Lead the way gallant sir!
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A small downside to Oz, though you wouldn't know it from looking at him (as with a lot of things) is that he gets bored very easily. Parting from the others, while effective, was also extremely antagonizing to his nerves. He'd been here what? Hours now? He wasn't sure.
Regardless, he figured that he could have potentially missed the people that came in, and his allies were nowhere in sight. He honestly wouldn't have been surprised if the Sczarni had already met and minced them in some sort of alley.
The structure in front of him was dank and dark, and those 2 words suited his methods to a T. Slinking his way around whatever areas he could to remain well-hidden, he made his way for the building, half-hoping that the people in question had already arrived.
Oz approaches the ramshackle old drinking house. A simple one story affair, not much bigger than your average inn's common rooms. A small dock leads toward the back of the building, its last half hanging out over the waters of the harbor. The front door and all the windows are boarded up, and the boards don't look to have been moved since they've been nailed in place. The only sound to be heard is the lapping of the waves and the gentle creaking of the attached dock moving in time with them.
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Standing beneath the structure, Oz can't help but be perplexed. With as much time required, he remains stealthy, but attempts to find any sort of way in possible. Removing boards wouldn't be too difficult, but he would prefer to keep as little of the area harmed as possible to hide his tracks in case someone actually did seek him out.
It isn't too hard to find another entrance. The dock leading to the back of the structure passes a back door. This was likely where the supplies were brought in and out. The door is slightly ajar, and the boards that may have once covered it are nowhere to be seen.
Fenster’s home is a partially collapsed warehouse on the shoreline, in a particularly filthy stretch where tidal currents often cause the filth and refuse of the city to collect in stinking clots along the shore. Despite the size of the building, it looks as if the man inhabits only one corner of the structure. Here, he’s made a sort of crude shelter from rowboats (one or two of which might still be almost seaworthy) and timbers leaning against the warehouse’s frame.
The entrance to this hovel consists of a pair of skiffs leaning against each other to create a triangular “arch” from which a moldering remnant of a ship’s sail hangs like a curtain. Sitting next to the entrance is an old sea chest with a broken lid. A sign leans against the front of the chest “LEEV A GIFT AND WATE OUTSID.” A dented tin platter sits on the ground before the sign.
Tanjvats looked upon the hovel and junk piles with an almost professional admiration. He'd seen his share of hoarders and filthy eccentrics when cleaning the streets of Sandpoint so many years ago. This one was really impressive.
"I would suggest that we follow the advice of the sign. It's likely this Fenster will take his own rules very, very seriously."
Taking 5gp out of his money pouch, Dareon walks forward to the chest. What a level they've stooped to, asking illiterate homeless people for information, and PAYING them for it. Hopefully this money could earn the man some lessons in Common.
Dareon, you are so generous with your funds. You are such a team player. Elrawien states with a sparkle in her eyes.
Dareon drops the coins into the platter, with the clatter ringing around the hovel. After almost a minute of waiting in the silence following the clinking of money into the tin dish, Fenster comes creeping out of his hovel to examine the payment
Fenster is a wretched creature, more skin and bone than meat. His flesh is clammy and gray in places, one of his eyes is clouded over with a white film, and his clothing is caked with filth. His breathing is raspy and gurgling and smells of bad meat, and he’s plagued by a wet,
hacking cough. Fenster is a truly vile wretch. He looks at the payment, scoops them up to pocket it and then sits down on the broken chest and
asks, “What yew want Fenster ta’do?”
"We want you to tell us about the Tower Girls. Specifically a woman named Natalya Vancasterkin, if you know about her." Dareon taps his foot. He wants to be away from this man as soon as he can get away.
"They lived here, right? Where did they go?"
Fenster eyes Dareon up and down, as best he can with his one unclouded eye, before answering "Tha Tower Girls was here, but they gone. Fenster was they landlord." He proudly proclaims before a sudden spasm of wet hacking coughs overcome him. He returns to what he was saying as if he didn't even notice the interruption. “Theys will be back... theys always come back ta ol’ Fenster!" He seems wary to tell you more, but continues, "Fenster know wheres Natalya, but Fenster is not tells you for fist o' gold. Fenster am want something real valable, since Fenster only one what knows her at.” This last he says proudly as if he were her confidant. His smug expression once again marred by the wet cough, uncovered, and right in Dareon's direction.
Faedrin whispers to his twin, "I am at a loss, sister. I haven't the slightest idea what such a broken and miserable creature might possibly want."
Then, looking askance, he addresses Fenster, "Ah, well then, Fenster, care to tell us what that 'something valuable' might be? Perhaps we might come to an arrangement?"
Tanjvats approved of Feadrin's phrasing and leaned forward slightly to observe Fenster as "the Blight" answered. Tanjvats was scanning for any signs of subterfuge or unspoken emphasis.
Fenster's eyes dart around, lacking any ideas off-hand, and looking for inspiration amongst those standing before him. He glances at Tanjvats, and unimpressed, moves past. To Fade, Dareon, and Gaileyon, he mentions, "You alls have nice shiny armors on. Metal armors is good price from scrap collector. And her has very fancy sword." he adds, pointing at Elrawein. He purses his lips in thought, struggling at it, as would seem usual for him "Am her has shiny jewelries? Rings or necklaces, 'spensive bracelets?" He seems frustrated that you are unaware of what you have of value, and why you didn't come prepared to trade.
You like my sword, Fenster? she says as she draws it, not in a combative way but so that he can look at it shining in the light.
Dareon thinks. Wasn't that box full of valuables? Fenster would probably be very interested in them, and there's absolutely no way he's giving up his armor.
Dareon pulls out the handful of gems and the ring. "Anything here look good, Fenster?"
Fenster looks at the gems, his eyes going wide. "Those look good, Fenster is take bof of them? And then him tells you where Natalya new hideout."
"Yes, sure, take both, but be quick about it, we're in a hurry."
Faedrin shudders as the derelict creature before them butchers the Varisian tongue. He remains silent, though his foot does begin to tap rapidly while they wait for the information.
Fenster reaches out a filthy hand, his nails and wrinkles accentuated by the grime trapped in them. He grabs the two gemstones and begins to examine them. As he looks them over he passes on what he knows. "Fenster seed her lurking 'bout in a nearby building, and her am no longer hanging out with they other Tower Girls. In fact, her are seemed to be doing her best for they not seed her." here Fenster proudly points out how “Nuthin’ in th’Shadow gits by me good peeper!” as he taps the sallow cheek under his non-clouded eye. As he continues to eye the new shiny stones he was given, he offers crude directions on how to get to place he saw her.
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The fact the door is slightly ajar could both be merely coincidental and a warning. Not seeing any reason to shut it, if only to maintain the guise of the door never having been moved, Oz slinks into the run-down building and begins to look around.
He was in his element now... Plenty of things to hide behind, and more darkness than he cared to mention. He would not be caught off guard in here. Listening for the sounds of struggle, or any sound at all besides the creak of wood beneath his feet, he dexterously searched the building for anything.
Oz steps at first into a small space, no more than a closet, ten feet wide and five feet deep. The opposite wall holds an empty doorway where he can just make out a bar beyond that acts up the left wall of a 'hallway', where the right wall is the back of the tavern itself. The back door into the small space where he entered is most likely the pantry where the ale would have been stored. With the sun having almost sunk beneath the horizon, everything within is dark to Oz's human eyes, and he can't see much more beyond about ten feet of bar disappear into darkness.
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On the list of things that Oz hated, not being able to make perfect use of his stealth absolutely pained him. He dreamed of days he could easily blend in with the darkness and make use of the shadows as well as see out of them, and while he'd been going into practice to actually become capable of that, he was still not capable.
Walking in, Oz maintained his stealth, but listened ever closer in the structure, tracing his steps back from where he started just so that he could make a break for it if things went sour. He listened for sounds, more than anything, closing his eyes as they became useless and drawing both his daggers, fearing for the worst.
As Oz walked into the place, weapons at the ready, he used his feet to probe forward. Following the line of the bar, as it faced the larger portion of the room, it went for about fifteen feet before ending. The slow tread of his feet allow him to listen to the sounds of the building itself. The old structure groans as he moves, but it's tough to tell if it from the waves or his movement. The lap of the water can be heard underneath the very portion in which he stands. Taking a listen to all of the building, nothing else can be heard. No breathing, no shifting of nervous feet, no subtle swish of clothing, no signs of any activity whatsoever. Nothing to be heard beyond the aged creaking of the building, and the gentle slosh of the tide.
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Rather upset with the lack of perpetrators, Oz had an idea. While he did particularly enjoy stealthing in from the get-go, there was something he actually found that he loved even more.
Hide and seek.
With that thought, he found the creakiest boards he could possibly find near to him, and proceeded to stomp on them for a solid 3 seconds, making dam-well sure to get the attention of whatever might be skulking around this building, if anything. There was no way he could have wasted his time in here just to make himself look foolish.
With that, he proceeded to leave the room rather stealthily as was natural, and listen to see if anything took notice.
So help him, if he'd stared at a dirty old dock for 5 hours, he was going to stab someone.
Oz stomps, the place creaking, and even threatening to break a floorboard in his intent. He then waits a little longer, but still there is nothing.
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As Oz stomped fled the building, he was quick to remember something.
The pickup was in 4-5 hours.
It was funny, the moments like this. Getting all hot and bothered over the potential to do some good, for once, and actually enjoy it. Finally he got into this line of work, an he was so eager he did what he'd just done. Honestly, he figured the guys doing the trade smarter than this... I mean, if you're going to steal someone, the least you could do is put her in a compartment underneath a structure that doesn't get visited.
Serioussly.
Huffing, he thought to himself. Should he find his allies now, or hope they've gone on some equally similar goose chase. They probably didn't even pay Zograthy. Come to think of it...
And that's when it hit him. Oz's knowledge of this whole damned dank dark dismal town, was sitting in his head. Hells, why didn't they just lead that one pretty elf chick around asking questions? She seemed like she could lay on the sexual innuendos. It wouldn't have been difficult at all!
He had found this rinky dink place in like an hour or 2, tops, and all he did was skulk around asking people what they'd known. As he stood there in the dark area, he looked at himself, analyzing his wardrobe. Serioussly, he's standing there, talking to this thug who seems like he knows what he's talking about in some dark outfit. Anyone worth their salt knows he's suspicious, yet that guy just poured it on with the info.
At the end of the mental rant, he looked at himself again. In the end, he was just irritated he'd have to wait another few hours on company. But there's the question. Did his allies actually figure this place out, or did they just go back and sip tea and call it a day? Oz was putting in the time! The hours! The hours of waiting bored out of his slowly breaking mind.
Walking out of the building, kind of disappointed, he thought to himself. The first time he'd left to get over here, he'd made sure that absolutely no one had seen him. Smart, yes, but, with that many hours looming over, and situations as shady as this, being absolutely obvious was something that might come in handy.
Before he could exit out of the back, Oz realized that there could actually be someone watching this place! Oh, what luck! But, there's the problem, isn't it? If a person was watching, would he seek out Oz, or change the location entirely after seeing him? It was a risky situation, and he didn't want to chance the meeting going downhill, even if it was soooo loooong awaaaaaay. Oh god he could cringe.
Crestfallen and sorry, he proceeded to stealthily leave the building in the same route, although not with as much glee as before.
As he slinked back to his old hiding spot, he kept an eye out for possible vantage points on the building, if only to seek out a spot to look onto the scene better. Who knows, he might manage to see his own group arrive and stop them from screwing up his hard work... which consisted of sitting in a damp alleyway and watching things for three- it's been a bad day for Oz.
Perhaps we should be on our way in search of this missing woman and the Tower Girls?
Dareon gives a curt nod to Fenster - he can't be seen giving more gratitude to somebody that he disrespects so much. "Thank you, Fenster. That's very helpful. Now, do you know which nearby building it is? Can we have directions?"
After memorizing the directions, Dareon will turn on a heel and shoulder his way past the other Pathfinders. He's done looking. He's pissed off. He's been sent over the entire town to look for this silly woman, and you know what? She probably kidnapped herself! Dareon's gonna be pissed if that happens, and you know what? He isn't going to let anything else get in the way of discovering this woman.
Faedrin nods quickly in response to his sister's question, eager to be away from this bent wreck of a man. He shifts out of Dareon's way as his obviously frustrated companion bulls his way through the group. Hmmm. Touchy fellow, isn't he? Well, manners or not, he's got the right idea. Faedrin slips into step behind Dareon, and doesn't bother hazarding a glance back at Fenster.
A short distance later, he remarks, "I'm beginning to grow frustrated with this Natalya. This would have been a much less ridiculous day if she'd simply gotten herself caught by those uncouth Nidalese slavers. But here were are, seemingly looking under every wretched hovel in Magnimar."
Practically ready to growl in frustration, muscles and fingers twitching, Dareon responds. "Tell me about it. Can we just find her, cuff her, and bring her back to Shiela already? I swear, if something gets in our way..."
I agree! Who does she think that she is? Me? At this comment Elrawien gives a whimsical laugh.
"Hardly, sister dearest." Faedrin stalls for a moment then, considering the possibility of slavers taking his sister. It's never a thought he'd entertained before, but it's enough now to unnerve the normally aloof elf. "You know, perhaps we should look into these slavers once we've found Natalya. Kasadei didn't seem like she or the guard had that business under control; perhaps we might succeed where they have not?"
Dareon rolls his eyes and picks up the pace. "God, I hope not. One of you I can almost stand. Two would be the end of me."
As I have said before, dearest Dareon, I do approve of the view of you both coming and going. with a wink to her brother.
In Sylvan, I do believe that I am going to make it my mission to help this wonderful specimen learn how to relax.
Dareon slows his pace, but only enough to drop back to walk beside the elven twins. He doesn't want to slow their journey, but he's tired of talking to them over his shoulder.
"I should think that you would have learned from the way that men treat you that objectification isn't healthy for people. Aren't you tired of men seeing you only for your looks?"
I enjoy my looks. Don't you?
You arrive at the building explained by Fenster as Natalya’s new hideout, which has seen much better days. Its clapboard sides are dark with mildew and marred by scorch marks, the building’s windows heavily boarded over. In places fire has gutted portions of the roof ’s mosscovered tile shingles, but the building appears to be structurally intact. A small shack leans against the side of the building, probably a
storage shed of some sort. The building stands near the stark wall of the Seacleft, and scree from several decades of minor rockfalls has piled up along its southern face at the back of the building. The dark of the evening has set in, which actually makes Underbridge feel less shady, as everything is in darkness and not just this portion of the city.
Dareon trips a little bit at Elrawien's question. It's a good thing they've reached their destination, because he can stop and make it look a lot more natural. 'Don't you?' she had said. Didn't he? Well, of course she did. She was most certainly a beautiful elven maiden, but he'd never really thought about it that way. How could he answer that? If he said "yes", she'd just get that smug look on her face and act as though she'd won forever, but if he said "no", then she'd likely throw another hissy fit and not speak to him, and didn't the Pathfinder precepts include "cooperate"? Shouldn't he try to encourage cooperation, not discourage it?
How to win? Hmm.
Dareon opens his mouth, takes a breath, and then closes it. Damn, I thought that would work...let's try again.
Dareon opens his mouth yet again, but this time he speaks. "I uh...Well, I'm not going to say no, but you may be asking the wrong sort of person whether he enjoys your looks...if you catch my meaning."
He hopes it works.
In the meantime, Dareon will look for entrances. They can talk while they work, after all. A back entrance is preferable, but Dareon will also take care to look into windows that he notices to see what's inside. He also unclips his bow from his back and sets his quiver into its right place.
When he finds the front door, he'll turn to Gaileyon.
"Master Dwarf, would you be so kind as to make a first impression? They say those are key and I trust you implicitly to make the kind that I'm looking for."
Ha! So you don't deny it!
Dareon sighs. "Of course I don't deny it, but does that mean that you have to base the way you interact with people and the way that you think of yourself solely on it. I, for one, am sure that there's more to you than your face...and, well, the rest of you....but for now, please shhh. If there's something inside, I don't want it to notice us and jump out of a window to get away."
"Now, Gaileyon, please?"
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Once they had hit the shady part of town, Gaileyon would have drawn his Dwarven Waraxe, holding it in his right hand to keep any potential thieves or other sorts away from the party. 'Visual intimidation is sometimes enough', he recalls his uncle saying on numerous occasions.
Much like Tanjvats, he finds himself at a loss for words around these people. He's usually one of the louder Dwarves within his own family tree, but he just has absolutely nothing to add to the playful chiding and bickering. 'They're doing too well of a job on their own!' he thinks to himself, grinning as they walk.
After he's asked to make an appearance, he can't help but put his Waraxe across his shoulders and grin a bit playfully as he eyes between the Elven woman and the poor Human. "I'm not sure lad. We may just have to settle this dispute first. Wouldn't want any of this tension to wander into combat."
After a very, very long pause, enough to make Dareon overly nervous of his inaction, he smirks before proceeding to the door. He decides to take the cautious route, not just slamming to door down as the man expected. He'll stick his ear next to the door with is Waraxe ready, just in-case, and give a quick listen to what's happening on the other side.
Master Dwarf, did you accomplish this with both axe and stench?
As the group of you approach the building, discussing Dareon's opinion of Elrawien's looks, there is movement from within the small shack. As you move to check the exterior, or listen at the door, a man steps out of the shack with a crossbow in his hands. It's not pointed, but loaded and could be leveled at any moment. "Oy, whatcho doin' 'ere. Ain't nobody belong 'ere. Youse trespassers needs ta leave." He declares loudly.
Diplomacy Check
Elrawien will step forward and say, Good man, there is no need for violence here. We mean no harm and I think you don't mean any to us either, so put down the crossbow and let's talk She says with a wink at him.
He slowly walks forward while lifting the crossbow a bit, and as he speaks another man of similiar build emerges from the shack behind him. The first guy responds to Elrawien's attempts to ease him "No lady, you don't seems ta get it. If'n youse and yer friends don't get off tha propty, I do mean harm to youse."
Faedrin raises his hands placatingly, "Ah. What my dear sister means is that we have no doubt of your willingness to shoot us, but we are also confident that there will be no need for you to do so. We believe that a friend of a friend of ours may be here and it appears as if you are ready to go to great lengths to protect this individual. I assure you, we are here to help."