Shirish gathers her new gear, considers hefting the weight of each item and stops and listens to her slim magical companion.
"We could also spar," she answers his suggestion about testing their new companions and looks to the dwarven priest hopefully.
"I would like to see how the shining ones train," she rumbles, flexing the impressive muscles in her dominant arm.
"Pfftt...
Smiling and giving Kipp a short bow of thanks, Chitleen moves to his room to store the leather and arrows - preferring to carry only his talwar through the city. Returning he nods assent to Daeron's words "It would be an honorable action to find this man's killer yes? As long as our esteemed employers do not object? When the mine is reopened your main supply would be through Solku would it not? - and having thankful members of the Vigil and the gratitude of the Sharif would surely be wise?"
"Perhaps we should first revisit the room he fled from... perhaps there is something the Vigil missed..."
"I am always happy to spar; I am indeed a servant of Ragathiel, but no respectable Dwarf nor servant of my lord would skimp on his combat training." Patting his bastard sword, "I can hold my own with the holy weapon the five-winged god has chosen. I will be happy to cross blades with you when we have the time."
Shirish observed the conversation between her new companions with some interest, trying to recall if Cortos and Jerrand ever had, but dismisses the thought quickly at the mention of faith.
"My arms and steel are devoted to Kurgess!" Shirish says and flexes. "No greater contestant than he ever graced the face of Golarian!"
Shirish is quiet and still while her betters speak of the investigation, content simply to assist as directed.
By the time you all have inspected your new equipment and secured it, another unit of Dawn Vigil arrive. This time you see a familar face. Lazaan from the gate greets you, "Ah, when I heard the description of the witnesses to the vizier's murder, I knew it must be you. I must apologize, but the fariis was simply too busy to make it. I have been assigned as your liaison. I have also been authorized to offer you 100 gold scarabs apiece for each day you are retained."
He addresses Kipp, “Do not worry Sayyid dwarf, the fariis will only need to borrow your employees for two days. He feels that if the villain is not captured in two days then it is unlikely that he will be found at all and in any case, the Festival will be over and the Dawn Vigil shall be able to allocate the resources for a proper investigation. Nevertheless, should you actually capture the perpetrator, your compensation will be doubled.”
"Perhaps we should first revisit the room he fled from... perhaps there is something the Vigil missed..."
Kipp grouses a bit, but after all it is easy money for him and as Chitleen points out having some favors outstanding with the government of Solku won't hurt. He still fusses some about bureacrats and delays, but relents and once everyone is agreed, you are free to search the culprit's room.
After extending a warm greeting to Lazaan, Chitleen makes his way upstairs to the room that he was in only briefly before the Vigil made themselves known. Moving first to the windows, he closes them so as to cast the room into near darkness. Reaching within his satchel, he draws out his crystal eyedropper once more - applying the burning liquid to his eyes. After a hand of seconds clenching his eyelids together in pain, Chitleen reopens his bloodshot eyes and surveys the room carefully and in detail.
His nostrils have also become flared, and as he moves around the room he occasionally pauses to sniff the air as though an animal attempting to catch a scent.
While Chitleen searches, Surak touches his holy symbol and utters a few syllables; his eyes glow slightly as he looks around the area.
Daeron smiles slightly, after hearing Chitleen's assent to participate.
Your intellect would be more of service for the current task at hand, let our party muscle hone their physique and we shall hone our mind.
He greets Lazaan, the gate guard warmly before excusing himself to begin their joint investigation.
Daeron returns to the morning's table, re-imagining things as they happened earlier in the day.
Knowlege rolls..
[Arcane] for possible arcane mastery power comparison to able to perform such a feat as today.
[Local] for any prominent local gnoll tribes in the area with beef against Solku.
[Local]For any prominent arcane magic users around the area.
After collecting his thoughts, he approaches Lazaan..
Mayhaps you would enlighten me with regards to magic use in and around the city, as well as to inquire any personalities in the city who would deal in the buying and selling of magic?
Chitleen secures the shutters and half closing his eyes, he is immediately hit by the potent scent of incense. Following his nose, he moves along the wall toward the bed and pinpoints a small cone of incense that has rolled between the floor boards under the bed near the wall.
He retrieves it and holding it up, Surak's eyes widen in surprise at the strength of the magical aura coming from the incense!
*******
In the main room below, Daeron ponders. He is still uncertain what magic was used upon the dead vizier, but given Solku's bloody history he can imagine many tribes of gnolls that might make an attempt on the Sharif if given a chance. A short list might include the many tribes of White Canyon region lead by Rath Sandstalker. Of equal concern is the Red Sultana who began her rise to noteriety in the Battle of Red Hail. The Carrion Tribe was dealt with when Kelmarane was retaken, but the matriarchs of the Spotted Hide Tribe to the west are said to be the size of ogres and led by powerful priestesses of Lamashtu.
Perhaps the most prominent mages in the city are the Sharif himself and the grand curator of the Archive of Eminent Tomes. There are certain to be other powerful wizards in the White and Caravan Quarters, but you have little information and although Lazaar is fairly knowledgeable about divine magic in the city, he knows little of the arcane.
Chitleen gives the incense cone a sniff...
...before taking it to Surak "Do you know what this is?"
"It is very strongly magical, but I'm afraid all I can do is see the magic, I know nothing about identifying it. Whatever it is, the magic affecting it is extremely powerful."
Rubbing his eyes in an attempt to clear his mixture from them Chitleen replies "Let us see if Daeron can have more luck plumbing it's mysteries." and moves downstairs to see him. Though the glare of light stings his eyes painfully, Chitleen is able to pass on the cone "This was upstairs within his room and seems to be of worth. Can you ken it's purpose?"
Lazaan looks on with interest. ”Do you think the fugitive left it behind? I cannot guess what it means... which actually reminds me, Jahaam mentioned a curious phrase that appeared several times in the papers you recovered. Something like, The hound will fly unseen by vigilant eye to the smoke of the Thuvian Tomb. It’s not anything we’ve seen in association with Rovagug’s cultists before and it doesn’t make any sense to me. Does it mean anything to you?”
Chitleen finds Daeron chatting up the innkeeper, pilfering the man for information with regards to current inn occupants and any suspicious activities just before the event of the morning. Daeron gently reminds the man of his obligation to assist in the investigation as he makes uses of his deputy status.
Diplomacy:
As he receives the incense stub from Chitleen, Daeron makes a short cantrip (Detect Magic) and confirms Surak's findings. He gives it a cautious sniff, analyzing its properties.
Spellcraft:
Needing some time to digest, Daeron changes tone, informing his fellow investigators of his speculations. Although he takes the information Lazaan imparts with some pondering.
Erilene Finch, the halfling owner of the Breakstride just sighs, "Of course, I've been helping with the investigation. You think I don't want to know what the heck is going on? I've already lost nearly a dozen paying guests. Probably would have lost more if the whole town weren't full from the holiday. I don't know nothing about it. The guy just checked in last week and kept to himself. He paid in local gold and I've been so busy lately, I didn't really ask any questions."
Other than confirming a very strong transmutational aura, Daeron can't figure out what the incense is supposed to do. The quote is odd as well. What Thuvia and smoke would have to do with Rovagug is totally unclear. It sounds more like code or a password or something.
Tararr walks behind the skinny elf grumbling about how they used to be made of stouter stuff when he was a lad. Determined to not let him take a beating again, it seems Chitleen has an unasked for bodyguard. Shouldering his Urgrosh, Tararr keeps an eye out for any more danger.
"Can you help us draw a sketch of this mage? It would be very helpful for us to have an image to ask people about."
"Can you help us draw a sketch of this mage? It would be very helpful for us to have an image to ask people about."
The dusky halfling shrugs, "Yeah, I think I can give you a decent enough sketch."
Surak takes the sketch, and touches it up with his own recent recollections. He then traces several copies and hands a couple to each member of the team.
"I will start to canvas the area around the inn, and see if any local business owners or regulars have noticed him during his sojourn here."
Seeing that he seems to have attracted a bearded and ornery bodyguard, Chitleen muses "Perhaps while Surak traces the living, we might plumb what answers can be wrought from other means? I am for the souks... perhaps the scent of the room above could be found again..." and he bows his leave to Erilene and opens it up for either Tararr or Daeron to follow.
Shielding his eyes from the sun until he is under the shade of the souks, Chitleen sets his eyes and nose to use - being guided by them in an attempt to discern either the scent of dog or that of the incense.
What have we learnt so far? A stub of magical incense, a sketch and a phrase.
Daeron rubs his temples before adding.
We should assume the red robe would have a mundane or magical disguise, since a caster with such skill shoud have the intelligence to use them. I currently lack the experience to fully comprehend the incense's purpose. We would need someone else to do so.
Fathoming the group's response, Daeron goes on.
I do perhaps know of someone who could help, the curator of the local Archives. Killing two birds with an arrow if we could research lore regarding the phrase's location too.
Finishing his summary, Daeron declares.
If Chitleen wishes to head for the souk, then I will go along, I need to make some purchases. Perhaps afterwards we should go to the Archives.
Daeron brings along his quarterstaff and dagger along. He considers bringing his bow, intent on selling it at the souk, unstrung. Nodding at Lazaan, he steps out on Chitleen's wake.
Shirish grips the drawings she has been given in a meaty fist and looks at the priest incredulously. "I do not speak well with free men and women," she say simply and hands the bundle back.
When Daeron speaks up, Shirish nods. "If the incense was important to him, he might also return here when he finds it missing. I will remain here," she volunteers. "I have no talents for investigation, but I am more perceptive than most."
Daeron senses that the busy innkeep has answered as fully as she could and her portraits are actually quite good. Armed with one of the sketches, Surak inquires around the River Quarter and finds that although several locals recognize the sketch, there are many foreigners that visit the area and this one in particular kept a low profile and no one took particular notice of his comings and goings.
Leaving Shirish to guard the inn, Chitleen, Tarrar, and Daeron head into the city and past the central square which is increasingly mobbed with spectators for the final dances at the culmination of the Festival of Burning Blades. They wander the souks of the Caravan Quarter at sunset and although Chitleen is certain he could identify the unique scent of the mysterious and potent incense with just a whiff, it is certain to be extremely rare and he does not find any smell approaching its equal among the myriad scents at the souk.
Shrugging his shoulders slightly as their investigation of the souks proves unsuccessful, Chitleen turns to Daeron "Perhaps it best we seek knowledge at the Archive?" gesturing for Daeron to lead the way. While they exit the souk, Chitleen spends a few moments as they walk to procure a gift to bring along to the Archive. A small box made of hardwood with silver filigree upon it's surface is procured first, before being filled with saffron from a spice merchant, and then a wrapping of bright silken cloth completes the gift. Not stopping to haggle as they walk, Chitleen accepts that he will pay more than the gift is worth.
"A little loose with the gold there, elf.",Tararr grumbles at Chitleen's purchase.Then he goes on about how elves are too flighty to handle there own finances and something about them being like human teenagers their entire long lives. Chitleen is on the verge of having an adoptive beardkin father.
Chitleen smiles as he overhears Tararr's grumbling. He considers antagonizing the dwarf further by accidentally dropping some coin to the ground but ultimately thinks better of the endeavor. Instead he shrugs, turns a merchant's smile upon the dwarf and admits "It is true, the price paid was perhaps a trifle too steep, but we had not the time to spend in bartering it down. At any rate we have either death or riches in our future... and given that a dead man spends no money for himself..." letting the thought trail off as he returns to a genuine and wide smile.
Thoughtful of you to have chosen such a gift. No doubt the scent of saffron would contrast well with dull musty tomes. You should serve to be the spokesman, as I have little talent for the flourishes that you obviously display.
Daeron notes Chitleen's preparations for the visit and ruefully laments his own. Nevertheless he liberally casts Prestidigitation on his clothing, cleaning and making himself more presentable before offering to do the same for his fellow comrades.
Then, based on his memory tries to guide the group to the Archive, hoping it serves him correctly.
Chitleen graciously accepts the compliment before replying "It is but a trifle, and while my words may open the door I am sure that the maester of the archives would find your counsel more engaging."
Having changed back into his elaborate red kurta at the Inn, Chitleen is thankful of the offer of cleaning - the dirt and sweat of the souks no doubt having blunted its lustre.
After listening to the elf's response, Tararr only grumbles to himself. "Don't worry yoursellves about any more doors. The next one is gonna be meeting the business end of my axe if yer words don't get it done."
The city streets echo with the sounds of tombak drums and reedy pipes as the evening festivities begin. The fire sword and poi dancers on the central plaza mirror the flames of the Lambent Citadel above as you circle the city center to the White Quarter. Wending your way uphill through the crowded streets, you finally reach the wide steps of the Archive of Eminent Tomes only to find an elderly servant closing up for the evening.
Chitleen approaches the servant and gives a deep bow of greeting "Good evening sahib, I apologize to bother you so late on an evening of festivities such as this... but we have a matter to which the Vigil has charged us and upon which lives depend. We were hoping to speak with a maester about a curious item we found... though alas it would seem they have all retired for the night." face sorrowful and pensive, before sparking with an idea "Perhaps you would be able to direct us to where we might impose upon one? Please sahib, it is of most importance."
The old man peers at the group through blinking watery eyes and tugs the straggly beard at his chin. "Wha-? The honored master never leaves the Archive. He is within, but the Archive is closed," he simply states.
Diplomacy:
The old servant scoffs as he takes in your odd characteristics, "Adventurers, eh? I know your type well. No one is going to die if you don't have the master identify whatever trinket you found tonight. Leave him be. You elves and dwarves are long lived. Just wait. The Archive will be open tomorrow."
The old man shakes the doors to make sure they are locked and with a departing scowl at you, slowly hobbles down the stairs.
Seeing that the elf's diplomacy was not effective, Tararr tries the dwarven approach. "Listen here, human. You are going to let us in to see that master of yours or I'm going to kick in that door. Now are you going to open it upand announce the elf or are going to be calling on the carpenters in the morning?"
The old man stops and glares at the dwarf, "This is the Archive of Eminent Tomes, not some sordid tavern. You wouldn't dare! On second thought, you likely would, you cretin. Very well, but don't expect a warm greeting." So saying, the old man slowly unlocks the door and leads you into the building. Once inside he relocks the doors and commands, "Wait here and don't touch anything!" Mumbling something about savages, he disappears between the display cases and bookshelves.
*******
Surak returns to the Breakstride unsucessful in his quest. The dinner crowd has departed for the festivities in town and Erilene is taking a well deserved break in her quarters. The sounds of the kitchen staff cleaning is the only sound in the common room which is currently abandoned except for the dwarf and Shirish.
"That is how you get things done, elf.", Tararr says to Chitleen. "You can take it from here. I got ye through the door now ask yer questions let us get back to the tavern for some fine brew."
Some moments later, the curator, a purple robed garundi man shaved bald, enters from the other end of the hall. The servant follows behind with a smirk on his face, however you have little time to notice anything else as the curator beckons with his hand as he approaches and a massive eight-foot tall statue of a powerful naked warrior with a stork's head rumbles to the man's side.
The curator's eyes flash from behind his wire rimmed spectacles as he demands, "What is the meaning of this intrusion? How dare you threaten to break down our doors. This had better be of the utmost importance!"
Surak heads off in the direction that the Wizard was fleeing, to see if anyone happened to notice a flying man.
Shirish will be guarding the room the enemy wizard quit, in case he returns for the incense that Chitleen removed from the room.
Daeron flashes a greeting smile towards the upset curator, hopefully calming him down.
So I will play the act of the good elf and Tarrar the bad dwarf, life is ever so forthright!
Diplomacy:
Forgive my rough colleague's demands Master Curator, for we seek the wisdom and knowledge that only you are known to possess, some say that rivals the Sharif himself if not more.
Daeron glances at Chitleen before continuing.
Even though we are on official business on behalf of the Dawn Vigil, my colleague and I would like to offer a gift as it is of our Elven custom.
Daeron waits for Chitleen to proceed before continuing.
I would waste not your time any further before presenting you with an item bearing direct involvement with our investigations. So far it has proven rare enough to stupefy even the most esteemed minds to discern its properties. I am told only the Master Curator at the Archives may have inkling of this item's intention.
Bluff:
Tararr seems unfazed by the arrival of the stone creature, but a liitle put off by the oldman's smirk. Thoughts of his face with an axe in it brings a smile to his face.
When bidden, Chitleen steps forward to take a knee upon the ground and bow his head in submission. He proffers the silk wrapped box forwards in silence cradled atop both hands so that it may be inspected and taken at his leisure. Despite the threat of the stone guardian, Chitleen does not raise his head in wariness... remaining bowed until the gift is taken.
The curator casts a simple spell and takes a moment to look over the proffered box and the gathered adventurers.
Then he opens the box still looking slightly vexed. He sniffs the saffron and rewraps the box to hand over to the servant who quickly takes it and frowning at the dwarf returns to safety behind the statue. "Thank you, a nice gift. Now who are you and what is this about?"
Master Curator, we are merely adventurers roughened and hewn by the trail. The Dawn Vigil has seen it fit to deputize us with a task, one involving a murder of one of the town's own in which the killer remains at large. We are assigned to investigate further, with the goal of apprehending the one responsible.
Slowly withdrawing the stub of incense, Daeron offers the curator a look see.
We have also come across a phrase that is inexplicably linked, mayhaps you have heard of it?
"The hound will fly unseen by vigilant eye to the smoke of the Thuvian Tomb."
Daeron stands politely erect, arms folded beneath his robes.
The scholar recasts the spell, detect magic you surmise, and gazes some moments at the incense before taking it to inspect more closely.
He mumbles, "My name is Menthis Talp. Quite a strong aura of transmutation...yes, I believe I know what this is. I have read of it, but never seen it myself. Ancient priestesses of Phrasma used it in certain rituals and to deal with ghosts. It is called Yamuun or Ghost's Breath."
He sniffs it carefully. "When burned in a confined space it will slowly transport the living to the ethereal plane. It takes some time, and inorganic materials will be left behind so I don't recommend its casual use. How did you come by this?"