Randall watches Njord and Jametor take the pretty half-elf up to find Saul, but stays in the main room working with the staff.
The half-elf blushes slightly. "I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten to introduce myself. My name is Samaritha... Samaritha Beldusk. I believe I heard the good dwarf call you Njord?"
"Njrod Bjornson", the big ulfen says with a nod before offering a meaty paw.
"You some kinda mage?"
Samaritha chuckles musically. "That is my goal. I came here to study with the Cypher Lodge, but they said what with the Blot and the other strange occurrences, they aren't taking apprentices now. I needed a job in the meantime... preferably one that doesn't require the compromising of my morals. Thank you... again."
”Pleasure to meet ya Miss Beldusk. Don't think anything of it. Riddleport's a tough town but not everyone here's no-good."
"From what I hear, my friend Jametor is in the same situation as you. Wizardin’ must be tough. Har!”
"Jametor was the elf? He seemed... stressed enough to be in the same situation." She smiles wryly. "I hope my presence here doesn't disturb him further... the fair folk don't always take kindly to... my type."
Antal keeps his voice down as he responds to Jametor, taking several breaks in speaking.
"Problems don't exist in empty space. Something happened that he's struggling so hard. Having been employed many times now, I would not doubt that our employers have issues and should be about as trusted as the snake in the kitchen. I can definitely do some asking tomorrow or tonight."
Njord looks to the half-elf in confusion.
”What kind is that? Beautiful?” he says with another booming laugh.
”Yeah, Jametor is the elf. He’s a bit uptight but he’s a good guy. He doesn’t mess around when it comes to magic. I saw him melt a man’s face off when the Goblin was attacked during the big tournament.”
Samaritha blushes bright red. "I meant my parentage, but..." her eyes twinkle, and she leaves the thought unfinished. "Oh, I'm sure he's quite... capable, I just wonder at anyone who'd talk to a dwarf like that. They're an old race, and deserving of respect. But then, I'm still new around here. Will you introduce me to the kitchen staff and the other waitresses?"
”Har! I’d be glad to!”
”But you’re gunna owe me”, the big ulfen says with a wink.
"Oh dearie me, owe you?!" She sighs dramatically. "Well, I suppose I could permit you to invite me out for dinner."
She winks back.
Samaritha settles in to her waitress routine with a good will, quickly earning a reputation among the staff for her positive attitude and skill at dealing with patrons. She continues to be friendly toward Njord, though she tends to avoid Jametor a bit.
A week or so later, Saul calls the group into his office early in the morning. "I'm sorry to trouble you, but Larur's... missing. He didn't show up for work this morning, and the runner I sent to his flat said that it was empty and the door was hanging open. Please find him. He was supposed to stop by the office of one of my debtors to make a payment..."
Success!
Now, what can I do with the spellbook?
Spells of the day:
0-Detect Magic, Read Magic, Prestidigitation, Resistance
1-Summon Monster 1 (school spell), Grease, Enlarge Person, Color Spray
"The dwarf seems like the type that could take care of himself, but if you think something's up we can take a look."
"Was this debtors notorious for violence or anything like that?" He ponders aloud, trying to decide what could be the cause.
"Wonder if this could be tied to what happened with that barrel in the kitchens."
"Where's the debtor's office and where is Larur's place? We'll see what we can learn."
"Notorious for violence? He works for Clegg... and I'm certain that Clegg was behind the snake." Saul hands over a map of town, and marks both residences on it.
Njord looks the map over and nods to his height-challenged friends.
"Let's go."
Jametor nods his agreement.
Checking the equipment the group has, he notices the wand from the first fight, realizing it might come in handy, he picks it up carries it with him.
The strange halfling nods. "Time to go on the search!"
"I know a good way to get there. Which one do we want to go to first?"
"I'd suggest Larur's place first, maybe we can find something that the messenger didn't see.'
"Right-o, off we go! If we take this side street here, we'll get away from the main traffic and can move faster..."
Randall manages to lead the way to Larur's dwelling without getting lost and (perhaps more importantly) without attracting any undue attention from the local gangs.
The door of the house is hanging open, and the house itself is a barren mess. Nothing of any value remains. A drunk squatter rouses just enough to yell at the party to get off his turf.
"Of course, of course. This was not your turf yesterday. Did you see what happened to the dwarf that lived here?"
The drunk mutters and mumbles, his speech significantly slurred. "Nnn sheen nnr... dorf... nnnrrmm..."
Jametor casts detect magic in a cone trying to cover most of the house as he can. Meanwhile Swiftwing starts looking around the house.
"Well, friend, we need to find him. He could be in danger. We will only be a moment while we see if there are any clues to his whereabouts. Thank you so much."
Randall's request elicits no response, as the drunk has fallen asleep. The searchers don't find much; it looks like the place has been cleaned out completely. The tracks of a dozen or more footprints lead in and out of both the front and back doors.
As Jametor gestures and speaks the arcane words, a strange cloud of purple mist appears. It spreads out on the ground, covering everything, and remains stationary. After about half a minute, it slowly rises into the air and evaporates.
"Sadly, these footprints may have nothing to do with Larur's disappearance. Any number of individuals like the current occupant could have come and gone through the place searching for something they could trade for more wine. I don't think there's anything further to learn here."
"Well we can assume that wasn't meant to be friendly. My guess is we need to visit the other place."
Randall's eye bug out a bit as he sees the mist filling the area and he quickly takes a deep breath and holds it, moving away from the cloud. Once it has dispersed, he asks, "Ah, what was that?"
"I don't know, but something attacked my mind but failed. So let's move on."
Randall nods and leads the party to the other location.
Randall once again proves his knowledge of the streets, leading the group unerringly to a rundown section of Riddleport. The destination is a townhouse crammed in among the other tenements on Rat Street. A sign in front of the house shows a stack of gold coins above a name: "Rat Street Loans—by appointment only."
The door is closed. An alley nearby leads to the backdoor, near which is a pile of barrels and old crates.
Njord frowns at the lack of useful clues and follows the murder of halflings toward the next location.
Arriving at the shady locale, the big ulfen looks around.
”Keep an eye out. This place feels like trouble.”
Njord doesn't see anything unusual or immediately hazardous. The passersby seem to mind their own business, generally going about with their heads down and eyes front.
Antal tries to think on what the mist in the room could be, hoping to have some clue to go on.
---
The halfling continues to keep looking for things, making dang sure they're not snuck up on and keeping a clear eye on the building and the party's surroundings.
"Um, do we know the name of the guy here?"
Njord tries to peer through a window and gestures for someone else to look for a backdoor.
Feeling like things might escalate pretty quickly, Jametor casts Mage Armor on himself.
Antal spots a bit of green cloth sticking out of one of the waste barrels in the alley near the back corner. Unfortunately Njord isn't able to see much through the grimy windows.
Motioning to Firiel , Randall goes around the side of the building to investigate the door.
Whispering, he asks, "You don't mind keeping an eye out for a fellow, do you?"
And being the trusting sort that he is, he will look over the area for any nasty surprises that might have been left behind before he approaches the door.