Sonya swings again with fervor , but the shifty cat is too alert after Seraka's devastating blow.
Aldern watches the battle wordlessly, hands on the reins of the horses, as the terribly-injured cat lashes out at Sonya.
This time, the firepelt manages to get past Sonya's guard... but it's the last thing the feline will do in this life. The ferocious cat collapses, blood still pulsing from the giant gash Seraka's bardiche left.
Aldern tilts his head to the side. "Marvelously done," he says coolly. "I'll keep in mind the hunting tactic of someone thrusting his reins at me then striding ahead to get mauled. Is he alive?" he asks of Rokan with a little lift of his chin.
Seraka's rage drops in an instant, replaced instead by delight, enough delight that she makes little note of Aldern's cold comments.
"HAH! Done already?"
Seraka returns her bardiche to her back and draws a dagger, ending the firepelt's life with a quick, humane cut. She switches back to her bardiche
Seraka saunters over to Rokan and kneels down on the balls of her feet. She channels some light energy into her hand, and taps him on the forehead.
As he wakes, she pokes at his shoulder with the butt of her bardiche. She then throws him a thumbs up and a grin.
"Hey, Buddy! Thanks for the help. My girl's gonna love this."
She waves the head of her bardiche towards the slain firepelt.
Rokan's eyes flare open for the second time in mere moments. After a frantic moment of trying to get his bearings, he realizes Seraka's smile means the danger must have passed.
"Hey, Buddy! Thanks for the help. My girl's gonna love this."
"It's all yours," he groans, "I certainly have no claim to it. But given that you saved my skin, I'll help you prepare the firepelt's skin however you wish."
His tone sombers and he meets her gaze levelly as he switches to their shared tongue. "But in full honesty, thank you for strong actions. I could be dead otherwise. I won't forget it." He swings his gaze to E, then also Sonya, "That goes for all of you. You have my thanks, and I am indebted to you."
As he stands up, the rich man's words—which he'd heard as he rose from unconsciousness—seem to click in his mind. Rokan reclaims his bow from the ground then gives Aldern a flat look.
"Those sound like the words of a man who thinks he can do better. You will take the lead from this point forward." He whispers his own words of power, which is echoed softly by soft sighing sounds from the trees and grasses around him, and his wounds knit further. He grimaces at the wound's reluctance to heal quickly, then climbs back into the saddle, waiting patiently for Aldern to take the lead as he checks his bow for damage.
Aldern's face grows pale then red, two spots of high color appearing in his cheeks at Rokan's words. He's silent a few seconds, breathing deliberately, then smiles cynically.
"I invited you on a hunt out of gratitude for saving my life. I gave my gold for the horse you're riding on, Shoanti. I accepted your order to hold reins as though I were your squire and watched you recklessly walk forward into the cat's domain only to very nearly die, if not for your fellows-- and Miss Valdemar here was injured, protecting your unconscious body. It seems the mark of a gentleman, if he were favored with such blessings as you all, might be to see to the wounds of the woman who saved his life rather than merely healing himself. I would gladly see to Miss Valdemar myself, but unfortunately I have no such gifts. I am no priest, and, as ... Seraka here... has reminded us all, I am no 'warrior' either.
"But the other thing I am not is your servant. Three times now you people have given me orders. 'Hold this.' 'Shut up.' 'You will take the lead.' I suppose the Shoanti really do count life-debts differently, if among your people it means you are entitled to treat me like your errand boy."
Aldern releases the reins of the other horses and draws himself up in his saddle, turning to Sonya. "Miss Valdemar. ..and Mr. Esegia. Good day to you both. I am sorry the hunt wasn't more pleasant. I'll make my own way back to town, there's no need to trouble yourselves. I suppose I could insist on the return of the horses I rented as well, and let you all walk the miles back to town with your carcass, but that would be petty of me, wouldn't it? You are welcome to return them yourselves, though I do ask that you see them back safely to the town, they are fine beasts and it would be a shame if they were to be hurt."
With that, Foxglove turns his horse and starts riding back through the brush.
Seraka listens, her face a mixture of bemusement and surprise. She waits until he rides off out of hearing, then turns to the others and shrugs.
"Cool. Free horses."
She slaps Rokan on the shoulder and grabs him, pulling him in for a hearty embrace.
"Hey, you're the rival of Seraka the Cyclops. You can't die to some damn cat. I won't let you. No trouble at all."
Rokan endures the man’s petulance impassively. Well, mostly impassively, his scowl slowly deepens, though he keeps his mouth shut.
As the rich man rides out of sight, he turns to the group, his face thoughtful. ”I think he—“
Seraka’s punch and hug catch him off-guard. ”I … uh … thanks,” he mutters, his cheeks darkening. He awkwardly disentangles himself, trying vainly to recapture his composure, though he can’t help but smile at Seraka’s actions.
”Sonya, these aren’t my people or village.” He stoops to look at the fire pelt, clapping E thankfully on the shoulder as he does so. ”Will it be a problem that we’ve upset him?” He looks over at Sonya, noting her injuries, ”And so it is not misunderstood, I healed myself so I would not be even more of a burden to you all. Not because I value myself over you.”
Sonya glances between E and Seraka when Rokan speaks Shoanti at her, doing her best to put on a politely optimistic face over her nonunderstanding.
She focuses on wrangling her own horse and loosening her armor to check her own wounds. Present, but manageable - her tabard and armor was another matter - what the firepelt had attempted to do to her, it had succeeded on her armor. "I'll be alright."
"It's... not ideal, but I'll manage. There might be some problems in the future, but I can handle it."
She takes a note from Rokan's book, and nods wordlessly at his explanation, and smiles at Seraka's antics and says, "It was very impressive, I'm sure the heroic story will help too."
"But we should get going before another one of them shows up - can't very well wear two coats at once." A thought crosses her mind and wrinkles her face. "And hopefully be close by enough that we can help Mr. Aldern if he runs into anything else in the forest."
Rokan shrugs at the prospect of helping Aldern further. ”I guess you’re right.”
He stoops to go to work on the firepelt’s body.
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E shrugs, the reactions of both the other males in the group surprising him.
He gives Aldern a concerned look, followed by an accepting nod. "Our legs thank you for your giving nature" he adds as Foxglove leaves them with horses.
Unable to aid with any skinning or hunting fieldwork, E climbs onto a nearby branch and lets his feet dangle down, watching and whistling a quiet tune to himself.
"Should we not offer some trophy, like a tooth or eye or whatever's appropriate to Aldern as thanks for including us on his trip? I mean, he is right, we did kind of take it over." his legs continue to rock back and forth through the air.
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Seraka assists Rokan as he field-dresses the firepelt, mostly just giving him an extra pair of hands.
She sighs and resigns herself as Sonya brings up the possibility of Aldern getting attacked by other wildlife.
"Yeah, you're right, Sonya. A toothless chump like him wouldn't do well by himself, and as much as I dislike him, he probably doesn't deserve getting mauled."
She mounts her horse as she listens to E's musings about trophies. She points to him and grins.
"Maybe we can give him the head, minus the teeth. A big toothless mouth for a big toothless mouth."
As an experienced hunter, Rokan quickly uses some rope to truss the carcass and hang it, the better to skin the hide. The bloody work goes reasonably quickly, and soon the pelt is rolled up for travel. (As far as animal parts that might be used by a weaponsmith, teeth-- for decorative touches-- would probably be the most likely... though Seraka may remember Savah's said she's not a smith herself, just a merchant of weapons.)
The ride back to town is uninterrupted other than a pause at a stream to wipe away blood from the cat's corpse. The tracks of Aldern's white mare are visible ahead of you all the way, so you presume he returned to town with no issue. Ahead of you, however, the sun is starting to sink towards the ocean, sending the Old Light into stark silhouette and casting its shadow over the town and your own approach.
The guards at the gate-- four now, rather than the two the day of the festival-- tip their heads towards you in recognition and greeting, opening the gate to allow you back into Sandpoint. The closing of the gate during routine daylight hours also appears to be a new development. One of them calls down to you as you pass under:
"Sheriff wanted a word with you when you got in tonight, said to let you know."
Though it's late in the day and getting into dusk, Belor is still at the garrison and looks up when you enter, his face a little drawn.
"Ah, good, I was hoping to catch you all. I know it's not exactly been much time for an investigation so far, but learned anything so far?" he asks, seemingly without much hope for positive results.
"Maybe we can give him the head, minus the teeth. A big toothless mouth for a big toothless mouth."
At multiple times along the ride back, Rokan can't help but think back on Seraka's joke, laughing uncharacteristically every time.
The tracks of Aldern's white mare are visible ahead of you all the way, so you presume he returned to town with no issue.
As they pass through the gates, Rokan waves at the guardsman who shouts down, then—a thought striking him—he pulls his horse to a stop.
"Guardsman. Did Aldern Foxglove come back through these gates?"
He looks to his group mates, "I'd rather ensure he made it back before we check in with Sherif Belor. I'm worried these townsfolk might get prickly if they think we lost their rich man."
"And if they don't, he cares enough about himself to even it out." Sonya says under her breath.
---
"We know that the goblins frequently scavenge the bottom of the cliffs where people throw all their trash, so we're hoping to try to track them or catch one."
"Or at least just make them stop going there. I really don't want to be trudging through trash and not accomplish anything, to be honest."
Judging by the tracks, Rokan knows that Aldern's horse made its way ahead of them at a reasonable pace all the way back to Sandpoint, as opposed to starting or bolting in a fashion that would suggest either horse or rider ran into any trouble; if Aldern dismounted from the horse, there are no signs of it Rokan can see.
To confirm it, at the gate he asks, and the guard squints thoughtfully before nodding. "The man with the fancy clothes on the white mare? Aye, he came through here a bit ago."
Aldern Foxglove isn't their rich man, after all, not being a Sandpoint resident.
In the garrison Belor listens to Sonya's words with a nod and a small frown. "Probably we should have done something about those scroungers years ago, but they can't make it up the cliff and they scavenge the trash in such small groups that they weren't a threat.... whereas actually posting guards down there every night would be an expenditure of manpower we simply didn't have on hand. Maybe you can send a strong message, even if you don't learn anything new."
The sheriff clears his throat. "That manpower issue is part of why I wanted to talk to you. As I told you when you brought up helping the quahs," his gaze flicks to belor, "we just don't have that many trained men, and I've got people pulling double shifts now with everyone still on edge from the attack. I'm intending to ride to Magnimar in the morning with the mayor's blessing and request that the city loan us some additional soldiers, for the sake of the region. It'll help Sandpoint, and it might help you too."
That last is directed at Rokan in particular. "If the giants are the threat you say they are, you may need more soldiers than our little militia can provide. Magnimar has the sort of manpower for that kind of thing."
Belor straightens some papers on his desk. "I'm bringing this up to you all because... well, the townsfolk are quite taken with you, perhaps you've noticed." He looks briefly wry. "Your presence should help reassure people. Not that I'm asking you to play nursemaids, but... it also still bothers me that we don't know who let these damn goblins in in the first place; it's possible that my leaving town might enbolden them to make a move.... lure them out. Follow my drift?"
Aldern Foxglove isn't their rich man, after all, not being a Sandpoint resident.
Rokan considers the request for long moments. ”Our agreement was for me to help you find the source of the attack.” Surprisingly, his tone softens, ”But I can see how it is within the spirit of our agreement … and shared survival … to ensure your people have enough warriors on-hand to fight whatever difficulties lie ahead.”
He leans his bow against the wall and squats down, ignoring the room’s chairs. ”Given that you think your absence might lure a second attempt on the town, how long do you think it’ll take you to get there, recruit, and make it back?”
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"What kind of move though? The goblin raid seems a distraction for our quarry to carry out a tomb robbing in secrecy. Did they get what they were looking for? If not, what would they have found there point them to? Would they use a similar tactic of causing a commotion when they know people are on alert, or find some quieter method to achieve their goal? What is their goal?" E rambles on more confused than when he started speaking.
"If your worried about people's worries during your absence, that we can likely assuage. We seem capable of dealing with physical threats as well."
The sheriff nods at Rokan, brows absently furrowed at his disdain for the chairs. "Magnimar's a day's ride. So two days in the journeying, and a day in the asking."
E's question makes Belor run his fingers through his un-Shoanti hair. "I suppose you're right, if all they were looking for were the bones... which still makes no sense to me," he grunts with a distracted frown. "I don't know for certain they will make a move. It just sticks in my craw worse than the stew at the Hagfish to think there might still be some traitor here in the damned town, and there's a hope at least that they might get sloppy somehow if the 'law' is out of town.
"Anyway, I thank you for that, and yes- you do seem competent. A successful hunt, it looked like...?" Belor asks, a slight smile on his face.
After hearing whatever you wish to share of your hunt, Belor bids you a good night and good luck with your continued investigations, saying he'll ride out first thing in the morning.
”Three days” Rokan grunts by way of agreement, ”We’ll keep an eye on things.”
At mention of the hunt, Rokan can’t help but roll his eyes, ”Yes. The hunt. It was …” He searches for the appropriate term, ” … successful.”
Once the discussion-at-hand winds down, Rokan quickly becomes quiet, falling into his usual disdain for small talk. He waits out the rest of the discussion patiently, squatting against the wall the whole time.
Rokan snatches up his bow and turns to the group, ”If we are to touch base with Aldern, we should do so soon.” He rattles off a quick sentence in Shoanti that has the sound of a practiced saying. ”It means ‘Bad blood sours with the setting of the sun’. Basically, don’t let someone sleep on hard feelings.” Then he shrugs as if to say, ‘but I don’t really care either way’.
”If there is nothing else, maybe we should find our way back to the Dragon, see about something to eat.”
Rokan smiles, "Clearly I was talking about other people." He pauses to tenderly check on his still-raw wounds. "I would certainly appreciate healing. That firepelt really got the better of me." He looks over at Sonya and Seraka, "Well, before they got the better of it, anyway."
He nods at the blue man's healing. "I have no more healing today, and my wounds are still raw." He shrugs, "I hate to ask you all to fully patch me up. Maybe I will go see if the good father in town will do it."
"If there is anything my father in Magnimar can do to help you, please visit him and tell him we need the help. We will watch over Sandpoint while you're gone, don't worry." Sonya says with fervor. "Successful enough, but I wouldn't recommend it again - those cats aren't exactly easy hunting. We ended up being hunted as much as it was!"
...
"It wouldn't hurt to smooth things over with him - I should probably head to the temple and speak with Father Zantus and hope he can heal me if we are planning to deal with goblins today. But "
as much as I would like to avoid it, "It would probably be good for the townsfolk to see us somewhere public like the Rusty Dragon if their sheriff is leaving for a few days after that attack."
Seraka stands at the back of the group, finding little need to interject. She manages to catch the broad strokes of the conversation; since it isn't an emergency, the details don't interest her at the moment. Moreso, her mind couldn't help but keep turning to how best to surprise Savah with her catch. Should she put it in a box like a surprise? She pauses that line of thought after the Sheriff finishes his initial explanation.
"No worries, Boss. We got it handled." She throws out a mock-enthusiastic salute.
She falls back into plans for the evening as the conversation continues. Maybe she should just stride in and plop the pelt down in front of Savah? At Rokan's mention of the hunt, she rouses and grins. She drags out the remnants of the firepelt, displaying them with a nonchalant bravado.
"HAH! It was a glorious hunt. I cut down this fine animal in a single chop, and I'm sure we could have taken a dozen more. Not the Foxglove man though. That toothless nobleman did nothing but preen and whine."
Rokan can't help but grin again at Seraka's exuberant retelling. "She's right. I had a front-row seat, unfortunately." He shakes his head, "Earned every bit of that pelt." He is intentional not to look over at her as he finishes, "And I'd be happy give testament to anyone about the story."
Belor arches a brow at Seraka's description of the hunt, and of Foxglove, but merely nods. "Well, I'm glad you're all safely returned, at the least. Very well then. I'll be leaving in the morning; thank you for all the assistance."
It's easy enough to stop by the temple of Desna; Father Zantus looks pleased to see you. He's also willing to call upon the blessing of Desna for you all now that he doesn't have dozens of other wounded citizens who are needing the same.
Zantus also asks if you've learned anything new about the desecrators of the tomb, looking slightly worried, but bids you good luck in your further searchings.
On the way back to the inn, Seraka stops in quickly at Savah's. The shop itself is shuttered for the night, but the upstairs is lit, and a knock on the door gets an "I'm comin', I'm comin'!" before the door is opened to reveal Savah's smile and crooked grin.
"Back so soon?" she quips...
Meanwhile, the common room at the Rusty Dragon is busy as ever, with faces still unknown to you and a few familiar ones as well. Ameiko and her halfling assistant seems harried, rushing from table to table with trays of drinks and offering barely a nod your way. However, despite the fullness of the room, Aldern Foxglove isn't present with the others drinking and eating. Shalelu is still present, in the same position Rokan saw her when he left-- nursing a pipe and a beer, her booted feet resting on a bench near the fire.
Dinner is roast rabbit with sage and thyme, piping hot fried potatoes, and smoked herring-- it's as good as anything Sonya could ask the kitchens at the Valdemar Manor to make, if she chooses to eat in the Dragon.
Sonya's stiff stoic posture deflates a bit as she breathes a sigh of relief when she sees Aldern isn't present, and sits down to relax a bit at the bar. She sends some waves and smiles towards Ameiko as she rushes to and fro through the bar, but doesn't try to distract her from her work, instead opting to mill about the crowd - a mix of introducing herself and checking on how people have been doing the hectic past few days.
Seraka waits at the door with the hide slung over her shoulder. As the door opens, her mouth slides into a cockeyed grin to match Savah's. Seraka pats the hide proudly.
"Hey. Got a present for you. Where'd you want it?"
The uncured hide's a bit bloody still but Savah doesn't seem to mind, admiring the glossy black fur with its colorful streaks-- and fingering the huge gash in the fur where Seraka had cut the beast down. "Ha, looks like ya didn't hunt this thing so much as bisect it. Least I'm betting that was your strike, eh?
"It's a nice hide. But I don't see any flowers," Savah teases.
In the Rusty Dragon's taproom, Sonya sees a few familiar faces-- Cyrdak is sitting with another redhead, though it's unlikely to be a relation, as the other ginger is a dwarf. The two appear to be arguing, boisterously but in a friendly fashion. Another table holds several middle-aged men dressed in a scholarly fashion who also seem to engaged in an argument, somewhat more peevish in nature-- the topic seems to be debated reasons for the goblin attack, with the three men taking various positions that range from 'seeking to appease a demon god,' 'out of temper humors due to the alignment of the stars,' and 'obvious overpopulation pressures.' One of the scholars identifies Sonya on sight as 'oh, Rurik's girl-- how you've grown! Bit too old for toffees now...' After searching her childhood memories Sonya is able to dredge up a name-- Brodert Quink-- along with vague memories of tales of giants and wizards. (And toffees that hadn't been very good.)
Besides Shalelu, a dozen other locals fill the seats, nodding cordially at Sonya when she happens to meet their eye.
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E stops to grab a bowl of potatoes before heading to the bar. Once there, he places his mug on the counter with a smile.
"Delicious!"
He continues to pluck at his potato pieces with a knife, and looks about the room. When his mug is filled, he'll stop Ameiko to ask who the various people in the room are.
Seraka stands tall with pride as Savah inspects her work.
"Damn right that was my strike! Heh, you could say I did that firepelt by half, in a way."
The mention of flowers catches Seraka completely flat-footed. She hunches over and grimaces, like she just got punched in the gut. In all the excitement and drama, she had forgotten to get some flowers on the way back, too.
"Yeah...uh...only found some calla lilies, and didn't wanna give you a rash, and nothing else really looked nice, so...." She just lets the sentence trail off, figuring she should stop talking before she embarasses herself further.
Rokan seems surprisingly pleased with the day overall, all things considered. He offers to take the mounts back to their owner, taking the opportunity to ask the horse owner if Aldern had made his way back through this way.
Then, he heads over to the Rusty Dragon, where he flags down the (very) busy halfling server and orders an ale ‘when you have a moment, please’. Then, dreading the conversation but knowing it’s the only one worth having in the joint, he makes his way over to where Shalelu sits.
After asking permission to sit, he swallows his pride, then launches into his retelling of their hunting trip, keeping the story honest enough to know that she’ll get a kick out of it.
Quink listens amiably to Sonya's explanation of what life's been like for her, then invites her to offer her opinion to the debate as to just why the goblins chose to attack, since the word around town is that she personally slew six of the little pests and presumably she would know...
Aldern makes no appearance, though Rokan determines through the stbles that Aldern did indeed make it back. Rokan sips the ale the halfling eventually brings, then tells a tale of the hunt to Shalelu, who listens with a crooked smile and tells Rokan that he's fortunate to be alive... and displays a set of parallel-line scars that run down her left forearm. "There's a nasty firepelt out near Thistletop, a big one, clever too. You'll know what to watch out for now, I suppose."
As for Seraka... Savah chuckles away the bit about flowers with a wave of her hand. "I'm givin' you guff, Green. This is a fine gift. I'll get it cured, maybe make a nice rug outta it. Or hang on the wall," she says thoughtfully, then smiles at Seraka. "Now then, a drink, was it?"
Savah will accompany Seraka to the Rusty Dragon and make good on that offer of a drink, cheerfully asking Seraka about her experiences in Magnimar and telling a few tales of her own of various mercenary gigs she's pulled before settling down with her shop.
The ales flow thick and dark, but sooner or later, people drift off towards their homes or their rooms for the night...
It's early and the taproom is full of only the early risers of the inn's guests. The halfling is seen shuttling back and forth from the kitchen with bowls of porridge, rather simple fare compared to the breakfast of the other day, and a drawn look on her face. When E or Seraka make it down, she scurries over to them, her hands jammed into the pockets of her apron.
"Got a moment? Need to talk to you," Bethany mutters.
Rokan greets a second morning at the White Deer, rising early to use his training to clear his mind before grabbing a few bites from the proprietor’s wife's breakfast offering. The sun is still low—behind the city’s wall—as he sets out to make a brisk circuit of the town, mostly just familiarizing himself with its general layout. If the local early-risers see one of Belor’s ‘heroes’ out on a morning ‘patrol’, hopefully it’ll only support the sheriff’s goals for the next few days.
After the walk, he finds his way to the Dragon, pleased to note that for once the inn’s main room is a bit more subdued. He orders a bowl of the porridge as he looks for any of his friends, making his way to their table if they’re already present.
Rokan pauses, and looks seriously down at the halfling. ”Here? Or in private?”
Bethany purses her lips morosely at this question, then wordlessly beckons you all to follow...
She leads the 'heroes' through the taproom's back door, through the kitchen and then to door at the end of the hall.
"Ameiko's room," the halfling says out the corner of her mouth. "She's always first up, has the fires going and such in the kitchen 'fore I get there. Didn't this mornin'. Came and knocked, no answer. Figgered she might be sick so I let myself in. No Ameiko."
The halfling gives an unreadable squinty look up at you all, and produces a scrap of parchment from her apron pocket-- a note scrawled with Minkaian characters.
"Don't imagine any of you read this? Not many in town do, just the Kaijitsu family themselves. And Ameiko's taught me, because we use it for the books." The halfling sucks in her cheeks then lets out a little exhale. "Anyhow this note was on her desk.
"It sez.... well, hold on a moment, and I'll translate it for you."
The halfling clears her throat, then begins to read aloud...
Sonya arrives at the Rusty Dragon just in time to see the others gathering into the back room, and slips in behind them. "Hope I'm not ruining a surprise party or something."
-
A slew of new information keeps Sonya reeling. A new Kaijitsu, the head of the family working for goblins?
"I thought Ameiko was the only heir to the family - she has a brother? Did she ever mention him to you?" Would he hurt her?
She paces back and forth, armor jangling as she thinks aloud.
"Lonjiku is... not my favorite person, but why would he work with the goblins? Nothing has pointed to him so far. It's not like he needs money - the glasswork relies on Sandpoint being stable."
"We need to talk to this Tsuto, and figure out what's going on."
Rokan nods at Sonya's arrival, as well as at her observations. "They are heavy accusations. The Glassworks is their company? Is it in town? It definitely seems worth looking into."
He bows to the halfling, "Thank you for bringing this to our attention. Hopefully it's just some kind of misunderstanding."
Bethany purses her lips in a little frown at Sonya's litany of questions, shrugging her shoulders.
"Not a heir. Half-brother. Big scandal, hushed up," the elderly halfling says in her staccato sentences. "A bastard son. Not Lonjiku's. 'Less he had elf hiding in him somewhere. He disowned the boy years ago. Ameiko felt sorry for him."
She shrugs, her mouth working sourly. "Don't know about Lonjiku working with goblins. Glassworks 's here in town," she says, giving terse directions.
"Best find her. Got a bad sense about this," the serving-halfling says, crumpling up the note.
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E listens, tapping his finger against his mug as the halfling reads her note and the party's questions get asked.
"Did you say her brother is a half-elf, and not of Lonjiku's blood?"
"So Ameiko's mother and an elf? Or perhaps Tsuto's half-elven appearance leans more elvish." He shrugs.
"Either way, an elf and goblins is more of a thread to pull on than Lonjiku risking his profit line. Perhaps this note was a trap for Ameiko. But what would her half-brother have to gain from such a ruse? We should go investigate the glassworks."
"'s right. Half-elf. Mother's dead. Ameiko could say more... if she were here." the halfling shrugs.
The morning streets are still fairly quiet, at least away from the docks. The scent of baking bread rises from a few buildings that you pass, but there's not much foot traffic yet. You make your collective way west from the Rusty Dragon on Bethany's instructions, and soon see the large bulk of the Glassworks rising up at the end of the street you're on. The enormous factory sits on the edge of the town's western cliff, with easy access and ropes and pullies down to the beach below, from whence the Glassworks acquires sand for the creation of the glass. Smoke is rising industriously from the several chimneys that jut from the roof next to large skylights.
As you get closer, however, you note that the Glassworks' many windows-- designed to show off some of the fine craftsmanship of the Kaijitsu family's trade-- appear to have their curtains drawn on the inside.
There two two external doors to the Glassworks, and both bear a note in written in sharp, angular script:
The Glassworks is not open to customers at present. Please come again later.
-Lonjiku Kaijitsu
A hand on the doorknobs will quickly reveal that the doors are locked.
Rokan stands looking at the hulking building, frowning as he considers the situation. ”Smoke from the furnaces, but they’re closed?”
He looks sideways at Esegia, ”You think a quiet approach might help?” He looks back at the locked doors, ”Checking for other entrances might at least be good.”
Circling the building will reveal the two sets of doors: one at the front, and the other on the far side of the building, where stairs and rope pulleys lead down to the beach. The second set of doors also has a similar note the first door, and is also locked. Aside from that, there are dozens of large glass windows set into the walls; many of them could afford 'entrance' if one was willing to break the glass. There's glass skylights on the roof as well.
Beyond this, Rokan notes no other entrances.
By the time the building's been circled, you've caught the eye of someone from the neighboring buildings: specifically, you've caught the eye of Sabyl, the shaved-headed woman you met the day of the festival. She's emerged from a plain stone building that is across the street from the Glassworks and is watching you curiously.
"I think they're closed for the day," she calls out. "Did you have business buying... glass?"
Before Sonya can suggest knocking at the door, the others have already slipped into the bushes around the glassworks.
"Ah, no, not buying glass, we're looking for Ameiko - it's urgent that we find her. Have you seen her around? She might have come by late last night."
"Someone must be in if the furnaces are going, we should just knock and see who comes to the door. We've made Lonjiku angry enough with the ... events at the bar, we don't need to go breaking in his windows too."
*Clonk Clonk Clonk* goes the door knocker. *Clonk Clonk Clonk* even louder.
"I'm afraid not," Sabyl says with a shake of her head to the question about having seen Ameiko. "I don't think she's been to the Glassworks in years, not that I know of at least."
Sonya knocks on the door, and waits, but after several minutes, no answer has been forthcoming.
Rokan tries to wait, but impatience gets the better of him. "I don't like this," he mutters, looking for a way to gain access to the roof and—more importantly—the skylight.
"If I can get up there, maybe I can see what's going on in there before we barge in."
The outside of the building could be climbed; there's some drainpipes and the like that run up the sides of the Glassworks.
Sabyl continues to watch, sort of bemusedly, as Rokan assesses the building's climbability.
Rokan shrugs, not liking his chances at the bare climb. "I have rope but no climbing hook. Unless someone else can make that climb," he continues, giving the front door an emphatic look, "we may need to take the direct approach. And quickly."
Seeing the little blue man get to work on the door, Rokan readies his bow. He looks up at Sabyl, "Just a precaution, hopefully."