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Pai Magic Missles the darkness, striking unerringly the brute that was first tripped, and the blow is enough to knock him out. Iasua begins to step back, getting enough distance from his target to shoot anther arrow, but the rogue keeps step with him at the last moment, and tries to shank him as he fires.
Both miss each other, but seeing that her companions have all fallen (or shortly will), she instead decides to flee and fight another day. <Withdraw>.
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Xiaobo snaps one's neck as she rises to attack, and Jake cuts down the last as she flees. Searching their bodies, you find another assortment of Cure Light Wounds potions, these the normal kind, and a note.[/I]
Boys & Girls,
Someone killed my friend Horis Collgardie. They left his body to rot inside his own house. Go there and wait. Don’t touch anything. If anyone comes back looking to toss the place or take the body and that person’s not an Ardoc, it’s most likely his killer. Kill anyone who shows up there that isn’t a member of my family—I mean anyone. You’ll be paid well.
Besel Ardoc
What you decided to do with the bodies and the house is up to you, but it looks like things have gotten a little out of hand, and you have begun, catching you in the middle.
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Trying to track down information about Besel is likely going to require asking around a lot.
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After 4 hours, (it's getting pretty late at night now), of scowering the city and asking around, while trying to not be too obvious), you stumble upon a down-on-his-luck looking Dwarf named Sard Coalbreath. More than a little drunk, (by human standards anyway), Sard offers up a clue, "I hear that Besel can’t make it through a day without a pint or six of whatever grog the pub he’s in is selling. I don’t know what those Ardocs are involved in, and I don’t even want to—whenever someone tells me what they’re up to, I realize again that I’d probably drink myself stupid three times a day if I were one of them.”
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On a mission, you plow through a few more bars before resting, and finally find another individual with a slippery tongue. Fasch is a little mouse of a girl, and you first spot her while she is trying to steal you purse. After a warm meal, she offers “Those Ardocs aren’t stupid. They run the best golem-making factory since Thassilon, and when you run something like that, you have an obvious source of guards. I ain’t never seen Besel without at least six of those iron things stomping around behind him. If you’re trying to find him and put a hurt on him, you best change your mind, friend.”
The next morning, albeit a late one, you head out again, and this time are directed to speak with Miss Feathers. Told to travel down a dark, secluded alleyway to find the famous prostitute, Miss Feathers is not at all what you expect. HE is a hulking, muscular man with a deep, booming voice and a quick laugh, and his information only comes in in portions, requiring you to listen to all manor of work related exploits, crude jokes, and the like. “Oh yeah, I seen Besel drinkin’ in Downmarket a bunch— had a few pints with him m’self. It’s probably because of those pints that I can’t recall the name of the pub where I last saw him.”
9am + <now 1pm>
Heading to the Downmarket in hopes of more specific info, you meat a fruit merchant willing to trade information for coin. Jorda is tall and skeletally thin as a result of a wasting disease in his childhood. His face is pockmarked with scars and he speaks stiffly, as though his lips don’t fully work. He’s serious, business-like, and willing to share information once you buy some of his “fresh” fruit. “Down by that disgusting troll Augur temple—called Augur’s Entrails, I think. There’s a troll on the sign pullin’ his own damn entrails out on the sign. You won’t catch me drinking there, but I saw Besel and his iron monsters there this morning.”
<now 4pm>
Heading then to Augur's Entrails, a shop you saw from the distance upon entering the city, or maybe one like it, you arrive only to find the place closed early. However, a street urchin outside offers to share a tasty tidbit if you offer her a bit of coin for a reading later. Roold is short, muscular, and thick, with close-cut hair and polished leather armor. She seems worried about something, likely her last reading, but keeps her issues to herself. “I was in the Augur’s Entrails over in Downmarket this morning and heard Besel say he’d be back there again tomorrow morning for something. That’s probably your best bet for finding him, friend.”
<and finally 9pm>
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Waking up in the morning, you get ready and head back out hoping to be able to catch this Besel, you make your way though the city. Cutting through an alley here, passing through a small corner market there, you make very good time. As you arrive, you see a middle aged, though clearly wealthy man escorted by three large Iron Golems, heading towards Augur’s Entrails. For a moment as you are heading towards each other, your eyes meat each other, and you doesn't seem to know you, paying no more attention to any of you that he does anyone else.
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He looks taken aback at the mention of the name, but more intrigued than hostile or threatened.
"I suppose I could spare a few minutes"as he looks around a moment, making sure that no one is watching too intently, "Who are you lot, and what is it I can do for you?"
He allows you to get close enough to talk face to face, but his Iron Golems always remain close, and stand ready to interpose any time you make any sorts of potentially threatening actions (such as reaching into a pocket/coat), but do not attack, (yet), unless you do something outright hostile, like draw or have out a weapon.
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Let us buy you a drink, and my friend Pia here can explain things to you.
+
Diplomacy =20
helps
Not sure what to think, "Yes, let us go somewhere a bit more private to speak." He suggests a small "coffee" shop that will allow you to have a seat outside, and his golems to remain close, but generally far enough away from more would-be ease-droppers. "You are Shadowfinders, yes?"
Morde acknowledges the request, ascending quickly and deciding that the golem's head makes for a good perch to observe the area.
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"I will admit, I am less familiar with your organizations ranks and titles than I would like. You Pathfinders, Shadowfinder, Shadow Lodge, or whatever the local Pathfinders are calling themselves, have ignored Kaer Maga's polite suggestion to vacate. We knew that Mr. Collgardie still had contacts in the Pathfinders, and so we attempted to use,. . . nonviolent methods of persuasion first. But it seems that Mr. Collgardie was murdered shortly after that venue was initiated. I'll be honest, I'm surprised that you are not the murderers, and have come to me. I'm also surprised you are not part of the Shadow Pathfinders, though I do not know the difference. I think you may find that no one else here will much care for whatever political or philosophical divide you two Pathfinder sects may have. Here, you are all just Pathfinders, another organization who's presence is a threat to the delicate balance of power here, one that no one is willing to risk. Like I said, it's just business, not personal."
"And as for Mr. Collgardie, I am afraid I am of little help. I knew the man little, and only as an acquaintance. I only sent my men to kill Collgardie’s assassins, who we presumed was you, because Dakar, the head of the Commerce League, said he would owe me a favor. And being owed a favor by Dakar is worth more than all the gold in your vaults in Absalom. It looks like you might want to speak with Dakar, then."
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“Dakar is the most secretive man in Kaer Maga, and that’s saying something. If you want to talk to him, you might as well climb to the top of the walls and shout for him all day. You don’t find him, Pathfinders, he finds you.” Taking a moment to sip the last of his coffee, he stands up and bids you a good day, commenting that he has things to do. As he and his metal crew begin to head off, he stops, turns around and says "Be careful who you make deals with here, Pathfinders. Kaer Maga is a city brimming with politics—play the wrong kind and you’ll end up dead. Hell, play the right kind and you’ll end up dead. The point is, be careful who you make an enemy of here—or worse, who you end up owing a favor to", leaving you to figure out the next step.
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Just wanted to let everyone know that at this point, I am going to be heading out any time. It is very likely that I will not be able to post at all after tomorrow or so, for up to a week. So just forewarning. I should be able to tell before I leave, but in case I can't, within the next 40ish hours (from this post), I might be with no internet.
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After searching around for a few days, you seem to be going nowhere in finding this Dakar. Regardless of where you ask, people either shrug and say they don’t know him or fiercely shake their heads, look up and down the street nervously, and then hurriedly walk away. Suddenly, where a thick crowd of people once stood are now only six burly men carrying cudgels and a seventh with his hand in a pouch at his belt. All seven sets of eyes are on you, while in the distance, the crowds suddenly turn and find another way past this street. “You’ve been asking about Dakar,”. . .