Shadow over Riddleport
Game Master Joana

Filled with as much curiosity as Tendal ever has, he follows Saul with moderate trepidation down into the subterranean environs. He notes the kegs of wine and spirits with interest, promising himself a discrete visit at some time in the near future. As they continue to descend and the passageways become much less frequented and the dust becomes thicker, Tendal starts to shy away from the walls in a valiant attempt to keep mold and dust smudges off of his clothing.

I know that he can just cast prestidigitation...he is still a bit of a priss at times...

As they pass the stairs leading down, Tendal smirks a bit. Stairs down to a hidden waterway perhaps? Well, well, we may have to look into doing a bit of smuggling. Not drugs or anything, but valuables and other highly taxed items.

Stepping into the hidden lounge, Tendal grins for a bare moment. "Ah, this is exactly what I was talking about. Now we have some potential. An exclusive club, a hint of danger, a bit of skullduggery. Wonderful."

"I don't know about the red though...seems a bit much if you ask me." he says, with a faint bit of disdain.

As they pass into the pit room, Tendal grimaces a bit, his imagination filling in some of the gruesome history of the pit. "Mr. Vankaskerkin, I will say that I do think that we have great potential here. We definitely need to keep the entrance from the Gold Goblin as secret as possible though. Judging by the facade on the secret door, I imagine that the patrons of the Red Room had no knowledge of the connection to the Gold Goblin. There must be an alternate entrance somewhere that is more easily accessed...I am guessing the stairwell that leads up from the bar area?" Tendal asks.

"I am a bit curious as well about the stairwell that continued downwards."

Malkith is about to repeat his inquiry when Braddon begins to explain the situation. The harrower's expression darkens slightly as the half-elf lays out his intentions. As Braddon pauses to drink from his mug, Malkith offers his thoughts, "I agree that Bott's presence and Scarlet's heist seem too coincidental, but why not simply approach the maid and verbally persuade her to give up the information you need? Kidnapping seems excessively risky at this juncture." Malkith takes up his own mug as he lets his words settle on Braddon.

"Aye," the other man agrees, "she's easy enough on the eyes but murder on the ears. We'll get these rolls tacked down, should take us until lunch time at least. We'll bring in the last roll after lunch; couldn't carry all three of them over this morning. Ought to be finished well before sunset."

"Hmm. About that-", Gristav begins, but stops to acknowledge the cringe.

He suddenly cringes at something over Gristav's shoulder and hurries back to where the carpet is being laid. Half turning, the half-elf sees Thuvalia sauntering back through the kitchen doors, carrying what must be by now a room-temperature cup of tea and some of the leftover breakfast pastries. She glares at the carpet layers, nods at Gristav with a slight smirk, and weaves through the displaced furniture to enter the room just north of the statue of Desna.

Gristav responded to her smirk with a smile and nod, warmer and brighter than his thoughts. When Thuvalia had passed from sight into the East end of the bar-room, he waved the chef des carpetiers back.

"In the dwarf's absence, I stand in his place.", Gristav began. "While I'm talking to you, you needn't run from anyone. I've more questions. If you need to go help your men, go, but when you've time, let us have words. I'll be in this room often enough."

Letting the crew boss return to his men, Gristav mentally organized his questions. How long had he known his men? Had there been any odd interest in the work for the Goblin? Where was this third roll of carpet, with what security? Could a crew from the Goblin pick it up earlier? Could an impostor crew? Would iced tea be preferred to iced water, or perhaps an ale, with lunch?

Mentally turning that page, confident he could return to it, Gristav set again to whatever cleaning might be helpful in this short term, or at least not wasted in the long term.

He took time to find a muffin tin in the kitchen and fill it with water from the pump. Some cantrips later, six ice ingots were ejected from the metal mold by intrinsic increase, landing in a wooden bowl. Taking due care the metal left his hand as dry as it came to it, and perhaps even cleaner, he left the kitchen as he'd found it, save for the offering of ice.

He settled at the hexagonal table, his spellbook before him, surveying for any notes or inclusions, savoring the sense of that sharing.

"I agree that Bott's presence and Scarlet's heist seem too coincidental, but why not simply approach the maid and verbally persuade her to give up the information you need? Kidnapping seems excessively risky at this juncture." Malkith takes up his own mug as he lets his words settle on Braddon.

"Approach and persuade?" Braddon blinks twice and stares at Malkith over the ale.

Braddon shrugs. "I guess. I'm new here. Okay, what's your plan? I'll back you up."
Braddon leans forward attentively.

"I have no specific powers of persuasion," Malkith confesses, " beyond what my profession allows me. Still, some subtle or blatant verbal threats may be enough to challenge her loyalties without the commotion of physically delaying her."

Malkith sits back in his chair, his hands wrapped around the mug sitting before him, "Herr Bott's intent against Saul is still questionable. My primary goal at the moment is locating Scarlet and settling her dispute with our employer. Since you've been gracious enough to accompany me on that endeavor, I'm willing to assist you in yours. I don't presume to have a plan; I was simply offering what I thought might be a simpler alternative. If you still think a snatch and grab is the best approach, I'll do what I can to aid you."

"Mostly repairs," he shrugs, displaying no surprise that the strange halfling knows Marce; perhaps he simply assumes all halflings know each other. "We've only the one drydock. You want a ship built from the ground up, it's generally done in Roderic's Cove; their harbor's not as busy so they've more space. Of course, a simple rowboat or the like we can build here, but I wouldn't take on the task of constructing anything ocean-worthy."

Making conversation while awaiting Marce's assessment "It's a pity that... from the fine work I've seen even on the stroll it looks like you've definitely got the skill for something finer... a ship on the waves flying your colors." allowing a faux pang of nostalgia to cross his face "Like... what's his name.. with the Flying Clod is it? Met a man who just left his berth on it this very morning... seemed quite taken with the lady of the waves..." bait hooked, Phil awaits to see if interest is piqued... if not he might have to rely purely on bartering rather than the bait and switch.

Bluff: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (16) + 11 = 27 Hopefully I've made it look like I've got half a clue of what I'm talking about... unfortunately everything here just looks like wood to me.

"I have no specific powers of persuasion," Malkith confesses, " beyond what my profession allows me. Still, some subtle or blatant verbal threats may be enough to challenge her loyalties without the commotion of physically delaying her."

"Threats don't carry as well when in public, but I realise there are other methods of persuasion. Okay, we'll play it nice. We'll still follow her, find a quiet spot and have a civil conversation with her. You'll have to do the talking; my manners aren't the best (Dad was a sailor). I can look threatening on cue, though. If that fails we can still grab her later, though she'll be wary the first few days. But if we can find Ananda's governess alive, there's sure to be a huge reward."

Stepping into the hidden lounge, Tendal grins for a bare moment. "Ah, this is exactly what I was talking about. Now we have some potential. An exclusive club, a hint of danger, a bit of skullduggery. Wonderful."

"I don't know about the red though...seems a bit much if you ask me." he says, with a faint bit of disdain.

As they pass into the pit room, Tendal grimaces a bit, his imagination filling in some of the gruesome history of the pit. "Mr. Vankaskerkin, I will say that I do think that we have great potential here. We definitely need to keep the entrance from the Gold Goblin as secret as possible though. Judging by the facade on the secret door, I imagine that the patrons of the Red Room had no knowledge of the connection to the Gold Goblin. There must be an alternate entrance somewhere that is more easily accessed...I am guessing the stairwell that leads up from the bar area?" Tendal asks.

"Aye, well, we can always repaint," Saul replies. "Would have to, anyway; it's peeling rather badly in places due to age and moisture. I'd imagine it was a reference to the bloodsports on view in the pit."

"The stairs actually lead up to a room off the main floor in the Goblin. Here, come and see." Saul hurries back through the red room to the stairs, motioning Bojasc to follow. Climbing the staircase, the trio come up in a narrow, bare room thick with dust and cobwebs, some recent footprints evident on the floor; dim daylight filters through a grimy floor-to-ceiling window. "We figured out this fits between the gold sitting room and the room La Barabbio's goons broke the window out of the other night. This door," he turns to a wooden door in the eastern wall, "it's papered over on the other side, probably at the same time they walled up the hallway in the basement. What if we turned this window into a secret door, had a separate entrance from the alley for our privileged guests?"

"I am a bit curious as well about the stairwell that continued downwards."

"Come on down and have a look around, if you like," Saul invites, redescending into the basement. "It's where we stowed our lovely Chelish actress until her tongue loosened." He lets Bojasc lead the way down the dark stone steps with his lantern. The air is notably mustier and damper down here, and the walls of the narrow corridor are hung with rusty and rotting weapons, as well as chains, harnesses, leashes and spiked collars for use with animals of various sizes. "This in here," Bojasc wordlessly holds his lantern at arm's-length through the first doorway, revealing a dank room with rotting wooden cabinets and a table marked with old bloodstains, "was probably the infirmary, where wounds were treated, and down here," the trio moves on to the next door, "was where they kept their combatants." Bojasc opens the door to reveal a room whose perimeter is stacked with cages of various sizes; manacles and iron rings are attached to the walls and floor in various places for tethering purposes. "And around the corner here," the lantern leads into a labyrinthine area, "is the fighting floor." The floor beneath their feet is gritty with sand and old straw as Saul walks to the center of the arena and looks up. "Hold the lantern as high as you can, Bojasc. There: You can see where the ceiling's cut out for the audience to watch." Indeed, high above his head, Tendal can just make out in where a stone ceiling gives way to air blackness and knows he is standing in the pit around which the benches are arrayed upstairs.

Sub-basement map added to Campaign Info tab.

"It's a pity that... from the fine work I've seen even on the stroll it looks like you've definitely got the skill for something finer... a ship on the waves flying your colors." allowing a faux pang of nostalgia to cross his face "Like... what's his name.. with the Flying Clod is it? Met a man who just left his berth on it this very morning... seemed quite taken with the lady of the waves..."

The shipwright's interest appears piqued. "The Flying Cloud? One of Josper Creesy's men's left his crew? I hadn't heard...."

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On the far bank of the Velashu, Malkith and Braddon finish their ales, bid Arnando and Lalie a good day, and start the climb up the steep road to Windward. It is Malkith's first visit to the district, but Braddon is familiar with the journey from escorting Ananda Mescher home. As they reach the fresh sea air at the summit of the ridge, they glance around the tall and elegant buildings, wondering which one might house the Krump family and their maid.

On the east, Braddon sees the long rowhouse he returned Ananda to yesterday and picks out her door out of the line of similar ones. The grass and flowers on either side of the footpath look even more trodden today: no doubt her father's investigators' work. As he gazes at the doorway, he suddenly remembers where he has smelled the perfume on the handkerchief before....

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Back at the Gold Goblin, the carpeting job continues. It occurs to Gristav that watching carpet being laid is a bit like watching paint dry. It's a slow and tedious process, the upside of which is that he has plenty of time to ask the supervisor his questions and get them answered as the floor covering is slowly unrolled from one wall to the other and back.

How long had he known his men? "Well, since they were boys, most of them. Served their apprenticeship with me. You may think there's nothing to laying a carpet, but if you want it to stay flat and not trip people up, there's an art to it. Can't be done by just some day laborer off Zincher's front stoop."

Had there been any odd interest in the work for the Goblin? "No interest at all, odd or otherwise, that I'm aware of."

Where was this third roll of carpet, with what security? " Back at the warehouse behind the shop. Never thought to setting a guard on a roll of woolen. It's not the kind of item a thief might palm and put in his pocket; takes two men to carry through the streets."

Could a crew from the Goblin pick it up earlier? "Well, aye, I suppose so. Wouldn't argue too strenuously against someone wanting to do our work for us."

Could an impostor crew? "I... I never thought of anyone trying. Like I said, a roll of carpet's not the kind of thing you could fence on a street corner."

Would iced tea be preferred to iced water, or perhaps an ale, with lunch? "Tea's for the ladies," with a chuckle. "Wouldn't expect a one of us to say no to a good ale, if it was in the offing."

Tendal stands in the fighter's pit radiating disappointment.

"Well. I was hoping that this would lead somewhere a bit more useful, like a secret smuggler's entrance. Ah well, I guess I got carried away by all the secret doors and whatnot. Intrigue, faugh!" Tendal says, tapping his cane on the floor, causing the clicks to echo through the stone lined room.

"Gentleman's club it is then. If we are going to keep this secret, we will need to keep knowledge of these entrances to a minimum. We may want to put some sort of spell across the back of the club as well...like an obscuring fog or a bit of magical darkness."

Then, as a thought occurs to him he frowns, "There are not that many of us working here...and I am not certain how many of the others you trust fully....How would one do the renovations and maintain the facility while still keeping a modicum of secrecy?"

On the far bank of the Velashu, Malkith and Braddon finish their ales, bid Arnando and Lalie a good day, and start the climb up the steep road to Windward. It is Malkith's first visit to the district, but Braddon is familiar with the journey from escorting Ananda Mescher home. As they reach the fresh sea air at the summit of the ridge, they glance around the tall and elegant buildings, wondering which one might house the Krump family and their maid.

On the east, Braddon sees the long rowhouse he returned Ananda to yesterday and picks out her door out of the line of similar ones. The grass and flowers on either side of the footpath look even more trodden today: no doubt her father's investigators' work. As he gazes at the doorway, he suddenly remembers where he has smelled the perfume on the handkerchief before....

"So, the tanner's house should be up here somewhere. I'll just knock on one of the more expensive doors and tell them I have a delivery for the Krufts. Hopefully they'll direct me to the right place. I know it's not that one there..." Braddon points out Ananda's door.

"That's where the girl lived with her governess. Look's like it's been thoroughly investigated. The governess seemed normal at lunch, but answered the door at some point in the afternoon and was replaced by an impostor. But Ananda didn't hear anything unusual and there was no sign of a struggle. And that doorway isn't the best place to ambush someone. Maybe the governess was attacked by magic. The impostor must have had help as there's no sign of the governess' body. The impostor then took tea up to Ananda, who smelled something funny. I caught a whiff of it too. Perfume, like Lil Scarlet's. Then Ananda drank the drugged tea and remembers the impostor taking her out and handing her over to the maids who palmed her off on Bott."
Braddon stops and thinks over what he said.

"Lil Scarlet... perfume..." Braddon rushes towards the door.
He turns to Malkith.
"Have a sniff in there. Especially the room to the right, which was the governess' room."
Braddon pulls out the handkerchief he holds and takes another smell before offering it to Malkith.
"It would seem Lil Scarlet is our kidnapper. I wonder if Anton Mescher is one of her clients. I wonder if he ever promised her a beautiful necklace, then gave it to his daughter instead."

"I... I never thought of anyone trying. Like I said, a roll of carpet's not the kind of thing you could fence on a street corner."

"But how long would it take to replace it? The Goblin's been attacked three times; they might be tired of failing, and strike now where we aren't guarded. If I can assemble a team, we'll pre-fetch that last roll. Since you've already agreed to it."

"Tea's for the ladies," with a chuckle. "Wouldn't expect a one of us to say no to a good ale, if it was in the offing."

"I would guess it would be. It takes a desk to make a decision like that, and I only have the, uh... full support of my staff. I'll see. And don't dismiss tea, it's for ladies with tiny sandwiches, aye. But in the Tienish lands, it's for warriors, takes an hour to serve it, and they're proud of every minute. And among the Garudan, they'll give you a big glass of it, cold, against the heat. That's what I was proposing. Over chipped ice. I also think you might find the process entertaining. At least the process I intend. Think on it, while I make request on the ale and fetch-crew."

Braddon's account of the events surrounding Ananda refresh the pieces of conversation Malkith had only half listened to over the last couple of days. When the half-elf pulls out the cloth scrap and starts talking about Lil Scarlet, he's paying full attention.

Looking at the handkerchief, Malkith asks, "This belonged to Lil Scarlet?" The harrower looks up, "Where did you get this? What happen to the rest of it?" He glances up and down the street, looking for someplace that they may take refuge for a short while without drawing attention to themselves. "This might just be what we need to find her, but I need someplace to conduct a divining."

The shipwright's interest appears piqued. "The Flying Cloud? One of Josper Creesy's men's left his crew? I hadn't heard...."

Nonchalantly "Aye, just this morning... just signed on beside me working with Larur. Hows Marce getting on?" looking to the hole in the deck where word of whether carpentry could be done would come from.