Mephiston sees the captain out of the embassy and then puts out a word to the small group of informants he's managed to establish to see if anyone has seen the red-skinned man.
A smile ghosts across Azulth's face for a moment, as the others offer to pitch in their assistance. They all had their reasons, from politics to thrill-seeking, but they were serving in the same capacity, ultimately. How strangely you work your ways, Lady. And they say fate is dead.
Azulth turns to the others as the captain takes his leave, and he folds his arms. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'll be searching for this red-skinned man. I think I can find where I saw him, and picking up his trail shouldn't be too difficult, assuming he's not another construct or some such. If anyone cares to join me..." With that, he makes his way out of the building, returning to the spot to try and pick up a trail...
|
Variel waits for the others that offered to go with him, fidgetting with his revolvers "Ya ready? Great, a lot of eyes better than two... just don't step all over the place until I give you the go signal."
Once at the place where the Red Man was sighted, the elf turns to Pyrrha "If we are going to be pack hunters, we might as well do it properly. Relax your mind and let me in for a second..." before closing his eyes, gesturing with his right hand towards her and placing his left hand over his heart. Strength in numbers, spirit of the wolf... he mutters, yet the words can be heard inside their heads.
The elf then searches through his pockets, picking a pinch of cinnamon as he cuts the back of his left hand with a knife, obtaining a drop of blood. The trail never disappears, not for a trained hound...
Variel sniffs the air and exhales "I'm ready." and turns to the alley, crouching as he explores it. He sniffs at every step, trying to separate the city's smell from any particular one, and at the same time looking for different tracks and clues. His eyes focus on the ground and items that might be around, using his instinct to distinguish between the common and the extraordinaire.
Tosguld seeks out some of his contacts who dwell in the shadier areas of the city.
He asks them about the red-skinned man and the Last Disciple.
The go signal... indeed. Right behind you. Pyrrha mutters as she follows after Variel into the streets. After Variel casts his spells and the start of his search, Pyrrha resigns herself to keeping a lookout of their surroundings. Just because a brutal crime had recently occurred didn't mean the opportunists, pickpockets, and variety of other cooks weren't still out.
Edward follows after Azulth, to keep his fellow servant of Pharasma company.
Truth be told, he wasn't exactly the best person to go to for tracking. Still, he knows to keep quiet and follow the person actually able to do the work.
Ahto keeps pace with Variel, keeping just far enough away that they wouldn't cross fists or pistols accidentally if the group were suddenly attacked.
He keeps his eyes peeled for trouble as they move through the streets.
Before they start moving, Varrren brings a small vial out of his pouch and drinks the contents with a grimace for the odd flavor of the extract. He trails Variel, Pyrrha, and Ahto, effectively forming a rear guard. Senses alert for any possible danger or clue, he moves easily despite his apparent age.
"Useless. I knew I should have brought some better assets in for this mission." He could have guessed that the man was a tiefling with what he already knew. He sighs and goes back to meet with the rest of the makeshift investigation team. Hopefully one of them would have something more useful to him.
After gaining what information he can, Tosguld heads back to the cathedral to meet with Mephiston and relays what he's discovered.
Our red-skinned man matches the vague description of a tiefling who went missing a number of weeks ago. The tiefling went by the name of Twist, and ran into some trouble with a gang out in the Puddles who called themselves the Tail-Takers. Exclusively targeting tieflings, the group cuts off their tails and hangs them around the various buildings in the Puddles to mark their territory. Usually, the bodies of the dead tieflings end up being put on display out in the city proper, but no one ever saw Twist's body or heard anything of him after he ended up in sights of the gang.
Mephiston snorts at the description of the gang. "And I thought I wasn't in Cheliax anymore. I suppose some things don't change no matter where you go. It's somewhere to start at least."
After turning up the scroll, Pyrrha takes the piece of scroll, and examines it, turning it over between her finger and thumb. Definately the remains of a magic scroll, though impossible at the moment to decipher what magic it was meant to cast. Possibly a spell to erase any trace of the users passing if it was involved in what happened, maybe? The best way to find out would be a location divination spell, whoever had this scroll before us may be discovered with a skilled enough caster. But there is no reason to suspect that it belonged to anyone of interest and it could very well be nothing more than garbage. Pyrrha looks back up to Varrren, Ahto, and Variel, offering up the bit of parchment for their own curiosity if any. Should we go back to the others? Or maybe just wait for this to play out?
Back to the embassy then? Pyrrha says somewhat agreeing before turning and heading back to where she last say the entire group.
On return, Pyrrha and the others with her rejoin those waiting, No luck finding the slippery red-skinned man. Only potential clue is the remains of a scroll, though it could have just been some random's trash. I can not make out the spell that was scribed on it but a diviner may be able to lead us to the last person to has used it.
Pyrrha pauses a moment, her eyes flicking to and fro, And what about your luck, find anything better?
"The only lead I've been able to scrounge up is a possible identity: Twist. The fellow in question ran in with the wrong gang and went missing. Possible he's our guy, or just another tiefling." Tosguld shrugs and looks at the scrap of paper. "I had hoped we would find something more conclusive."
Twist? You're right, that isn't much to go on but it's better than nothing. We could start with members of his gang. What was the name of the gang?
"Tail-Takers." Tosguld responds, disdain prevalent in his voice. "They've a grudge against Tieflings and, well, the name is pretty self-explanatory.
Hmm... Pyrrha stares off into nothing as she delves the tombs of her accumulated knowledge.
Ahto thinks on the name for a moment, and he thinks he remembers hearing of a tiefling by that name at some point. He was a pit fighter who ended up leaving organized fighting and acting as hired muscle for a number of shops in the Coins. Interestingly, he mostly worked for legitimate businesses rather than for shadier individuals. He drew the ire of a couple of local gangs trying to run a protection racket. There was talk of some people in the underbelly of Absalom of putting money on his head to get rid of him, but as far as you know it was never collected. That said, the Tail-Takers have been getting bolder with bolstered numbers of Chelish immigrants in the city. If he stood in their way, it's entirely possible they put out a hit on him. You're fairly certain he was a regular at a bar called the Naughty Nymph. You might be able to find out about him there.
Pyrrha knows a fair bit about the Tail-Takers. While new the gang seems to be gaining steam pretty quickly, with a surge of Chelish immigrants bolstering their numbers. While they do things like run extortion rackets or push items through the black market, the gang's real focus is one of racism. Led by a man by the name of Harrison, they have a particular hatred for tieflings. They believe tieflings are a mistake and an abomination on the name of Asmodeus, and seem to think killing them will gain his favor. At least, that's the word on the street. Finding their hideout in the Puddles isn't hard, as the tails of dead tieflings are nailed into the dilapidated buildings to mark their territory. Recent months have seen that territory expand as the Black Dragons--an older gang that used to be the top dogs--have been pushed back. Normally, they leave the bodies of their tiefling victims hanging somewhere in the city sans tail, but you haven't heard of such a thing happening recently.
"I think there's a fella called Twist who works in the Coins. Guards shopkeeps from heavies trying to run protection rackets. He's tiefling, so I'm guessing that's our boy. He's usually at the Naughty Nymph when he's not working."
The guard's face lights up as Ahto speaks. "Excellent. Sound's like the Naughty Nymph is our next destination."
"Whoever named the place must have an odd sense of humor," Mephiston says dryly. "Fine. Let's go see if our tiefling friend is drinking after his shift." Then he stops and frowns. "Though... it seems odd that someone who spends most of his time protecting people from criminals would be involved in a false flag operation. I can't wait to see what the story here is." Mephiston changes out of his marked tabard, dressing in a simple crimson shirt and black pants over his armor and weapons with a grey cloak. "Also, if anyone is still hurt, I can see if one of the priests of Asmodeus is around. They'll even give you a special rate as my associates."
Varrren nods to Mephiston, "I am fine. Sometimes it is an advantage to be an old man. It makes young people underestimate you," he finishes with a wink.
Unless that special rate is free or paid for by your government I think I'll just make due with my injuries. Let's go.
"I could offer free if it seems like things may come to blows. I've a good number of abilities to call on, but that's the one that everyone needs at the end of the day..."
He chuckles to himself.
"Hopefully we won't need it, though. Killing is messy work."
"No one ever understands my jokes..." Mephiston mutters under his breath.
"That's because they suck," his imp says with a mocking smirk.
"Probably your dry humor," Ahto replies. "Folks probably laugh when you've had a few drinks."
Tosguld nods toward Variel. "I agree. If I never see another one of those Red Mantis, eh, constructs, I'll die a happy man."
"All right then, this way to Coins," Ahto says as he points down the road to the merchant district. Once we get there, we can drop into the Naughty Nymph and see if Mr. Twist is hanging about."
Though he needs no guide to Coins, Varrren walks beside Ahto with a friendly smile, lagging slightly and following the hotspur's lead.
Careful to watch out for trouble after the attack in the embassy, the group makes its way to the Coins without incident. The Graycloak guards that meander the streets of the Ascendant Court eventually fade away as they move beyond that sector of the city, instead finding themselves in the midst of the normal city guard. A few of them that you pass give Tosguld a salute or at least a stiff nod, although one or two look askance at his traveling companions afterward. Ahto leads the group down the eastern edge of the Coins near the Merchants' Quarter, purposefully avoiding traveling too close to Misery Row. They eventually find the Naughty Nymph in the southeast corner of the Coins, close to the Docks. An old wooden sign, even here stained and dried by the salt in the air, hangs above the doorway as its only marker. The red paint on the door is chipped and gouged, and Ahto finds the door swings open without having to turn the handle.
Surprisingly, the inside of the bar looks better than the exterior. The windows, despite being old and tinged with dust, let enough more than enough light to accent the few magical lanterns around the room. The corner of the room sports what some of you can easily tell is some sort of fighting ring. While it's empty now, the ropes and seats around it, along with what looks to be dried blood on the floor, alludes to its obvious intent. A few men and women are scattered around the room, one table of them gambling away while most of the others drink. The room doesn't go silent as you enter, but there is certainly a lull as the patrons examine the newcomers. Most of them drop their attention from you completely, but one or two of them eyes Tosguld; it's possible they might have been reprimanded or arrested in the past, or at least that's your best guess.
The bar is staffed by a half-orc, cleaning a mug as the party enters. He turns around expecting one or two new customers, but hides his surprise quickly. "You all here for a drink?" The barkeeper doesn't looks suspicious, but he does seem slightly concerned. "We don't usually get groups this big all at once, 'specially not newcomers. Can I get you anything?" He sets the mug down on the bar in front of him and tosses the rag onto the counter in front of him. "Or is there something else you need? No fights today, if that's what you're looking for."
Faust turns invisible again as they exist the embassy, vanishing in thin air as they walk the streets. Always better not to draw attention when trying to learn a few secrets. As they enter the bar, Mephiston puts on his best smile. "Not looking for a fight, just looking to talk to someone," Mephiston says to the bartender, his accent completely gone in an instant. "Heard that one of your regulars is a tiefling named Twist. We have a problem that we think he can help with and we were hoping to talk shop." He walks over and sits down at the bar. "But a drink while we're looking would be nice." He sets a coin on the counter.
Before entering the Naughty Nymph Pyrrha stops a short distance before entering. No good us all going in there so I'm going to keep an out on the main entrance and the side from here. With any luck I won't be spoiling any more ambushes but it never hurts to be cautious.
Varrren nods to Pyrrha seriously, "A good thought. Your warning was well received last time."
Inside, Varrren smiles a warm and grandfatherly smile at the bartender, "Ah, yes, my boy. An ale would be just the thing," laying a couple of coins on the bar as he speaks.
"Eh, we don't mean to cause a scene, apologies." Tosguld notes, nodding to the barkeep. He slumps onto a barstool and lays a coin of his own on the bar. I'd prefer a more honest approach, but Mephiston knows what he's doing..
"No fights today, huh? Well, that takes a bit of the fun out of this visit," Ahto says with mock dejection. "So...Twist...he's hangin' bout here somewhere, right?"
Azulth walks with the others, agreeing that Twist seems like the best lead at the moment. On the way to the Naughty Nymph, he takes a moment to activate his hat of disguise and shuffle some clothing, and his appearance changes in an instant. No longer is he garbed as a doctor, with the beaked mask--rather, he looks like your average street ruffian or traveler, with simple clothes and a scratchy gray cloak. The hat has changed to a hood matching the cloak, and the only item that belies his common appearance is the set of violet-lensed spectacles still set over his eyes.
Inside, he folds his arms and keeps an eye out, surveying the room for potential trouble. The bartender's look behind them is only slightly concerning, but enough that once the others get the half-orc's attention, Azulth tries to inconspicuously turn to see who he was shaking his head at.
"Twist?" The barkeep's mouth turns downward. "No, I'm 'fraid he's not here. I haven't seen him in over a week, neither has anyone else. He's usually here when he isn't working—or when he's working for me—but I haven't heard anything from him. He usually fights here for extra coin when he has the chance. I have a feeling he ran afoul of someone who was trying to put some pressure on one of his employers." The half-orc sighs, reaching for a cold mug. He pours Mephiston a pint of an amber-looking drink, then slides it across to him and takes the coin before doing the same for Tosguld. "You might have better luck talking to some of the people who hired him. You said you had a problem he could help with? I might know some people I could recommend."
Azulth manages to look behind the group and notices a surly dwarf that seems to have risen halfway out of his seat. A rusted old morningstar hangs at his belt, but he hasn't gone to draw it. It's unclear what might've prompted him to move, but he doesn't seem in a hurry to go on the offensive.
Mephiston absently swirls the mug, but doesn't take a drink. "That's unfortunate. A friend of mine who knows a few... unsavory types said he'd been having a little trouble recently, but I didn't realize he'd dropped off the face of the city. I don't supposed you could point me in the right direction if I wanted to look for him."
"Sorry, I don't really deal in his affairs. I don't really manage anyone's business, in all honesty. Twist might be a regular, but I don't know all his contracts. People just come by, and I hear things. Some of the others here might know something about who Twist is working for these days. Ogden?" At the sound of the name, the surly dwarf Azulth spotted looks over at the bar. "You worked with Twist before, right? You have any idea who he's working for these days? Or do you know anyone who might?" The dwarf scratches his beard for a moment as he thinks, then shrugs.
"Haven't worked with him in a while. If I had to guess though, he probably still works with Johnny." The dwarf furrows his brow for a moment. "Pretty sure I remember him saying something about Johnny's shop not that long ago. Maybe two weeks ago, at most? He might know where Twist's gotten off to."
"Well, there you go. Johnny Sixfingers is a collector of oddities and information in Absalom. Even if he doesn't know where Twist is, he might know someone who does. His place is over in the Merchant's Quarter. You need directions?" Whole some of the party is rightfully a bit suspicious, neither of the men seems to be lying. It seems their concern for Twist's whereabouts is actually genuine.
"Excellent." Tosguld remarks, half to himself and half to those around him. "I think we know our way around the city, but your offer is appreciated. Thank you for the information." The large man pauses. "And please, if you see him, send word. I'm starting to worry, what with him so hard to find all."
"Indeed," Mephiston says. "I hope that we can find him sooner rather than later. He can't have dropped completely off the face of the city." He tosses a second coin onto the counter and downs a surprising amount of his drink in one go. "Thank you kindly for your assistance."
On the way to the shop, Ahto plumbs the depths of his mind for information on Johnny. Ahto knows Johnny is one of many people who operates on both sides of the law in Absalom; while he does have reputable business dealings as a collector of antiquities and artifacts, he also makes a substantial amount of money as an information broker. He buys and sells information from anyone who comes to him, not taking sides in any dealings if he can help it. He also knows that Johnny's nickname comes from a vestigial sixth finger on his left hand; back when he was a small fish in a big pond, it was common for people to torment him by breaking or wrenching his extra finger. Now that he's climbed his way up in the world, most of the people who did that haven't been heard from in a while. Perhaps the most interesting thing, however, is talk of Johnny's mysterious 'benefactor'. He makes no secret of the fact that he has friends in very high—or perhaps very low—places and there's always been speculation as to who it could be. Some think its one of many big players in Absalom's underground community, or someone within the city's government or even the Pathfinder society.
When the group arrives, the blinds are the shop are pulled shut and there seems to be no light coming from inside. However, testing the door does reveal it's unlocked.