point.
"Hmmmmm...Tarik, what about your spyglass? Could that be used as an introduction piece? It's common in these kinds of deals to discuss, but not actually sell an item for some time."
That sounds reasonable if you are willing to risk letting others know we have it. But, it is your treasure and your choice as neither Grynbarl nor I were involved in acquiring them.
"Provided we do not actually sell it. For starters, I am not comfortable trafficking in sentient creatures, and secondly, it has proved itself... useful... and I am loathe to part with it."
Tarik approaches the proprietor and flourishes the spyglass before him upon the table. As the eyes of the owner, Daud, go as wide as dinner plates his hands move forward towards the glass only to be halted as Tarik raises a finger of warding caution, saying "Careful sheikh, this is not an idle trinket as were the daggers we brought previously. This is the jewel of our expedition.. and we had hoped to keep it... though as with all that dwells in the souks - sale can be achieved if the price is right. If you were to be able to facilitate a private sale... then a corner of the flatbread could be torn and laid before you..." looking knowingly at the man.
He swallows nervously as his hands turn to wringing and his greedy eyes are easy to spot. You can see cogs turn as he tries to determine the best and most profitable way for him to proceed "I might be able to do such... but those that would buy would not do so sight unseen. Would you be willing to accompany the jewel for a viewing if it is sought?"
Listening quietly, I nod my head to Tarik, acknowledging that this might work.
Daud continues "It will take some time worthy friends before I am able to spread word appropriately... where might I send message to you if your item draws interest?"
Setesh glances at the others.
"Shall we repair to Sins to have a chat with the other 'team'?"
You can never have too much information. Lets see what they know about Neheb.
Noor flushes red, "Thank you Daud, but you will most definitely NOT find us at the Sins. We only are going there to meet some fellow explorers. We are staying at Akeema's and word can be left for us there." Noor leaves the establishment with her nose held high.
Daud gives a bow of acknowledgement before you depart, leaving him to the sound of barked instructions and scurrying servants. Moving into the mid morning rising heat, you make your way through town to where you will find the Sins of the Sultan. It is an imposing stone edifice, with windows mostly blocked from the street though some flicker within with light that entices the eyes toward it. A chimney belches smoke into the heavens and the building is affixed with a simple sign outside that merely states Sin.
The closed door is flanked by a pair of large Mwangi gentlemen stripped to the waist and wearing shendyt. They are heavily muscled and their steady unyielding gaze is made more potent by the numerous scars criss-crossing their chests. Thick gold bracelets are upon their wrists and ankles, though none of the street thieves dare give them a greedy glance.
Tarik saunters up to the Mwangi men, meeting their gaze. "I see this place has excellent guards. Might we enter, gentlemen?"
I simply stay behind Tarik and watch him and the guards.
Perception:
The mwangi look down upon you from their lofty heights and regard you with a skeptical eye "You don't be seeming the type for within little one. Why are you being here?"
You get a sense that the mwangi are there to weed out those less worthy of going within. Perhaps a slight flash of gold would be sufficient to sate them?
"Aye, and how much will ye be wanting today gentlemen?" Grynbarl bucked convention by openly stating his intent to bribe, but the gold produced from his voluminous sleeves should silence any ill remarks.
Setesh remains silent, waiting to see if Grynbarl's 'offer' bears fruit...
Not having the greatest people skills, Kytana simply stands behind the others and carefully watches to see the guards reaction.
Sense Motive:
The mwangi chuckle, a deep sonorous noise "Keep de gold little one, there be more then enough to spend it on inside." pulling open a door and ushering you to venture within through a velvet curtain. The sounds of decadence can be heard issuing forth from within even at this young hour.
Noor loosens the hilt in the scabbard of the sword on her back, making sure it is visible over her shoulder. A look on her face daring anyone to mistake her for a courtesan of the Sins.
She makes no eye contact with the doormen as she enters. Her duties with her her tribe often had her in view of her friends and family and even suitors, but the glances she had recieved were of love, devotion, and respect....here, she braced herself for the leers. She experienced it to a degree in Sothis, but never had she entered such an establishment.
Pushing through the curtain, Noor is greeted with a short corridor that opens into a shadowy den of opulent endulgence. A large common room is seemingly haphazardly strewn with velvet cushions and sunken pits that have a table at their centre. The heady smoke of the shisha fills the air and it's pungency invades your senses and begins to dull them into relaxation and restraint. Moving to and fro are scantily clad young women and men both, barely wearing sufficient to satisfy common decency - though the translucency and thin-ness of the cloth leaves little to the imagination even beyond that.
There are some in the room already, most spreadeagled on cushions and either stripped to the waist or in robes. Most are cradling a shisha in one hand and enjoying the ministrations of a rough handed masseuse or embrace of a courtesan. One of the corner areas has a veiled dancer swaying seductively and captivating the slack jawed onlookers. A man that looks to have some ifrit blood to him strums an oud in one corner, though the sound that issues seems to take meaning beyond simple notes. All told there are about ten patrons and double that in serving staff in attendance.
Your attention is grabbed by a portly Osiriani woman standing in front of what serves for a bar here. She is swathed in swatches of silk and bears an expanse of gaudy jewelery and beckons you approach her.
Setesh inhales deeply, savoring the variety of scents that fill the air.
Well, well. I know we are here on business, but this is still quite tempting...
He then glances around, eyeing-off the various patrons for any likely-looking targets...
The patrons within the common room are presently in singles or pairs. There are none that look to you a likely choice for having delved into the sands.
Grynbarl approaches without hesitation, tipping his head in acknowledgement to the portly woman and says "Aye, greetings be to ye of this fine place."
The portly woman smiles suggestively at Grynbarl "Greetings to you student of the Master of Masters. What sin have you sought today?" the flabby folds of skin that make up her frame jiggling as she maneuvers to face you and gives a short bow. Despite the excess weight she is attractive and nimble.
"We've come to find some acquaintances on matters of mutual interest, the better to make another acquaintance in the great Neheb. All done while partaking of the delights of your establishment, of course. I myself could do with a good smoke."
Corpulence shifting the lady smiles "Why one such as Neheb would not be seen in a place such as this... and even if he were it would be imprudent for me to not see to his discretion, no?" before she clicks her fingers and calls for an attendant. The man brings forth a tray covered with small wooden boxes, each with individual etched labels in their lid. You spy mundane tabac, fruit laced, and some more exotic names such as vayav and Pirias' nectar. Smiling like a viper she purrs "What is your poison?"
Setesh perks up noticeably when the tray if intoxicants / stimulants is brought over. He stares at it longingly for a few tense seconds, before tearing his gaze away.
"We would like to talk with a bunch of desert ruin seekers who we think are currently in here, after a hard period of time out on the dunes. They may not have worked for Neheb, per se, but they certainly sold goods to him."
Unsure of what exactly the concoctions might be, but having seen many a soul high and lost on similar stuffs, she steers clear of them and hopes that her companions will as well.
Thank you M'lady, but I do not believe I can enjoy the affect that your . . . wares . . . might have today. However, I would be most interested in meeting these adventurers.
Diplomacy:
Knowledge(local):
Setesh's longing glance is not un-noticed by the lady, though her hungry eyes continue to pursue Gyrnbarl as to choice. Replying she prevaricates "Perhaps I know of whom you talk and perhaps not. Many patrons come here to sink deep into the pleasures that I have on offer... what might you need to see them for that would be worthy of their disturbance?" turning to give Setesh and Kytana a small nod as she reaches for a glass of tisane on the counter beside her. Closing her eyes so as to enjoy the fragrance, she reopens them to peer through the heavy and smoky eyeshadow that line them.
Ma'am, perhaps you heard of the strange man made of scarabs who appeared yesterday a short way from here. We believe that it might be looking for something these individuals brought back to the city with them. While your clients may enjoy some, er . . . unusual . . . pleasures, I do not think it would be particularly good for your business if an ancient magical creature made of scarabs appeared in your business and began to consume people.
I look around the room briefly. Or, considering the nature of your den, perhaps it might help business, but I doubt you would want to take that risk.
Grynbarl didn't recognize the more exotic offerings on the plate, and knew he wasn't nearly as hardy as most dwarves, and pointed to the fruit-laced tabac...and then gestured for a [i]small[i] helping of Pirias' Nectar, offering a wink at the woman. Her figure was not unlike a healthy dwarven lass, Grynbarl noted appreciatively, making sure the proprietress noticed his appreciation.
"What my companions mean to say, my most curvaceous and promising lady, is that we do not intend to break the discretion of your clientele. Our business involves the illustrious personage of Neheb only indirectly, but it is of some urgence and with possibility to avoid much danger that we seek a connection to him. I would not ask this of you otherwise, but to prevent disaster and bring proper glory to my patron."
The portly lady purses her lips and coos "A fine choice dear one... and best enjoyed recumbent. I have heard your words and will answer... but first, pleasure calls." and she leads you to one side where a seat of velvet cushions lies empty. The tray of goods is whisked away and the attendant returns with a shisha that is unlike the others in the room. Where most are decorative, this is a squat and almost crude creation in a dull metal. Grynbarl is ushered to his seat and the portly host kneels beside him to prepare his tabac.
The bowl is opened and a tiny portion of resinous material the size of your thumbnail placed within. This is screened by a silver cover before coals of aromatic hardwoods placed atop. Almost instantly a strong scent of burnt herbs becomes apparent, though tinged with both the metallic tang of blood and an intangible feeling of longing. Your host takes the mouthpiece and takes a short pull, though does not inhale. Exchanging the mouthpiece for a new one, she leans close to Grynbarl, mountainous chest but inches from his arm and her face close enough to his cheek that he can feel her breath on his cheek. She proffers the mouthpiece and whispers "Come sheikh, take a draw"
Setesh catches a faint wiff of the herbs involved, and watches with significant interest, eager to acquire a symptomatology for Pirias' Nectar.
Hopefully, his Dwarven constitution will allow him to weather effects of the drug long enough to provide useful data...
He noticed her surprise, but kept his knowledge hidden until she was so close that a whisper would not pass beyond the two of them.
"Be not surprised, dear lady. All have vices, and I am not the kind of ascetic most expect me to be."
The dwarf took a draw from the mouthpiece; not a short one, that would have been rude. But he didn't dare take a long draw when only testing his purchase. He settled on a middling breath that didn't use his fullest lung capacity. A testing pull that he let swirl around his senses for a few moments before expelling like an experienced smoker.
As Grynbarl takes his first middling breath, those observing see his eyes begin to glaze over and muscles involuntarily relax. After his exhalation he places the mouthpiece back in his mouth and is driven to draw as deep as his lungs will allow. The proprietor gives him a chaste kiss on the cheek and whispers "Enjoy little one" before rising back to her feet and returning to the others. She tells you "The ones you seek are above, I will have one guide the way for you." snapping her fingers and a young woman garbed in the barest of silks comes forward in deference. Looking over her shoulders at Grynbarl, she smiles longingly and adds "Worry not for your friend... he will return from the grasp of Pirias in time... though for now it is best we let him rest."
Behind her Grynbarl has been holding his breath until his cheeks burst red with effort. Only then does he slowly exhale through his nose, eyes rolling back into his head before his eyelids close and his body grows limp. He twitches occasionally and beneath his eyelids his eyes seem to be moving as though in deep REM sleep. From the best you can guess he is in a sort of lucid coma.
You are filled with the diametric opposition of both ecstasy and agony flooding through you, while also the inexorable urge to hold the smoke within. As the power of the nacortic begins to overcome your defenses as a large wave washes away a castle of sand your mind slips away and sinks into a deep and dark place. You feel a brushing upon your cheek. As your lungs scream for more air you start to slowly exhale through your nose, but can think of nothing other than the sight of the room that you are in moving away from you. The void is swallowing you entirely and the waking world passes into the distance....
I watch the dwarf with concern not knowing how this will end. Having seen and heard of many people who never returned from such experiences, I leave his side with great trepidation. Nonetheless, we must find what these adventurers learned in the desert, so I follow our hostess with the mostess upstairs.
"If they are here, then I will certainly wish to meet with them, dear lady. Our business will perhaps take some time, but once it is concluded, I think I shall retire for a smoke. Nothing quite so potent as my dwarven friend is partaking in, but I think a healthy dose of simple shisha is in order."
Tarik gives his most winning smile, hoping to project a good image.
The hostess stays below while you are led through a narrow field of corridors and up a set of stairs to the second floor. This floor is full of private rooms with what appear to be relatively soundproof doors closed for discretion. The slip of a girl leading you forward stops before a door that is marked with the Osiriani sign for baths and keeps her eyes down in deference as she speaks quietly "You will find them within"
You are alone, with only the light as company.
Grynbarl shakes his head, as though whisking water off his bald pate. After checking his "body" to make sure all his parts are in their proper places, he shrugs his shoulders and moves toward the light at a leisurely pace. He'd be here for awhile, no need to hurry things.
Noor looks all around in amazement and disgust. As Grynbarl succumbs to his drugs, she gets one last look at him before being led away. He willing gives up control? She shudders at the thought. I have fought so long to stay in control. Why give that all up for addled dreams?
"Thank you my dear. You may go." Tarik waves her away with a calm hand. Well, here goes nothing.. He firmly opens the door, and steps inside.
The demure serving lass departs leaving you alone with your companions and the promise and threat of what might lay within.
As the door is thrown open you are prepared for all manner of debauched proceedings, however the reality is much more mundane. You see three gents snoozing lightly as they enjoy a languid soak each in a separate foamy bath. Two are heavy set and the visible scars on their arms make an easy indication of their profession, while the third is of slimmer build and has a scholarly air to his hairstyle and beard. Their gear is piled in one corner as they enjoy a languid morning's soak.
At your entrance, the thinner one with a tight wound beard looks up and blinks his eyes to clear his head "I'm guessing you aren't here for my massage? What do you want?"
I look to my companions expecting one of the better spoken to direct the conversation.
Perception:
Looking around the room you can see that there are no discernable weapons in the piles of gear, though the smaller set of clothing does fold over a few tomes and journals. There does not appear to be anything hidden or out of the ordinary in the room.
I have not been posting it, but can I assume that I have a Message Spell running with those ahead of me, in this case since there are only 3 people, with everyone - I don't thing whispering to Grynbarl would be particularly helpful right now. Generally with all arcane casters, I try to keep a Message up constantly. At 3rd level I can affect 3 people plus myself and it allows us to communicate up to 130' for 30 minutes, and this should be pretty easy to keep up.
You see Kytana turn bright red as she notices the weapons which are not being concealed beneath the bubbles.
Whisper - I see no weapons in their belongings. Be careful, it is likely they have decided to share their baths with their favorite poking devices. --> DC25 to overhear.
Kytana turns an even darker shade of red after realizing how she misphrased this.