"..." Considering the halfling's proven proclivity for theft, Rosalia briefly considers lying and keeping it out of his grubby hands, but eventually sighs and hands it over.
"Don't get into too much trouble," she adds with a grumble at the end of her explanation of its use.
Javi barks out a laugh at Rosalia's look, "Oh, lighten up. I nicked it from the other halfling... ya know, when he was stealing coin from our white-robed benefactress." He shrugs, "If we have to get in touch with the guy, I wanted him to have some incentive to come to us." He shakes his head, "Have some faith."
Javi considers the mask, "Given Rosalia's aversion to non-sanctioned borrowing, I'm guessing you're going to want to make an offer to use the mask from the museum. I can think of like... a million ways that could bite us, but you guys are the bosses. And hey, I've been wrong before... maybe the guy wil be fine with us taking his unique, irreplaceable relic of this nation's history."
"Who knows, he may even want to borrow it to us, out of the kindness of his heart" - Heldar laughs - "And I do agree with Rosalia, a break accompanied by a fine wine, while we digest all the information, and decide our course of action, may be an excellent option"
An aversion to theft? The woman almost laughed at that; instead it comes out as a click of her tongue and a quiet heh under her breath.
"I can also think of a million ways that you stealing the mask could bite us," Rosalia shoots back with a roll of her eyes. "Don't they cut off the hands of thieves here?"
"Still - if we're forced to 'liberate' the mask, I'm not going to complain."
Javi grins widely as he holds up both (intact) hands, twisting his wrists emphatically, "I guess I wouldn't know."
He slips the key into his shoe, doing his best to hide it and make it inaccessible for pick-pocketing. "Whatever we do with the mask, we may not want to wait very long. If it's the key, other people will want it just as badly as we do... and things could get complicated fast."
The Exhibitionary's open hours end at dusk, so yes, the museum would now be closed. The Arch Docent or other staff might still be on the grounds, but it would be easier to gain access in daylight.
The darker parts of Sothins are left behind for a return to the Dung Beetle. The common room is, if possible, more crowded than when you left: most of the attention seems to be on a group of people holding court at a central table. A tall Mwangi warrior and his companions have a small pile of Osiriani relics and coins heaped on their table, and are boisterously regaling the crowd with stories of their successful raid on a site called the Ruins of Tumen. They are also buying drinks for the crowd, which may have something to do with why everyone is eagerly hanging on to their words.
The group is decked out in bits of attire plundered from the tomb: the Mwangi warrior is wearing a cobra-headed diadem and a beaten copper pectoral inscribed with many hieroglyps, while his comrades are similarly and extravagantly adorned. Most of the attention in the inn is on them-- including two familiar faces that you all saw at the auction.
The old woman who had muttered to Rosalia about her bidding is here, engaged in a wheedling negotiation for an amulet on the table with one of the group seated there.
Additionally, the young woman who Shaggar had sniffed (as one does) is also here, trying to convince the Mwangi man to hire her as a translator, it would seem. He is more than a little into his cups, and she keeps having to begin again with her sales pitch.
As most of the attention is on the central table (and an exciting tale of a terrible trap), few people other than the barkeep look up at your entrance.
"Ah, you lot again. Get you anything?"
(There is no immediate sign of the other halfling, Javi.)
Shaggar and/or Heldar (or anyone else), are you going to study the scrolls in the common room, or retreat to the privacy of a room?
Shaggar sniffs at the trinkets and deftly snatches up a free drink. While he apparently ogles the plundered and wondrous goods, his ears are cocked beneath his keffiyeh listening with far greater earnestness to the description of the horrific trap.
After the tale winds down, the gnoll apparently grows bored - evincing a bone-cracking yawn. He pats his hyena on the shoulder and they get a private room - presumably to sleep. As after-thought, he grabs another free drink and heads upstairs... de-crypting complex mathematics, he expects, will be thirsty work.
Heldar has only a light drink to clear his throat, and a sparse meal.
Afterwards, he will go upstairs, knock on Shaggar's door, and offer to assist with the scrolls.
Shaggar's door opens halfway and Heldar is greeted by the predatory glare and stink of a large hyena. Shaggar pushes her out of the way and invites the smaller man in. "Come in, sayyid. She is just... doing what she does."
Most of Shaggar's gear has been thrown carelessly into one corner of the room along with his voluminous desert cloak. Only a massive axe leans against the wall by a well-worn table - ready for use. The scrolls have been set out on a table under the light of multiple candles and held in place by a set of small stones. The window above the table is cracked, providing welcome fresh air to rival the hyena stink. Two chairs await - clearly Heldar was expected.
With only a single backwards glance, the hump-shouldered hyena pads over to Shaggar's gear. She walks in increasingly smaller circles upon in, and settles down as if it were eminently comfortable bedding. How a hyena would find the shaft and spiked head of a huge black iron flail an appropriate headrest... is a question for another day.
"...so there we were, pinned by this powerful magnet to the floor.... and the room starts filling with sand..." the warrior says, spinning a fine tale for his audience of hangers-on. Shaggar listens with interest, but when the tale concludes (with rescue by, apparently, some giant sloths [huh?]), he yawns and heads upstairs.
The beer's thick and strong, at least.
After a dinner of spiced lentils and crusty bread, Heldar knocks on the door a few moments later, and Shaggar invites him in. The delicate scrolls are spread out over the room's crude-but-serviceable table.
It's time to put your heads together and do some math! And Osiriani-ing! And history-ing! And, in grandest Pathfinder tradition, faking it if all of that doesn't work!
Heldar gets in touch with his inner paragon...
The gnoll and the healer set to work: a fine example of the cooperation that Pathfinders can pursue when it leads to knowledge. An hour later, they have gleaned a great deal of information from the scrolls...
Aucturn is the 11th (and farthest) planet from Golarion's sun, and it is known by other names, including The Stranger and The Eye of the Night. There are portals believed to connect all of the ten inner worlds, but Aucturn is resolutely unconnected to these magical gateways.
Though it is a large planet (twice the size of Golarion), it is rarely visible to the naked eye due to its vast distance. Its atmosphere is poisonous to most humanoids, and its surface is bitterly cold...
Though the scrolls speak of beings from Aucturn, the scrolls discuss this almost in quasi-religious, quasi-poetic terms, as if speaking of gods or demons rather than merely something foreign: there are references to visitors... the 'Dominions of the Black'... and "gifts of mind quakes / when favor is found and obliteration / when it is not."
Heldar recalls fractured mentions in the Pathfinder Chronicles to Aucturn being a dwelling-place of horrors alien to the mind of man: home to such creatures as the whispered shoggoths and gugs... skinless hunters, and the so-called denizens of Leng. The landscape of Aucturn is a cracked and shifting nightmare, and what few names reach Golarion read like a madman's gazzetteer of euphemistic locales: The Loving Place. The Tower of the Midwives. The Well of Purple.
Aucturn features in the symbolism of the Dark Tapestry cults... and every fifty-six years, it swings in its orbit, closer to Golarion, and Golarion likewise swings out at its most extreme to meet the Stranger.
According to the scrolls, the influence of Aucturn at its closest has a strange effect on the elemental spirits of the deep desert-- creating especially violent battles between earth and air. Such as the storm season you are currently in...
Furthermore, one of the pages of dense hieroglyphics-- one of those that Shaggar had initially noted as full of math-- turns out to be a highly accurate chart mapping out these 56-year cycles for thousands of years. Though the chart stops short of the current year, Shaggar is able to compare the diagrams of the night sky in the scrolls to the stars he and Javi saw on their way north to Osirion... and believes it is a safe bet that one of these 56-year cycles is happening now.
Heldar, the math isn't your strong suit-- but a few things interest you about the scrolls aside from the tidbits of remembered history from the Pathfinder Chronicles.
The author of these scrolls was clearly a man of formidable genius, bordering perhaps on obsession with Aucturn and the 'visitors' of which he speaks. However, historical Osiriani academic treatises always begin with a dedication to the ruling Pharaoh, whosoever he or she may be, and the text from that point on is usually liberally interspersed with such references. This document is completely free of any references to ruling kings.
As Heldar was initially met by Hatyah at the door, there was a hint of a startle, but the half-elf seems to be getting accostumed at the presence of the huge hyena, and in fact very curious regarding its nature and behavior, as seen by his constant glances at the magnificent animal while in Shaggar's room.
-----------------------------------------------
As Shaggar himself invites him in, Heldar takes notice of the scrolls displayed on the table - "There is much to dig through my friend, and I am not sure if we will be able to garner any pertinent information from it all, but this is definitely interesting" - he finishes with a huge smile, as he sits down - "Lets get to it"
-----------------------------------------------
The evening turned out much more interesting and surprising than he could have anticipated - Heldar had seen his own share of xenophobic attitudes, to not fall prey to such feelings, but had to admit he was not expecting this degree of expertise from the massive Shaggar - at times during their shared research, he would smile at a detail pointed out by the gnoll, nodding appreciatively at his companion reasoning, his initial misconception dissolving into nothingness.
As it seemed they had gathered all they could from the pieces of documentation, he stood up, to move around for a bit (and going purposefully near Hatyah) - "We have managed to garner much more information than I had expected Shaggar - it was a very productive evening, and there is much to digest about all this. I admit I have mixed feelings regarding my belief in all that is recounted about Aucturn, as it bridges many metaphysical considerations about power and godhood..." - he ponders, almost as if to himself.
Smiling, he turns to Shaggar - "But I digress, we should recount our findings to the others - some of what we have uncovered may be much more complex than expected"
The group notices that Javi gets quiet as they near the Beetle, and is darn-near impossible to follow as they slip in the door.
He gives the room a quick circuit, watching for anyone he recognizes from the auction—especially the other halfling—before making his way up to the bar. He flags down the barkeep as he pulls out a few coins.
"Evening. You got a piece of paper?" When the man gives him a piece of paper, Javi gets out his chalk, setting down the three platinum as he writes and talks. "You mind doing something for me? I'll give you three platinum if you put this piece of paper up on your wall… over there on the shelf by the expensive drinks. And make it obvious. I invited a friend to come to your fine drinking establishment and order the 'pint-sized wasp'. When he does that, will you give him this piece of paper?" He holds up the note before putting away his chalk.
I'm happy to give it back to you, though I would prefer to do it in person. Stick around the Beetle. Late evenings. Keep this note. I'll find you.
Javi smiles, readying to hop down off the stool, but a thought occurs to him. "And actually, when you give them the note, will you also mix them the most disgustingly vomit-inducing concoction you can come up with?" He grins widely and shrugs at the request.
-------
Javi sits, sipping his drink as he watches the decrypting, decoding, deciphering, and discussing… though mostly he just wishes he were back downstairs hearing more stories of the other groups' adventures. True or not, they were entertaining.
"So is our tomb actually on Aucturn? Cause it pretty much sounds like suicide to go for." A manic grin splits his face, "Which kinda sounds like it's own brand of fun. Can't have been many people who have seen it, right?"
Shaggar rolls up the scrolls carefully and sets them next to Heldar's notes. He bobs his head in agreement at the scholar's ruminations and affirms the one actionable statement, "Yes, the sayyidah will need to know this information. Knowledge is power; ignorance is death."
To the halfling, he says, "It will be better if the only tie between The Stranger and the temple is that the storms caused by the worlds' passing unearths the ruins every half century. I think we'll find out if that is true, eh?"
Javi...
The barkeep's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates at the three platinum pieces on the bar. Given that you're offering him the cost of a wagon, or two live and healthy oxen, for the task of note-placing, it's perhaps not hard to guess why you have his attention so thoroughly
As you speak, his face is a mask of conflicting emotions (in this case, greed versus conscience). After a struggle, the latter apparently wins out.
"...sir, I'll put your note up if you wish, and mix something that'd make my mother puke in her grave, but... I've a note for you, actually... a chap about your size said to hand it to anyone who mentioned a 'pint-size wasp'..."
The barkeep pulls out a folded piece of parchment and hands it over. The parchment is folded around something heavy and round-- when opened, this is revealed to be a single gold Osiriani coin, stamped with the Ruby Prince's cartouche like all the other modern currency of Osirion.
Dear sir (or madam!),
My compliments on the deftest bit of light-fingering it's been my pleasure to miss seeing! Really, truly, well done. I'm madly curious to know who you are, but I fear I've other business concerns tonight. I wish you all the best: please, have a drink on me, as a token of my respect.As for my key: I'll miss it to be sure, as we've opened many a door together over many a year, but I know when I've met my master at the tickler's trade. May it serve you as well as it has served me.
Yours truly,
Thaddeus B. Telling
"Still want to pay for your note to be placed, sir?" the barkeep asks hopefully, eyes on the three gleaming coins.
Javi reads the note three times through, absently responding to the barkeep. "No, the coins are yours, including this one he left for me." the coin from the note tinks down next to the three platinum on the counter-top. "And leave the note up. If my friend comes back in looking for me, I'd still like to know about it."
He nods his thanks to the barkeep before heading upstairs… considering the words on the note. He re-reads it a few more times to make sure he can repeat it back if necessary, then he shreds it… finding and feeding the paper shreds to the nearest flame source.
"Oh, also, the halfling thief came looking for me." He rolls his eyes at Rosalia. "The other halfling thief. I slipped him an invitation when i nicked his key. Left me a note, and if I'm reading it right, he's up to something tonight. Now, if that something's related to our job—and more specifically our key—he may be moving on it tonight."
Javi shrugs, "Though I have no idea if that's what he's after, but I got an itch, and I usually try to pay attention to my itches."
At Javi, Heldar makes a puzzled look - "Now THAT would be something out of the ordinary - I hadn't really thought about that possibility, but I guess it could be, though I have never heard anything about such means of travel"
He nods at Shaggar - "I would agree. As amazing as it may seem, I think I would rather not leave this world for the time being. Then again..." - smiling, he lets the thought wander off.
Again turning to their halfling companion, he adds - "Do you think that we should take extra cautionary measures in our sleep tonight, to make sure our possessions are safe from such character?"
"I don't think he's after us, but it's always safe to sleep light on the job."
Shaggar looks out the window briefly, trying to spy Aucturn in the night sky (and checking out if the slinky halfling is outside the window) before turning to his allies.
"So, tomorrow... We should pick up a big wicker shield, some spikes, food, maybe other things. We can use the shield and spikes to cover the 4th rune. Better to not accidentally see it, I think. Also, we must sniff out the mask and 'acquire' it." The gnoll scratches at an ear leaving the method of acquisition unstated and speculates on the other tasks ahead. "We must decide what route to take to the ruin. I think the blind one's course was smart - up the river then across. It is longer, but safer. How we follow the river's course is another matter. Boats can be chartered, I expect, and then word of our course will be known far and wide within the day for coin. Depending on how the mask is obtained, we may need to leave quickly; waiting on a charter may not be in our interests... Or we could 'acquire' a boat, if needed, or hike along the river with some shortcuts."
Shaggar regards his audience briefly through red eyes and adds, "Or we can head straight for the ruins, across the sun's anvil. Hatyah and I can get you there. And if we're being followed, only the skilled or the foolish would dare that course."
Being neither a scholar of Heldar's measure nor of any particular use when it comes to the mysterious hieroglyphs of ancient Osirion, Rosalia decides to leave the gnoll and the half-elf to their own devices and instead spend some time mooching off of the victorious adventurers peddling their tales in the common room. She notices Javi speaking with the innkeep at some point, but by that point the alcohol has left her with enough of a pleasant buzz that she pays it little heed.
By the time she's ready to head back up to their room, there's a definite tinge of red about Rosalia's cheeks - not dissimilar to the sunburn, but this seems to extend to the tips of her ears and the flush of her lips as well. Her usually confident gait has a clear hint of a sway to it, although any suggestion by anyone that she should perhaps give up the mug in her hands is met by a cool glare.
"I'm no expert on... stuff like this... but I don't think... uhh... going right across the desert is gonna be a good idea..." There's an obvious slowness to Rosalia's speech; she's clearly taking her time thinking before enunciating. "You gotta think about... coming back, too. If we can... acquire, yeah, acquire a boat, we can go on our own terms without a worry... and take as much water and food as we need."
"Over-sand or down-river… I'm fine either way. Though it sounds like general consensus is that over-river is preferable if possible..." His words die off as he considers anything he's heard about the local boat captains.
Three platinum, one gold. A good profit for the barkeep! He pockets the coins and is moving to stick up the note even as Javi heads for the stairs.
****
Outside the window, night-time has settled over Sothis, although quiet is far from present. The main street nearest the window is still full of people: foreigners like yourselves, mostly, keeping a few all-night stands of dried fruit, street meat, and liquor busy. A brothel three doors down has musicians inside; the sound of their whirling music drifts lightly through the night air towards your group.
A breeze stirs the air, brings the scent of spices and dust and a coolness welcome after the day's heat.
Of the stars that wink into being in the night, Shaggar does not see Aucturn's ominous glow. Nor any sneakthieves clinging to the wall outside the window.
Javi, you're familiar with the local going rates for river travel, at the least: per passenger, the considered 'fair' rate is 1 silver pieces to the mile downstream, and 3 upstream. Captains often will settle on a median price if their passengers wish round-trip booking.
Shaggar, while Javi muses on going rates to sail the River Sphinx, you are thinking of logistics and supplies. As you'd returned to the Dung Beetle through the Malhitu Bazaar, you are fairly sure that every supply you list to your comrades could be purchased in its winding paths, and many more besides. The Bazaar seems to stock nearly everything the prospective tomb-raider might require... which, given the apparent on-going gold rush to loot Osirion of her buried riches, forms a huge part of the local economy.
The desert gnoll seems to have laid out your priorities well enough: to use the morning to equip yourselves for the road ahead, and then to visit the Exhibitionary and see about the supposed mask.
Some of you may need a headache cure come morning, and by some of you, we mean, Rosalia.
Is there anything the agents of the Pathfinder Society wish to do before turning in for the night?
Shaggar watches the drunk magus curiously. His eyes slide over to Heldar, amused. "Perhaps you should save for the morrow telling the sayyidah of the mathematics in her scrolls."
The gnoll considers other serious maths, bouncing his nearly empty pouch in his clawed fist. He rubs the fur on his shaggy head in the wrong direction, regards the halfling, and speaks uneasily, "Friend Wasp, there are things we may need and my coins are few. Would you loan me some of yours? 53 coins of gold would be enough with what I have left... but 203 would be better."
Rosalia, halfway nodding off to sleep (and, as a result, fortuitously not noticing Shaggar's amusement - for the gnoll's sake!), stumbles into the nearest soft location and zonks out almost immediately. Whether or not it's her bed or it is otherwise currently occupied.
"I don't know," the halfling says as he watches Rosalia crash on the nearest soft surface. "I think she's onto something. Talking numbers is far more endurable through a nice ale haze."
He reacts to Shaggar's request without much of a hesitation, and with seemingly little more thought. He pulls off his belt pouch, stuffs a hand in, and—without counting or really paying much attention—draws out a handful of coins. The rest of his coin—seemingly the bulk of his coin—he tosses carelessly over to Shaggar. The pouch lands heavily and noisily in Shaggar's clawed hand."Hey, while you're out, will you get me some of those smoked goggles? The shield's a good idea, but I'd like to hedge my bets when it comes to not getting my brain scrambled."
"Bring me back some change if there is any." he says with a wink as he stuffs his few remaining coins into half a dozen pockets found amongst the mishmash of clothes adorning his tiny person.
Shaggar chuffs in disbelief at the halfling's generosity and the pouch heavy with coins. "You are a gift of the desert, Effendi." He says with respect. With arid amusement he adds, "I think there will be a few coppers left over."
Javi laughs, "I keep trying to tell people that."
As the rest of the group prepares to bed down for the night , Javi sidles downstairs like a thief in the night! Or like a perfectly legitimate if diminutive businessman going about his perfectly legitimate concerns.
He makes his way through the streets of night-time Sothis, turns down the offers of any number of perfumed hands that beckon gracefully from doorways, and cruder offers as well-- a little pesh, sir, very good quality, you wish a taste of home, sir?-- en route to his destination.
The large bulk of the Exhibitionary's building (a one-story structure, with multiple rooms branching off from a central hall) seems dark. A few guards lounge by the front door, their lanterns casting a glow on the game of senet they are playing to while away the dull hours. Avoiding them is child's play for you.
Javi... though the large open-air windows are shuttered at this time of night, you never see any lights moving behind the wooden slats. Lax security, if they don't have guards doing patrols inside the building as well. Still, the shutters each seem fastened, and each doorway you pass has a guard standing outside. The locks do not appear to have been disturbed.
***
When you return to the Dung Beetle and make your way back up to the second floor and the door of your room, you hear a startled gasp from the dimness at the other end of the hall, and a door hurriedly shutting.
Javi spends a few seconds looking down the dark hallway towards the gasp. In the end, he shrugs and heads into the room. If anyone's awake, he'll make some joke about "interrupting someone's night-cap", but otherwise finds his corner of the room and crashes… falling asleep surprisingly quickly.
Tiny tenor saws soon begin sawing logs in his corner.
The Pathfinders and honorary-Pathfinders settle down for the night...
Hatyah snuffles and grumps in her sleep, curling up closer to Shaggar. Ah, sleeping with the scent of hyena in your nostrils!
Smiling as he notices Rosalia crashing, Heldar comments - "Taking into account the attention that we seem to have already drawn to ourselves, I think we should keep some watches - I do not require much sleep, and I would like to take an additional look at all the documentation we have been through, perhaps taking some additional notes, so I will most likely stay awake most of the evening, one more to watch should be enough"
A potent hyena fart wakes Shaggar in the middle of the night. After quietly airing out the room, the gnoll stays awake for a few hours pondering the dangers of the adventure ahead.
Heldar, several times during the night you think you hear soft footsteps passing by your room's door, perhaps pausing at them-- and once you even move to the doorway to open it and check for any footpads-- but nobody is standing there. You shake it off and resume your note-taking and organization of what you know.
Shaggar, Hatyah seems to snuffle around the door a little during your watch, growling as if she picks up a scent that ought not be there. If you open the door to check, you also perceive nothing there.
Javi, your watch is thoroughly uneventful, the dog-watch before dawn. When you hear the first sounds of stirring from others in the inn, you poke your colleagues awake.
Javi opens the door and prepares to head downstairs to greet the morning with some breakfast-- and only his quick reflexes and almost preternatural perception give him time to react!
His hand whips out instinctively at the sound of something scraping above the door, and he neatly catches a glass bottle that would have plummeted to the ground and landed either on him or at his feet, before it can shatter. What in blazes?
Javi is holding a pint-sized, corked bottle of some thick, murky liquid.
Come the morning, Rosalia is in a foul mood. Fouler than normal, that is. Her mouth tastes like Hatyah slept in it (or worse) and her head feels like a swirling sandstorm. It takes her some time to emerge from beneath her own arms, the bright light of the desert country far too much for her to handle.
As soon as the room stops swimming enough for her to even consider facing the day, Javi turns around in the doorway holding some mysterious bottle of liquid. Rosalia scowls bitterly at it.
"A present from your halfling buddy, maybe?" she grumbles. "Or the Chelaxian maybe?..." The Brevic woman pauses a moment as nausea overcomes her, breathing slowly and deeply to compose herself.
"Cayden's balls," she curses with a groan, "why do I never remember how poorly alcohol and myself mix..."
You write off the oddness of a mysterious bottle nearly falling on top of Javi and head downstairs to break your collective fast.
The common room is much, much emptier this morning. Most everyone in the inn is sleeping off the many free drinks of the night before. The cook is bustling in the kitchen, and the scents of garlic and oil and bread fill the common room.
The morning's meal (included with the exorbitant cost of your room) is fava beans mashed with sheep's milk cheese, mixed with dill, garlic, and olive oil. There are no eating utensils, but the inn staff brings out a big bowl of the mixture along with plates of thin, crispy baked bread to scoop it with. There are also mugs of a drink the locals call sahlab, a hot beverage made with milk, cocounut, orchid, sugar, and sesame seeds.
Breakfast done (or ignored, if you people are in a hurry), you make your way through the Malhitu Bazaar as the gray of pre-dawn transforms to the golden glow of another baking day. For now, the morning air is still cool enough to be comfortable, and the dust hasn't yet been kicked up on the streets by the passage of thousands of feet. Shopkeepers are just opening; the calls of vendors are only tentatively piercing the morning air. Fish are being unloaded and arranged on displays; bakeries are setting out trays of pastries and bread covered with thin towels.
The Exhibitionary comes into view: a building of green veinstone, like the senet pieces in the auction, although the Exhibitionary is a fairly new structure, built only in the last few generations. There is a crowd around it, curious spectators craning their heads to look at the entrance-- definitely not the sort of crowds that the museum draws in a typical day.
As you push your way forward through the crowd, you can see that there are the dun uniforms of many city watchmen crowded around the entrance, keeping the gawkers at bay. Imhokep, the Arch Docent, is visible talking to the ranking officer at the scene, and seems to be in quite a state of agitation by the way he's gesturing.
The crowd around you whispers of theft, theft.
Rosalia happily digs into breakfast, although it's clear she has some trouble comprehending the concept of eating without utensils (especially something as soft and squishy and clearly-needs-a-spoon-esque as this fava bean dish was). She sahlab soothes the pounding in her head to some extent, although she can't help but wish it wasn't coffee instead.
Her mood seems remarkably improved after getting some food into her system, but that positive point is completely ruined by the scene greeting them at the Exhibitionary.
The young woman shoots a side-long glance at the others. "Two gold on this being the theft of the mask we want," she mutters sourly.
"I am not taking you up on that bet" - Heldar smiles at Rosalia.
Turning to one of the many gathered, he asks politely - "Good morning, can you tell me what has happened here friend? And why all this commotion?"
Javi is still wondering at the strange bottle as they eat and make their way to the Exhibitionary. As they get closer, his features darken. A few times he seems about to comment, but each times bites it off.
He uses his size to slip between legs and get close enough to the Arch Docent to eavesdrop while staying out of sight.
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@ Heldar and Rosalia: A young Osiriani man looks you over, but is clearly eager to gossip. "They say the museum was burgled in the night! One guard is dead, and another was injured. Nobody knows who did it, or how they got inside! I heard the captain of the city guard say they were no signs of tampering on the locks of the doors or the windows, even! It's all very mysterious..."
@ Javi: You sidle up closer to where the captain and the Arch Docent are talking. The Arch Docent is furious, and also worried, it seems. Near to both the captain and the Arch Docent is a guard sitting on a step, holding a cool cloth to an impressive bruise on his forehead.
"Just tell the captain what you saw!" the Arch Docent orders the injured guardsman, who winces at the loud tone.
"Sir, yes... well, at about an hour shy of midnight, Keftu and I were walking our patrol inside... Keftu thought he heard a noise up ahead, like voices. We walked over with our torches up, of course-- and there was nothing there. By which I mean: it was blackness, utter and complete. I had a torch but the light stopped like it had hit a wall. We were gawping at that, and then I heard a noise behind me, a step-- I turned and there was this huge gnoll, sir! I saw him plain as anything. He brought a club down on my head... I don't remember anything after that.
"When I woke up--" the guard grimaces, "Keftu... Keftu was dead. Looked like he'd been... mauled, sir."
The captain listens gravely, arms crossed. "A gnoll? Can you describe the creature?"
"Aye, sir. Tall... fur a dirty brown-and-yellow. Red eyes that gleamed like fire in my torch's light. He had on a keffiyeh, sir-- black-and-white patterned."
The Arch Docent makes a startled noise of recognition.
Rosalia turns to the gossipy young man while resisting rolling her eyes. When magic was involved, nothing of this sort was ever particularly mysterious. And he'd not mentioned the only thing she really cared about: what had been burgled last night?
"So - did you hear what was taken? Or anything else?"