The interior of this enormous wooden long house is brightly lit and filled with the sounds of laughter, music, and merriment. Food scents mingle with the smoke of cooking fires and tobacco pipes. Servants carry food and drinks from the open kitchen area to the various wooden benches and tables that fill the hall. Many of the patrons are armed and armored, proudly bearing the insignia of local militia groups on their cloaks and tabards, along with the sword and tree symbol of Nirmathas. You see many patrons (mostly militia) around the feast hall having breakfast.
As you enter the feast hall, conversation and music slowly come to a stop as the patrons all look towards the party and examine you with discerning eye. A few seconds later, conversation and feast start up again as the militia are eager to finish their meals and get to their posts.
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Morgan casts Guidance and Message on Urien before entering. She glances around at the crests, looking for some historical houses to try to get a sense of what factions she is look at
Morgan holds tight to Urien and whispers, This is absolutely your show, chum. I wouldn't want to offend the wrong parties, but are any of these brutes someone that you might want me to talk to? I might have a..blessing that could loosen their lips
Urien leads the way over to the open table and ambushing a passing waitress with a smile. Over here when you've a chance, lass.
I'll be there when I can says a harried voice as you look over and see a waitress carrying 4 plates at once over to one of the other tables.
You take a seat at the empty table.
In the loud hall, conversation is difficult to overhear, but you mostly hear about the militia cursing about "Molthuni dogs" and you hear a group of 4 them (all militia) mention "thefts" at a nearby table, but can't quite make out the whole conversation.
The waitress still hasn't come by to take an order, but you see her come out with more plates for another table.
As you start looking around the room in query, from one of the tables you see a middle-aged human man approach you. he is missing most of his left arm and walks with a noticeable limp. He has a few scars on his legs and face and wears a green cloak bearing the symbol of Nirmathas. He looks at you with scrutiny. He approaches the table, and in as hushed voice a voice as he can while still being audible to the table, he says:
There are rumors that spies walk among us and that Pathfinders are among those spies. However, I find it a little hard to believe, given Pathfinders helped me out in a time of need he remarks, gesturing with his hand to his amputated arm. What do you think about the Pathfinders?
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"I think if you need to find your way in the wilderness or deal with a monster, a pathfinder is a good choice - but most pathfinders wouldn't know civility and politics to save their lives. I've also heard that Pathfinders make very poor spies - too flashy, too honest for their own good." Feng replies, looking at the man closely.
"the Pathfinders cut off your arm? Or is there an interesting tale you'd like to tell us?"
There is an interesting tale I may be willing to tell you. I suspect you may be Pathfinders but I haven't seen you before, so I can't be sure.
I owe my gratitude to Marcos Farabellus, who saved my life years ago. With his help, I was able to escape with only one arm missing instead of my whole life. The name's Imad, in case you were wondering.
Imad looks over the group, a little flustered, and says You seem to be avoiding the question, but maybe I should more direct. He lowers his head, looks around and to try to be as discrete as possible. If you aren't Pathfinders, just say and I will leave you be. Otherwise, I may have some information that may be pertinent to you, if that is what you seek.
Urien smiles, focusing on something other than the waitress or the food for a moment. He speaks in a lowered voice.
Pathfinders? That's a dangerous profession, especially with fools or enemies whispering that they could be allied with Molthune. Let us, for sake of argument and good company, say that we are Pathfinders as all sensible folk and even a few bards such as myself find information always valuable. What would you tell such a group?
Imad crosses his arms and looks at Urien, and then the rest of the group.
Hrm...I tell you what. I know something of the thefts of Karela's, and will tell you, but first one of you must drink this he says, producing a small blue bottle from his pocket and dangles it in the air.
This will ensure my trust with you. It looks like a clear liquid hued blue from the bottle color. Only need one of you to drink this, and I'll tell you everything I know. So, what'll it be?
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Urien smiles, focusing on something other than the waitress or the food for a moment. He speaks in a lowered voice.
Pathfinders? That's a dangerous profession, especially with fools or enemies whispering that they could be allied with Molthune. Let us, for sake of argument and good company, say that we are Pathfinders as all sensible folk and even a few bards such as myself find information always valuable. What would you tell such a group?[dice=diplomacy to put him more at ease so as not to draw attention] 1d20 + 7
I wouldn't worry yourself with the contents. It won't hurt 'cha.
After Skredli consumes the beverage, Imad then leans forward towards him I need to be careful you understand. Now answer me this.
Looking directly at Skredli, Imad says How long have you been working for Molthune? Who is your Molthuni contact? Do any of your allies have ties to Molthune?
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** spoiler omitted **
After Skredli consumes the beverage, Imad then leans forward towards him I need to be careful you understand. Now answer me this.
Looking directly at Skredli, Imad says How long have you been working for Molthune? Who is your Molthuni contact? Do any of your allies have ties to Molthune?
Skredli leans in, listens, and then replies quietly yet deeply I work for Zarta Dralneen of the Dark Archive, she'd have my ass if I betrayed my contract with her. These "Molthuni" folks sound like they need a good ass kicking and if I run into any, I'll be sure to kill some on your behalf. He then offers his hand in warrior's camaraderie to Imad. Your enemy is mine, also.
Imad looks and smiles. Now you're speaking my language.
Two weeks ago, while my men and I were patrolling along the edge of the Fangwood south of the city, we spotted a group of bandits attacking a smuggler in the woods. We gave chase, and tracked them as they fled west, but lost the trail when they hit the river. I don’t think they simply forded or swam; I’d bet good money your bandits have a ship capable of sailing up the Marideth River.
That's all I know. It was a pleasure meeting all of you, and I wish you luck here in Tamran.
Imad gets up and shakes whoever is willing to shake his hand, then heads out. At that time, the waitress finally comes by and takes your order.
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Imad looks and smiles. Now you're speaking my language.
Two weeks ago, while my men and I were patrolling along the edge of the Fangwood south of the city, we spotted a group of bandits attacking a smuggler in the woods. We gave chase, and tracked them as they fled west, but lost the trail when they hit the river. I don’t think they simply forded or swam; I’d bet good money your bandits have a ship capable of sailing up the Marideth River.
That's all I know. It was a pleasure meeting all of you, and I wish you luck here in Tamran.
Imad gets up and shakes whoever is willing to shake his hand, then heads out. At that time, the waitress finally comes by and takes your order.
Skredli orders a rather large breakfast that contains several small animals and consumes the whole thing before the party moves on to the next site.
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Urien looks to Skredli and gestures to the empty bottle after placing his breakfast order.
So, what did it taste like? and was it high enough proof I should have been faster to volunteer so that I didn't need to order whiskey with my breakfast?
Said after taking a bite of some deep fried, vaguely rodential creature: No boosh, tashted like Abadarsh dishapproval and he continues to eat whatever that deep fried thing is.
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Skredli, I imagine such a meal works up quite the desire to stretch one's legs. Would you be a dear and escort me down to the docks to take in the early morning's sunlight off the clear Tamran harbor?
Skredli stands up and pockets two of the deep fried critters for later. Sure, we still have a lot to do, he says and then looks at his fellow party members. You guys coming? He then eyes Zuri All of you.
Although Molthune blocks much of the trade to and from Tamran, the city still does brisk business with other Nirmathi settlements up the river, and there’s plenty of fishing to be done well before reaching Molthune’s interdictors. As a result, the docks still bustle with activity during the day.
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Zuri's manners switch, going from sulking to outgoing. As previous transformations, it is as if a new person suddenly inhabits the body.
He begins moving from group to group, like an old preacher. Everyone he meets is a future old friend. He makes small talk, comments on the weather and the fishing, before leading into phishing for information. As he moves from person to person, he adapts his speech. What at first was a general statement about the weather or fishing, turns a specific detail of local life here.
During this time he tries to keep his face hidden.
The group goes around greeting themselves and asking people for information. They mostly seems friendly and forthcoming, but when asked about thefts and disappearances start shying away from the conversation, saying they are busy for don't want to get involved.
You eventually find a half-elf man who seems friendly. He is completely bald and wears a silver earring in one ear and a snowy white beard. He seems to be sitting off a pier just enjoying the view of the fishing boats going about their duty.
Hey 'der! I could use some company here. You seem... interesting 'nough. Come sit next to me and chat a little. Name's Jonathram, what's yours? He lets out a smile as he looks towards the group.
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** spoiler omitted **
** spoiler omitted **
The group goes around greeting themselves and asking people for information. They mostly seems friendly and forthcoming, but when asked about thefts and disappearances start shying away from the conversation, saying they are busy for don't want to get involved.
You eventually find a half-elf man who seems friendly. He is completely bald and wears a silver earring in one ear and a snowy white beard. He seems to be sitting off a pier just enjoying the view of the fishing boats going about their duty.
Hey 'der! I could use some company here. You seem... interesting 'nough. Come sit next to me and chat a little. Name's Jonathram, what's yours? He lets out a smile as he looks towards the group.
Skredli follows along and tries not to interfere with the positive social engagement overall.
He looks a little concerned now with Zuri pulling back his hood, but continues on. So... what do you think of the fishing boats around 'ere? I love watching 'em sail by and watching the bay water tides. I find it really relaxing. I come by here often when I'm not managing my medicinal shop. Well, not really a shop as I run it out of my home. Hear all sorts of things from the customers. He drones on, but he is welcome for anyone to come butt in to the conversation.
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Urien sits beside him also gazing out over the river.
I travel quite a bit and I always enjoy seeing how things are both different and the same. I have family on the Keld River. The boats there I think are deeper. They... what's the term, pull more draft, I think, because the river is less placid than this one and runs deeper. The nets and ropes though, they remain the same. Like people, I think. Most of us speak Taldane, but our accents differ almost as much as our appearance, but I imagine a fisherman from the Keld would have little enough trouble fitting in with one here. As a traveling musician, I can well understand hearing all sorts of things. Don't even get me started on all of the advise I've been asked or the marriage "proposals" I've had to dodge!
Ha! I can see a strapping lad as yourself getting some interesting "proposals" indeed, unlike ol' ugly like myself. I've definitely not aged so well. Far as I know, most people around here been living here before, and not much accent variety, so to speak, as where you're from. Can't say they've lived here for life though with the takeovers. I'm not really any 'ception to that rule. I hate those Molthuni just like anyone else 'round here would. Not sayin' we don't have visitors though.
Sometimes those stories you hear from people are worth repeating, sometimes they're not. Sometimes it's hard to tell whether it's worth the trouble to tell the story in the first place, and sometimes it's gotta be to the right person. Know what I mean?
Jonathram declines the gold piece and waves his hand, symbolizing "no." I know about receiving stolen goods, and I ain’t about t’get locked up on no fool charge like that. Some Varisian feller come by wanting to buy up mah vermin repellent, trying to barter off some potions or whatnot. But I sees the Glyph of the Open Road on ‘em, and I ain’t about to touch no Pathfinder stuffs, so I tell him to shove off. Boy that got ‘im real mad. He was itchin’ up a storm, he was! Must have been living in them marshes, where them skeeters live. He shrugs. Dunno which one. Shores’ lousy with marsh.
Sorry, didn't mean to decline yer gold, but I ain't hurtin' and really was just shooting the breeze there.
The Market District is a hustle and bustle of activity. From more open-door stores filled with knick-knacks to outside stalls of shopkeepers yelling at pedestrians to come to their shop and purchase goods.
You begin to ask around as a group, and you don't seem to find anyone yet who has been willing to talk to you about any sort of contraband or stolen goods. You find yourself walking inbetween shops in a courtyard of a particular marketplace. There is a woman in the corner of the courtyard playing some pan pipes with a hat with a few coins in it.